August 24th, 2006

  • etcet

Paying It Forward

lil_m_moses muses on getting all the government you're willing to pay for thusly:

"President Bush last month vetoed an expansion of federal funding for embryonic stem-cell research, saying that U.S. taxpayers who object to such research should not have to pay for it." source

Oh, that's RICH. I don't see him vetoing the Iraq invasion just because a bunch of Americans object to it and shouldn't have to pay for it.
Context is going to start cheating on its taxes. [Public, QPP]

theferrett contemplates Pluto . . .

You'll always be a planet to me, even if really you were horrifically miscategorized from Day One. But how could it last? You were the rebel of the solar system, your off-kilter orbital angle like a hat rakishly tilted across our Sun's brow, swinging inside and outside of Neptune with a crazed rhythm that was all your own - man, there was no way the stiffs would let that slide. They had to yank you off the list. Whenever science teachers had to explain Pluto, they did it with the air of a maiden aunt explaining gingerly why Uncle Jimmy wears those bright clothes and speaks with that infectious lisp. It was just too much, man.

Context has lost its planetary status.
  • Current Music
    Nick Drake, "At the Chime of a City Clock"
Space Cadet

hemlock_martini watches too much television.

eight planets = BUUULLLLLSHIT

SCENE: a dingy, gray-green office in a run-down inner-city police precinct building circa 1973. CAPTAIN SOL, a large, sweaty, loud black guy, is harassing DETECTIVE PLUTO, a thin-lipped, flint-eyed wiry hardass in a gray suit.

SOL: I don't LIKE you, Pluto! You're a loose cannon! You don't play by the book! You're outta control! Your orbit is elliptical and mysterious. I HATE "mysterious!"

PLUTO (taking a long, slow drag on an unfiltered cigarette): What are you saying, chief? You want me off the Xena case? If you ask me, that icy bitch had it coming...

SOL: I'm saying your license has been revoked, detective. Commissioner Terra wants your badge and your gun on my desk.

(PLUTO stands up and drops his badge on the desk dismissively. He reaches for his police-issue revolver and pulls it, tension on his face--but places it next to his badge, scowling.)

SOL: And the other gun.

(PLUTO reaches beneath his equator and withdraws a smaller revolver, putting it on the desk.)

PLUTO: You tell the Commisioner from me...he can cram this one sideways 'till the barrel reaches his molten core.


(PLUTO strides purposefully out of the precinct, "wokka-chikka-wokka-chikka" 1970's "cop movie" music following him out onto the street where the writer suddenly loses all interest in continuing the story. PLUTO is suddenly struck by a cable car that has the words "LOL SCIENCE" written on the side.)

sherlock house, no shit sherlock

fun with the morning commute

researchgrrrl gets stuck behind a very slow driver in traffic:

Meanwhile, traffic in the right-hand lane was moving right along, leaving me with no way to move over. I checked in my rearview mirror. There were cars backed up into the next astral plane of existence thanks to this dude. I stared again at the beige Chevy...and then?


I realized the dude had his mobile number listed on his truck. *gleeee!*

Oh, baby. I snagged my cell phone, set "Fuel" to loop (but turned down the volume just a bit), and dialed Ken Hope's AC Repair number. It was all I could do not to shriek with giddy, giddy joy when I saw the driver in front of me start fumbling around then put a phone to his ear.

"Yello," he said. "Ken speaking."

"Dude, the speed limit is fifty. You're going thirty-five. Speed up or move over." To my delight, Ken actually swerved a little.

"Who is this?" he asked, sounding freaked. I'm guessing that he's been driving around with that advert on his pick-up so long that he'd even forgotten he has his mobile number listed. Amazingly, he did not check his rearview mirror. (Ken! A little less eye-booger action and a little more coffee in the morning might be the way to go!)

I almost -- ALMOST -- quoted Real Genius at him. Instead, I said, "This is the voice of all the traffic behind you, Ken. SPEED UP OR MOVE OVER. Fifty, Ken. Come on, baby. You can do it it. I'm rooting for you back here, man. Seriously. Just lay off the brake and try for the gas."

He was flustered as hell, but he did indeed speed up enough that I was able to snap my phone shut and maneuver around him. I cranked Metallica back up and sailed on into work as pleased as I've been in ages. I don't think it will occur to him to call me back, but even if he does, meh. THAT WAS SO WORTH IT.

QWP, Context yields to faster traffic.
  • Current Mood
    amused amused
Ray of Gorram Sunshine

Scott Lynch has a weird part-time job

If your kitchen catches fire, and thick smoke is filling your house, by all means--

let your five-foot pet iguana out of its full-room terrarium so it can escape.

But try not to forget:

You should probably inform a fire officer of this release as soon as we arrive.

Because there are many things we're prepared to see come at us out of swirling clouds of smoke.

And giant lizards ain't one of 'em.
- - -
Context is a part-time firefighter, in case you were wondering.
  • Current Mood
    amused amused

fun with mneumonic devices

sk_1 comments on nicodemusrat's heads up on Pluto

"The worst part of this whole thing is that the age old mnemonic - My Very Excellent Mother Just Sent Us Nine Pizzas - is now thrown out the window. Now someone has to come up with a new one for the lineup of Mercury-Venus-Earth-Mars-Ceres-Jupiter-Saturn-Uranus-Neptune-Pluto-Charon.

A few I came up with during my lunch break:

My Valliant Executor Made Correct Judgments Securing Uncle Norbert's Prize Cattle.

Miguel's Voracious Elephant Must Consume Juicy Steaks Unless Nino Provides Chicken.

And one in haiku form:

Most Valiant Elves!
Modor's Churlish Jeers Scare Us!
Need Protection - Come!"
  • Current Music
    tiger army -- incorporeal