No, that wasn't me, was it? ;)
Huntsville Christmas Tree Recycling Project -- 1990
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Who is this person trying to impersonate me 22 years ago?!
Oh, the days when I worked at GE as a schedule analyst on weekdays and a Christmas tree recycling expert on weekends?
No, that wasn't me, was it? ;)
No, that wasn't me, was it? ;)
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Small World
Wow! My first cousin once removed, Jennifer H, was on Onion Sportsdome tonight sporting a field hockey uniform (#2). How cool is that?
Big news on the small screen.
Now, programming regular to your back.
Big news on the small screen.
Now, programming regular to your back.
Monday, February 28, 2011
When Producers Are No Longer Worth Their Weight In Risk Taking
What are you really worth?
Prove to me you fully support free speech and I'll believe you believe in the American way. Otherwise, any company policy or personal attack on others proves to me you're lying.
So far, the producers/network behind a show I've never watched are showing me they're bigots of another sort.
Time for my network to expose the lifestyles of the producers/network execs and show you why they're afraid of a single actor.
Prove to me you fully support free speech and I'll believe you believe in the American way. Otherwise, any company policy or personal attack on others proves to me you're lying.
So far, the producers/network behind a show I've never watched are showing me they're bigots of another sort.
Time for my network to expose the lifestyles of the producers/network execs and show you why they're afraid of a single actor.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Un Coup de Dés Jamais N'Abolira Le Hasard
Or, view from inside a smoked-out white van with mirrors and antennae.
I apologise for the delay in sending out today's important message to our citizenry.
The Committee has been enbroiled, bubbling over with argumentative blocks of ergot-laden Argonaut talk.
All the contracts were signed, though, so I can happily report we have divvied up the planet's economy, with every one of us having many trillions of dollars/yuan to play with.
But, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary...
Wait, that sounds oddly familiar, as if...
Never mind.
Now that we're all officially trillionaires, the Committee wants me to change my tune, getting away from "I'm for the proletariat and I'm here to help" stuff that sells well on abandoned street corners where the unemployed will dance to any melody that drips with honey or junk.
They reminded me that I had taken the "Bob Hope Subliminal Message for the Troops Hidden in Soapy Sales Comedy" class and received an attaboy (a/k/a A+) from the instructor who promoted me up two levels because of the way I tied my shoelaces backwards (never tell a right-handed professor that she can't see how a left-handed student ties his shoes).
And the Committee is right. I had snuck into the Bob Hope Comic Files Library and photocopied all the jokes related to visits in war zones or during times of deep crisis.
Sure enough, using the decoder ring given to my by Fred Kirby at the Tweetsie Railroad, after I explained to him the true meaning of the dopy joke he obviously told dozens of times of day without knowing why, I deciphered not only who had written the jokes for Bob but the hidden messages plainly but cleverly hidden in the exact way Bob spoke the words (in other words, you need as high a definition of high-definition video or film as you can get to truly get what Bob was saying).
Therefore, unlike what my inventor friend had shown me, her latest reinvention of the disposable toilet bowl liner that forever prevents mold and mildew buildup (or those ugly brown streaks!) and decomposes naturally in septic or sewer systems, I had another circuitous path to explore.
It started with overhearing Conan explain to his producers that, although Andy Richter did appear dead at times, there was no reason to assume he was the secret identity behind an imaginary character like Ronny Tripwell, undead correspondent. But Conan would take into consideration paying Andy the same as he paid Ronny - a free trip through Purgatory and over the River Styx to grandmother's house he goes to feed the hungry wolf.
Or the way Trad Braveface twitches and jerks his head when severe weather strikes. Look out for the arcing power lines!
Finally, I arrived at the message I am to impart in no cloaked humour. We are, for your benefit, becoming trillionaires and taking away your overvalued salaries because you have demonstrated no self-control; thus, we are saving the species from itself by restricting your living expenses.
Seriously, the growing divide between rich and poor is for your own good.
Now, that's not saying that every rich person is living the right way. But don't worry, we're taking care of them forme us you.
When you see a millionaire or billionaire die of an unexpected overdose or tragic automobile accident, or perhaps an unexplained plane crash or murder on the high seas, you know what's really going on.
But you always did, didn't you?
We want to welcome one of our own into the club - Dan Tice, CIO of Emerson-America. He is a good kid, straightforward, honest, sticks to the rules and a real example of how to be an example to others. I am nothing in comparison to him, but I always knew that, even if he didn't.
Also, thanks to Rainy, Chris and the cooks at Thai Garden, and Cat Shearer of Happy Tummy - you guys are the best and you know it! I could never say a mean word about you all. A nod to Dave Bjorne and the gang at ADS - keep on keepin' on! And congrats to Isaac DeVaney for his swimming prowess - Lanny and Ieleen must be proud.
The Committee is now pouring over my plans, which show we only have 14,315 days to get this right. If the Book of the Future is correct, our schedule needs a major paradigm shift. Anyone got a trick pair of dice from Paradise Casino to help?
Pardon me while I ignore you again for a while.
I apologise for the delay in sending out today's important message to our citizenry.
The Committee has been enbroiled, bubbling over with argumentative blocks of ergot-laden Argonaut talk.
All the contracts were signed, though, so I can happily report we have divvied up the planet's economy, with every one of us having many trillions of dollars/yuan to play with.
But, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary...
Wait, that sounds oddly familiar, as if...
Never mind.
Now that we're all officially trillionaires, the Committee wants me to change my tune, getting away from "I'm for the proletariat and I'm here to help" stuff that sells well on abandoned street corners where the unemployed will dance to any melody that drips with honey or junk.
They reminded me that I had taken the "Bob Hope Subliminal Message for the Troops Hidden in Soapy Sales Comedy" class and received an attaboy (a/k/a A+) from the instructor who promoted me up two levels because of the way I tied my shoelaces backwards (never tell a right-handed professor that she can't see how a left-handed student ties his shoes).
And the Committee is right. I had snuck into the Bob Hope Comic Files Library and photocopied all the jokes related to visits in war zones or during times of deep crisis.
Sure enough, using the decoder ring given to my by Fred Kirby at the Tweetsie Railroad, after I explained to him the true meaning of the dopy joke he obviously told dozens of times of day without knowing why, I deciphered not only who had written the jokes for Bob but the hidden messages plainly but cleverly hidden in the exact way Bob spoke the words (in other words, you need as high a definition of high-definition video or film as you can get to truly get what Bob was saying).
Therefore, unlike what my inventor friend had shown me, her latest reinvention of the disposable toilet bowl liner that forever prevents mold and mildew buildup (or those ugly brown streaks!) and decomposes naturally in septic or sewer systems, I had another circuitous path to explore.
It started with overhearing Conan explain to his producers that, although Andy Richter did appear dead at times, there was no reason to assume he was the secret identity behind an imaginary character like Ronny Tripwell, undead correspondent. But Conan would take into consideration paying Andy the same as he paid Ronny - a free trip through Purgatory and over the River Styx to grandmother's house he goes to feed the hungry wolf.
Or the way Trad Braveface twitches and jerks his head when severe weather strikes. Look out for the arcing power lines!
Finally, I arrived at the message I am to impart in no cloaked humour. We are, for your benefit, becoming trillionaires and taking away your overvalued salaries because you have demonstrated no self-control; thus, we are saving the species from itself by restricting your living expenses.
Seriously, the growing divide between rich and poor is for your own good.
Now, that's not saying that every rich person is living the right way. But don't worry, we're taking care of them for
When you see a millionaire or billionaire die of an unexpected overdose or tragic automobile accident, or perhaps an unexplained plane crash or murder on the high seas, you know what's really going on.
But you always did, didn't you?
We want to welcome one of our own into the club - Dan Tice, CIO of Emerson-America. He is a good kid, straightforward, honest, sticks to the rules and a real example of how to be an example to others. I am nothing in comparison to him, but I always knew that, even if he didn't.
Also, thanks to Rainy, Chris and the cooks at Thai Garden, and Cat Shearer of Happy Tummy - you guys are the best and you know it! I could never say a mean word about you all. A nod to Dave Bjorne and the gang at ADS - keep on keepin' on! And congrats to Isaac DeVaney for his swimming prowess - Lanny and Ieleen must be proud.
The Committee is now pouring over my plans, which show we only have 14,315 days to get this right. If the Book of the Future is correct, our schedule needs a major paradigm shift. Anyone got a trick pair of dice from Paradise Casino to help?
Pardon me while I ignore you again for a while.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Newspaper Disses Hometown, Loses Adverts, Goes Out Of Business
Under oath, representatives of the computer programmers who generated the formula for determining the BCS championship participants admitted they use the same code and the algorithms that the Academy won't admit it uses to generate the list of Oscar winners.
The spokesperson for American Idol denied rumours that the Academy got its algorithms from the code that American Idol stole from the programmers working for Eurovision.
A spokesperson for Eurovision spoke off the record and told this reporter that their computer code was pulled out of a robospam generator script that one of the producer's teenage sons was caught trying to sell on the Eastern European black market to fund his habit of snorting crushed and powdered hairs of the rare Patagonian rhino horn blue bottle fly.
Which might explain why the BCS commissioner is often heard whistling, "Shoo, fly, don't bother me..."
More as it develops!
The spokesperson for American Idol denied rumours that the Academy got its algorithms from the code that American Idol stole from the programmers working for Eurovision.
A spokesperson for Eurovision spoke off the record and told this reporter that their computer code was pulled out of a robospam generator script that one of the producer's teenage sons was caught trying to sell on the Eastern European black market to fund his habit of snorting crushed and powdered hairs of the rare Patagonian rhino horn blue bottle fly.
Which might explain why the BCS commissioner is often heard whistling, "Shoo, fly, don't bother me..."
More as it develops!
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