Stolen from Pharyngula who, apparently, stole it from Trey Parker‘s Orgazmo (and we luv us some Trey Parker around these parts…hmmm, right around THOSE parts, actually), here’s some candid footage of how a sweet little old lady deals with a couple of clean-cut Mormon missionaries. Watch and learn.
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Which They Might Be Giants Album Are You?
You are John Henry. The world’s restrictions and formalities leave you angry, so you spend most of your time either thinking on your own or talking with your close, longtime friends.
Take this quiz!
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Hmm, not this one? How disappointing.
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Well, not so much “tardis” as “Metropolitan Police Box” but it is naturally beneath the dignity of the ol’ raincoaster blog to include “box” in a headline, bien sur and yew betcha.
From Sherrod Drawings, via Neatorama, here are the actual archictectural plans for the once-common, now consigned to sci-fi police box.
The first Police Boxes were introduced from America in 1888. The earliest Police Box resembling Drawing G/A1 was erected in Newcastle in 1929. Originally built of wood, the design had changed to reinforced concrete, weighing in around two & one-half tons…This set of plans will make a great present for those Dr Who Fans, or anyone interested in Architectural antiquities…
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from the Archive. This won me a nice little book prize from Two Dollar Radio, which is frankly the only glory this Vancouverite has ever gotten out of the Manhattan literary establishment, aside from the glories of Gawker commenter status.
I should have known it was going to be a long night when he asked me if I minded going out “after rush hour, when the bus fare goes down.”
He was tall. He was handsome. He was fit. He was educated, intelligent, in law school.
He was in love with Rebecca.
How do I know this? He told me. At length.
In the restaurant, he insisted on ordering a particular dessert wine with the main course. Bewildered, I wondered if it was some new foodie fad. No, he said, it was because it was called “Sweet Rebecca,” and that was his ex-girlfriend’s name.
She dropped him. She was cruel, and sweet, and had hair like golden silk, or so I was informed. When not explaining how perfect she had been, he spent many a long, silent moment staring into the glass and murmuring “Sweet Rebecca.”
At one point he pulled out a ten-dollar bill and showed me the family resemblance to John A. MacDonald, to which I could only reply, “Yes, one of Canada’s truly great alcoholics.” It was a little too late to impress me by then. And he’d drunk most of the wine, although I could have used a Martini or four, myself.
On the way home, he borrowed bus fare; I never intended to see him again, however decorative he may have been, but at a dollar seventy-five to get rid of him it was a steal. On the long, no, endless ride home, he had one more golden memory for me. Halfway home, he slowly removed his ski gloves and proceeded, methodically, to pick his nose.
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Well, perhaps not “vs” per se. He was too startled to put up much of a fight.
From the Archive and North Country Public Radio‘s website, and more or less another lifetime. Pictures and nicer formatting will have to wait till tomorrow, but will be provided. Sorry, no Speedo shot. Warning: I believe this one tops out at 23,000 words. Get yourself a drink. While you’re up, get me one too.
February 27, 2003: Tripping
Viggo Mortensen, the actor best known for his role as Aragorn in the Lord of the Rings movies, returned to his native North Country to open an exhibition of photographs and read poetry at his alma mater, St. Lawrence University in Canton, New York. As soon as the trip was announced, fans of Viggo (and all things middle-earthly) began to plan an invasion. The following account was written by a fan from Vancouver known as Evil Elf.
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There are so many reasons this trip is impossible. So many GOOD reasons. It IS impossible. But of course that has no bearing on the situation whatsoever; we are dealing with Americans here.
So here I am in the Vancouver International Airport, on my way. Clearly, however impossible the trip is, it is more impossible NOT to go. It is certainly impossible to change the mind of a Connecticutite once it is made up, that I know for sure.
It’s all Ara‘s fault. Ara short for Aragrothien. Ara, like me, is a Viggofan. Should I back up a bit? No, why should you be any less confused than me, eh? So Ara, who lives in Connecticut, got talking to some of the other Viggo Mortensen fans on the fanbase, www.viggofanbase.com/modules/news, and she, dragonlady, gubydal, pandora, you know, that lot, well they are on their way right now to Canton, New York to see Viggo. He’s doing a big booksigning and art show and suchlike at his old alma mater, Saint Lawrence University. And these ladies decided amongst themselves and for God knows what reason that their trip would not be complete without the presence of Evil Elf herself.
That would be me.
Now ordinarily it’s just not to hard to get me out to meet a man who paints, writes, takes photographs, and acts well; it is even easier when he is tall, blond, blue-eyed, handsome and single.
Gotta dash, more later!
Evil Elf, Vancouver BC
President and CEO
Evil Geniuses for a Better Tomorrow!
Evil Elf the One and Only
The Nubby Kanuck
Viggo’s Athletic Supporter
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raincoaster 