Fireworks: A Liveblogging

Hmm, fireworks are happening

*goes up to his roof*

Kelsey has signed off.

Kelsey_iPod has signed on.

Whoa

I can see three different fireworks shows from up here

And I can hear a fourth

And a loooot of echoes

Those fireworks sound like gunshots

And those ones sound like explosions

Those ones sound like thunder

And those ones sound like when you delete a stone block in Minecraft

It's so neat, I hear a firework from one direction and I hear its echoes from a bunch of directions all around me

Whoa

I think they used like twelve times as many fireworks in the finale as they did during the rest of the show

This whole time it was like "oh hmm fireworks"

And then at the end it was like "WHOA FIREWORKS"

Kelsey has signed on.

Kelsey_iPod has signed off.

txt stff: finale n pur txt

(A lovely tale of a lovely person.)

Story.

There was an old man in the mountains who had no hair. This was a great vexation to him. He asked, again and again: “Why? Why do I have no hair?”

He thought and thought. Then he had an idea. If he could just skin a duck, burn its skin, and inhale the smoke, his hair would regrow! This seemed reasonable.

So he went to find a duck. He looked in the mountains, but no ducks were there. They weren't in the mountains, or the meadows, or the deserts!

Finally, the old man found a group of animals near a pond. They looked like ducks, walked like ducks, and smelled like ducks. Maybe they were ducks!

The old man caught one. (He was very fast for an old man.) He skinned it and burned the skin. Then he inhaled deeply. “Ahh,” he said. It smelled like chicken!

But his hair did not grow back. Oh no! He had not killed a duck! He had killed a duck impersonator! The old man was sad. He was a murderer! (Also, a cannibal.)

The old man was jailed at once. (The police were very efficient there.) For the rest of his days, he cursed his undoing: the vilest of practices, duck typing!

(Duck typing.)

txt stff: the txts strike bck

(Again, for a class assignment.)

Instructions.
(For driving in San Francisco.)

Driving in SF is much like driving in other cities. You must be aggressive to get anywhere. Rude! But necessary. (LA and NY are worse.) And there is more.

First, there are hills in SF. Hills! They are very steep. You must be careful of your speed! It is very easy to go too fast downhill, or not at all uphill.

The hills also mean that you must be careful while parking. If you don't put down your brake, your car will begin to roll! This is funny, but probably bad.

You must be very careful at night. There is less motortraffic then. But there is also fog, and piers! The combination has a high potential for sadness. sploosh

San Francisco is a very lovely city. There are old buildings and green things! So admire those as you will. But do not forget to watch the road! -the end-

txt ptry

(Part of an assignment for class that I thought would be interesting enough to blaggify.)

Sent by Jerome D..

Version 1:

I've been looking at the railing outside the Computer Science building lately. It's a long ramp, pretty shallow, probably for wheelchair use. But the problem is, one, it's the only way into the building from that side (unless you want to go into the basement and use the elevator!), and two, it's bent backwards - the ramp goes along the side of the building, in exactly the wrong direction from the only one I ever want to go in. So, okay, I just have to climb the goddamn ramp and jump off if I want to get where I'm going without going along the whole length of the thing, twice. No big deal. It's about three, four feet tall. But here's what gets me: there's a metal railing on the corner - tall enough to make climbing over it, from one side or another, take even longer than walking around it is! What's the point? Afraid that someone's going to break their neck from a three-foot fall? It's so goddamn phony, Phoebe - probably designed by a bunch of phonies in their phony suits and phony ties - it just kills me, that's all.

Version 2 (what I'll turn in):

Hrs wt rly gets 2me
that rmp @ ebu3
its 2 lng & nt so hi
nds a rail if u fall u dnt die
the rail mns u cnt gt off & of crs thrs no str
wt dmn phonies said ndd 2b thr

(bonus blag-only bit):
i tll u feebe
it jst klls me.

Gloss of Version 2 (this will also probably be turned in):

Here's what really gets to me
that ramp at EBU-3
It's too long and not so high [that it]
needs a rail[ing] [so] if you fall, you don't die
The rail[ing] means you can't get off* and of course there's no stair*
what damn phonies said [it] needed to be there[?]

(bonus bit, over 160 character limit):
I tell you, Phoebe,
it just kills me.

*The cause of the narrator's irritation is a ramp - a handicapped ramp, basically - that provides the only entrance to a building, EBU-3. It's a long ramp, it goes along the building in the opposite direction from that in which the narrator generally wishes to go (so that he has to retrace his path next to the ramp, in the other direction, every time he uses it), and it has a railing blocking off the corner, which would otherwise be a perfect jump-off/climb-on point to avoid the longer walk around.

It's a pretty minor thing to complain about, but that's the narrator for you.

Exaggerated from a passing thought this author had earlier today, then turned into doggerel. My favourite kind of verse.