Sometimes I wonder who Santa Claus really is…
I mean, he has multiple aliases (Saint Nick, Santa Claus, Father Christmas) and a shady past. He hangs out with Elves, which is pretty cool, but he isn’t an Elf himself.
Rumour has it that he lives at the North Pole and yet he’s really, really good at breaking into houses. But ask yourself this… how many houses are there at the North Pole that he could practise on?
Then there’s the fact that for 364 days of the year the only time you ever see him is when he’s allegedly hanging around thousands of different malls at the very same time.
Yes, the more I think about it, the more obvious it becomes. Santa Claus is really Gandalf!
The Christmas toy thing is obviously just what Gandalf does during the slow ‘destroying the One True Ring’ season that happens in Middle Earth around December each year…
Merry Christmas to everyone, and I hope
Gandalf Santa Claus is kind to you this year!!
Murray @ Midnight
I’m working on inventing a new martial art called “ZLOG!”.
ZLOG! emphasises the element of surprise. For example, by taping yourself to the ceiling of your bathroom, so you can lie in wait for your flatmate, who is also your nemesis; and then, when he finally wanders in, discovering that the adhesiveness of your tape is too strong, and therefore you are forced to hang there, suspended, while you watch all 3 hours of his skincare regime against your will.
Eventually, long after you have passed out, the tape will give way, and at about 3:30 in the morning you will suddenly plummet to the floor with a scream of “ZLOG!”.
You will notice that you were constantly surprised throughout the application of this technique, which maintains the spirit and core principles of the art of ZLOG!.
Saturday afternoons were about being dragged into space; back in the past, when the future was groovy.
Whether it was in the company of the Robinsons and Dr Smith, or it was hurtling through the cosmos on a rogue moon in Space: 1999, on Saturday afternoons the Universe was infinite and for reasons that were never explained, everyone wore jumpsuits.
Via: aeon zool.
From NikNaks Blog.
One of my superpowers is that I’m terrified of rollercoasters. Not of going for rides on them, just of having them in my neighbourhood.
A friend sent this to me, and it suddenly occurred to me how suggestive the names of the characters from Sesame Street and The Muppets are if you think of them as members of a hardcore street gang.
Imagine a neighborhood riddled with drugs and violence, and then picture characters called Kermit The Frog, Miss Piggy, Big Bird, Oscar The Grouch, Gonzo, The Cookie Monster, Animal.
I tell you, Sesame Street is no place to be caught after dark…
Murray @ Midnight
I had a haircut yesterday. Every time I go, my hairdresser says, “What do you want today?”, and every time I say, “Make me devastatingly handsome,” and we both laugh, but a little bit of his soul dies every time; you can see it in his eyes.
I have a theory that the true flaw of recreational drugs is that they only make your mind dribble with pretty colors for a relatively short period of time, and then real life sucks badly by comparison until you can inject more pills, or snort the dooby, or whatever it is you do (you’d think I’d be more hip to drug culture references since I started watching ‘Breaking Bad’, but the lingua franca of the hood still eludes me, yo).
I think the smarter way of approaching this would be to intentionally take a drug that makes you feel completely and utterly dreadful for a short period of time, so that the real world is amazing by comparison.
I would market these pills as ‘Grumpies’, and if my theory is correct, you’d take a couple of them, scream for two hours straight, and then afterwards you’d giggle with pleasure when your bus runs late, or when telemarketers interrupt your dinner, or when Starbucks gets your order of a half-caff-half-soy-latte-grande-with-rose-scented-syrup wrong again, the bastards.