October 2011
32 posts
1 tag
a star is born :) →
astronomy is fun
If you want something done...
I know i’m an employee at this particular establishment, so I can’t really expect above par service from the staff when they’re trying to finish up their shift and go home. But, when I have to pay for my meal, and i’m expected to leave a tip, can I at least get some service at all? Apparently not. I end up writing my own order, getting my own soup, drink refill, and...
wanna get your astronomy on? check this out... you... →
a collection of image tours containing information about each image, and a few notes on other things cool about space…. I <3 astronomy
anonymous?
received a ‘question’ from an anonymous person on tumblr saying “IM me on yahoo messenger, my user name is jonespapasdd121318”
Yeah, um, i wasn’t born yesterday, and i can recognize a scam when i see it. especially after googling the user name and seeing about a thousand tumblr users have been hit with the same thing… so, no ‘jonespapasddetc etc’ i...
How to fix the economy...
It’s really simple, fire the current administration, then get the new people to legalize and regulate both marijuana and prostitution, and allow taxes to be collected on both. After all, if we are going to continue to get fucked, we might as well get high and enjoy it
an original, feel free to quote me on this
Love leaves a permanent stain on your heart, that you can’t wash away no matter how hard you scrub. The best you can hope for is to paint over it
Two things
Why does everything that germans eat start with the word sour or ‘saur’ and smell like three week old ass covered in the dried up semen of baluga whales? And…
I work in an Italian restaurant, so why the hell do we have to spend one week every october making this smelly ass shit? Seriously…
Help me
The only thing that works for me. Help me get away from myself
And now the chorus is stuck in your head, making you think about sex
3 tags
They're made out of Meat, by Terry Bisson
"They're made out of meat."
"Meat?"
"Meat. They're made out of meat."
"Meat?"
"There's no doubt about it. We picked several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all the way through. They're completely meat."
"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars."
"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come from machines."
"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."
"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made the machines."
"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to believe in sentient meat."
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in the sector and they're made out of meat."
"Maybe they're like the Orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage."
"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn't take too long. Do you have any idea the life span of meat?"
"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the Weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."
"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like the Weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way through."
"No brain?"
"Oh, there is a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of meat!"
"So... what does the thinking?"
"You're not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking. The meat."
"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"
"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?"
"Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat."
"Finally, Yes. They are indeed made out meat. And they've been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."
"So what does the meat have in mind?"
"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the universe, contact other sentients, swap ideas and information. The usual."
"We're supposed to talk to meat?"
"That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by radio. 'Hello. Anyone out there? Anyone home?' That sort of thing."
"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"
"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."
"I thought you just told me they used radio."
"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat."
"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?"
"Officially or unofficially?"
"Both."
"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome, and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in the quadrant, without prejudice, fear, or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing."
"I was hoping you would say that."
"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?"
"I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say?" `Hello, meat. How's it going?' But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?"
"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can't live on them. And being meat, they only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact."
"So we just pretend there's no one home in the universe."
"That's it."
"Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you have probed? You're sure they won't remember?"
"They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to them."
"A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat's dream."
"And we can mark this sector unoccupied."
"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?"
"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again."
"They always come around."
"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the universe would be if one were all alone."
i got an idea
how about in 2012, instead of voting for the same assholes who keep fucking up our nation’s economy and telling us that it’s for our own good, we instead write in Mickey Mouse for president. Hell, I’d take Donald Duck and Goofy over half the self serving jerk-offs who are currently making a bid to run this country. Course i think the entirety of the laws made since the last...
never let em tell ya
just in case you were wondering, shaving for a man isn’t as easy as it seems. sure our faces are small, and that don’t take a whole lot of time. but don’t let anyone tell you shaving your balls is easy. it’s not… it requires a lot of creative stretching and maneuvering to prevent cutting… painful sometimes
They seriously think they DESERVE a tax break?... →
A group of lobbyists called Win America is trying to get a tax holiday for corporations seeking to bring in hundreds of billions of untaxed dollars in offshore accounts back into america. Basically they’re asking for legal tax evasion so these corporations can have more money to buy stocks, give out larger salaries to their fat-cat CEO’s and otherwise continue to screw America….
“There ain’t no rest for the wicked, money don’t grow on trees. I got...”
– Cage The Elephant, No Rest for the Wicked
4 tags
a link to my cheezeburger profile where some of my... →
astronomy is awesome :) →
sadness, enigma. :) →
Spongebob's big adventures, something chloe and i... →
