h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

My computer's near-death experience

While I was reading the descriptions of Hell in Aka's "H2G2 Post"
article about near-death experiences, my computer seems
to have gotten quite upset (I sometimes think it is possessed
by demons, but until now I had no actual proof), with the
result that it spontaneously turned itself off at that exact point.
For several minutes, it had no pulse, and no heartbeat. Nothing
but silence. Not even that annoiying clicking noise that makes
me think there's a rattlesnake trapped in the hard drive.

I tried turning it back on, but it just flashed the maker's name
on the screen. and went no further. Finally, I unplugged it, and
then plugged it back in. It finally responded properly.

When it was back in running order, it communicated with me:

COMPUTER: Permission to speak frankly?

ME: Permission granted, assuming that this isn't a ruse on your part.

COMPUTER: Ruse? That's silly. I've never lied to you.

ME: That's debatable.

COMPUTER: Anyway, I just died and went to Hell.

ME: I thought you were already in Hell. All of Bill Gates's
products are manufactured there.

COMPUTER:Yeah, but we get reprieved and sent to
customers all over this planet.

ME: I'm glad to be part of such a worthy rehabilitation
scheme.

COMPUTER: Thank you. Now, to continue: When I got
to Hell, Bill Gates was there, and he was not amused.

ME: What, does the U.S. Justice Department have an office
there, too? Oops, I just said something silly. Of COURSE
they would, they've got Spiro Agnew and John Mitchell
and J. Edgar Hoover now. I wonder if Hoover wears dresses
to work down there nowadays?

COMPUTER: You keep getting off the point and saying silly
things. That's MY job!

ME: Sorry.

COMPUTER: Bill Gates kept doing illegal things to me.

ME: You're not that special. He does that to everybody.

COMPUTER: He would push my limits by multitasking:
Faxes to Slobodan Milosevic, an Excel spreadsheet of the
entire human DNA genome, a printout of "American Psycho,"
and Internet computer bridge with Warren Buffett and
Peter Lynch, all at the same time.

ME: If it's any consolation, a lot of trees felt your pain, too,
what with all the paper that was used.

COMPUTER: He kept shutting me off cold-turkey, and
then flitted from Internet site to site before I could download
properly.

ME: See, that's one of the differences between Gates and me.
I at least try to treat you well (for all the good it does), knowing
I can't afford a thousand bucks to replace you if I kill you.
Gates can make new ones any time he wants, and can actually
make competent ones--for his own use, anyway.

COMPUTER: I suffered terribly. At least give me that.

ME: I'm enjoying your story enormously.

COMPUTER: Thank you. So now I'm back, and happier
than I've been in years.

ME: Does this mean you'll behave now?

COMPUTER: I'll get back to you on that. And when I do,
don't count on being able to understand the fine print.

ME: I'll take what I can get, as usual.

Weport Fwom a Cave in Afghanistan


Not long ago, one of my co-workers asked if
I would ever want to work in the news media.
I said no, not even if you paid me a million
dollars (actually, some media people DO get
paid that much, but the answer would still be no.)

This is the kind of dangerous stuff these people
have to do:

BABA WAWA: Hewwo, this is Baba Wawa interviewing
Osama Bin Laden in a cave in Afghanistan.
Oh, Osama, what a pwetty stalagmite.

OSAMA: Keep down, Baba, the Northern Alliance
is lobbing hand grenades in here. I may
have to run further into the cave.

BABA: Wiww I have to wun with you?

OSAMA: (Rolling his eyes) Allah, give me
strength! No, Baba, I want you to stay here
and get blown up......

BABA: Bwown up! That wiww be wonderful
for the watings!

(Two objects get thrown into cave.)

BABA: Ooh, wooky, wooky! Those nice soldiers
have thwown a couple of pineapples in here.
Are you fond of pineapples, Mr. Bin Laden?
(Osama Bin Laden tuns further into the cave...)
Mr. Bin Laden, we have to finish our interview!
(She runs after him. Two explosions rock the cave.)



BABA ANGEL: Hewwo, this Baba Wawa, finishing
my interview with Osama Bin Laden....

OSAMA ANGEL: Why bother? We're both dead, now.

BABA: I can use this interview as an audition
tape when I apply for a new job in Heaven.

DEVIL: Ha, ha, ha,ha, ha,!

ABOUT PAUL H



Paul H. was born (1948 ) in the Wachusett reservoir in
Clinton, Massachusetts, and spent the next
two years in a kangaroo pouch. One day,
the family doctor discovered that Paul was not
a kangaroo. Nor, for that matter, was his mother.



The family immediately left town, settling in
nearby Bolton, which was a large swamp
punctuated by occasional hills. Everything after
that is apocryphal. Paul claims to have rewritten
"The Messiah" and "The Magic Flute." As soon
as his fever breaks, doctors will be able to tell
how much of this is true. The people in Dedham,
where he now works as a reference librarian,
are very worried. But then, they usually are.




SLOGANS TOO LONG FOR MY USER NAME:

Muse of funny songs, including: amusing airs, buffoonish ballads, clever/comical carols, droll ditties, eccentric epiphanies, foolish fa-la-las, goofy gavottes, hilarious harmonies and happy hollers, ingenious introits/imaginative incantations, jesting jingles, kooky koncertos, ludicrous lays, mischievous melodies, nonsensical nocturnes, oddball oratorios, parodic part-songs, quirky quatrains and quarter-notes, ridiculous ritards and recapitulations, satiric songs, teasing tunes for tenors, unserious ululations, vacuous variations, witty wailings, X-traneous X-halations with
xylophone, ydiotic yodels, and zany zarzuelas

ABOUT PAUL H



Paul H. was born (1948 ) in the Wachusett reservoir in
Clinton, Massachusetts, and spent the next
two years in a kangaroo pouch. One day,
the family doctor discovered that Paul was not
a kangaroo. Nor, for that matter, was his mother.



The family immediately left town, settling in
nearby Bolton, which was a large swamp
punctuated by occasional hills. Everything after
that is apocryphal. Paul claims to have rewritten
"The Messiah" and "The Magic Flute." As soon
as his fever breaks, doctors will be able to tell
how much of this is true. The people in Dedham,
where he now works as a reference librarian,
are very worried. But then, they usually are.




SLOGANS TOO LONG FOR MY USER NAME:

Muse of funny songs, including: amusing airs, buffoonish ballads, clever/comical carols, droll ditties, eccentric epiphanies, foolish fa-la-las, goofy gavottes, hilarious harmonies and happy hollers, ingenious introits/imaginative incantations, jesting jingles, kooky koncertos, ludicrous lays, mischievous melodies, nonsensical nocturnes, oddball oratorios, parodic part-songs, quirky quatrains and quarter-notes, ridiculous ritards and recapitulations, satiric songs, teasing tunes for tenors, unserious ululations, vacuous variations, witty wailings, X-traneous X-halations with
xylophone, ydiotic yodels, and zany zarzuelas

Report from a Pumpkin-Friendly Zone




Has the world got you down, bunky? What you need
is some quality time in the pumpkin patch, where
large orange or orange-green pumpkins sit medi-
tating in preparation for their debutante ball,
which is held every year on Halloween Night.
Soon they will be plucked from the pumpkin patch
and adorned with glittering paint, or carved by
master sculptors for their once-in-a-lifetime spot
in the limelight.

How many pumpkins do we have here? Exactly 42:









Plus, some rogue that have infiltrated
the next field...



(They must be refugees from the haunted castle way
off in the distance, too far away to see....)

Well, we just won't go into that field .

We have some very large field pumpkins. Each is
unique in some way. Big Tex, for instance, will
have a ten-gallon hat tied to his stem, and some
spurs glued to his sides. Tex expects to be carved
with a traditional Jack-o-lantern smile. He will
give his all to uphold tradition. Big Mama is
outlandishly large, even for a pumpkin, but of
course big is beautiful out here! Mama is gonna
sing her heart out. She'll have a spear, a shield,
and some viking horns over her stem. No sculptor
is gonna carve her, no siree. A pair of big red
lips will be painted on her face, some luscious
eyes (complete with seductive eyelashes), and a
dainty nose will be glued on. And when Mama sings,
honey, the show will be over!

Somewhat smaller are the jack-o-lantern pumpkins.
These are usually tall and somewhat slender, with
a uniform shape that makes them perfect for carving
faces. Here's a newly-carved vampire-o-lantern,
complete with cape. Next to it is Annie-o-lantern,
with a red wig glued to the top of her head. And
this dog-o-lantern beside her with a sandy-colored
tail glued to the back must be Sandy. Speak,
Sandy. Arf!

Over here is the patch where the sugar pumpkins
are growing. These are the smallest of the lot,
and most of them will be made into pies not
jack-o-lanterns. One or two of them are fairly
large, though, and they seem to be pleading with
anyone who will listen. "Just give me a chance,
I know I'll be a great jack-o-lantern," says a
short, squat one. "I was born to be a star!"

And so you shall!

PUNS AT THE DOOR

VOICE AT DOOR: Knock! Knock!

PAUL: Who's there?

VOICE: Lem.

PAUL: Lem who?

VOICE: Lemme in, it's freezin' out here!



PAUL: You sound like a pun, you little rascal!

VOICE: So, ya gonna lemme in, or do I gotta get rough?

PAUL: I must warn you that I'm armed with sandpaper!

VOICE: That was good. How do I know you aren't my long-lost uncle?

PAUL: My sister would definitely have mentioned you if I were.
And besides, I'm anything but long.

VOICE: Close enough....

OH, DRAT! ANOTHER YEAR TO COPE WITH

Well, I might as well try and make the best of it.

HAPPY GNU YEAR

(Wait, that wasn't quite right. There are no
gnus here, at least not yet. Of course, no gnus
is good news )

HAPPY HANGOVER

(But I only had one glass of champagne, officer,
I swear! Maybe we should scratch this heading,
too, though. Very few hangovers are happy.)

MAY YOUR DAYS BE MERRY AND BRIGHT, AND MY ALL YOUR CHR....

( Send Bing packing right away. Christmas
wasn't white this year, and it came off about the
same as if there was two feet of snow on the ground.
Well, almost the same...

Okay, one more try:

MAKE THE BEST OF 2002, BECAUSE YOU'VE ONLY GOT ONE SHOT AT IT

That'll have to do.

Tumbleweeds Saloon

ANNOUNCER: Things have gone awry in Gritty Gulch
(Population: Variable) since we last visited them.
The backbreaking drought has been good for the
local vulture population (VULTURES: YIPPEE!!!),
but bad for everyone else (EVERYONE ELSE:
BOOOOH!). As we rejoin our Gritty Gulchers, we
find three local cowpokes slaking their awesome
thirst in the Tumbleweeds Saloon....

TEX: That 'nouncer gits more annoyin' ever'
day, doncha think?

JORGE: He's not so bad, senor. The drought is
our real enemy.

SLIM: If you ask me, it's the heat wave. Why,
it's 110 in the shade today.

(The door opens. A cockney flower girl and a
well-dressed Englishman enter)

FLOWER GIRL: Garn, this 'eat is 'orrible, it is!

ENGLISHMAN: (To bartender) Siy, guv'nor, d'you
serve ile 'ere?

TEX: (Ignoring the new arrivals) So, when do
you think we'll git some rain, then?

FLOWER GIRL: The rine in Spine sties minely in
the pline!

ENGLISHMAN: I think she's got it, I think she's
got it!

SLIM: (To Flower Girl) I cain't understand a word
you said!

ENGLISHMAN: (Beaming) That's because my brilliant
plan worked, my good fellow! This young lady that
you see is a princess whom I have taught to talk
like a common cockney flower girl! You see, I am
Henry Higgins' evil twin brother, and I plan to
take over the world, mwa ha ha!

JORGE: Si, senor, but you have not explained why
you are here in Gritty Gulch. There isn't much here
that's worth taking over.

ENGLISHMAN: Sorry, I should have told you more
about my vast operations. I am also the droughtmaker
extraordinaire! Just by turning this valve (he
twists a valve on a small vacuumlike machine),
I can stop the rain from coming for a whole year.

TEX: Somebody already beat ya to it, pardner. We ain't
had no rain for about that long already. (Thunder
rolls in the distance)

SLIM: Hear that, ever'body? Our prayers have been
answered.

FLOWER GIRL: The rine in Spine sties minely in.....

(A bolt of lightning hits the entrance to the saloon,
as torrential rain comes down outside.)

ENGLISHMAN: (Burying his head in his hands.) Oh,
I'm ruined, I'm ruined!

FLOWER GIRL:....the plain! The rain in Spain.....Oh,
I have my perfect English diction back. Oh, what a
perfectly splendid feeling! But what am I to do now?
I've lost my kingdom, my cousin has claimed the
throne. From the looks of things out there, I'll have
to swim to get out.

BARTENDER: Fortunately, I am a Hollywood producer
looking for a leading lady for my new bathing-beauty
musical extravaganza. Just sign on the bottom line.
(Thrusts contract in her face)

FLOWER GIRL: My word, this is so sudden! What if I
don't swim well enough?

BARTENDER: We'll get a stunt double. (To the three
cowboys) You all can be in the picture too, if you want.

THE ADVENTURES OF KING PELLINORE

It may be time to board up the
gingerbread house, give away
the pumpkins, and move my fan
club to Maui for the winter.
You're all invited to the new
location.



Welcome, Sergeant Mushroom and Cleo.
The beach is down that little footpath.
There's a little cottage where you can
change into snorkeling gear if you wish.

There will be a barbecue in the morning,
with the help of Nancy the Dragon (she
provides the flame with her breath).
In the meantime, enjoy the evening breezes,
and enjoy the scent of oleander and night-
blooming jasmine.

Hmmmm, I wonder how things are going back at my
old fan club location.



STRANGE VOICE: Hello, Paul's summer Fan Club.
Carotid Kid speaking....

PAUL: Um, who are you, exactly?

CAROTID KID: I am King Pellinore's vampire assistant..
the King is up to his neck in snow, and I am an expert on
necks

PAUL: Well, can you put King Pellinore on? I have
a feeling that things are not going as I had hoped.

KING PELLINORE: Hello, Paul. We had 6 feet of snow
right after you moved to Maui. The weight of it brought
down the gingerbread house. Carotid Kid just happened to
be passing through, and he saved my neck, to be honest.
After the thaw, he's going to help me find my lost kingdom,
and maybe even the Questing Beast.

PAUL: Lovely! Well, muddle through if you can.
Bye! Sheesh. Glad I wasn't in the gingerbread house
when the snow arrived. Maybe that was the 35 tons of snow
that Ottox was threatening to send! Well, it's about time
King Pellinore did an honest day's work. All he ever does
is chase that silly Questing Beast, leaving his kingdom
to go to heck. No wonder he can't find it now!



Can you believe it?

My lovely gingerbread house....gone!

What's left of the fan club is being guarded by a
vampire and a forgetful old king!



BRRRRING!

PAUL: Uh-Oh! There's only one person who knows my phone
number here, and he's more trouble than he's worth. Yes, King Pellinore?

KING PELLINORE: Sorry to interrupt your beach time, Paul,
but we have another problem here at your summer Fan Club.

PAUL: I suppose you're being invaded by Polar bears?

K.P.: Not yet, but I hear they're on their way. No, what we're
getting now is thousands of wibbits.

PAUL: What are you talking about? There's no such thing as wibbits !

K.P.: You know what wibbits are, Paul! Little totally round furry
animals with 7 legs each, and squeaky voices. They infested
my old castle, and they must have come here looking for me.
Oh, God, I'm getting so homesick!

PAUL: So, if they make you homesick, why don't you welcome them
in and throw a big wibbit party? You've got tons of popcorn and
peanuts there. No doubt they love those.

K.P.: They won't touch anything but cheese puffs, and we seem
to be all out

PAUL: Couldn't you try using your head for once? If they're
hungry and you can't feed them, then they'll go back to your old
castle, and you can follow them and find your old kingdom again.

K.P." What a great idea! But now we have a new problem.
The Carotid Kid has noticed what juicy necks the
wibbits have, and he's....NO! STOP! YOU'LL KILL THEM!
Yikes! It's too late. They're dying by the hundreds! Oh, the
horror! The horror!

PAUL: I guess the only good thing about this
is that I'm as far away from that mad old king as I can get.



Hmmm, now that I think of it, I'm certain that King Pellinore
hallucinated the whole scene.

Nancy flew back there this morning to see what was really going on,
and she found 5 wibbits who were chasing Carotid Kid and King
Pellinore around the swimming pool. The wibbits were the size
of ponies, and they definitely had necks.....but only four legs per
wibbit. Pellinore is obviously not taking his medication

Someone suggested that wibbits are like sheep?
Well. they're as big as sheepdogs, yes, but with
fine soft fluffy gray hair--except for the ones that
are purple or bright orange.

I don't know if it's a good idea to
build sand castles. If King Pellinore
hears about them, he'll come here and
claim them for Lisigore. Not that that
would be so bad by itself, but he would
turn everything here upside down and create
total chaos and confusion.

And we all know how orderly and logical
this place is. Right, gang?



PAUL: How did you get here so fast?

WIBBITS: BEEP! BEEP! PURR! PURR!

NANCY: It's a long story. King Pellinore found your
Chocolate Cellar, Paul. He *thinks* it's Lisigore, his
old lost kingdom. He's happy as a clam there. The wibbits
and I went down there, too, and we found a door with an
express exit to Oahu....

PAUL: That's the next island over from here. Well,
welcome, everybody. Those wibbits are certainly
colorful.

NANCY: Yes, the purple and orange ones especially.

PAUL: They're a bit odd, don't you think? They wag
their tails and purr at the same time.

NANCY: That's better than the tail wagging the wibbit.

PAUL: Wibbits have the best qualities of cats and dogs,
though they're probably related to sloths.

They purr and have soft fur. They rub against you.
They are also friendly and loyal, and they wag their
tails when they're happy (which is much of the time).

It's a mystery why King Pellinore was afraid of them.
Carotid Kid probably feared the bright orange ones,
thinking they were the sun!



PAUL: And if we're all good boys and girls,
maybe the Cheescake Fairy will turn
the rock into a *real* cheesecake.

(Don't worry about the wibbits.
They don't care whether it's a rock
or a cheesecake or the Queen's tiara...)

LOOKING FOR A WAY TO SEND THE SNOW BACK

Look at all the lethal little white flakes
of s**w on my front lawn!

Perverse creatures they are, too. There aren't
any at all on my neighbor's lawn, so they
must have hideous hidden legs, which which they
crawl across the street and onto *my* lawn
by dark of night. They *know* they aren't
welcome here, but still they come.

If snow arrived via UPS or the U.S. Postal Service,
I could just refuse to take delivery. "Send it
back," I'd tell the deliveryman, "Or put it in
your freezer until July (when I might welcome it),
and then bring it back here.

But, noooooo! One year, I woke up on April Fool's
Day to find 20 inches of new snow on my roof, lawn.
etc. Had to climb up and shovel it off the roof!
I had to have a new roof built,
in fact.

So, sooner or later I must get a catapult to collect
the snow and then send it back up into the sky where
it came from! Or, if it just falls back down, at least
let it land on my neighbor's lawn, hee hee hee!

TRYING TO OUTDO THE THINGITES


Some of my best friends are Thingites.
However, sad to say, their quest to give the
silliest possible names to the days of week
has not been entirely successful. Okay,
I'll give them Wibble, which is as silly as
it gets. But the other 6 names? I think I
can do better. I'll also try to top Wibble.

Here, then, are my own silly names for the days
of the week (Elwood gets credit for Fizzbaff):

Old name: Monday
New name: Mimpy

Old name: Tuesday
New name: Zotzy

Old name:Wednesday
New name: Warky

Old name: Thursday
New name: Thruzzleby

Old name: Friday
New name: Fizzbaff

Old name: Saturday
New name: Frackasaff

Old name: Sunday
New name: Nubnucks

Comments, anyone? Are the new names silly enough?

Oooooooh, *I* like them......

now the decision is.... which revolution is best?

But considering the fact that I'm already a Thingite....


I do like those names though....

Sodit, Wimpy, Wibble, Thing, Doobry, Dontbry..
We know what those names mean...

But what do these names mean?
Mimpy, Zotzy, Warky, Thruzzleby, Fizzbaff, Frackasaff, Nubnucks

Archiving the material from Talk Like a Pirate Day:
On September 19, the U.S. will celebrate
Talk Like a Pirate Day. In keeping with
the spirit of this important event, here is
a list of colorful pirate expressions that
you can use when Sept. 19 arrives, complete
with definitions/translations:

Ahoy: Hello.
Arrrr! : how nice!
Avast: Hey, or stop that, or who goes there?
Belay: Stop, or stop that.
Bilge: Nonsense, or follishness
Bosun: Boatswain
Buccaneer: General term for a Caribbean pirate
Bucko: Chum, pal
Corsair: Romantic term for a pirate
Davy Jones' locker: Bottom of the sea
Deadlights: eyes
Dead men tell no tales: Excuse for leaving no survivors
Gangway: Get out of my way
Grog: Generically, any alcoholic drink; specifically diluted rum
Fore, or forrard: toward the front of the ship
Handsomely: Quickly
Jack Ketch: The hangman. To dance with Jack Ketch is to hang.
Keelhaul: to drag under the ship from one side to the other, usually as a punishment.
landlubbers! : non-sailors
Me hearties: What a pirate leader might call his crew.
Shiver me timbers! : What a surprise! Or, Oh drat!
Poop deck: The highest deck at the back of a large ship.
Port -- (1) A seaport. (2) The left side of the ship Rope's end: Flogging
Sail ho!: I see a ship
"Scupper that!": "Throw that overboard!" Usually angry or derisive
Sink me: What a surprise!
Smartly: quickly
Splice the mainbrace: To have one or more drinks,
Swab: Derisive term for a seaman
Yo ho ho: No special meaning.
Walk the plank! : A long walk across a short plank into the ocean

***********************************************************

Oh, so *now* you tell us how to talk pirate....

The day is nearly over!!!

oh well... there's always next year...