Saturday, September 13, 2008

Bathroom Monologue: Show me Your I.D., OR, I’ll need two forms of I.D. with that, OR, Get Over This Pun, John

Amin Tech was way ahead of the curve on genetic engineering, producing the first self-sustaining waves of biological nanomachines. These weren’t metal and they didn’t have silicon processors – they were too small for such clunky stuff. Instead, Olivia and Micah Amin lovingly spliced DNA and turned bacteria to good use. They spliced so much DNA that they had ligases named for them (even if nobody in the press knew what ligases were).

Olivia and Micah programmed behavior patterns to the bio-nanos, so that they swarmed and could deal with complex problems in the human body. One booster shot of the buggers could clear out a blocked heart valve in minutes.

Through careful mapping of bio-nano DNA, they could even stimulate the production of healthy proteins in the human body, so that any ligament or muscle could be repaired. Once the job was underway, the bio-nanos would break down and become part of the protein in the healthy new tissue.

But the final development was accidental.

Late one night, Micah thought she noticed strange wave patterns moving in a dish of bio-nanos. Sharing of the wave patterns seemed to correlate between unprogrammed changes in their behavior, specifically making them swarm. Since bio-nanos could only do their jobs if they followed the programs, this innovation was worrisome. Were they self-organizing? Were they talking to each other?

Micah worked to dawn developing a device to decode the mysterious waves. She was stunned over what she read. She paged Olivia, who grumpily drove over to the lab.

Olivia thought Micah was nuts, but mid-argument the two noticed another series of inexplicable wave patterns. Micah switched the device on in time to decode only the last wave, which formed one last sentence: “All that aside, I don’t believe in intelligent design.”

Friday, September 12, 2008

Bathroom Monologue: Seems to Me

“This isn't what it seems! ... Okay, it's exactly what it seems. German Shepherds are actually the smartest species on the planet and have been toying with us all along. I still can’t believe we didn’t figure it out when they made figure skating an Olympic event. But now isn’t the time for hindsight, Charlene! We have to counterattack before the realize we’ve caught on. … What? Yes, of course they made me cheat on you. Why else would I have done it? You think I’m attracted to this supermodel? She means nothing to me! It was the German Shepherds, Charlene! The German Shepherds!"

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Bathroom Monologue: Your confidence in your ability to escape a full nelson over time, OR, The first-ever Bathroom Chart

Transcribed from a piece of toilet paper, this chart seeks to begin scientifically explaining the male experience through the isolatable event of a challenge to escape a full nelson. The full nelson is an amateur wrestling hold in which the aggressor wraps his arms under the arm pits of the opponent, linking his hands behind the opponent’s head. Pressure can be placed forward, making it difficult for the opponent to breathe. It is notable as one of the seven challenges a man will see on TV and immediately think he could do better than whoever is doing it, along with curling, the first event on American Gladiators and everything on CSPAN.

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Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Bathroom Monologue: Wealth is Wasted on the Rich, OR, Friends are Wasted on the Happy, OR, Humor is Wasted on the Humorous

Jovie was the Gambino family’s favorite customer. For years Papa Gambino had invited Jovie to the bar for complimentary drinks, and they would stay up laughing and getting plastered long after closing time. Jovie was such a fixture in the restaurant that Papa Gambino’s friends recognized him by the back of his head (in contrast, most of them didn’t even know Gambino’s daughters’ names).

One night when the bar was particularly packed with Papa Gambino’s friends, Jovie told the story of how he first came to the restaurant.

“I’d just moved into town, since all the real estate was so cheap. My wife and I were starving, having driven all day on nothing but gas station candy. We unpacked all her clothes, all her paintings, all her majesty’s bath utilities – the woman has no end of things for which I have no beginning. Our cupboards were bare, and so were our nerves. We drove by this shopping center and saw the grocery store closed. On either side were these two little rinky-dink places: one Italian, one Chinese. I asked the wife what mood she was in, and she said she was in the mood for whatever was closer. Fortunately we entered on the left, so it was Italian. We went in and within minutes I was gabbing with this guy,” Jovie smacked Papa Gambino on the back. “So many years of sitting in this place and chatting. If we’d gone to the other place, everything would have been different!”

Papa Gambino’s friends hooted with laughter until Maria Gambino, Papa’s middle daughter, asked, “How would things have been different?”

For the first time in her life, everyone stared at Maria for something other than her chest. It was a still an uncomfortable moment.

Then Jovie exclaimed, “I would have learned Chinese!”

The bar erupted in laughter. Stoolie almost threw up for laughing so hard. The only time they laughed harder that night was when they taught Jovie how to say, “I would have learned Chinese” in Italian.

Jovie’s wife never came down to the restaurant. Papa Gambino’s daughters understood why.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

“Scientists receive death threats over "end-of-world" experiment” –Fedquip,

Dear Science,

Please don’t blow up the world. I don’t think you will, don’t think you want to, and am uncertain how it would exactly work – but if the world starts blowing up, please hit the ‘Pause’ button. Since your particles will be moving at more than 99.9% of the speed of light, you ought to be able to dodge disaster unless you take your eyes off the road.

As I understand it the Large Hadron Collider you’ve built may recreate some of the conditions from just after the Big Bang, so if you do destroy the world, you’ll at least do us the kindness of immediately starting it again.

On a related note, should the Large Hadron Collider end and begin all life again and you end up in the Yahweh position, could you please inform any of the new life you should see to please “Chill out” this time?

On another related note, congratulations on inventing the notion of the end via beginning. Armageddon by meteors, alien invasion and apathy of deities were all interesting, but humanity has never encountered something so novel as all matter dying out thanks to it starting.

Love and kisses,

Bathroom Monologue: Going Gracefully

“No, you know what? I want people to miss me. My death should be a big deal. I want my family crying. I want my manager to beg God to let him trade somebody else. I hope my ex-girlfriends show up and lament that they should have given me head more often. I want the president in the front row signing a cloning bill so that he can get more of me out there as soon as damned possible. None of this happy funeral bullcrap. Miss me and know it’s never going to be that good again.”

Monday, September 8, 2008

Bathroom Monologue: Thanks to random spam from oertwig@unknownmailerdaemon for inspiring this one with your likely made-up name

There were blacksmiths who refused to make weapons. Of them, Oertwig was the most famous. His pacifism wasn’t notable when he was just an apprentice and spent most of his time fetching bellows or water. It became a source of conflict when he became a professional, and especially after he showed such talent.

He began with horseshoes, made with tiny feather imprints, and after shoeing them, the horses ran at double speed.

His first shield bore the imprint of a single fingertip, like a giant had stamped it with his thumb. On the battlefield, that shield was held futilely up against a battering ram, and repelled it.

All of Oertwig’s ironworks held up under the pounding of enemy steel, though soon he was not working with such lowly metals. Soon he was making soft gold cufflinks that never scratched, each with a little perfect circle imprint on the center. Soon he was getting loads of rare dwarfish metals, things that glowed or turn knives dull all on their own, just to see what he could do with them.

But the orcish and human kings demanded Oertwig smith them weapons. By that time he was rich and renowned, and used his position to refuse. They used their positions to insist.

His breastplates bearing interwoven hands were uncannily likely to catch arrows between their fingers, and never let them pierce the leather doublets beneath. The man who wore Oertwig’s first hound helm was mistaken for a werewolf. When his apprentice held Oertwig’s personal ankh, he swore he had a vision of the two great prophets.

Still, he made no swords or spears. When warlords brought torches to his door in threat, he responded by dumping water onto his own coals. The local militia was so enraged that they would have stabbed him to death, if they could have penetrated his armor. The closest thing to a weapon he ever made was drawing a wave on his piss bucket. When he emptied the thing out the door it washed the militia down to the river.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Bathroom Monologue: Wizard’s Second Rule

-All your relationships will end poorly anyway, so date for looks.
-Automatic mops never work out as well as you think.
-Point wand away from face at all times.
-Angst can replace the ether and Eldritch energy as a viable source of magical energy within the clearly-marked dénouement zone.
-Though people have been learning and speaking Latin academically for centuries, only you, while waving a stick, can make it blow up the world.
-A penis does not substitute for a wand ever. Don’t even try it. The sting stays with you.
-Zee goggles. Zey do nutzing!
-If your wizarding school gets a new student with a tragic and profound destiny, transfer out. The world will be saved regardless and you’ll be safer this way.
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