Talking of silliness, I watched this news report yesterday (possibly not for the squeamish) and am starting to wonder exactly where amazing news stops and Monty Python starts. Getting the man to shake his head while the surgeon is operating seems a little unprofessional!

così

mi sono fatto una tisana
e ho deframmentato l'hard disk

A song for Sarah Palin

(from Looky Daddy)

Or some of the Tina Fey satire that has been making news.

(from Audrey and the Bad Apples). (Hey you like that? You can join the Tina Fey for VP facebook group.)

From Lavatus Prodeo, this kind of people vote for McCain

Or from Hoyden About Town: (and Tigtog who says the US election campaign is descending farther and farther into black farce)

Ok so this isn't a balanced look at the election - I have a bit of an anti McCain camp slant, but even Rolling Stone mag is asking serious questions about McCain's history, and Naomi Wolf is questioning his health. If you what some pro- McCain or even pro- Obama info, google is good and the internet is a big place.

I can be a tad difficult to work for. I'm loud, pushy and while I used to think we paid well, i am no longer sure. i work from home, so you get the pleasure of being hounded by me all day long. and, you get to pretend to like me, because i am deeply sensative. (but well dressed and a know it all, a winning combination I assure you.)

If you cannot multi task, or communicate without being passive aggressive, don't even bother replying.
If you are the type who doesn't notice crumbs on the table, skip to the next post, because crumbs are a deal breaker. they put me over the edge.

i have all sorts of theories on how to stack my dishwasher, and if you are judgemental about ritalin for adhd, or think such things are caused by too much sugar, again, deal break city.
You do get a separate entrance excellent studio on the ues. you do get air conditioner and internet connection and cable. even hbo. and showtime. you can bring your spouse, roommate or partner, but sorry no kids. If you ask, can i bring my kid, the answer will be...anyone? anyone? No.
If you can cook, all the better. otherwise, i'll teach you all sorts of things about pasta. (Here's a freebie, butter and parmesean, mmmmmm)

If you know anything about chess and violin i will be impressed.
We are not snobs, which is good. but then again, my kid sometimes swears to make a point. (We're working on it, but halfheartedly, because, well the apple doesn't fall far from the fucking tree.)Although I am told they are all very bright, they have not mastered the use of the oh so complicated napkin. This is a napkin Junior, say it after me...Nap Kin. Good boy.

i am not looking for Super nanny, or anyone who wants this job because they will love my kids as if they are their own. you won't. really. they are infinitely lovable, but trust me, they're mine and you will move on when your journey with us is over, and save for some funny stories and a delightful email every now and again, you won't grieve. Nor will we. (okay, we did all grieve a few of our past sitters, oddly they were all named Sarah or Kate, or Nikki. And Leah. Leah was delightful, even if she did drop my twin babies off our couch during a family gathering. Good times.

I don't want someone who has a lot of theories on the right way to raise kids, because in the end, I'm just a woman doing my best. I'm willing to learn from you, or anyone, but not so much about how i should parent my spawn. teach me to knit. introduce me to yoga, the white stripes, russian literature or the best place to get a burger in the village at 2Am, but do not tell me to put star stickers on a good boy chart. stickers irritate me.

If you are fundamentally unhappy with your life, you will be more unhappy if you take this job, so do us all a favor and get some treatment or move to the Rockies, but do not apply for employment with us. Also, if you suspect all wealthy women are frivilous, we are not for you. I do not want to hide my occasional bergdorf shopping bag.

If you smoke, please quit. don't apply either, but please quit. i have known too many people diagnosed with cancer this year. Even if you are a judgemental nanny 911 wannabe, no one should have to endure some of the things I have wittnessed.

You gotta be able to drive with a valid license, but if you've ever hit a human,move to the next post. You won't have to drive in the city, but if we go to our weekend place together, or if you make it to the summer and still work for us, we need you to run into town to get some pink milk, so be able to drive a mini van.
Can you swim? Swimming is good.

If you do drugs or drink enough so that you are grumpy in the morning and grumpier at night prior to that next cocktail, call AA, and peruse craigslist childcare positions when you have a year sober. I'll probably be looking again, and now is the time for you to focus on yourself anyway.
I need a team player. I need someone to back me up when it comes to remembering when the library books are due, and whether i have rsvped to that birthday party yet.
Help me dear G-d keep track of our skim milk supply and also, also, also, what should I make for dinner tomorrow night?

the hours are 7 in the morning to 8:30 in the morning. We'd be in it together, getting the kids out with clean faces, brushed teeth and some food in their bellies. Doesn't that sound easy? Doesn't that sound doable?
Then come on back for a fun filled afternoon 2:15-8:15 of activities and playdates and snacks and dinners and homework and riveting conversations about global warming, hannah montana and guitar hero.
When you do get to go home (to that swanky studio and possibly a significant other or buddy) your time off will be respected. If I would like you to give extra hours, i'll ask. if you say yes, you get paid 15/ hour. if you say no, I will not fire you or hate you. Except if it is a school holiday or if i have a sick kid, then i might ask, and unless you have a final exam worth 2/3 of your grade or tix The Lion King, you may need to help out.

Okay, if you're still reading this ad, it means:
a) i am a halfway decent writer and maybe i really will get that book deal i'm yearning for
b) you need a job desparately
c) you think this just might be destiny, and that you could be one of the few, the proud, the potential babysitter of our dreams.
D) you want all the information about job requirements, so that you can write me emails about how I should stay home with my kids otherwise they are going to grow up to be sociopaths. (If my pen pal is out there, wassup? Found love yet? No? How 'bout that.)
best of luck to all of you in your search for a job. Seriously. Job searching sucks. No two ways about it.

Source: Craig's list

Her 15 minute re-mix?  "I'm in Love With Declan."  (A boy she knew in preschool).  It was hilarious.  This was the first time we've heard about her being in love with anyone, let alone Declan.  She misses him, cause she hasn't played with him in a long time.  She wants to be with him forever.  He actually played with her, unlike some of the boys at school now who won't play with girls.  All this made it into the song...including attending his birthday party and the fact that his last name is Irish so he's probably part Irish like her!

Daddy was loving it!  Not!  It was hilarious and we had to work hard not to bust out laughing!  We arrive at our destination, and she finishes her song only to realize she's left a part out and wants to start all over from the beginning.  Daddy said not now.  lol

Then on Saturday she was talking about falling in love with Declan.  I asked her what that meant--she had no idea.  But she knew she had fallen in love with Declan.

Now, I'll admit--I was boy crazy early on.  End of kindergarten.  But I don't think she's officially boy crazy just yet.  I think it's more to do with popular culture....Disney movies, love songs, and oh yeah--the whole wedding thing going on right now.  Or so we hope.  She'll have more than plenty of time for boy crazy days and falling in love.  But she only has so many days to be a little girl.

I could go on and on. How easy it is to write a heavily descriptive novel. How easy to endlessly digress. The idea of filling 400 pages of pedestrian descriptive excrement is seductive beyond measure.
Now now Johnnie, control your mind. Avoid slinging mud at the audience (you’ve done that with ‘Mumbai for Dummies’). Harness the wild horse.
Ok, fucking voice in head, I will try to refrain from super-trite shit. ☹.

That day I sat on the topmost rocks. The backs of those scattered mounds of rock lay   against the boundary walls of posh sea-facing buildings. The mounds looked like small jagged hills, with the beach beginning at their foot. From my vantage point, I had an unobstructed view of the sea and the effulgent cosmic fruit, cut in half and dipping under the horizon.

The first sense to be viciously assaulted in the heart of Mumbai is generally that of smell, followed by that of sight. Decaying fish, human and animal excrement, the acrid stench of urine, the organic and non-biodegradable litter callously strewn all over the place. All these unite to create a unique olfactory cocktail: a miasma nauseating to anyone who isn’t inured to it. I saw all that filth comfortably nested in the cavities between the rocks.

During high-tide, the belligerent waters swallowed up the beach. It was possible but hazardous then to make one’s way up the rocks. Today the low tide had graciously ceded about a hundred meters of land. More than half of that land, the part closer to the water, was wet and dark brown in colour. The fading light brought with it the continually changing hues of dusk: the overlapping of orange and yellow, then yellow and golden, and then colours that I did not know names for until I saw the penultimate transition to silver-blue. The sound of the waves was loud; the cadence- with respect to both sight and sound- of undulated waters breaking at the shore brought an uncanny tranquility to the evening.
On the dry beige sand, variegated life teemed. In a while it would ebb with the fading light.
People were out for their evening walks. The smooth wet sand was a mirror in which I saw their hazy reflections.
A man sitting on the rocks to my right had a notepad on his side in which he sporadically scribbled something. At other times he seemed to be trying to tap into the infinite, assuming an unusually erect posture.
To my left, I saw a group of men close to the water. They were furiously beating drums slung around their necks; there was rapidity in the rhythmic sound.  They were offering prayers to win the favour of the Supreme Radio that was hopefully tuned into every station in the cosmos.

A few kids were taking rides on ambling horses. The horse-owners walking beside them who held the reins charged a modest fee. Stray dogs pranced around. There were also those dogs that possessed a somewhat exalted status- the ones on a leash walking beside their masters. If only one could understand what was being exchanged across the canine class divide.
It was quite dark now. I could see the Mumbai skyline to my west. The silhouettes of tall buildings were dotted with white spots against a silver-blue sky. The white spots that flickered at their feet must have been the bustle of automobiles. How painful it would be to be stuck in the snail pace traffic of Mumbai’s evening rush. I imagined those tired faces lumbering homeward….

Where are you going with this Johnnie? While you are at it, why don’t you describe in detail every person you see on the beach? Surely that would fill up a hundred pages. Why not also speculate about the colours of their underwear while you are at it? How about the sexual orientation of each of the dogs you saw? That would be particularly insightful and entertaining, don’t you think?
Some parts of the preceding passages are satisfactory, but remember Johnnie, the key to a good novel is that every line you write must be either entertaining or educative or both, and novelty must be maintained in all cases. If a line is neither of these two E’s, then it should be scrapped. A balance between the two is a good thing though: too much entertainment and too little insight would make your novel pulp; too much insight and too little entertainment would make it overly cerebral and a laborious read at best, and pretentious or wannnabe at worst. What your writing is categorised as would depend on what and how you write. That would also largely determine what type of audience you end up communicating with. The balance between the two E’s will largely determine your readership- with respect to both number and nature. Have you thought about all this?
In summary, I ask state my question again: where are you going with this, Johnnie?
Look Mr. Know Itall, personally I care more about money than your two ‘E’s and ‘novelty’. In my experience, spice sells, even if the spice one offers is steeped in triteness. If I have to forfeit glory, I am OK with that.
There will definitely be some ‘pulling at the heart strings’ in my novel, and atleast one sexual incident- a little bit of titillation generally manages to evoke interest. Maybe I’ll enthrall them with a bit of adventure while I am at it. The good thing about my writing is that it not only entertains many people but also is conducive to stability: it causes no disquieting upheaval or questioning of their being or identity. This insight stuff is hard to write from a writer’s perspective, and is dangerous for the reader.
So there you go, Mr. Anarchist. Now go suck an ostrich egg- hopefully that is novel enough for your tastes.

I sat there till not a whisper of light remained in the sky. The sound of the crashing waves became increasingly distant as I walked away; the city and the angst claimed me again.

End.

This episode is a must-listen-to for every Christian who is serious about Jesus and His Church. Christians must guard against becoming like the culture. For example if the culture becomes godless the church will also (or has it become like this already??) There is a dumbing down taking place in Western culture and Christians must not let themselves follow suit. God gave us a brain for a reason; let's start using it again! It's not about being an academic or an intellectual giant. It's about seeking to understand God's Word and to apply it to our lives. This goes for the guy with no High School grades to the Girl with a Doctorate in Rocket Science!

Listen to this edition of the White Horse Inn here

After I finished working, I went out on to the street to find a taxi. I'll give you the tip, Canberra on a Sunday afternoon is no buzzing metropolis. I walked for six minutes in the heart of Canberra without seeing a single living creature or vehicle. I walked up the middle of a major road, and it was all I could do not to scream out "HELLO! IS THERE ANYONE HERE?" A couple of times I thought I saw something flit behind me, but that was probably just the Liberal Party's shadow ministry.

If I ever make a post-apocalyptic zombie flick - and I intend to - It will definitely be set in Canberra. I'm going to get public servants to play zombies, they're perfect for the role. They'll lurch around Canberra doing horrifying things like trying to feed on human flesh or getting people to write ministerial briefs.

And the only way to defeat them will be to lead them into a roundabout, which their dull zombie minds can't cope with. The hero (played by me of course) will take an exit while the public servant zombies run endless circles. It works on so many levels.

For some reason (I haven't decided what yet, but probably a quarantine of Canberra), the only place to take refuge for the night will be Parliament house. My small group of weary survivors will be holed up, only to discover the grand-daddy Zombie and his crew are (shock) already in Parliament: Yep, Kevin Rudd and his cabinet. Zombie Kev speaks in a droning monotone and no-one is really sure what he is saying.

But as they lurch towards the cornered survivors, I notice someone is missing. Then, just as all hope is lost, the doors are kicked open. Standing silhouetted in the moonlight, only her flaming red hair gives away her identity - it's Julia Gillard! Her gingerness makes her immune to becoming a zombie! (Gingerness is a more virulent virus than zombie-ism). She's got a flame thrower she got from the Duntroon military college down the road, and a mountain bike from the AIS. She steps up to Zombie Kev and says, "Forget the global financial crisis - this is a meltdown!" and torches all the Cabinet zombies.

Err, yeah, so as you can tell, I had a bit of time on my hands at the airport. But Canberra really is the perfect eerie abandoned location for making films. Apparently the National Gallery is quite good too.

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

Le gamin demande à la petite fille :

- Que vas-tu demander pour Noël ?
- Je vais demander une Barbie, et toi?
- Moi, je vais demander un Tampax, répond le garçon.
- C'est quoi un Tampax?
- J'en sais rien... mais à la télé, ils disent qu'on peut aller à la plage tous les jours, aller à vélo, faire du cheval, danser, aller en boîte, courir, faire un tas de choses sympa, et le meilleur... sans que personne s'en aperçoive !!!

Wise Advice summoned Big Al to the Great White North, upon learning that his expertise might bolster the cause of the blind (blend) {See recent comments from Aluion} and lend support to her plan to 'make a point' when casting her ballot tomorrow. Big Al has been known to write clever comments and insults on doors in public spaces...in Braille. "He kinda scares me", said Wise Advice of the southern guru, "Definitely a smart guy, but he must be crazy from listening to several synthesised speech voices on various computers simultaneously". When asked about her plan to bring public  attention to the inaccessibility of the Canadian Election, WIse Advice said, "Look, I can't do this alone. If Big Al can fake a Canadian accent, we'll get him one of those spare ballots floating around to do whatever he chooses with".

Sure, doctor, what can I do for you, says the patient.

"Would you scream in the most earsplitting, piercing screams you can manage? Try to make it sound as if you're in terrible pain." The doctor says.

"But why, doctor, you've always been gentle with me and your treatments have never caused me any pain?" Asks the patient.

"Yes," Says the doctor in a matter-of-fact tone, "but I have a 4 o'clock tee time at the golf course I don't want to miss, and my waiting room is still full of patients."

From: www.onlyfunnystories.com

Now is the time says Brooker to 'grow our own vegetables and learn hand to hand combat with staves'.

Ho ho ho.  Unless of course you're one of the people who has lost everything, in which case perhaps its not quite so hilarious...?

I am indebted to Nick Gibsone for sending me this article about banking that appeared in a 1957 edition of Punch.
Q: What are banks for?

A: To make money.

Q: For the customers?

A: For the banks.

Q: Why doesn't bank advertising mention this?

A: It would not be in good taste. But it is mentioned by implication in
references to reserves of ₤249,000,000,000 or thereabouts. That is the
money they have made.

Q: Out of the customers?

A: I suppose so.

Q: They also mention Assets of ₤500,000,000,000 or thereabouts. Have they
made that too?

A: Not exactly. That is the money they use to make money.

Q: I see. And they keep it in a safe somewhere?

A: Not at all. They lend it to customers.

Q: Then they haven't got it?

A: No.

Q: Then how is it Assets?

A: They maintain that it would be if they got it back.

Q: But they must have some money in a safe somewhere?

A: Yes, usually ₤500,000,000,000 or thereabouts. This is called
Liabilities.

Q: But if they've got it, how can they be liable for it?

A: Because it isn't theirs.

Q: Then why do they have it?

A: It has been lent to them by customers.

Q: You mean customers lend banks money?

A: In effect. They put money into their accounts, so it is really lent to
the banks.

Q: And what do the banks do with it?

A: Lend it to other customers.

Q: But you said that money they lent to other people was Assets?

A: Yes.

Q: Then Assets and Liabilities must be the same thing?

A: You can't really say that.

Q: But you've just said it! If I put ₤100 into my account the bank is
liable to have to pay it back, so it's Liabilities. But they go and lend it
to someone else, and he is liable to have to pay it back, so it's Assets.

It's the same ₤100 isn't it?

A: Yes, but....

Q: Then it cancels out. It means, doesn't it, that banks haven't really any
money at all?

A: Theoretically......

Q: Never mind theoretically! And if they haven't any money, where do they
get their Reserves of ₤249,000,000,000 or thereabouts??

A: I told you. That is the money they have made.

Q: How?

A: Well, when they lend your ₤100 to someone they charge him interest.

Q: How much?

A: It depends on the Bank Rate. Say five and a-half percent. That's their
profit.

Q: Why isn't it my profit? Isn't it my money?

A: It's the theory of banking practice that.........

Q: When I lend them my ₤100 why don't I charge them interest?

A: You do.

Q: You don't say. How much?

A: It depends on the Bank Rate. Say a half a percent.

Q: Grasping of me, rather?

A: But that's only if you're not going to draw the money out again.

Q: But of course I'm going to draw the money out again! If I hadn't wanted
to draw it out again I could have buried it in the garden!

A: They wouldn't like you to draw it out again.

Q: Why not? If I keep it there you say it's a Liability. Wouldn't they be
glad if I reduced their Liabilities by removing it?

A: No. Because if you remove it they can't lend it to anyone else.

Q: But if I wanted to remove it they'd have to let me?

A: Certainly.

Q: But suppose they've already lent it to another customer?

A: Then they'll let you have some other customer's money.

Q: But suppose he wants his too....and they've already let me have it?

A: You're being purposely obtuse.

Q: I think I'm being acute. What if everyone wanted their money all at
once?

A: It's the theory of banking practice that they never would.

Q: So what banks bank on, is not having to meet their commitments?

A: I wouldn't say that.

Q: Naturally. Well, if there's nothing else you think you can tell me....?

A: Quite so. Now you can go off and open a banking account!

Q: Just one last question.

A: Of course.

Q: Wouldn't I do better to go off and open up a bank?

However, I must share the following:

After putting a short program on the board, I told the students to type "R," "U," "N" and press return to see the program execute.

A hand went up in the back of the room, waving to get my attention, and the person attached to the hand said, "I did what you said and it didn't work." Knowing full-well that all of us make mistakes when typing at the computer, I suggested she retype "R," "U," "N" and press return. A few seconds later, the lady's hand goes up again. "It still doesn't work," she said.

So... I went back to see what the problem was ... only to find that instead of typing RUN, she had typed in the following: ARE YOU IN!

From: www.onlyfunnystories.com

The first comment to that news was this:

Deficits don't matter. All that matters is that your dogs are bigger and meaner than the debt collectors'.

This witty reply followed (emphasis added):

that might be true if our society weren't so dependent on global trade. but if our trade partners suddenly cut all economic relations with us our domestic economy would collapse. we depend on other nations for manufacturing, investments, and imports/exports.

we might be able to raid other countries for their oil, but we can't use military coercion to force other countries to import our goods or manufacture our raw materials. and since our trade relations with other nations are generally good for us, bad for them, if we're no longer an economic superpower, i imagine most of the developing nations we exploit would cut their ties with us and just nationalize the resources we've hijacked from them like Venezuela has done.

i mean, if we don't have money to lend other nations, the IMF & World Bank would cease to be relevant. and without the power and influence of the IMF/World Bank, we wouldn't be able to dictate the domestic policies of other nations anymore. so 3rd world nations who've allowed us to privatize their industries and open up their markets to us would cease to allow themselves to be exploited.

and quite frankly, we need them more than they need us. many American-based corporate conglomerates would tank if our globalization policies were reversed. WalMart and other retailers wouldn't have cheap sweatshop made goods to sell. Monsanto would lose most of their profits made from selling developing nations GMO seeds every planting season. and 38% of Microsoft's annual revenue comes from sales outside of the U.S. heck, Hollywood makes more money from foreign ticket sales than from the domestic box office ($12 billion a year versus $9 billion).

if our money was certainly no good internationally, or if countries like China decided to collect on our debts, we would be royally screwed.

Talk about putting things in perspective :-)

Now, as you may or may not know, SGI sells top of the line computers used in many different industries. On average, they're about three times as expensive as personal PCs and are meant to be used by professionals in the industries they're used in.

Anyway, the following call came in:

Customer: "I just received an Onyx yesterday, and I tried to set it up today and it doesn't work."
Tech Support: "It just doesn't boot up?"
Customer: "It doesn't even turn on. I see nothing on the screen, and the fan doesn't even turn on in the back of the system."
Tech Support: "Is the monitor functioning? Is there a little green light in the lower right corner of the monitor?"
Customer: "Yes, there is."
Tech Support: "Ok, is the computer plugged in?"
Customer: (irritated) "Look, I think I know how to set up a system. I'm a college graduate, you know."
Tech Support: "Ok, let me finish typing up this report, and I'll send it off. You will get a reply within one business day."
Customer: (exasperated) "Thank you. Geez, I mean I paid a huge amount of money for this computer. The least you people can do it make sure it works before sending it to me!"
Customer: "I mean, to add to the poor quality control, you even sent me one extra power cord."
Tech Support: "One extra cord?"
Customer: "Yes, it looks just the one I used to plug in the monitor and computer, but that's all you sent to me. I have no use for this other one."
At this point, I thought I should inquire a little more...but use a bit of tact to do so.

Tech Support: "Sir, can you double check the serial number on the back of your computer?"
Customer: "On the back of the computer?"
Tech Support: "Yes, sir."
Customer: (sigh) "All right, all right, hold on..."
I heard a few muffled grunts as he crawled over his desk to see the back of the computer. He repeated the serial number from the sticker. I didn't bother to verify it.

Tech Support: "Thank you, sir. Oh, by the way, can you check to see if the computer is plugged in?"
Dead silence. I could just picture the man's face when he realized that the computer was never plugged in in the first place and that the "extra" power cord he was holding in his hand was for the computer. I didn't wait for a response from him. I thanked him for calling, hung up, and closed the case.

From: www.onlyfunnystories.com

Le PCF aurait pu se faire l'économie de Marchais et passer directement au Juquin. De toutes manières, après un Juquin on va toujours au Buffet.

Ce n'est pas exactement ce qui a été dit, mais ainsi ça passe mieux sur un blog

Un peu d'humour politique ne fait jamais de mal.

Pour ceux qui n'ont pas compris la blague, je les invite à se renseigner sur notre projet d'encyclopédie libre préféré !