Our Mission Statement:
In today’s state, Roboshrub Incorporated is an entity entirely devoted to the execution of what normal people would refer to as “bad ideas.” It was the creator’s original idea that all concepts, whether useful or not, contribute to the global subconscious level of progress for the human race. Therefore, we contend that no idea is an unfit idea, and vow to act on each and every one of them.

The massive and missive throngs of loyal Roboshrub Inc. consumers are in for a special treat this February. After a haydecade of super level nine point six secrecy, our product line is ready for installation! The month-long product expo will showcase all the semi-useful and quasi-dangerous inventions and innovations that the twisted minds of Roboshrub Inc. have come up with. Already, our two third-tier inductees, the Sunshine Socks and Martial Arts House Paint, have won your hearts and wallets. Sadly, February only has 28 days this year (sigh). Still, you’re bound to locate that perfect something to furnish your den, living room, dormitory, observatory, vomitorium, cave, cubicle, dojo, cabin or pantry.

Hope to see you at the expo!

Oh, no! Your boss is coming over for dinner tonight- and your entire house is falling apart! However will you pull off the perfect evening and get your boss to overlook your shortcomings at work—most noticeably, your poor attendance and utter incompetence—and manage that huge raise you’ve always wanted?

Simple. Roboshrub Incorporated is the proprietary supplier of Martial Arts House Paint. Formulated in late 2005, MAHP holds the rare distinction of being the only house paint in existence endorsed by both the International Federation of Senseis and the Japanese Mafia, the Yakuza.

It’s Ninja Approved.

Derived from seasoned berries and orchard blossoms throughout southeast Asia and northern Siberia, Martial Arts House Paint comes in twelve ninja-licious shades from “Gyakuzuki Vermilion” to “Kihon Kumite Tan” to the even more vivacious, “Ushiro Geri Electric Pink.” Don’t delay- order a can today, and save, save, save!

Reprinted from “Corporate Outsider Monthly”, Issue Dec. 2005
By Hans Friedrich

Many people would jump at the chance to use a brand-new piece of technology. When I was first offered the position of “Chief Product Debugger” at Roboshrub Inc. I initially declined. The company was situated many miles from the closest town, behind a grove of dead-looking pine trees. It was weathered and worn, and looked as if it had sat unused for a hundred years; even the job title itself had a dreary ring to it. It looked nothing like the ad, which showed a 19^th century steel mill surrounded by smiling workers. The ad had come, unsolicited, to my doorstep. I would not have followed up on it, but the starting salary was at least six digits. It was just too good of an offer to pass up. But this was nothing like the ad. The walls were rotting, the machinery was covered in cobwebs, and silence hung in the air. It was a tomb.

It was like walking through an old tomb.

Following the map on one of the crumbling walls, I eventually made it to the waiting room. One of the ceiling lights had a slightly orange glow to it, which made me uneasy. I always hate it when I'm looking at a bunch of ceiling lights and one is a bit off. After about fifteen minutes, I met with the manager. Before that moment, I did not believe that it was possible to concentrate so much aqua-velva in one place. I found out later that the “manager” was actually the President of Roboshrub Incorporated, so it's probably a good thing I didn't make a joke about the bad cologne. In truth, it was he who made the bad puns. “Name's Roboshrub. Michael Roboshrub the Fifth. Don't ever forget that, I'm the Fifth. Guess what my Great Grandfather's name was. Go on, guess!”

“Go on! I dare you!”

Still, the economy was in a slump and I desperately wanted expensive food. You may not think pizza is all that expensive, but a couple slices each week really adds up. But it's worth it. The sensation of the pizza, of the smell as you hold it up to your face, the taste of the cheese and sauce as you bite into it; can such a thing be given a monetary value? My mind lost to the ravages of pizza withdrawal, or perhaps blinded by the high salary, I recklessly agreed to become Roboshrub Inc.'s new Chief Debugger. I received my first project that day: testing the company's new solar powered umbrella.

Mmmmm.... pizza...

The umbrella had passed factory testing which involved being sprayed with water from a garden hose. My purpose was to test it under actual rain conditions. I watched the weather channel intently every day, but it was a dry month. The grass had turned a straw-like brown, and the leaves had been tricked into thinking it was already Autumn. I started browsing the Internet, looking for a new job. I was in the middle of updating my resume to include “Chief Product Debugger” when I head a familiar pattering on my air conditioner; it was raining!

Grabbing the device, I ran outside as fast as I could. I looked straight up and closed my eyes. Small pellets of rain softly battered my face. I heard two or three thunderclaps in the distance. The whole world was alive, with insects and birds chirping and the ground giving off it's ancient earthy smell. Remembering that my job (and six figure salary) depended on my ability to forgo this scene of unparalleled beauty, I sighed and pulled out the umbrella. It was unlike any umbrella I have seen before or since. The lining was a bluish fabric, softer than silk. The exterior, however, was covered in small rectangular solar cells. Each cell was identical, and they shimmered like the underside of a CD. As I held it up, the cells began to glow. Light streamed out of them, bathing me and the surrounding area in a prism. It began to unfurl, reaching out to protect me from the unrelenting downpour. Looking up I could see the cells through the umbrella's lining, which had become translucent. It's beautiful, I thought to myself. Then I heard another thunderclap and the world melted away.

It's... beautiful!

The stench of antiseptics knocked me back into consciousness. The doctor who greeted me told me that I had been struck by not one, but two bolts of lightning. This caused the bone marrow in the right side of my body to instantly boil, fusing several ribs together and leaving a huge scar across my back. If my neighbor hadn't looked out her window when she did, well, it might have been too late. A police examination of the umbrella found that the solar cells were made out of a highly conductive metal. It was as if I had been walking around with a lightning rod.

As soon as I got out of the hospital, I went directly to Roboshrub Inc. to demand compensation for my pain and suffering. But it was gone. When I first went there for my interview, the whole building looked empty, devoid of life. Now, nothing remained. The dead pine grove had stretched beyond it's original position to encompass where Roboshrub Inc. had been. I scurried around for at least a half hour, looking for some sign that I didn't imagine the place. There was no trace of it. As I turned to leave, I thought I heard laughter coming from the trees. I've never answered an unsolicited ad since.

“Looooooooooser..... ha ha ha ha!”

As a fully accredited sociologist, it is my duty to study the human condition in all it's forms. This includes intentionally provoking others through amazingly contrived situations, thereby forcing them to accept ideas beyond their current thought-processes. The following are failed experiments that resulted in lawsuits and/or property damage.

Failed Sociological Experiment #1: Operation Darwin

Purpose of Experiment: To study humans in their natural habitat.

Hypothesis: Humans tend to form complex social interactions when left to their own devices.

Findings: No findings. Hidden ceiling camera discovered by several subjects.

Failed Sociological Experiment #2: Mr. Critical

Purpose of Experiment: To record the reaction of several people to harsh, loud criticism by a complete stranger.

Hypothesis: Some people will be too perplexed to protest; others will sharply defend themselves against unwanted criticism.

Findings: Store managers ask you to leave when they see you screaming at customers.

Failed Sociological Experiment #3: Call of the Wild

Purpose of Experiment: Go through a public zoo with a silent dog whistle. Record the reactions of people when you use it.

Hypothesis: When the pandas start tearing each other apart, someone will tell you to knock it off.

Findings: Crowds love dueling pandas.

Failed Sociological Experiment #4: Bootless Bootlegging

Purpose of Experiment: Go through a security checkpoint to Mexico with an empty car. Go through the same checkpoint later with about twenty bags of sand, and act suspicious. Repeat each day for two weeks.

Hypothesis: The government is willing to spend thousands of dollars and dozens of hours investigating bags of sand.

Findings: Homeland Security detention centers are cold.

Failed Sociological Experiment #5: Come Again?

Purpose of Experiment: Ask someone for directions. Then, ask them to repeat what they just said. Keep asking them to repeat themselves until they give up and leave. Find out how long that takes.

Hypothesis: People will think you either have a serious memory problem, or are messing with them.

Findings: 45% of participants thought they were on a hidden camera show.

Failed Sociological Experiment #6: Tammany Hall

Purpose of Experiment: Pick a random member of Congress and send him/her letters accusing him/her of corruption. Find out if that member of Congress will personally respond to such outlandish accusations.

Hypothesis: No one in Congress has the kind of time to respond to baseless accusations.

Findings: Homeland Security detention centers are really cold.

Failed Sociological Experiment #7: Pen Pals

Purpose of Experiment: Wait until one in the morning. Then, look through your phone book for someone that lives a few miles away. Call them and claim to be from another country and ask to be pen pals.

Hypothesis: Most people will politely explain the difference in time zones and ask that they call back later.

Findings: People with Caller ID aren't so polite.

Failed Sociological Experiment #8: Beam Me Up

Purpose of Experiment: Find out how much the average person knows about Star Trek and thinks about Star Trek fans.

Hypothesis: The average person is neutral towards Star Trek, yet despises its fans (trekkies).

Findings: Although only 28% of subjects think trekkies are “nerds”, 79% feel that Star Trek fans do not exercise much. A whopping 61% believed that Star Trek and Star Wars were created by the same person.

Failed Sociological Experiment #9: Armageddon

Purpose of Experiment: Find out how many people think the world will end in the next couple of years.

Hypothesis: No one could be gullible enough to think that, given all our advanced technology and ingenuity, the world will end.

Findings: The world is ready for Armageddon insurance.

Failed Sociological Experiment #10: A Rose by Any Other Name

Purpose of Experiment: Strike up a conversation with a complete stranger. During the conversation, make up words. Record whether the person asks the meaning of the word or derives its meaning from the context.

Hypothesis: The more real a word sounds, the more likely it is that the subject will derive its meaning.

Findings: Freudian slips make this experiment unfeastible.

I don't know anyone who works for Blogger, but I know that very shortly, someone who works there (wherever "there" is) will come by and read this blog. How do I know this? Because somehow, my foolproof code to render my blog impervious to Blogger's flagging thing at the top of the toolbar has made them assume that this is a spam blog.

*snaps fingers*

So, if you don't mind, random employee, tell your blogging-industrial complex overlords to take my blog off their list. In fact, tell 'em to put it on the "Blogs Of Note" thingey that you've got on my dashboard. I want people the world over to witness the insanity and sheer randomness that is their birthright! Also, tell Blogger to get rid of the flagging thing because it's pretty lame and caused this whole mess. Then tell 'em to make more blog templates, 'cause I likeses the options! Also, put in more color combos for the bar at the top. And for the love of major league baseball, add some kind of polling feature! Less flags, more polls.

And on a less productive (or more productive, as the scholars will debate) note, I'm more than halfway done with the Super Secret Upgrade. I can't release any specific details, but you'll definitely notice a change the minute I get it all to work.

Q'Pla!

I have many duties as the United States' most distinguished economist. During my tenure at the Office of Imaginary Numerology I was entrusted with solving long term crises such as preserving the solvency of Social Security, to short term problems like managing the national deficit. After the recent recession and sluggish recovery, I was ordered (by the president) to draw up new government policies for improving the economy. The following proposals as well as the outline for my new “Greeting Card” pet project were submitted to the president during fiscal year 2005, and are pending review and implementation.


Lowering the National Deficit
According to the business cycle, the economy will expand, peak, and then contract. After it hits bottom, it recovers and the whole process starts anew. During contraction, the government is forced to spend money to hasten the recovery process. This adds to the national deficit. Therefore, it is advised to eliminate all government spending during an economic recession. In my professional opinion, doing this will alleviate the national deficit. The only side effect is a possible depression and extremely high unemployment rate. Of course, this can be offset by changing the definition of “unemployment” to exclude people who have no income. It is also recommended that the Federal Reserve raise interest rates to about 50%. This will encourage people to invest in high-interest government bonds, thus solving all our financial problems.


Keeping Gas Prices Under Control
If the Laffer Curve teaches us anything, it's how to keep gas prices down. Using the curve, we see that if the tax rate is too high or too low, the government only takes in a fraction of what it could potentially amass. To find out if the problem is the tax rate, the national tax on gasoline should be increased by $20 per gallon. After one week, the gas tax should be eliminated and massive subsidies should be given to the petroleum and auto industries. After another week or so, both industries will realize that money can't actually buy true happiness. They will then cooperate to build newer, more fuel-efficient cars. Once the demand for gasoline decreases, the price will drop.


Dealing with the Chinese Government
Over the last decade or so, China has emerged as a capitalist power. But while they may be economically dynamic and almost magical, they have been buying up dollars. Over the long haul, being indebted to the Chinese government poses a security risk. The easiest way to eliminate China as an economic threat is to force them to import more than they export. Unfortunately, they have a massive labor force and import far less than they export. Countless hours of research concluded that the one thing China needs to import the most is oil. It is therefore advisable to sell the Chinese government the entire Strategic Petroleum Reserve, as well as our arsenal of nuclear weaponry. This will cause China to import more than it exports, leaving its citizens completely demoralized and disillusioned. Their economy will crumble.


Fixing Social Security #1
Social Security is the most successful and widely loved entitlement program in American history. Unfortunately it is a “pay as you go” system, whereby the younger workers of society have a portion of their paychecks divvied up among the elderly who also used to have a portion of their paychecks removed. This will stress the system when the baby boomer generation retires (they're already starting to). The only way to counteract the baby boomer crunch is with, get this: another baby boomer generation. A third world war would certainly accomplish this goal, but the people of the early 22^nd century would just end up facing the same insolvency problem that we do now. Therefore, after the third world war, the government must repeal all environmental regulations and actually encourage unhealthy personal habits. This will give the second baby boomers a much lower life expectancy, preventing them from reaching retirement and sparing the people of the future from having a fourth world war.


Fixing Social Security #2
Immediately raise the retirement age for all baby boomers to 80. Those who choose to retire sooner are covertly shipped to organ harvesting plants.


Slowing Down the Housing Bubble
The price of homes has been increasing dramatically for some time now. This is great for homeowners who are selling their houses, but some economists warn that it parallels the dot-com bubble that burst a few years ago, leaving hundreds of computer geeks unemployed. They foolishly think that increasing prices on houses is unsustainable and will lead to economic ruin. Bah, I say! The housing bubble will never go bust. There is no reason to spend any time trying to fix this problem, for it does not exist. If anything, the government should be trying to get the prices on homes to go even higher!


Eliminating Poverty
The amount of people living in poverty has gone through the roof over the last four or five years. This is terrible but in that same time, the amount of millionaires has also gone up. The two cancel each other out, leaving us with no social problems whatsoever.

*UPDATE*

The President has recently approved all of my proposals, as well as my “Greeting Card” project. As a result of my research, progress is assured!

*UPDATE 2*

Despite choosing the latter option for fixing Social Security, the President was forced to switch to the former. A world war became inevitable once the Chinese started launching the nuclear missiles we sold them.

*UPDATE 3*

It would appear the petroleum industry hasn't gotten tired of money yet. Since the war began, they've raised the price of gasoline to approximately $50 a gallon. Technological innovations have ceased due to a strange global economic paralysis caused by hyperinflation. My “Greeting Card” project seems to have destabilized the Moon's orbit.

*UPDATE 4*

While the Earth may have been rendered uninhabitable by nuclear fallout, I am fully confident that my “Greeting Card 2” project will give us enough time to evacuate to Mars before the Moon's orbit completely decays.

My recent uphill battle against Internet censorship has uncovered a serious flaw in Blogger—it’s entirely possible for large groups of people to “Flag” blogs as objectionable. Since this banning process is completely undemocratic and contrary to the nature of an open forum, I have unleashed my brilliant mental prowess to create a solution. And that solution takes the form of:

<script>document.getElementById('flagButton').style.display = 'none';</script>

Just paste that into your blog’s template directly under where it says <div id="header"> but before <h1 id="blog-title">

When your page loads, the flag button will be banished from your toolbar forevermore! Well, almost. Inoculate yourself against censorship today!

There was once an Open Thread
who on the solar winds did tread,
who thought he could outrace the sun,
but then the Moon eclipsed his fun.

“The sun! The sun!” the Thread did cry,
and then with anger in his eyes,
he dared the foolish Moon to try
to take from him what he had wrought.
The Thread flew towards the moon with rage
to unleash what it sought to cage,
and through the smoke he bravely fought.

But fight the Moon? Could it be done?
Could the Thread regain the fun?

With his magic ice cream stick,
he fought the Moon. He bound it quick.
He cleaned it's clock, he stole it's soul,
he hit it with a parasol.

But then the Thread did come to see
the sunny fun he longed to free
was buried deep within the Moon,
trapped inside a lunar tomb.

Beside the pole, he sat and wept.
He didn't eat. He barely slept.

But at that time, out of the blue,
the Open Thread came face to face
with what can only be a case
of hyperbolic déjà vu.

Another Open Thread doth came,
flying in on wings of flame.
“Dear Thread,” the slick imposter purred,
“You've no idea the wrath incurred
by you against the Threads of Doom,
who get our fun out of the Moon.”

How could a Thread of any kind
have such an idiotic mind
to try to get fun from the Moon?
Explained within this ancient tune:
“Whosoever tries to take
from out the Moon the fun it makes,
shall know the Suffering of Leitin,
Master of the Art of Fightin'.”

“You fool!” the other Thread presumed.
“That ancient tune, it's text resumes!”

“But Leitin was a wise old man
who grasped the need to make a plan
to transfer from within his span
his power over fighting ham.

“He grabbed a Thread, an then the fun.
he took them both and from them spun
the greatest fun-Thread ever done.

“He took that fun-Thread to the Moon,
and then he wrote this ancient tune,
and thus began the Thread of Doom.”

So it would seem this strange pretender
was the Doom Threads' message sender.
A twist of fate with just one meaning-
this doom-Thread's clock was due a cleaning.

Grabbing fast his ice cream stick,
the Open Thread jumped up so quick
he hit the sender's glassy jaw,
who stood there with his gaping maw.

“How dare you dumb-Thread try to challenge
one of Leitin's greatest Threads!
I'll use my power over hammage
to make you fool-Thead meet your end!”

From out the doom-Thread ham of fire,
blazing with the glaze of honey,
came barreling toward the Open Thread,
its deadly nature oh so yummy.

To which the Open Thread replied,
again with fire in his eyes,
by throwing forth the ice cream stick,
devoid of ice cream, yes, but quick.

The Moon, the sun, where went the fun?
For when the Threads had ceased their duel,
they saw that life itself is cruel.
For where the sun and moon once sat,
there was Leitin, and surly at that.

“You Threads have failed my cosmic test.
You Threads are lines, I justly jest!
I spent ten years to find the best
but now I see you're like the rest!”

With shoes that shone as if with lightning,
off he ran, the Master of Fighting.
He left the Threads in disrepair,
glad they were finally out of his hair.

For years thereafter, across the sky,
the Open Thread and doom-Thread try
to find the fun that was their kin,
trapped forever on solar winds.

Whatever happened to “I may not agree with what you say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it?” I went to a certain blog, that shall remain nameless (no one who visits here, I can tell you), and decided to take part in a little discussion. It was about a theater in Utah banning the movie “Brokeback Mountain.” This post isn't meant to be about your or my opinions on Brokeback Mountain or the theater's right to show or not show it. I can't tell you exactly what my side of the conversation was, since ALL of my comments were deleted, but I can give you the gist of it. The commenters on said blog were discussing a certain “societal norm” related to said movie, and I decided to jump right in and ask why they felt that way. Based on the answer I received, I asked where in the bible a certain “societal norm” was prohibited. I don't know if I asked a third time, or not, because after that all the comments I wrote were summarily deleted and from the tone of the blog owner's comment, I think he was trying to ban me. Out of spite, I left two more comments saying that for each comment that was deleted, I would make two more. Those two were deleted by the next time I checked, but it turns out that my IP address was actually blocked. I didn't know that someone with a dial-up connection could have their IP address blocked, since a new address is generated each time I access the Internet. I spent about a half hour finding a list of anonymous IP hiding services. I then went back to vent my rage in the form of five IP-hidden, ban-free comments.

But this post isn't about the content of my comments, or about the movie or the theater. This is about someone maliciously silencing my political voice. It's about censorship. Instead of ignoring me until I left (and believe me, I would've gone away pretty quickly) this “blog owner who shall not be named” just removed all trace of me and banned me for life. I can understand how someone might want to delete one of my random senseless comments. For example, if I went to a political blog and wrote “Never in my life were you ever so fish-like, what with the inside of an inner tube”, I wouldn't mind having that comment deleted. But taking comments that I made to ask a legitimate question and just going “Poof! It's gone!” is not just an insult to my dignity and intelligence, it's an affront to the very tenets of free speech that the United States was founded upon.

What would you do, in my position?

What's the hidden story behind the pictures?

Okay, this blog has been around for about half a year now, so we've got the following statistics:

104 Posts
916 Comments
2648 Visitors
949 Random slogans
40 Random logos

Also, I suddenly remembered I had a blog strictly for Timages. I completely forgot about it due to that power outage I experienced last week. I drew up a whole batch o' Timages that are available for view right here. I even got caught up on all the days I missed.

The new Timages were all drawn in Flash. Bon appétit!

We've all seen the cartoons. Some kid does somethin' stupid, then G.I. Joe comes out and explains it and everyone learns a valuable lesson. But what if G.I. Joe were a little more Roboshrubby? An extensive search turned up a treasure trove of redubbed G.I. Joe cartoons worthy of the eyes of Roboshrub Incroporated. Behold the joys of:

Stop All the Downloading!
Mr. Body Massage Machine
Porkchop Sandwiches

You can also look at the others here. But hurry- it's only a matter of time before they're taken down.

I'd never seen so many scientists assembled together before. The whole auditorium was abuzz with the chatter of a thousand physicists, mathematicians, theologians, and Gregorian calendar proponents. As I set out to the central podium, a quiet hush fell over the teeming crowd. I stood there, with all their eyes glaring onto me. Some were apprehensive about what my findings would be; others were so full of anger that their hatred for me and my research team were palpable from the moment they entered the conference center. I cleared my throat and began to speak.

“Fellow scientists,” I began. One of the marine biologists in the back suddenly stood up and stormed out. This turned quite a few heads, and added to the tension in the room. Beads of sweat rolled down the side of my face. I steadied my hand and reached for the microphone. I cleared my throat again, and looked up at my colleagues. “I come to you today with perhaps the greatest scientific find since the discovery of fire,” I started, my voice shaky. I reached down into the depths of my brain to think about how I could articulate this properly. I thought briefly about those who had died to make sure I could give this speech, to tell the people the truth.

“Boo! Get off the stage!” shouted one of my former friends, Professor Brod Meieny. Brod never could accept new ideas. His arrogance would be his downfall in the New Order.

“Get off the stage!”

“Let him speak,” interjected Nuñez Griffin. Nuñez was one of the few older scientists able to understand the complexity of every situation. It made him formidable, and a champion chess player. He even beat the deplorable “Deep Puddle” supercomputer. But no one would be able to stomach the unbearable news I had to deliver.

“My study began over ten years ago,” I started once again, ignoring all interruptions. “I had just completed a course on macroeconomic applications to biological morphology, when I suddenly thought to myself, 'why is it so hard to reconcile religion and science?' So I set out to prove, scientifically, which religion is the one true faith. And my finding will change the very foundation of our society.”

I paused to let that sink in. Three scientists got up to leave, Brod among them. No big loss. I picked up the remote to my projector and began the slides.

“As you can see here, this is a map of medieval Europe. Only is wasn't known as 'Europe' back then. It was called 'Earope', due to the fact that Europeans worshiped the ear. Any history book claiming that medieval Europe was predominantly Christian is just plain wrong. This ancient religion of ear-worship ceased around the Renaissance, when it was replaced by numerous Christian sects.”

“That's absurd,” bellowed a cleric near the front of the room. “The people of Europe did not worship the ear.”

“No, Europeans never did. But Earopeans did, as my evidence proves. Take a close look at Stonehenge,” I said as I clicked the Salisbury Plains slide into focus. “Taken from its sides, Stonehenge is nothing more than an astrological calculator. But this aerial photo, when properly enhanced, shows an exact design of the human eardrum.”

Not a single one of them stirred. They all knew it was true. The picture clearly depicted the precise structure of a human ear. The resemblance was uncanny.

Was Stonehenge a giant ear?

“Now naturally, you may be wondering how the art of ear-worship fell out of fashion in Earope, and how this related to my study,” I continued. “You see, the ear religion was peddled on early Europeans by a technologically advanced nation known as 'Atlantis'. Atlantis was a nation-continent, much like Australia. Unlike Australia, Atlantis was situated in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, hence the name 'Atlantis.' We know very little of the Atlantians, only that they were an advanced people who colonized Mars, the Moon, and the Sun, although the solar colony mysteriously disappeared at the exact time it was founded. These Atlantians had an obsession with the human ear, and brought this fixation to primitive Europe. After generations of ear oppression, Europe rebelled by using the Altantians' own technology against them. The entire continent was teleported to the South Pole, and is today known as 'Antarctica.'”

Further outrage. Someone in the back threw a shoe at my head. It missed, but upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a cleat. This was premeditated.

“That's why I began my research by looking into the mythology of the Atlantian ear-god, Aurosis. I began to delve deeper into the nature of human thought and also nanotechnology. It seems that the gods of the Atlantians were real, and they were also highly advanced robots created by nanoscopic machines. Similar to today's animatronic movie puppets. Like Yoda.”

Aurosis, the Atlantian ear-god.

I smiled as I saw the younger geologists writing it all down. This was good research, and the backwards-thinking Brod and his ilk were going to be left behind in the proverbial dust if they didn't want to accept the inevitable conclusions. I just couldn't understand how anyone could hold a grudge against Yoda.

“Of course, the war between Earope and Atlantis resulted in the destruction of the Atlantian culture and brought Christianity to dominance in what was renamed 'Europe.' Then nothing of note happened for a few centuries. The flames of indecision died down, and Atlantis was eventually forgotten. But not forgiven,” I quipped. “The advent of plutonium by British pirates in the 18^th century—and yes, I know it sounds strange. But you must believe me, seafaring mariners of the British Empire discovered nuclear fission over 200 years before the Manhattan Project. We discovered fossilized remains of British pirates around the site of an ancient extinct atomic volcano, leading us to believe the pirates got the uranium for their endeavor from Africa.”

18^th century British pirates invented plutonium.

I next called up the slide dubbed “Hansel's Breadcrumb” by my assistants.

“Here we see pirate scientists struggling to understand the awesome power of one of the Atlantian gods they accidentally called back to life. Before their lab was destroyed in an explosion of biblical proportions, they managed to preserve all their knowledge on an ancient VHS. It is from this video,” I said grimly, “That we learn the truth about religion and science.”

Pirate scientists awaken an Atlantian god.

Grabbing a dictionary from beneath the podium, I called out, “Lies! All lies! The secret is that all words, all ideas, all thoughts regarding religion and science... it's all meaningless! The entire universe is just a figment of its own imagination. And the sooner we realize that, the sooner we can learn to control the latent psychic—”

“It's a cookbook! A cookbook!”

Nuñez and some of the others I thought I won over abruptly jumped up and shook their fists. Panic ensued, and all the theologians, all the physicists, all the high school gym teachers who attended, everyone just started screaming and bolting for the exit. As I slumped down behind the podium, my failure to convince anyone still a fresh injury, someone ran up to me. “Professor,” I heard her say, quietly, as if finally, my reason and logic had reached a sympathetic ear. “Professor, I just wanted you to know,” she began, “that that was the most idiotic thing I've ever heard in my life. Pirate scientists? Atlantian ear-gods? What's wrong with you?!” And with that, she spat on my lab coat and started to walk out.

Then I exerted my latent psychic abilities on the whole building and everyone who doubted me burst into flames.

Everyone who doubted me burst into flames.

Yes, that right. After 34 hours of no electricity during the coldest month of the year, Central Hudson has finally sent someone over to fix the power lines. I got power back at 5:30 this afternoon. I can only assume that the cable lines were also restored, since I was able to watch T.V. Due to my house's location, I get zero reception without cable or satellite. And I've got a serious problem with satellites, stemming from an early repressed memory regarding the illegal sattelite trade.

But anyway, here's the skinny. Late Monday night, I got about a foot of snow. This put pressure on the power lines, and around 7:30 Tuesday morning, all power to my house, as well as my neighbors' houses ceased. This sort of thing happens at least once a year, so almost everyone has a generator. I managed to hook mine up to my computer for about ten minutes so I could shoot out the first post about my situation.

Because we expect no less from Central Hudson. They never come by the day the power goes out, especially at night, unless there's some kind of emergency. This isn't the first time I've been left without power. When I first moved here, they actually forgot to turn power on in my house for four days. Of course, I think there was some kind of hurricane or somethin' at the time, but it turned out that they just plum forgot.

Anyone got any electricity-related stories to share?

I can't blog... my whole block has lost electricity. I'm writing this using a generator.

More on this later... once electricity is restored.


Dun dun... dun dun dun dun!

Ironically, I can only access the Internet because I have dial-up. Cable lines are down.

Yes, it was a riggorous pace, but I managed to ensure a post each day for the entire month of December. But I survived! You didn't think I could make it... but I exceeded all your expectations, and thrived on the labor thrust upon me! Like a horse ridden to its early demise, I learned from my mistakes, and will never repeat them.

First mistake: I never saw it coming. A whole month of chronic posting? How did I ever fall into such a rut... my creative muscles are dying of exhaustion! I'll never be able write a funny story for days!

Also, I write best when I'm sleep-deprived. Since I've got two more weeks of vacation before the next semester, I'm getting enough sleep, and therefore, nothing of note is forming in my mind.

Already. My. Mind. Weakens.


Boom! Pow pow! I'm a computer!
I'll be back tomorrow, so you'd also probably be here, under the moon and stars. That's where the dreams to dream and the sights to see are coming from. Forming lilly pads deep in the night sky, above the puny Earth where all can gaze upon its majestic beauty. I understand the sky-people, and they know that deep under all my human organs lies the robotic heart of a pirate. “MP3 pirate”, shouts iBeard from beyond the barrier of life and death. Yes... iBeard died a long time ago, along with the crew of the Seasnail... I remember it quite clearly, as though I had been there.

Why do I&mdash is my mind playing tricks on me?! Who are you?!