the four Yorkshiremen

I’ve been meaning to steal this for some time, but have been holding off because the blogger from whom I stole it was threatened right off the Internet by that anal retentive egotist Hitchens‘ little brother,” not to be confused with his more powerful and eloquent brother, nor with The Hitch, who is far more amusing and not afraid of god or man, much less a snivelling, brittle journalist. I was hoping she’d come back online, but “the other Hitchens” has probably gone so far as to rip up the power lines delivering electricity to her house, restoring her to a state not unlike those pre-Industrial peasants for whom he bears such apparent fondness.

But she’s gone. Hope somewhere a desperately enema-deprived hack is happily snickering into his posset. And drunkenly spilling it right into his shrivelled and dusty lap.

Anyway, here’s four whining Yorkshiremen: Eddie Izzard, Harry Enfield, Vic Reeves and the Voice of God himself, Alan Rickman.


And transcript, courtesy of BadKittyCat over the jump.

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the Cyclists

Thank God the Doctor never had to go up against these sinister robots. They’d use the power of their terrifying Supercilious Stare to fry him right into the pavement. I’m pretty sure this is from a John Wyndham story, or at least it aught to be.

via the Vancouverite

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the Evil Overlord list

Evil Genius. EEEEEvil!A hoary old classic of the intertubes, but one which is repeat-worthy. My particular favorites are #15, #85, and #87. Yours?

 

The Top 100 Things I’d Do
If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord

1. My Legions of Terror will have helmets with clear plexiglass visors, not face-concealing ones.

2. My ventilation ducts will be too small to crawl through.

3. My noble half-brother whose throne I usurped will be killed, not kept anonymously imprisoned in a forgotten cell of my dungeon.

4. Shooting is not too good for my enemies.

5. The artifact which is the source of my power will not be kept on the Mountain of Despair beyond the River of Fire guarded by the Dragons of Eternity. It will be in my safe-deposit box. The same applies to the object which is my one weakness.

6. I will not gloat over my enemies’ predicament before killing them.

7. When I’ve captured my adversary and he says, “Look, before you kill me, will you at least tell me what this is all about?” I’ll say, “No.” and shoot him. No, on second thought I’ll shoot him then say “No.”

8. After I kidnap the beautiful princess, we will be married immediately in a quiet civil ceremony, not a lavish spectacle in three weeks’ time during which the final phase of my plan will be carried out.

9. I will not include a self-destruct mechanism unless absolutely necessary. If it is necessary, it will not be a large red button labelled “Danger: Do Not Push”. The big red button marked “Do Not Push” will instead trigger a spray of bullets on anyone stupid enough to disregard it. Similarly, the ON/OFF switch will not clearly be labelled as such.

10. I will not interrogate my enemies in the inner sanctum — a small hotel well outside my borders will work just as well.

11. I will be secure in my superiority. Therefore, I will feel no need to prove it by leaving clues in the form of riddles or leaving my weaker enemies alive to show they pose no threat.

12. One of my advisors will be an average five-year-old child. Any flaws in my plan that he is able to spot will be corrected before implementation.

13. All slain enemies will be cremated, or at least have several rounds of ammunition emptied into them, not left for dead at the bottom of the cliff. The announcement of their deaths, as well as any accompanying celebration, will be deferred until after the aforementioned disposal.

14. The hero is not entitled to a last kiss, a last cigarette, or any other form of last request.

15. I will never employ any device with a digital countdown. If I find that such a device is absolutely unavoidable, I will set it to activate when the counter reaches 117 and the hero is just putting his plan into operation.

16. I will never utter the sentence “But before I kill you, there’s just one thing I want to know.”

17. When I employ people as advisors, I will occasionally listen to their advice.

18. I will not have a son. Although his laughably under-planned attempt to usurp power would easily fail, it would provide a fatal distraction at a crucial point in time.

19. I will not have a daughter. She would be as beautiful as she was evil, but one look at the hero’s rugged countenance and she’d betray her own father.

20. Despite its proven stress-relieving effect, I will not indulge in maniacal laughter. When so occupied, it’s too easy to miss unexpected developments that a more attentive individual could adjust to accordingly.

21. I will hire a talented fashion designer to create original uniforms for my Legions of Terror, as opposed to some cheap knock-offs that make them look like Nazi stormtroopers, Roman footsoldiers, or savage Mongol hordes. All were eventually defeated and I want my troops to have a more positive mind-set.

22. No matter how tempted I am with the prospect of unlimited power, I will not consume any energy field bigger than my head.

23. I will keep a special cache of low-tech weapons and train my troops in their use. That way — even if the heroes manage to neutralize my power generator and/or render the standard-issue energy weapons useless — my troops will not be overrun by a handful of savages armed with spears and rocks.

24. I will maintain a realistic assessment of my strengths and weaknesses. Even though this takes some of the fun out of the job, at least I will never utter the line “No, this cannot be! I AM INVINCIBLE!!!” (After that, death is usually instantaneous.)

25. No matter how well it would perform, I will never construct any sort of machinery which is completely indestructible except for one small and virtually inaccessible vulnerable spot.

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from the department of Homeland Damn Good Advice

This just needs to be said, today.

STFU

Believe me, you don’t want the details. You may get them anyway, if I run out of blog fodder, but I prefer to dump a cute visual on you rather than descend into the pathetic depths of LiveJournaling.

Emergency 911: when to walk away

Jesus thinks you’re a dumbassor at least take a long coffee break.

You know, a couple of years back we had this guy. A student. A student at the second-best university (of two!) in the area. And…how to say…not exactly the head of the class.

Now, students at this university, they have been known to get themselves into trouble, the way students do. They can do it particularly easily as this particular university is situated on top of a mountain which is home to both bears and cougars, as well as the mountainous terrain which comes from, yes, being on a mountain.

So, one night after the pub, he decides to save himself the two dollars and twenty-five cents a bus would cost (and the hour and a half it would take out of his life; those suburban buses are few and far between, and once you catch them they wander like Albion’s lost sheep, and at approximately the same pace) and hike down the mountain.

Cut to the darkest hours before dawn dawn…and Bubba here is stuck on a ledge, the last foothold for fifty or sixty feet, and he manages to flag down some help from the local homeless community or perhaps just passing nocturnal mountain bikers, and the mountain rescue team comes and rescues him.

Cut to a month or so later, on nearby Mount Seymour. It’s a ski hill, so Bubba has been enjoying a full and athletic day of mountainside activity, but apparently no challenge he has met today has proven sufficiently…challenging.

So Bubba goes off-trail.

Now, to my European friends, this won’t mean quite as much. I mean, you throw a rock in Switzerland, it’s damn well gonna hit somebody when it comes down, and that somebody is probably Bono ferchrissakes. In Canada, things are somewhat different. If you go down the wrong side of Seymour, you are in a deserted mountain valley and you could shoot off cannons without anybody hearing you.

Cut to several hours after dark, when Bubba is located by the trusty and intrepid Mountain Rescue team, on yet another cliff, toes frostbitten and weeping profusely. Not the toes, Bubba. The toes don’t start weeping until they thaw out, and that’s when it gets really gruesome.

Bubba lost a couple of toes, and several thousand dollars when he was charged for the cost of his own rescue. And he gave them to understand in minute detail just how outrageous was the expectation that he would be held financially responsible for the consequences of his going into the clearly marked Out of Bounds zone, which consequence was only levied because it was thought by the powers that be that Bubba should have surely learned his lesson the first time.

Cut to several weeks later. Yet another mountain cliff. Yet another Mountain Rescue team on yet another mountain rescue expedition, rescuing yet another Out of Bounds skier encounter…

Bubba.

Stoopid Crinimals

Oh, they rescued him alrighty. But they were in no hurry to radio for that helicopter, they told the pilot they were in no hurry for him to get there, they were in no hurry to winch Bubba up, and they spent all the leisurely (6 or 7) hours this gave them in taunting Bubba with how stupid he was.

Even stupider: once they’d rescued him, he threatened to sue, and THAT was when the two provincial newspapers printed his full name and home town.

All of which is a longwinded way of suggesting that the 911 rescue teams in Worcester, Mass, are taking their responsibilities waaaaaaay too seriously. I tell ya, guys, a strategically-timed “coffee break” is all it takes to train the stupidity right out of a maroon like this one.

Jancura climbed inside the safe and his cousins locked him in it. They were able to get him out because the code to open it was left nearby.

Then he went in again.

This time, the wrong code was accidentally entered and the safe locked down, trapping the boy inside.

I’m sorry, but I’m just not seeing the problem here. As long as you don’t let him out, he constitutes no threat to the quality of the gene pool.

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