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Now there's another good idea for a story, and I'll finish the story before anyone reads this. It takes place at a conference for framers. There are people who make frames for glasses, frames for windows, frames for paintings, etc. It's a detective story. The narrator is a seedy detective who frames people. His roommate at the conference writes the frame narratives for The New Yorker. There's play at conferences and the modern university, things I've haven't really shot at before. An Incident at the Framers' Symposium it'll be called. The murderer will be, of course, one of the organizers.
THE BOY WHO THOUGHT HE WAS A WOLF AND THE WOLF: A Bloody Obvious Cautionary Tale
Once there was a boy who thought he was a wolf. His sister said, "Watch out: thinking you are a wolf can only lead to trouble." The boy set out one day, thinking he was a wolf (albeit a wolf with a shotgun), into the woods in search of a wolf. He killed a wolf. The boy went back to the town. "I've shot a wolf!" and onto the ground he stamped the butt of the shotgun, which went off, along with his head.
I was out trying to buy a plastic owl or some other form of pigeon repellent and I found myself in the pet supplies aisles, namely, the cat toy aisle. And I thought,
Hmmm, really, I should get something for Mexico. She's probably pretty lonely.
But I couldn't find any pigeon repellent, so I left the store without buying anything at all.
When I got home, Mary gave me the news. Mexico had jumped up on my $300 leather jacket, pulled it down, and torn a gash about three inches across just below the pocket. Then she'd puked on it.
-I got a call from Fitzbodily yesterday night.
-You know him?
-No, it's just a funny name.
-You sure you don't know him?
-Helen. I would remember someone named Fitzbodily. What did he want?
-He wanted to see me.
-Where'd you meet him?
-I never did. He saw me on a bus sixteen years ago, and he's finally gotten the nerve to call me up.
-Sixteen years is a mighty long time.
-So you gonna meet up with him?
-I haven't decided yet.
-I'll meet him if you won't.
Let me apologise. I know I'm supposed to have called you by now, but I'm just so damn lazy. I'd much prefer being alone, doing puzzles or making bugs out of origami, to being with anyone most of the time. Yes, I'm hermitty that way.
It's hard to say how much the expectations of others makes me hermitty. It has some significance,.
This is mildly incoherent, unfocussed, vague. I think that's because we're dealing with things which are quite unknown. What drives character? How should I know? Why do I do the things the way I do?
POLLEY WANNA TAX CREDIT
Give me $10,000 to buy a bunch of crackers.
Give me $10,000 to get a whole lot of perches.
Give me $10,000 to redecorate my cage.
Give me $10,000 to buy some companion parrots.
Give me $10,000 to give away to just anyone.
Give me $10,000 to preen and look pretty-pretty-pretty.
Give me $10,000 to learn the French language.
Give me $10,000 to put out a contract on the cat.
Give me $10,000 to buy a nightsheet.
Give me $10,000 to make a movie.
THE JOKE THAT DESTROYED A CAREER
On June 7th, 2007, feminist starlet Annee Kinkaid appeared on Bobby Baby's late afternoon talk show. The audience was expecting fireworks, but not the fireworks that happened!
After promoting her new film, which was called
, Annee talked about sex stereotypes. She mentioned the double standard for female actors. She said, "I mean, like, it's the madonna-whore thing, you know? I mean, if a woman sleeps around, she's a nymphomaniac! So I ask you, what's the male equivalent of nymphomaniac?"
Bobby said, "I don't know. How about 'faggot'?"
Thus ended his promising career.
, Season 3, Episode 54*
The alphabet's a lot of sounds you do
When words you form throughout the whole day through
But in each bit you make you must create a vowel sound
There's five of them to use and sometimes Y
So bay a bet a bit a boy a by
The words you use have rules and this is one you must obey
A E I O U
A E I O U
A E I O U Y
U O A E I
*Never aired for reasons of Apple copyright
I wonder if I should get some liquor for tonight. I haven't gotten drunk all week, you know; and I was quite well-behaved last weekennd. In a way, I think I deserve it. Or maybe I don't.... There's plenty of time to decide. In any case, I know I can take it or leave it. I'm not a victim. I can choose, and that's what makes me fully human, after all. The decision to make my own choices. Whatever I decide, I know it'll be the right decision for me.
I guehass io overeuhistimmieted somethdsivsnmg....
In the middle of the night, when the streets are rarely trod by wheel or even foot (I include the feet that rest on gas pedals and brakes), when things move in the shadows that are merely pieces of the great shadow that sleeps over the whole hemisphere, when many of the televisions have no living signals to receive, and when the radio waves pass through walls and windows unhearing, when things are barely alive, there are those who are sleeping and dreaming of dipping cloth into a pool of John Dillinger's blood, and there are those who dream
A Letter From the Flatcave
I hope you are well. I left the cave today for a brief period; then I got scared and went back in. When I was out there, I saw, well, I saw there was nothing to see. My cave was the only thing in sight; nothing in all four directions save one, namely, the cave. The walls are on three sides; the fourth is the door.
I wonder what your world is like. I've read your material, but still I can't know the sights and sounds and so on. I wish I could.
It was the Christmas when everything changed. It was the Christmas when it all went wrong.
I'd been very clear, almost insanely so, about what I wanted from my parents for Christmas. I'd checked the price in the Eaton's catalogue, and its recommended age limits, and it was within budget, and proper for my maturity. A junior chemistry set. That was all I wanted. I felt an urge to understand something of the natural world. I wanted to get under the universe, and see how it was made.
But Eaton's messed things up, and I got a bone saw instead.
I told her. I told her I was frigid. I've told her many times; and there's been times when I've merely demonstrated it. I'm cold, colder than anyone else. I'm a regular Freezie-Pop. O it was fine when we started out. I was avid. But now I've gotten older, and I've gotten colder (of course). Older and colder. Where could she have gotten the idea for any sustained amount of time that I was anything but? I told her, "You know I didn't have a girlfriend til I was twenty-seven. Do you think that was just a matter of chance?"
In 1958, the American Central Intelligence Agency began a series of experiments exploring the connection between Chinese people and remote sensing. The Chinese had long been thought to be capable of extraordinary paranormal feats, and the CIA felt that their Chinese subjects could become excellent spies reporting from behind the Iron Curtain.
The tests revealed there was indeed a statistically significant correlation, one that was too great to ignore. The Chinese were able to see symbols from a distance; indeed, from transcontinental distances.
Unfortunately, all the symbols were Chinese symbols, and no-one at the CIA could understand what they meant.
There someone I know who has a terrible disease. It could even kill him. He hasn't told me about this; I've had to hear it from others. But that doesn't mean I have to like him, and I don't, and here's why.
Many years ago, at a mixer of some sort, no matter to you, I asked him what he was going to be up to. He said he was going to be out of town for some time. I asked why, and he said he wouldn't tell me. I shrugged.
He was going for treatment.
I don't like secrets.
Another one to puzzle through....
It came to me somewhat in a dream, a dream of someone with a plot of land, inherited, which could not be used....
I thought it was because he was homosexual....
In the shower it became a man who'd inherited a country....
All he had in his possession was a HANG IN THERE, BABY! poster....
Which became more tattered as I rode down the street....
And the country became a province of China....
And the narrator is his host....
And the new ruler is an idiot....
And nothing happens in the story....
Though maybe not....
I have a twin brother named Bill, and I hate him.
Two weeks ago I saw an old detective movie on TVO. It was about one twin framing the other for a murder. Eventually the truth comes out; but anyway, it got me thinking: I could murder my brother, then pretend to be him, and get off scot free.
So, that's what I did. I pushed him down a flight of stairs, then made as if
was the one who had killed
Almost foolproof! yet, three days later, at his funeral, I found myself in the casket.
I saw something very disturbing today. I was going into Tim Horton's for lunch. There are old brownstone steps leading up to the door. There was blood all over the place. The police had a man face down on the top step. His hands, which they were tying together with cloth, were covered with blood. Inside, the staff was mopping up. There were drops of blood all over. The staff seemed pretty shook up.
Hours later I was going home, walking through the underground concourse. More drops of blood. The guy'd travelled far, and he'd dropped a lot of blood.
The premise of Atom Egoyan's new film is thus: A French teacher gives her students, as a translation exercise, a French newspaper article about a terrorist who gets his pregnant girlfriend to carry a bomb onto an airplane. One of the students translates it into a short story about a boy whose father puts his pregnant-with-himself mother onto a plane with a bomb, and the teacher thinks it's fantabulous.
Friends, I've been trying all morning to come up with a more stupid, more asinine, more implausible, more ridiculous premise for a movie ... and I've failed. Congrats, Atom.
"Sgt. Carruthers here.... Jones! Wait a sec, Jones, wait a sec, you're talkin' too fast, start at the beginning.... What? I don't understand you, start earlier, start at an earlier beginning.... Nope, you're still not makin' any sense, start at the moment of your birth.... Uh-huh.... Uh-huh.... No, wait, I've lost track, start earlier than that, goddammit, start at the beginning! start with how your parents met.... I see.... I follow.... You lost me again! Look, start as early as you can. Got it.... Got it.... Shit, I should be writin' this down! Okay, Jones, start at the beginning again."
Does the CRTC understand that it was formed to allocate the limited amount of carrier frequencies available to radio broadcasters?
is your purpose.
is the mandate of the CRTC: to regulate the electromagnetic spectrum.
However, the internet is
part of the electromagnetic spectrum. It's purely
The internet is a
, not a
, of method. Free information will flow if the originator wants it to, in a media of its own choosing.
You won't win.
If Communist China can't control its citizens' access to the internet, what makes you think
Copyright 2008 John Skaife
SCENES WE'D LIKE TO SEE
Helen jumped up in bed suddenly.
Her husband (Matt) awoke. "Helen, what's the matter?"
She said, "I told one of my employees, Dick, that he was excellent in his job. I even
"It's not true, it's not true. I have to fire him tomorrow."
"Oh dear," Matt said like he was concerned. Then, annoyed: "Can't you leave your work at work?"
"No! I'm going to be tossing and turning."
ther. He must go!"
"Ah yes! I guess you're right. He won't be fired. Good night."
Egoyan's new film stinks; friends cover his back
IN A STUNNING DEVELOPMENT, Atom Egoyan's newest film,
starring Scott Speedman, Rachel Blanchard, and Kenneth Welsh, totally sucks ass.
Reliable sources have indicated the film is incoherent, self-indulgent, non-entertaining, and less pleasant than waterboard torture. An anonymous source reports projectile vomit during the film's second screening.
In an effort to rescue his reputation, Egoyan has dispatched his influential cock-tail-party friends, critics, and academics to all corners of the globe with strict instructions to re-frame the mess he made as 'cryptic,' 'ambiguous,' 'nuanced,' and, most tellingly, 'his best film in a decade.'
I have a friend, never mind his name, who one day told me his secret to success with women. He says it's pretty simple: All you have to do, he says, is engage in a campaign to take them into confidence. Tell them secrets (except for the present secret, of course), and they'll tell you secrets in return. You'll begin to have closer souls, and once the souls are close, well, you're home-free. In fact,
make the first move. He says it never fails. I asked him how long the average campaign lasted, and he said, "About fifteen months."
"Thanks, Carole... and now it's time for our MIS-play Of The Week. Eight years ago, the television station France-two broadcast a story about a five-year-old boy getting KILLED in Gaza during a firefight. As a result of this broadcast, two weeks later Palestinians brutally MURDERED and CANNIBALIZED two Israeli soldiers. Later, many people noticed that, in the original item, the supposedly-dead boy actually OPENED HIS EYES. A lawsuit this week agreed that the whole item was a complete and utter HOAX. So, once again, the question isn't, DOES the media have blood on its hands? but rather, HOW MUCH? Carole?"
REAL-WORLD ORIGAMI INSTRUCTIONS
1. Fold a fish base.
2. Valley fold the bottom flap to the right.
3. Valley fold along the angle bisectors.
4. Mountain fold in half.
5. Squash fold.
6. Turn model over.
7. Valley fold along the angle bisector, while making a squash fold at the corner. Mountain fold the left bottom flap in half, and valley fold the right bottom flap in half.
8. That doesn't look right. Unfold to step 6.
9. Valley fold along the ... angle bisector.
10. Wrong angle bisector. Unfold to step 6.
11. Squash crumple up.
12. Throw away.
There's a certain aspect of my personality that should be quite apparent by now; it has to do with what I like, what I'm attracted to; you should know by now that I like things that are odd, that are strangely angled, that are eccentric, that look more differently the closer you get to them, that are barely rational, that essentially don't make a lot of sense, that have logical contradictions, that resist being put right, that have parts I'll never quite understand, that utilise the unconscious efficiently, that are soft and hard; in other words, that I am heterosexual.
The Baron living across the street, Lord Fellsenn of some-country-or-other, it's one of the small countries around Switzerland, a good guy - it was his idea to scrub down the road on a regular basis. At first Brenda beside me objected because she worked evenings being a hired escort and she slept through the day, but the Baron cut her a deal, she only had to do it half as often as everyone else, so it was cool with her. (She's still slacking off, though.) Anyway, when the Baron does it, the street looks fantastic. It's like a new street.
[Suzanne. Jerry enters.]
JERRY: Hi Suzanne. Bob home?
SUZANNE: He's on his way. Want a drink?
JERRY: Yeah, sure could use one.
[Jerry flops down on the couch; Suzanne gets him a drink.]
SUZANNE: Rough day in the friendly skies?
SUZANNE: Yes, I suppose.
JERRY: Do you know what they want us to do? [Gulps drink.]
JERRY: They're making us sing the announcements over the intercom. You know, [singing] 'I shall be your PI-lot today....'
SUZANNE: That's crazy!
JERRY: They say the decision could be reversed, that it's just, you know--
BOTH: A pilot project.
That One Minute
The boss is on my back
All I hear is that whip-crack
Twelve hours at the grind
No time to think, no time
And now to get my lunch
In lines against the crunch-crunch
I shove the food in
Then I'm off to work again
And all that I regret
is that one minute when I wake up
and haven't yet been thinking of you
Adoring you, I'm desiring you
And loving you, needing you so, so
And all that I regret
is that one minute when I wake up
and haven't yet been thinking of you
COMING UP, IN NEXT MONTH'S ISSUE OF COSMOPOLITAN!
10 tips to keep him faithful!
How to dress like an angel and a slut - at the same time!
The ultimate oral sex guide!
How to make him come, and come, and come!
The world's greatest realistic romance novels!
Political opinions men like!
Natural supplements to help increase your vanity!
How to make him amazingly jealous, and nuts in bed!
Appliqués for a newer, better you!
How to give your girlfriends to him (and how grateful he will be!)
"Oh no, was I just raped?" and other pitfalls of magazine advice!
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