Bathroom Monologue: Respectable Shit, OR, Respect a Bull Shit, OR, Another Crotchety Bathroom Aphorism?

“Whenever a man doesn't want something anymore, the world has moved beyond it. Whenever a man wishes something were still around, the world is going to Hell. He who believes the world has moved beyond Hell is equaled in the severity of his delusion only by he who believes that Hell is not on the move.”

Bathroom Monologue: 5 to 30 to 1 to 6

“Where’d you go? You left at 1:00, and you were scheduled until 5:30! I had to cover your shift!”

“You signed me up for 5:30, which I took to be a ratio of 5 to 30. But that’s actually only a ratio of 1 to 6, so I reduced it and left at 1:06. This country is woefully mathematically illiterate.”

“You’re fired.”

“And you’re innumerate.”

Bathroom Monologue: Monster Genome Theory

Magical evolution is one of the few things both nightmarish monsters and evolutionary biologists mutually dislike (that, and egg salad sandwiches). Yet it became plainly obvious that something was up when Banshees of the British Isles, Greek Sirens and North American Wendigos displayed such similar traits. All displayed voices that broke all laws of sound, but boasted very similarly shaped throats and vocal passages. Up until then it had just been a “talent thing,” and only fringe biologists had dared suggest their voices had co-evolved, or evolved in a common ancestor.

These fringe thinkers observed that the Wendigos were already incredibly hairy, boasted slow metabolism, and even adaptations to cannibalize, all suited to their bitter home climates – things that looked like heritable traits. The fringers suggested Wendigo cries might have mating advantage.

Co-evolution seemed more likely as the Sirens also developed their voices for mating purposes in the highly competitive Grecko-Roman mythological world where men and gods were not only attracted to voluptuous women, but other men, children, and assorted livestock. The magical voice was essential to the perpetuation of the Siren species. And since Sirens also tended to eat their lovers, it had a Wendigo-like hunting aspect.

Only the Banshees held out, with an ironclad explanation that their piercing voices had evolved so that they could be heard in sports pubs on game day. Banshees, the militant traditionalists and rugby enthusiasts that they are, published article after article slamming the evolutionary theory. “And good luck,” one scholar put it, “finding fossil record evidence or incorporeal species.”

Undaunted, Wendigo and Siren scientists are still tracing their lineages. They think they may have a new lead, in the form of the howler monkey in Africa.

Bathroom Monologue: Unknowable Threat

Mittens, Schrodinger's Assassin Cat. No one knows if he's in the box or not. No one knows if he's behind you right now. No one knows whose Swiss bank account the bounty will go to. No one knows why he has a fetish for the socks you lose in the drier, and should anyone discover it, countless possible universes will perish.

Bathroom Monologue: Technology and Magic Were Meant to Work Together in the Hands of a Chosen Few Geniuses

Angon stepped down from the battlement.

“Well, we’re done for now. They have ten thousand ships, and the royal fleet is only four-hundred strong.”

Ninx smirked and shook her head. “Surely you’ve heard of Helen of Troy.”

“The beauty so great her face could launch a thousand ships?”

“While all the Greek warriors were running off to skewer and get skewered, a distant ancestor of mine was sketching Helen’s face. He was a remarkably accurate artist.”

She pulled a parchment out of her jacket and tugged it open before Angon’s face. On it was a face so beautiful that he had to swallow and hold himself back; he was so stirred that he had to avert his eyes to stop entertaining the notion of marrying a piece of paper. Or at least raping it.

Ninx waved the drawing briefly before rolling it up.

“Surely you’ve heard of the famous Helen Drive. Can turn any privateer into a member of the armada. Even makes war ships, if you believe the mythology.”

He shut his eyes to end the temptation. Still he quivered.

“So you have a drawing that might pull a couple hundred ships out of the mist to help us. Even if it’s a full thousand galleons, we’d be out-numbered ten-to-one.”

She rolled up the parchment and smirked again. “But I have a photocopier.”

Unknowable Threat on Flashshot

"Unknowable Threat" is the story of the day over on Flashshot. It's a new take on Schrodinger's cat, exposing just how dastardly the little feline was.

You can check it out at this URL: http://www.gwthomas.org/flashshotindex.htm

Bathroom Monologue: Conversation Starters, OR, Readers, Please Respond

-Would you strangle a dolphin for cash?
-If George Washington was the first president, then where did he come from?
-Which would win in a fight: a KFC store, or a shark with mechanical legs?
-What is the hardest you’ve ever jogged?
-What is the probability of a velociraptor accidentally activating a time machine and traveling to the present? Also, can I borrow your time machine? I… misplaced mine.
-How would we know if we were characters in a very detailed Grand Theft Auto game?
-What part of a horse would be the least distressing if you found it in your bed? Also, do you lock your stable at night?
-How aware would you be of a parasitic squid attaching to your back if it had the pheromonal ability to deceive your touch-receptors? Also, what is that bulge under your shirt?
-The average PSP has more computing power than all the computers that organized the first mission to the moon. Given that, should you feel amazingly embarrassed or relieved that you can’t beat the first level of this game?
-If one organ in your body is conspiring against you right now, which do you think it is and what strategy will it require to win?

(Please feel free to respond to any of these in the Comments section)

Bathroom Monologue: Self-Defeating Prophecy

It wasn’t that the end of the world got here, but that too many did. The frost giants wanted to freeze the world, the fire gods wanted to burn it, and the deities of science had all manner of diseases and bombs that would let the humans kill themselves off. Irony was a big seller in the market of The End.

Well humanity saw the many apocalypses arguing and came up with a clever idea. One would-be leader went up to them and proposed the agents of Armageddon end each other, and whichever was left would be announced the most effective, and then get to end the world. The last doomsday standing, as it were, would win.

Eager to get some sort of destruction in, they began ending the crap out of each other. Polar ice caps melted and extinguished exalted volcanoes. Meteor showers decimated android armies. Cataclysmic earthquakes swallowed up dragons, rendering global warming utterly irrelevant.

And yet not a single human was slain in the battle royale. Only the Angels of the Rapture wised up, and only in time to see the last humans spaceships leaving earth for new worlds. Then the dragons and gods had nothing but an empty planet to destroy. And frankly, with all the trees and none of the pop music, they didn’t want to. They leveled a few cities and had a picnic in the shade of former skyscrapers instead. The sum total of all destructive potential grabbed some sun tan lotion and relaxed.