Submitted for your approval, One Captain James T. Kirk and one Montgomery "Scotty" Scott,
two members of an administrative body - Captain and chief Engineer - of the Hoober-Bloob
Highway. For many years prior, they traveled the cosmos in search of new life, new worlds,
and new friends. Retiring from the service, they now send the soon-to-be residents
of the world below to their destinations, a journey that will no doubt send they, themselves,
into the WTF?! Zone....
[The Captain and Scotty are at the engine room of the Hoober-Bloob Highway]
Capt. Kirk: Scotty! What's going on down here? There's not enough babies on the highway!
Scotty: I'm doing all I can, Captain! But Lil' Angus here has chewed through the dilithium
crystals, and we're losing power fast!
Capt. Kirk: How much time do we have, man?!
Scotty: Well, if I can just reverse the polarity of the spectrograph to create a temporal flux in
existing field...I...might just be able to.....Got it! That should give us six more hours,
Captain!
Capt. Kirk: Scotty! You're a genius! Stay here and fix the baby engine, We've got to figure out
how to get more thrust! I'm going to go celebrate and step up the production of
green and purple babies in sector twelve and sixteen!
Scotty: Aye, aye, Captain!
[Several hours later]
Capt. Kirk: Scotty, report.
Scotty: Lil' Angus has transformed into a yellow monkey with green stripes, Captain! I'm
afraid the dilithium crystals have given him a case of the jaundice! What do you
want me to do, Captain?! Should I thrust him to a Romulan monkey family or a
human family?
Capt. Kirk: So it's a question of thrust once again, is it? Fine! Have it your way,
you damn dirty....
Scotty: Captain?!
Capt. Kirk: Right, Scotty! I think I have an idea! [Activates his communicator] Spock, do you
hear me?
Dr. Spock: Captain?
Capt. Kirk: Spock, I need you to find me the location of a Scottish Monkey.
Dr. Spock: Captain?
Capt. Kirk: A Scottish Monkey, Spock. A simian animal of Earth with both dialect and
behavior inherant of a region of Earth known as Scotland. Do you think you
could do that for me? Could you, Spock?
Dr. Spock: Well,....no, actually. Captain, I'm afraid that is illogical.
Capt. Kirk: Damnit, Spock! You know what? Damn your logic! Just find me a damn Scottish
Monkey family that wants kids!
Dr. Spock: .Jim....
Capt. Kirk: Spock! Over! [Deactivates his communicator]
Scotty: Captain, you're tlaking nonsense! You can't find Scottish monkeys; they don't exist!
Capt. Kirk: Scotty, nothing is going to get in my way of making babies and launching them
down the Hoober-Bloob Highway! That may be the way that Vulcans, or Romulans,
or even Klingons run their Hoober-Bloob Highways, but it is the stubornness of the
human spirit that is going to run this one. And if you want to stand in front of that,
then you go right ahead. But don't crawl back to me when I'm banging all the sweet
green tail and you got nothing!
Scotty: Captain! That doesn't even make sense....
Capt. Kirk: Just get in there and find that little Scottish monkey a home, and let's get back to
business! Do it for Scottish monkeys everywhere! Do it for me! Do it for truth and
justice, and most of all, because it's the most super smurfy thing to do!
Scotty: [Staring in disbelief, speechless] ...
Capt. Kirk: [Activating his communicator] Number Two, this is the Captain speaking. Start
launching those babies; those little Johnnies and Janes are going home! Full Speed
ahead! And get me a martini. And some Perry Como...on vinyl.
Scotty: Oooh, I love Perry Como!
Capt. Kirk: It's not for you, but, yeah, he's cool.....
[End of Scene]
[Fade to Black]
Invino Veritas
6/22/11
DISCLAIMER:
Star Trek and/or its characters are not owned by me, but rather someone else.
If you got this far, then you can find their respective owners by youself using any
nearly any recognized search engine. Each of these things are used without
permission with regards to 'fair use'.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
The Departure
Last night, for the first time in a long time, I dreamed. I dreamed a drveam that only Bob Clampett or Tex Avery could have foreseen, one filled with strong themes of fantastic and masterful pieces of composure. Canvases painted with the likes of Liszt, Mozart, Tchaikovsky, and Brahms broke from an ever-changing surreality of vivid light and lamenting darkness. So powerful was this placement of my being into this state, this environment, this frame of mind that it persisted beyond the dreamscape and imposed its will upon what had formally been recognized in full to be reality.
When the sun broke its bondage of the muzzle that is night, escaping as Eurydice from Hades, the music followed me into the other realm of consciousness. The day's begannning was filtered through The Beautiful Blue Danube by Mahler like some strange and happy little cup of espresso that filled itself until I was sated and required no more. The chores ladened with sad mediocirty were transformed with an exciting, thought-provoking shower of intrigue for what the day held. By the time I entered the highway at 80 miles an hour, Tchaikovsky broke the scene and Mahler was overtaken by a both Hungarian and Russian dances. The dances melded into one another until the metamorphosis was complete revealing an entirely new composition that resembled Mozart's Requiem. I had arrived at work and the day of mental solitary confinement began (Confutatus! Maledictus!)
The music was amazing. It completely transformed my morning, took me out the sadness of returning to a job that left me empty at the end of the day of moons, made me reminisce of days gone by, and did little more than create reminder of the cruelties and injustices of the modern world. But as Mozart's great mass drove spike spike through the morning like a Haliburton disregard through a nation, everything else became invisble for a moment in time. Only the occasional coughs and muffles of machines beating upon the gates of the classical castle may be acknowledged other than the all-encompassing gods of escape and solace.
As ten o'clock rolled around, the world melted once again with the moods pressed into the fabric of the surreality succumbing to the heat of the iron. A momentary lapse of escape led to some Khachaturian. Quickly, I snapped back as I got to close to the reality outside my bubble with a Ballade from Chopin, rising and falling like Icarus towards the sun and doomed to plunge into the cold, heartless sea. Effortlessly, I drfited further and further away from my epicenter of that which sent me here in the first place, like the labored breathing of one's death knell at the moment and acceptance of realization. I gave myself unto the oblivion freely and trustingly. I floated in a great void, an aether of illuminated pinholes within an ocean of sweet nothingness. I had departed, if only for a moment in time, and a great weight left me as I dissolved and became as cream is to butter.
And then Faure's Pavane began playing, and soon yielded to Puccini's O Mio Babbino Caro. This deluge of nothing and something at brought upon epiphany. This must have been similar to what Kubrick was feeling when he designed the scenes for 2001: A Space Odyssey . I had become Eli Wallach in Circle of Iron; "my mind soared, I was one with the universe, I was the universe!" Departure complete. I was gone. Sayonara, world. This can of soup is empty. This bird has flown. Stick a fork in me, I'm done.
And I couldn't be happier at the moment.
[Exeunt; Adagio in G Minor by Tomaso Giovanni Albinoni]
Invino Veritas
EOF
When the sun broke its bondage of the muzzle that is night, escaping as Eurydice from Hades, the music followed me into the other realm of consciousness. The day's begannning was filtered through The Beautiful Blue Danube by Mahler like some strange and happy little cup of espresso that filled itself until I was sated and required no more. The chores ladened with sad mediocirty were transformed with an exciting, thought-provoking shower of intrigue for what the day held. By the time I entered the highway at 80 miles an hour, Tchaikovsky broke the scene and Mahler was overtaken by a both Hungarian and Russian dances. The dances melded into one another until the metamorphosis was complete revealing an entirely new composition that resembled Mozart's Requiem. I had arrived at work and the day of mental solitary confinement began (Confutatus! Maledictus!)
The music was amazing. It completely transformed my morning, took me out the sadness of returning to a job that left me empty at the end of the day of moons, made me reminisce of days gone by, and did little more than create reminder of the cruelties and injustices of the modern world. But as Mozart's great mass drove spike spike through the morning like a Haliburton disregard through a nation, everything else became invisble for a moment in time. Only the occasional coughs and muffles of machines beating upon the gates of the classical castle may be acknowledged other than the all-encompassing gods of escape and solace.
As ten o'clock rolled around, the world melted once again with the moods pressed into the fabric of the surreality succumbing to the heat of the iron. A momentary lapse of escape led to some Khachaturian. Quickly, I snapped back as I got to close to the reality outside my bubble with a Ballade from Chopin, rising and falling like Icarus towards the sun and doomed to plunge into the cold, heartless sea. Effortlessly, I drfited further and further away from my epicenter of that which sent me here in the first place, like the labored breathing of one's death knell at the moment and acceptance of realization. I gave myself unto the oblivion freely and trustingly. I floated in a great void, an aether of illuminated pinholes within an ocean of sweet nothingness. I had departed, if only for a moment in time, and a great weight left me as I dissolved and became as cream is to butter.
And then Faure's Pavane began playing, and soon yielded to Puccini's O Mio Babbino Caro. This deluge of nothing and something at brought upon epiphany. This must have been similar to what Kubrick was feeling when he designed the scenes for 2001: A Space Odyssey . I had become Eli Wallach in Circle of Iron; "my mind soared, I was one with the universe, I was the universe!" Departure complete. I was gone. Sayonara, world. This can of soup is empty. This bird has flown. Stick a fork in me, I'm done.
And I couldn't be happier at the moment.
[Exeunt; Adagio in G Minor by Tomaso Giovanni Albinoni]
Invino Veritas
EOF
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The Meaning of Medicated Life
So, I'm breezing through my morning ritual of reading my emails and deleting spam. Before I delete my spam mail, I like to take a gander at what is in that folder just in case there's something of value in there. My eyes fall on the usual dribble that one can find in Yahoo!'s spam folders. But today my usually fleeting moment was halted by a strange thought. As my eyes fell on the common occurrence of the 'Generic Cialis' offer in my spam mail, the hamster began turning his wheel. Naturally, I begged the question: "Who'd want a generic stiffy?"
I'm pretty sure that if I really felt the need to supplement my diet with a pill that could assist with erections, I'd have to ask for the one that performed above and beyond the call of duty. After all, why not go for broke? If, after taking one, my placket didn't sprout a red cape and a majestic "P" on it, I'd have to question its value. If NORAD and NASA didn't call me to ask if that shadow in their radar was the enemy or just that I took a pill then I'd be disappointed. Moreover, if after washing one of those pills down I still can't flick the light switch while sitting on the couch, then it's almost a waste of money.
And while we're at it, if enhancement pills are supposed to be effective, then why would one have to keep taking them? Should I expect my junk to inflate and deflate throughout the day? Is it like Cialis and Viagra? Do I only take it when I need / want it? What if we combined the two and killed two birds with one stone? Maybe then my dream of the megapenis pill will come to fruition. Anyways, back to the original discussion at hand....
So, I guess what I'm trying to say is a couple of things: 1.) It's fun to take things out of context when it doesn't hurt anyone, and 2.) it's imperative that we set the proper expectations when we offer someone something.Ok, maybe it's not really related to the meaning of life (whatever that means), or maybe it is [insert weird Ed Wood scary music here].
We now return to your regularly scheduled programming....
Enjoy.
I'm pretty sure that if I really felt the need to supplement my diet with a pill that could assist with erections, I'd have to ask for the one that performed above and beyond the call of duty. After all, why not go for broke? If, after taking one, my placket didn't sprout a red cape and a majestic "P" on it, I'd have to question its value. If NORAD and NASA didn't call me to ask if that shadow in their radar was the enemy or just that I took a pill then I'd be disappointed. Moreover, if after washing one of those pills down I still can't flick the light switch while sitting on the couch, then it's almost a waste of money.
And while we're at it, if enhancement pills are supposed to be effective, then why would one have to keep taking them? Should I expect my junk to inflate and deflate throughout the day? Is it like Cialis and Viagra? Do I only take it when I need / want it? What if we combined the two and killed two birds with one stone? Maybe then my dream of the megapenis pill will come to fruition. Anyways, back to the original discussion at hand....
So, I guess what I'm trying to say is a couple of things: 1.) It's fun to take things out of context when it doesn't hurt anyone, and 2.) it's imperative that we set the proper expectations when we offer someone something.Ok, maybe it's not really related to the meaning of life (whatever that means), or maybe it is [insert weird Ed Wood scary music here].
We now return to your regularly scheduled programming....
Enjoy.
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