Friday, July 29, 2005

More Care Bears

My dad and I went to Colorado’s the other night, and as is my custom, I asked Questions of the Night. (This is where I come up with three questions to ask my companions, servers, and any hot passers by who might be interested.)

The first question I borrowed from a few weeks ago: Which TV show should be made into an opera? (Actually, originally I had “Which ‘80s TV show,” but my dad astutely pointed out that our servers wouldn’t know 80s TV, or as he put it, “These chicks weren’t around then.” Okay, honesty compels me to admit that he might not have used the words “chicks,” but since he doesn’t read this site I feel embiggened to say whatever I want. In fact, on the way home someone cut us off and Papa popped a cap in their ass. Say that five times fast.)

I came up with THE A-TEAM, and dad wanted M*A*S*H, which would be sweet (in fact, we were even trying to do the songs, including one great scene where the docs and nurses are operating and the bodies rise up and sing). Our server (I don’t know here well enough yet to give her an alias, so I’ll just call her J), had E.R. which would work too, and her friend L came over and suggested THE SOPRANOS, which is such a good idea they should actually do this now.

The second question was a tribute to the other day’s Top Ten List: which TV show was cancelled before it’s time. I stuck with MY SO-CALLED LIFE, while dad went with THE EQUALIZER, which as you will recall was on my list of shows I wish they would remake. L said FRIENDS, but she’s young so I forgive her, and J had FREAKS AND GEEKS, also on my list, so that earned her some cool points.

The last question was the money question, and guys; a bit of advice: you want girls to spend all their time around you: ask them questions about Care Bears. Chicks love that….stuff.

This particular question was: If they were going to name a Care Bear after you, what would his/her name be, and what would go on the tummy? (It’s such a good question, I plan on asking every hot server I meet from now on.)

My dad came up with Cool Bear, with a blue sky and white sail boat. J had Spontaneous Bear, sporting an Exclamation point, and hot-pink. L (who, to be fair, opined first) had Clueless Bear, lime green, with a Question mark. (Clueless Bear would be genial, but occasionally wander off the clouds and have to be rescued.) I had Megalomania Bear, who would be black, with a white streak in his hair, and on his tummy would be a mad scientist trying to do Care Bear Frankenstein as Tenderheart and Sunshine cart him off in a Care Bear straight-jacket. Megalomania Bear would always be trying to take over Care-A-Lot, but the other Bears put up with him because he’s crazy and adorable.

Just like me. (I’m totally adorable. Just ask all my Ex-girlfriends. Well, most of them. Hmmm. On second thought, don’t ask them. Ask my mom, but preferably not right after I do the Jumble faster than she. Actually, just take my word for it.)

women have it so easy

I am pretty much in total agreement with this guy's take on the horrors of using a public restroom, with two exceptions:

The little girl part (you know how I feel about this), and

his misunderstanding of Laminar flow.

Right now, WITHOUT LOOKING IT UP, there's ten cool points for the first person to leave a comment on what laminar flow is. And I'll know if you cheated.

for the rest of you...

try this: Japanese commercial

After this, there's nothing left

I have come across what is quite possibly the funniest thing on the Internet. It's so funny, I can't even post the link. But if you're Brave (don't even bother, Quincy), you can email me and I will consider letting you know about it.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

maybe if he'd called her a hungry hungry hippo...

Okay, so this story is a little bit vulgar, but I don't present it to be that way, but simply because it was so funny.

As many of you know, strange things happen to or around me all the time. The other night I was at Denny's trying to write some Fagin Dupree, and these two guys sit down next to me. One guy was obviously a total nerd, the kind of guy who could name every Orc in LOTR individually. The other guy was about as queer as you can get. (And I only mention this because it comes up later.)

So the first guy is lamenting that his girl broke up with him. Apparently he tried some "dirty talk" when they were hot and heavy. It seems the term she objected to was being called a "cock-hungry whore."

[Note to guys: obviously being unmarried--and therefore a virgin--I can't attest to this personally, but it seems to be that if you're going to try something like this, you might want to feel out whether the girl would be into it. I mean, some girls might be flattered, whether they hear it in intimate situations, or over the loud speaker at work. And others, I'm afraid, will not.]

Anyway, nerd-boy's girl didn't appreciate it too much, and left right there. He couldn't understand. "I mean, I was complimenting her, right!" he said fervently. "I was saying she was totally good and everything." He continued. And then the kicker, said (and I'm not making this up) with all sincerity: "I mean, who wouldn't be flattered by being called a cock-hungry whore?"

He looks over to his friend, who responds very drolly. "You're asking the wrong guy, my friend."

I always hated Sunshine...

It's time to destroy...

Salt and Pepper's

So Hyperion hasn’t been too happy lately, but that changed somewhat tonight. For the second week in a row I had the ultimate dining experience at a place called Salt and Pepper’s.

Oh, Mama.

To start with, up here in the Witness Protection Program in Canada, there are very VERY few Mexican restaurants. I have thought about this, and come to a conclusion why: there aren’t very many Mexicans. I know this is an evolutionary leap of logic, but work with me: Mexicans come to America to work, and that’s a tough gig; no matter how they got there. To ask them to then trek another 2500 miles north to a land where it snows 9 months a year—something Mexicans aren’t even really sure exists.

Anyway, I heard about this Mexican restaurant and finally last week convinced part of my family to go. We had a two-for-one coupon. We walk in an the place just looks Mexican. That coral/adobe looking color on the walls. Authentic Mexican music playing over the speakers. (Maybe it’s just me, but I always hate it when I go to a restaurant that is serving, say, Italian, and they’re playing NIN. Give me a break.)

Then the owner comes out: Sam. This guy is very proud of his place, in a good way, and tells us all the stuff available Best of all, and if you know me you know this is huge indeed: Tuesday is all you can eat taco night.

Talk about heaven.

So, I’m pretty sure I ate 18.5 last week. I was happy, only to have Sam come back to us and tell us that the record was 22. I was pretty sure I could beat this, so I talked Marcellus and my dad into going back tonight. More all you can eat tacos.

I’ll save you some suspense and say I didn’t break the record tonight. But It’s not my fault. There were mitigating circumstances. One, we got chips and salsa and some sort of pickled vegetable relish. Two, we went too late. Each order of three (beef, chicken, or chorizo…hmmmm…) has to be oven baked special. Next time I’ll go earlier.

Perhaps most distracting, however, was our server Janelle. Besides being extremely intelligent and other-worldly beautiful, she was wearing these cargo shorts that for some reason were unbuttoned. I found myself (for educational purposes only) wondering if they would ever come off. It was a bit of a distraction, let me tell you.

But I’ll get the record next time. If you live close (or even if you don’t) come up and join me as we assault the record books and become immortal.

Monday, July 25, 2005

I miss Applebee's all you can eat ribs....

One more reason why I don't drink

This one actually reminds me of a good story:

Years ago (when Hyperion had money) we used to go to Applebee’s every Wednesday night after close (the end of Pizza Hut's week). We always had a good time and tipped the servers well, since we ourselves worked for tips.

Well, one night my friend Darius was with us. D was a professional drinker. He bragged that he and two friends tapped a keg once in an afternoon. Another along for the ride was Carlos, who wasn't even 21 at the time (legal drinking age), but Carlos was half Cuban/half Mexican, so pride forced him to try to keep up with Darius. They each drank four large pitchers of Foster's (Australian for Beeah), and while Darius looked fit enough to engage in spirited Middle-East policy disputes, Carlos was sloppy.

[Side note: I kept ordering these frozen drinks called a "BananaBerry Freeze" because I liked the taste. The others kept egging me on for not drinking, but I didn't worry about it too much. Finally our server tried to help and said, "Don't be ashamed. Lots of men order BananaBerry Freezes....Of course they’re usually 10...." Carlos laughed so hard he fell off his high stool, and Darius tipped the man ten dollars on the spot.]

Anyway, at some point they switched to liquor, because nothing caps an evening massive beer drinking like getting the alcohol more quickly into your system. Darius ordered Sambuca, which no one had every heard of. The idea is to light it on fire, and then drink it through the straw, but very quickly, because otherwise the straw could catch on fire.

No one had ever seen this before, so they turned down the lights and everyone watched us, Ooohing and Ahhhing. On the second round Carlos got carried away and spilled his all over his track suit, made of that shiny track suit material. Don't know what that's called, but it's flammable, and Darius then proceeded to pretend to light Carlos on fire, which scared him so badly that he pitched backward into the table behind us and broke the table in half. One of the girls at that table laughed so hard that she wet herself and had to go running into the bathroom.

Good Times.

Kim Cattrall frightens me

Are you having a bad Monday? Hair a mess? Just feel awful?

Well, at least you don't look as bad as some Celebrities used to

(The Top of Page 4 is easily my favorite)
(Oddly, Mariah Carey is the only one who's held up really well)

Surely the 13th Step is to change your wardrobe...

People ask me all the time why I don't drink.

[PS: River Midget Intern Tobias wanted to know if they make that shirt in XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXS]

Sunday, July 24, 2005

One more conspiracy to worry about...

So, recently I started playing Wizard online.

Now, for those of you raised in the “Harry Potter is evil” school (Pedro, Die-Hard; I’m looking in your direction), let me hasten to point out that Wizard is not anything to do with Magic, Dungeons and Dragons, Warcraft, or any of those others. Not that I’m hating on them, but I’ve never been into that.

Wizard is a bidding game, kind of like Spades, but more closely like Rook or Sevens. You bid on tricks you’re going to take, and there’s trump.

What makes Wizard extra cool is that they add Wizards (which beat anything) and Jesters (which lose to anything) to the deck, which you can play at any time if you get the cards.

I’ve always enjoyed Wizard in real life and am considered the best in the world by those who play me.

Online was a different kettle of fish. The game moves faster, is more cutthroat, and you can’t read body language to know how someone is going to play. It can be confusing. But still, it’s a load of fun. There’s a chat function, and you get to know people after awhile. They all seem very friendly.


Anyway, I’ve been playing for awhile, having a grand old time, and then I found out one of the players is trying to kill me.

At first it was just an anonymous email passed my way to beware. I couldn’t believe it! Only I could join an innocent online card game and end up the target of assassination.

Eventually (through my keen detective skills honed by spending time with Archer Falcon), I came to discover the killer was the nefarious Spicy. Apparently she is a cyborg, the fearsome Spicy1000, sent back in time by the Cyberdine corporation to kill me before I can take over the world.

Of course, this proves I AM going to take over the world, provided I don’t get killed.

Luckily, though a killer, Spicy1000 is an interesting cyborg, and agreed to be interviewed via the web (to protect me) on what it’s like to be a cyborg.

I’ll post that interview when I get it. For now, come join and play Wizard with me!

But beware the Spicy1000!

an ode to KFC

So, I've been thinking about KFC, and how underrated it is. They hardly ever get mentioned in the list of best Fast Food restaurants, but they really should. I remember back when they had the buffet...I'm still kicking myself for not eating there once a week.

But perhaps where KFC shines the most is at potlucks. For those of you who've never been to church details, let me give you the horror story: old women with nothing better to do decide to unleash their new KalKan recipes (you laugh; it's happened) or worse on an unsuspecting public.

What's worse: some of the potluck casseroles are good: amazingly good. But you never know which ones are good. The only way to find out is to try all of them, and that can be a scary proposition. Add to that the weird looking salads and questionable meatballs and macaroni dishes that show can see why so many people are frightened.

That's where KFC comes in.

Say what you want about their chicken (actually, don't or I'll get mad); what you get is consistent good food. When you’re in that potluck line and don't know what to do, that red and white bucket is a godsend. A small tear might escape, and you feel like somebody up there likes you.

I life my hands to the sky and I say, "Thanks, Colonel Sanders!"

Friday, July 22, 2005

You might die of cute

I just heard about the cutest thing in my life.

You know that girl I wrote about who hadn't watched STAR WARS? Well, to her credit, she's trying, but watching Episode 4 (the first one) tonight.

I asked her what her favorite part was, and she said, "I love it where Harrison Ford screams and chases after the two snowmen and chases them down the corridor, only to run into dozens of them."

Is that not the cutest thing you've ever heard?

Thursday, July 21, 2005

need more help

So, a few days ago I posted about Captain Crunch and Pillow Forts, and how they could be used as shortcuts to finding out about a girl.

But I'm not sure about others. For example, I just found out this girl I've been talking to has never seen STAR WARS or eaten Beef Jerky. She's not opposed, necessarily, but just hasn't experienced these things.

Now, I think it goes without saying that once she does experience them, if she's not a fan, then clearly she's a Communist. However, I don't want to give up on someone if they've just been deprived.

But the question remains: what are good short-cuts to save time in finding out if the other person will work out?

Clean up

1. More on that reader and whether or not she was as hot as she claimed:

First of all, that picture wasn't hers. That was, however, ANOTHER reader, or at least someone who claimed to be a reader. Not sure if I believe her, but if I do, I think she should come here in person and join the Hyperion Institute staff as, uh, well, we'll figure that out when she gets here.
As for the original woman I wrote about (I'll call her Tennis Racquet Lady), she now claims to be a grandmother when her picture ages her at most around 26. So now I'm left with possibly another lie, since there is no way the girl is a grandmother, although why--and I ask this sincerely--would a woman lie about this? Don't chicks usually say they are younger (unless of course they are 13, which means they claim to be 22, but Hyperion's not falling for that again).
My original query still remains: I need good questions to figure out when/if girls are lying. Actually the "if" is merely courtesy. I think we all--and I'm including Gloria Steinem--can agree that all women lie. The only question is when. Anyone got any ideas?

2. On a related matter, it would appear that "M" got his/her facts a bit confused in the comments. That's okay, since M is by far the most original commenter on the site, and someone I look forward to reading. I wish I knew who he/she was, but I'm content to just be impressed by what I read. However, without trying to start a war, I am curious as to whether the Readers think M is a man or woman. So, if you've nothing else to do but read this site and the commments, scroll through them and read whenever M opines. Then give your opinion as to the gender of M. (And try to keep it clean: Domie, I'm looking in your direction.)

Best line all day

This is the best line I've run across all day: "How in the name of Islamic Fonzy...?"

I simply must use it today, and I command you to as well. Then write and tell me how it went and what the reaction was, and I'll print good stories.

The Hot Girl Quiz

So, something just came up, and I was wondering if I could get some advice from the Hyperion Nation. I started talking to this new reader online, and as is popular, she has her picture displayed. And, well, she's extraordinarily good looking (standing there with a tennis racquet like she's going to do some spanking).

The picture is so good, I'm starting to worry that maybe it's not her. After all, normal women don't look that good. So, what I need, is, some trick questions to ask to make sure her hotness is as claimed. Who knows what a good question would be that only hot girls would answer a certain way?

[Is this one of Hyperion's Readers? And if so, how can he meet her?]

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Kid in manhole

At the beginning you won't want to laugh. You'll feel sorry for him.

But by the end, I defy ANYONE not to laugh. If you manage to make it through without cracking up at the kid, you win a prize from me.

Kid stuck in manhole.

(Perhaps the funniest is the cheerfully mean narration)

Don't Hypey

Last Friday I announced I was going to attempt to go two weeks without worrying. What I really meant was not only worrying, but getting aggravated by little things. I don't want to do that. I don't mind letting big things bother me (child abuse, famine, when they cancelled ANGEL), but to get bogged down by petty stuff makes me feel petty. I don't want to worry either, but to be honest, I don't worry all that much. Some people would say I don't worry nearly enough. (And I call those people "my parents.")

Anyway, my two weeks got off to a rough start. I won't fill in the details, but in one conversation with my mother I had to start over three times. The rest of Friday didn't go much better. I kept getting upset about little stupid things again and having to start over.

About Friday night I hit a good stretch, mostly because I was so tired I didn't have time to worry, including when I ran off the road because I fell asleep. (Although, it's possible I was too tired to be upset.)

This lasted until Sunday night, when I had to start over, and then yesterday KFC wouldn't take a debit card, which made me upset, and on and on. I had almost 24 hours after that, until today when I couldn't get my Cast of Characters on Fagin Dupree to look right, and once again had to start over.

So, here I am, almost four hours into what I'm determined to be two solid weeks without getting upset. I'm not sure why I'm doing this, but by now, it's a holy quest.

I'll keep you updated.

What should you do with your life?

Are you sitting there at your job, with the vague and uneasy feeling that you should be doing something else?

I have the answer: THE JOB PREDICTOR.

Just type in your name, and the Job Predictor will tell you what job you REALLY should be doing.

We ALL scream

When it gets right down to it, is there anything better than an ice cream cone? Licking it into submission, and then diving right in, not even caring if you get it all over your face?

Good stuff, ice cream cones

Friday, July 15, 2005


On a happier note, I think I have found the sport where I can be the best in the world:

The way it works is you alternate between a round of chess and a round of boxing. Each round of chess is four minutes, played under "Blitz" rules. This means that each player has 12 minutes TOTAL for the entire game. The boxing rounds last two minutes each. There are 11 rounds total; six of chess and 5 of boxing.

This is so for me.

I'm not the greatest boxer in the world, but I'm pretty decent. I used to box, and I can hold my own okay. Plus, I'm confident that in the boxing world, there are very few better chess players than I.

I also am not the best chess player in the world, although again I can hold my own. However, I am virtually positive that I can whip any serious chess player.

So, against the boxers I just play chess very quickly. I do well with Speed Chess, as I think fast on my feet. I can last a few rounds at least with even great boxers, and by then I should be able to win the chess match.

With the chess players it's even easier: I just have to avoid losing the match in the first round, because buddy: yo ass is getting knocked out when those gloves come on.

to win in CHESSBOXING one need either win the chess game or the boxing match. I am well-suited to do either.

If you wish to financially support my training (for a chance to be in my entourage once I'm famous), let me know.

Parents are idiots

So, I've decided to try two weeks where nothing bothers me. But before I start that, I have to relate something that happened a few days ago (when I was still getting bothered by everything).

I was at Applebee’s, and I went into the restroom. A guy was in there with his two young boys. I didn't really pay them any attention, and used the urinal. I noticed one of the kids just staring at me, but it wasn't until I headed to the sink that it dawned on my that this was a three year old girl.

I was in such shock I didn't say anything. (Plus, what good is it going to do those kids to see there daddy get verbally eviscerated?) I left the rest room to see (presumably) the mother watching a baby. The more I thought about it, the madder I got. I realize they were trying to juggle the kids, but what they should have done was have dad take the boy, and then come out and watch the baby while mom takes the girl. To save a minute or two they let the girl in with dad.

In a women's bathroom, while perhaps still not right, I can at least understand. After all, the stalls all have doors and there is a measure of privacy.

However--and I don't mean to shock you if you weren't aware, in a Men's bathroom there are these stand-up urinals, and, well, you're kind of just letting it all hang out there. With all guys it's not a big deal; you see a lot more in a locker room.

But this dad, no: this friggin' loser whom if I ever see alone I will punch in the face, caused me to break the law. I (inadvertently) exposed myself to a little girl. Hopefully she doesn't remember, but I vividly remember a few things like that when I was 3 and 4 years old.

Just as bad (to me anyway), I had to feel creepy and sick to my stomach the rest of the day, knowing I was a part of that spectacle. I will also never again be able to walk into a public restroom again without staring at all the little kids to make sure they aren't girls, which will make me look even scarier for sure.

And if that dad is reading: don't ever cross my path again. If you're a dad who has done this, stop immediately or else just give up your kids for adoption; because they're better off raised by wolves than by you.

[Calm Hyperion starts now: 10:33 am on Friday. We'll see if I can make it a fortnight.]

Thursday, July 14, 2005


I just want it on the record:

The plan for tonight was to go to Denny's and write Friday's column, Monday's Fagin Dupree Chapter, and several other important things. But one of my readers caused massive injury to my person, and now I can't go.

I won't say how this happened, but if my output suddenly drops to nothing, you need to blame her.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Claire Huxtable

I was just watching THE COSBY SHOW, and Claire Huxtable speaks Spanish? Can you imagine how hot Claire Huxtable is speaking Spanish? Yeah, that hot.

The Baby-Daddy express

I was watching the Tour de France, and after it ended I flipped around a bit before shutting the TV off. I found Maury Povich. I’m not a talk-show guy, although my sister once told me that Povich and William Mantel (or something like that) were the worst of the current crop.

Anyway, Maury had this woman on who was trying to find who her baby’s daddy was. This current man was the…wait for it…13th man who’d been tested for paternity, apparently all on Maury.

Now, I’m not one to judge a girl for sleeping with 13 different men in her life. I know of some of you already are, but let’s cut her a break on that. However, as I understand pregnancy, it’s not an exact science, but doctors are usually reasonably sure of “the window of opportunity” in which the baby was conceived. Usually about 2 weeks or so, am I right?

This leads me to conclude that Maury’s particular guest has not always made the best life choices. Add to that the fact that (so far) the 12 men tested had not been fathers. You see where I’m going with this? If there were ONLY 13, there would be pretty good odds to find Daddy before lucky #13. However, if the actual number is say, significantly higher, perhaps the 12 failures make sense.

The best part was the woman didn’t seem to feel any sense of shame whatsoever, for at least putting those men through needless stress, let alone the international buffet that was her womb. Sadly, shame seems to be all too lacking in today’s young-folk.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

more JOE

Speaking of G.I. JOE, can anyone think of a better talk-show host than Cobra Commander?

Okay, that's a rhetorical question, as obviously you can't, but my real question is: who would be his side-kick?

Now you know...

Over on Rank Everything, I mentioned G.I. JOE. The other day with Ajax we decided that a script for a live-action version of G.I. JOE simply had to be written. Anyone who wants to help (including casting!), let me know.

too bad we can't do this for people

Can you name candy bars

by looking at their cross-section?

Monday, July 11, 2005

I'd hate to hear the high note...

A reader (who begs to remain anonymous) wrote in with another word that she feels should mean something else: fellatio.

In her words: "Doesn't it seem much more like a majestic opera than...what it actually means?"

This reminds of the great Rowan Atkinson joke, but it's not Quincy-safe. If you want to hear it, write me an email and I'll send it to you.

don't be left holding the bag

In case you're not into puzzle games (read: not smart enough), here's another thing to wake you up on a Monday:

Isn't it time you get the facts?

[You may wonder how I am able to do this, with Quincy and all, but could slip it in because it's about promoting awareness, and even he can't argue with that.]


So, it's Monday, you're sluggish, and looking for something to wake you up? Might I suggest:

It's a computer game, but a puzzle one. Your job is to save your planet from destruction by making a series of moves in the correct order. There is no time limit, so you can have it up and running all day if you need to. It's surpisingly fun, and this from a guy who doesn't like computer games.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

short-cuts to love

You know, I was just thinking:

The last two posts would each serve as excellent short-cut tests in relationships.

If you meet a girl, and she doesn't like Captain Crunch; hey, she may be a great person, but obviously it's not going to work out between you two, so you might as well save you both some time.

Ditto on a girl who wouldn't want to build a fort out of blankets and pillows, except obviously she wouldn't be a good person, and should probably be lynched.

Fortify your life

Have you ever had a really bad day, and all you want to do is hide from everyone? I've had a couple of those this week.

For all of us, here is help:

How to build a fort out of blankets and pillows

Pining for the Captain

Last night at Denny's I thought I spied Captain Crunch. As many of you know, sometimes you didn't even realize you wanted Captain Crunch, only to find out that's what you desperately craved.

This is what happened to me.

[Quick Captain Crunch aside. Back in high school when Peanut Butter Crunch came out, I went through a phase where I liked peanut butter crunch about as much as a man can legally like a breakfast cereral. Anyway, when we went to FBLA State, my mom packed a goodie-bag, including Peanut Butter Crunch. On the back you were supposed to find seven items, one of which was a purple balloon. But there were no purple balloons. There were 5 blue balloons, but you weren't supposed to find five blue balloons; you were supposed to find 1 purple balloon. We looked all weekend, and nothing. So, when I got home I wrote the good Cap'n and expressed my displeasure. They sent me coupons for three free boxes PLUS several really cool toys. Score.]

Anyway, back at Denny's I asked Taisie for some Captain Crunch. She told me it was not Captain Crunch, but instead Frosted Flakes. Now, Frosted Flakes are okay, but when you want Captain Crunch, they are a pretty sorry substitute.

So what I did was have her bring the container of Frosted Flakes over, and then I got Brajj (the god of Denny's and the god of writing), along with Frocket (my pocket-frog), Battle Cow and Flip 'N' Fancy to stand on all four sides and use their mental powers to turn the Frosted Flakes into Captain Crunch.

It didn't work, but I wouldn't have been surprised if it had. I told Taisie it only would have been the third strangest thing that happened to me this week. I know some of you are sitting there scoffing (seriously; I can sense your scoff). But those who know me undertand.

But I really did want that Captain Crunch.

Rabbits are Loved

I talked about how the Magic Pygmy Rabbits controlled the world (#286 THIS is Courage), and I stand by that. The Magic Pygmy Rabbits are a powerful force, and to be feared.

But that doesn't mean I hate all Rabbits. In fact, there are some pretty damn great rabbits out there.

To all your Rabbits out there, I got nothing but love for you. Though it may not seem like it right now, you're always in my heart.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

creepy esp

I was telling you yesterday how all the money had gone to London on the Olympics, so you could predict it. "M," (whomever he/she is), challenged me to predict something before it happened.

So, this is a little bit creepy, and I can't prove it, but why would I make it up?

This morning I was working on something and I got into my head that terrorists attacked Big Ben and Buckingham Palace. I imagined waking up my parents. I even thought of M and just for a second, thought about coming down here to write it down.

But of course I didin't. A, it wasn't a prediction based on evidence, but merely one of those feelings. I guess it's coicidence. B, one doesn't predict bad things like that. If you're wrong, you're morbid, and if you happened to be right, you're a suspect.

When the news of the bombings came I was watching Headline News, I didn't really think much of it because at first they thought it was a power surge. However, as it became more and more clear that this was a coordinated attack, I started feeling very strange.

M is messing with me.

Funniest line of the week

I was watching Ali G interview Posh Spice and David Beckam. I'd post it, but it's not Quincy safe.

Anyway, for those who don't know, Ali G is this Brit who pretends to be a hip-hop Arab and interviews all these famous people with crazy questions, and he gets away with it because I get they think Arabs are dumb or something. It's a pretty funny show.

During the interview Ali Gi is asking David if he'd rather be with another of the Spice girls. The line is,

"In an ideal world, and no disrespect to your bitch, you'd rather be with Baby Spice, right?"

He says this while Posh is sitting right there! I nearly fell off my chair.

Not only that, but I vow to use this line in conversaton today: "in an ideal world, and no disrespect to your bitch..."

You all should do it too. Write and tell me how it went, and I'll print the funny ones.

Your Pain, your gain

So, a couple of weeks ago my sister comes home all sun-burnt. And I felt sorry for her because I've been burnt badly and it's simply awful.

Then I come to find out that she did it to herself; in one of those machines!

Now, I think tanning is one of the dumber things invented recently. However, there are safe ways to do it. My friend Aslan used to go once or twice a week for 6 months before heading to Mexico. That's how you're supposed to do it, very slowly, to minimize the chance of injury.

However, my sister, not content with a slow process, signed up for the "Mexican in a day" plan, and thus ended up looking like a lobster.

You should have heard her whining. When you bring the pain on yourself, I feel the rest of us have a duty to make fun of the person. As much as possible.

Then, a few days later, she comes home with her belly-button pierced. Again with the moaning and groaning. I don't care what she gets pierced (within reason), but I say again: when people bring the pain on themselves, they deserved to be mocked.

Note: this should also apply to girls who go out with guys they know are going to cheat on them, and the same with guys who trust girls they know are going to lie to them. Actually, that might be too big a category.

to make Thursday a little brighter

I figured I'd put several links together today. (I have three more, but they are movie-related, so you will find them on the Movie-Hype site)

Freaky Clock: I might have done this before, but I have so many more readers now (seven), that I wanted to do it again.

Pulp Fiction covers: no, not the movie, the actual books. Some guy collected the trashiest. Hard to believe they actually used to sell these. A few are vulgar in a corny sort of way, but nothing to make Quincy wince.

FORBES Magazine ranks the Top Ten Fictional Characters, in terms of wealth. I'm not sure I agree with the accounting of #1. As my good friend/enemy Bear will tell you, I DON'T BELIEVE IN INFINITY!!!

Who is M?

I know the odds of anyone actually telling me are slim to none, but who is M? He/she is very funny. If you are M, email me. I want to knore more.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Always follow the Money

A little while ago the International Olympic Committe anounced that the 2012 Olympic Games will go to London, and not the expected Paris.

All the CNN people expressed shock, but I could have told you about this two days ago. That's because the odds on Paris (the prohibitive favorite) went from 1:9 down to 4:11. That's a HUGE jump. The betting odds go which way the money goes, which means all the serious late money was coming in on London.

And let me tell you something: serious money (read: organized crime) doesn't screw up. That's why last September I knew Bush was a mortal lock two days before even though the pollsters were saying it was a dead heat. Why? Because 98% of the money was coming in on Bush.

Lesson: you ALWAYS follow the money.

That which by any other name

The other night at the Cheesecake Bistro we’re sitting around talking, and I bring up the question of the night: “Is there any word that you wish had a different meaning?”

Put another way: is there a word that you love the sound of, but it means something you don’t care for at all. For me #1 would have to be Chlamydia. If you ignore the definition, and just say the word, it sounds good in the mouth and rolling off the tongue. (Go ahead. Right now. Say it! Don’t worry about what they person in the next cubicle will think. Shout “CHLAMYDIA!!!”)

Sadly, Chlamydia means what it means, instead of something cool like an ancient Babylonia Civilization or a fabled Fountain of Youth.

This prompted Sparrow to tell the following story. She went to visit her mother, who had a large Camellia flowering tree. Sparrow forgot the exact name, so she ended up saying, “Hey mom, how’s your Chlamydia?”

That pretty much broke the table up. No one really had any good ideas after that. (Well, Quincy said “abomination,” but he didn’t know what he’d want it to mean.)

What about you? Any of you have word that should mean something else?

Tuesday, July 05, 2005


Right now, copy the below and paste it in a Google search engine:

"Barbra Streisand isnt an evil monster hag"

You gotta love how Google tries to do the right thing...

Monday, July 04, 2005


Notice that Hyperion has....


They are in the Links over there. Go visit them and be glad

Saturday, July 02, 2005

Help a brother out - REDUX

Thanks to all those people who helped (or tried to) on Speed Metal.

I went to all that trouble, only to find out it's Power Metal, not speed metal, that I'm supposed to be loving.

So, one more time, help a brother out?

Friday, July 01, 2005

Greater than Gold, Frankincense, and at least as good as Myrrh

My dad returned to the land of maple and hockey last night, and he brought smuggled presents. Much like stolen fries, smuggled presents are waaaay better than regular ones.

And the present was....A Chick-Fil-A.

Now, I am not a patriotic man, but I couldn't help humming "Sweet land of Liberty" ala Homer Simpson when he saw that toilet in Australia rigged to make the water flow the American way.

There is simply nothing on earth like a Chick-Fil-A. For those of you who have never had one, I almost weep at your loss. And for those of you who get to taste them whenever you so choose, do not take that gift for granted, like our precious freedoms, the air we breathe, or the opportunity to behold with stupefaction the wonder that is Paris Hilton. Cherish every sandwich you get, and shed a tear for those who've been left behind

I want vacation!

I got the script done, which meant the rest of this week was supposed to be vacation. Instead I have been run more ragged than before. It's been a strange week; for security reasons I can't tell you all the details, but let's just say at one point I was preparing a sermon, because it was possible I would have to preach this weekend.

Yes, me, preaching. People who know me a little are shaking their heads, laughing at what they perceive is a joke. However, people who know me a lot realize that around me, anything is possible.
Thankfully, that possibility will not come to pass, but I want it known that Hyperion was ready to step up to the plate.

And now, that crisis averted, I'm ready for VACATION! Come, ye gods of sloth and recreation! Pour your bounty on me!

Oh, and since it's Canada Day up here in the Witness Protection Program, here's a Shout-Out to you, with a salute from Major Mapleleaf (I'm not kidding)

Jenny from the...block

This clip is old, but someone just sent it to me as funnier than the bride from before. I have to admit, this is probably the funniest one out there, unless someone can top it?

FOX News: they report, you crack up

One more reason why Hyperion will never wed

Remember when I said that seeing that woman stomp grapes would be the funniest thing you saw all week?

It's a new week

all we are saying...

With all the patriotic fervor going on this weekend, some have complained that the anti-war movement gets short shrift.

For those people I have:


A collection of propaganda posters to further their cause.

I'm mostly impressed they came up with that many slogans.