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Feb. 13th, 2008

These guysCollapse ) are getting married, and they chose me to act as minister.


Yes, me. The Minister. I need to learn hypnotism real quick.

Feb. 10th, 2008

I found this on a random website. I did not have the foresight to have people take photos so this will have to suffice.


Hefty and I will be appearing at the Wunderbar on 24th March. Come see!

Jan. 6th, 2008

Hey guys, guess what? I've been to ROLLESTON! Go ahead, ask anyone. It's the talk of the town!


I don't think I want to go back there again, ever. Anyway, I'll be on the streets of Christchurch in a week and a half. Our schedule is in the World Buskers Festival programme; look for the weekend locals pitch section. My name isn't on there, but Hefty's is. Be there or I'll soil your carpet.

In springtime, the only pretty ring time

charlie chaplin
I love hot spring days: the lazy sound of ice cubes tinkling in an cold gin and tonic highball in the sun; the small rivulets of condensation running slowly down the sides of my glass; the fresh slices of lemon complimenting a perfect mixture of gin and...well, I appreciate anything to do with gin and tonics on a nice warm afternoon in the sun, really.

But most of all, what I really love about springtime are all the friendly critters that come out of winter hibernation.

Especially these guys!Collapse )

Jul. 21st, 2007

the doctor
People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey...stuff. - The Doctor

The question on everybody's mind: so what's Alex been up to? (everybody=Alex) I don't know, people, I think I lost track of time a while back and from my perspective it's been I dunno, sometime in June? for the past I don't know how many weeks. What happened? I have been extremely antisocial (exception Dr. Who night), reading almost constantly in my free time, particularly Borges and now also Barthelme (thanks, donttouchmyhat, he's absolutely brilliant), and, well, not a whole lot else. So basically I've been doing bugger all except for reading, going to work, and watching Dr. Who, yet time flies by much faster than the rate at which I'm able to keep track of its passage.


timey-wimey...stuff and BorgesCollapse )

The Garden of Forking PathsCollapse )

So somewhere down the line I've completely lost track of time, which, as we've discovered, is meaningless in nature anyway. I mean really, if clock rates vary with height, what does it matter that my own psychological clock is a bit wibbly-wobbly? Anyway, what's happening with you folks?

I may or may not be completely full of shit.

Jun. 15th, 2007

I went to space again, and much to my annoyance I had an idea. But this time it wasn't one of my usual terrible ideas that make me look very very foolish. This, I thought, would be my legacy! The one cunning plan Baldrick was finally able to come up with!

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As soon as I returned to earth, I put my plan to action. Behold the glorious results!

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...and looking knowledgably into the distance

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With a disguise like this, I can go completely unnoticed and unrecognised in any setting, thereby avoiding awkward social situations forever!

But then a terrible alien from a distant planet inhabited by bloodthirsty monsters armed with drawing supplies travelled to earth! There, he's on his way!

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When he arrived he drew this horrible cartoon, which, I am unhappy to admit, showcases my plan's central flaw.

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The terrible awful alien drew lots of other pictures, but sadly those didn't come out very well because the photographer took the photos in the darkness (another poor idea of Alex's).

To be continued...

May. 24th, 2007

The hobos here are vibrant and colorful. There's one man who spends his days sitting down with an old blanket draped over his shoulders, rocking back and forth and smiling radiantly at things only he can see. I think he's naked under the blanket, but he might be wearing a flesh-colored loincloth. It's hard to tell because, in much the same manner that you would attempt to spot an SEP (Somebody Else's Problem), one doesn't look at him directly, you only catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. It's really hard to tell what sort of underwear someone is wearing- or indeed if they're wearing any at all- when you're observing them in this manner. Take that down.

Then there's the one-armed man, who introduced himself to me today. I was walking down the street and couldn't help but notice a very smelly, filthy, repugnant man with a missing limb hollering about how well he spoke English (but not French). Then we made eye contact- a fatal error in hobo-observing protocol- whereupon he kicked me in the shins rather hard and hollered "menage-a-trois!" I walked away from this exchange wearing a smile that just about bisected my head.

I seem to be back on top of the world. Dan and Javier's show is weird and wonderful and witty, and all sorts of other very positive descriptions beginning with 'w'. It's people like this who brighten even the darkest recesses of my mind. Colorful and vibrant, like my favorite hobos of the world.

May. 16th, 2007

I just wrote, and subsequently lost, a spiel concerning probability algorithms and Bell's theorem and this idea of space as an undivided whole as it relates to Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and other such spooky stuff that baffles the hell out of me. That's what happens when one has a crappy computer and an even crappier dial-up connection and they attempt to use basic editing tools. I'm going to try to rewrite it if I can, but in the meantime I'd like to hear from you folks. So what do you find baffling about this bizarro world we inhabit?

May. 13th, 2007

I attended Dylan Moran's standup show last night, and he was so brilliant that my standards for comedic performance have increased at least this much-


He was exactly what I had expected: a disheveled, drinking, agitated, bizarre, and hilariously genius Irishman. He can only be described as Bernard Black [in case any of you actually watch the clip and want context, they're trying to write a children's book]. A decent standup performer will get big laughs every 25 seconds. A really good performer, fifteen seconds. I was laughing every five seconds- the sort of uproarious laughter that becomes painful if kept up for more than a few minutes- throughout the entirety of his two-hour performance.

I left the theatre in unaccustomed high spirits after having been in the presence of such a remarkable human being, but my mood was immediately quashed when I discovered I was once again surrounded by my enemies. The sort of people who come out on Saturday night so they could disgrace the city with their foul presence by engaging in all sorts of odious and obnoxious behavior, such as screaming at each other in the streets and smashing bottles as often as possible before they have to return to their coffins for the night, where they will remain until the following saturday evening. Loud people are the bane of my existence, the scum of the universe. I often have fantasies of cleaning up the city. In these fantasies, I round up every single destructive, belligerent, loud-mouth youth, pack them into cattle wagons, and transport them to Correctional Camps, where, if they survive the wagons, they will be forced to shovel radium into large furnaces until they either prove that they're fit to live amongst human beings or perish from radiation poisoning. Usually they perish, and the survivors are forced to shovel the corpses into the furnaces along with the radium.

I heard of an outdoor mall area here in New Zealand that had a big problem with loud, destructive teenagers, so the council attacked this problem by arranging large speakers about the area and playing Barry Manilow music at all times. I can't decide which solution is more humanitarian.

Apr. 30th, 2007

I've just applied for two jobs. One's in Antarctica, which I'm quite serious about. The other? Paranormal investigator! I'd get to wear one of those special ghost-hunting caps and walk around with one of those fancy rods that make beep beep noises when ghosts are nearby! And that's not all! If I get the paranormal investigator job, I could appear on television all over the country!

Who's got dignity now, baby? Of course, one can say that's already pretty much a fait accompli.

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Thank you, edgar, for the heads-up!


Juggy McNibbletits
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