It’s all about where you draw the line

I’m not a coffee drinker, primarily because coffee seriously does not agree with my digestion. When I’m feeling dangerous I will have those tasty Frappuccinos — the ones in the bottles, not a “real” one from Starbucks. Even as diluted with milk and sugar as the coffee in those is, my gut is still a bit unhappy usually, so I still generally limit myself to half a bottle and save the rest for later.

So… when I’m dragging in the morning and need a little “pick me up”, I’ve taken to drinking those energy shot things you get at the drug store — the ones that come in the tiny bottles and cost like six bucks for two. I like the “Five Hour Energy”¹ ones.

The funny thing is, every time I down one of those, I can’t help but feel like Doctor Jekyll downing one of his infamous draughts. Which in turn reminds me of a classic old Carol Burnett sketch in which she and another actor kept drinking potions, gasping, and dropping down behind the table — and then the other would stand up in their place.

Does everyone have these weird mental associations, or is it just me?

I have a tendency to envelop myself in politics and such when bumming around the Internet. I think that involvement in such things can be important in the long term, but over time it really can drag you down — so much backbiting and spite, and the inevitable “anything to win” attitudes and resulting calumny and fraud and… *sigh*

So it’s nice when I come across something like this. It’s just an ad for a TV network, but what a breath of fresh air.

(more…)

Go the Google, type “find Chuck Norris” (without the quotes) into the search bar, and click “I’m Feeling Lucky”.

That is all.

International Association of Time Travelers: Members' Forum
Subforum: Europe – Twentieth Century – Second World War

Page 263

11/15/2104
At 14:52:28, FreedomFighter69 wrote:
Reporting my first temporal excursion since joining IATT: have just returned from 1936 Berlin, having taken the place of one of Leni Riefenstahl's cameramen and assassinated Adolf Hitler during the opening of the Olympic Games. Let a free world rejoice!

At 14:57:44, SilverFox316 wrote:
Back from 1936 Berlin; incapacitated FreedomFighter69 before he could pull his little stunt. Freedomfighter69, as you are a new member, please read IATT Bulletin 1147 regarding the killing of Hitler before your next excursion. Failure to do so may result in your expulsion per Bylaw 223.

At 18:06:59, BigChill wrote:
Take it easy on the kid, SilverFox316; everybody kills Hitler on their first trip. I did.

Go read Wikihistory

[Hat Tip: TJICistan]

The wife is planning to make quesadillas one of these days, and it inspired me to write up a quick etymology of this fascinating word.

Quesadilla (pron. kay-suh-dee-uh) of course comes from the Spanish language. As we all know, “Que” is the Spanish word for “What” when posing a question. “Sadilla”, in turn, is a spelling corruption of the French “cedilla“, which is pronounced the same way. A cedilla is a French bit of punctuation — that little squiggle you sometimes see under the letter “ç”. (Ooooh, alliteration!)

So “Que Sadilla” literally translates as “What French?”, or more meaningfully, “I don’t speak French” — which makes sense, as the speaker clearly speaks Spanish. As for how this strange term came to represent a delicious cheese-stuffed food, well, everyone knows that the French are notorious cheese-eaters, so there you go.

Here endeth the lesson.

Ed ol’ pal, I sw this an immediately thought of you:

A Squirrel in Armor

Now I just need to find a squirrel sailing a little boat. In armor. An armored boat, not the squirrel — that would be silly; if he fell in he’d drown.

There’s a website out there called Woot.com, and what they do is sell one product a day at a big discount. At midnight, there’s a new product.

The product descriptions are usually pretty humorous — the admen at Woot are clever guys. But today’s description had me laughing. The product? A set of Klipsch speakers. Here is an excerpt — I defy you to go read the whole thing out loud and not laugh….

Scho, I wasch lischening to some muschic lascht Schaturday, schpeschifically the dischco schtylingsch of K.Schee. and the Schunschine Band, and it schounded to me like schomething wasch misching. “Where’sch the bassch?” I aschked myschelf. “Thisch schoundsch like schlop. How am I schupposched to dansch to thisch? I schupposche it’sch time to schpend a little schcratch on schome new schpeakersch.” I had alscho notisched that the schound left a little schomething to be deschired when I wasch watching moviesch.

Unbeknownscht to me, my life wasch about to change. For on that day, I was introdusched to the Klipsch Schynergy EschLXch Scheriesch Schpeakersch.

Schusch schound! Schusch schtyling!

Some how this really tickled my sense of the absurd.