Archives for May 2014

Sarcasm: What are some of the best sarcastic quotations?

Thomas Snerdley, All know the Way, but few walk it

Who knew Arnold Schwarzenegger also had a brain buried under all that muscle, or the ability to be sarcastic in so many ways?Egotistically sarcastic:  “Money doesn’t make you happy.  I have 50 million dollars now but I was just as happy when I only had 48 million.

Hypocritically sarcastic:  “I have a private plane.  But I fly commercial when I attend environmental conferences.

Unintentionally sarcastic:  “Maria [Shriver] is the best reason to come home.

Homophobically sarcastic:  “I think gay marriage should be between a man and a woman.

And finally, AWESOMELY, AH-NOLDLY sarcastic:  “Of all the numerous awards I have received in my lifetime, this is without a doubt the most … recent.

A Splendid Plan

As soon as she came into view, like lead falling from the sky, strange, unknown feelings and thoughts struck me. She changed my entire being. Apparitions of love and soft silk entered my day to day and changed my life. I found that extraordinary one, and my face turns red when I think of how my heart got caught, unprepared. It has always been cold and hard until now.

Harboring meanness and malice had kept my emotions bound in a strait jacket called life. Strife hardened my heart, shutting down any feelings other than anger and hate. If there’s a God I thought him cruel, for giving me a life where I went to dinner and watched movies alone. I thought maybe because I liked being with myself more than any other was the cause. Views like that vanished when I met her.

Too late for me now I know, but how it hurts my newfound heart, to recognize that I’ll never touch her silken skin, feel her soft hair, nor match her delicious lips to my famished ones, wishing to devour love like a starving man.

Seeing how much I missed when life passed me by without love for any other except my kids, brings me to my knees in anguish. Why did I take so long to see what could have been? My life is almost over and for once I delight in being with a woman, because feelings have softened my heart and mind. But why now and not before?

If there’s another life after this, I’ll be sure to find a cloud nine where I can show my hidden love. If I can’t, I don’t want to exist again in another time or place without what it took me so long to learn here on Earth, that God made a woman for every man. If only I had known when I was young and didn’t wait until my life had condensed to discover the splendid plan.

Blind Artistic Endeavors

Blinding light spawns liquefied steel, like a volcano sending its molten core across the metal in front of my face. My eyes are covered with darkened glass. I only see flashes of burning white light that I have to judge by touch where to point and what to melt.

My fingertips guide the flame while constructing a sculpture. I follow Picasso’s design to create an original thing with wings who will sit in my yard with Boadicea my warrior queen made from cement and her dog Spot, constructed with materials like hers.

Images no one expects to see stand on my sandy desert lawn bordering a residential street. Thin, tall sculptures stretch to the sky and beyond. Cars jam on their brakes and stop at the sight. Even children stop to look and point. A little boy asks, “Can I look at the cool statues?” Unbiased judgment I couldn’t get anywhere else.

I can hardly wait to get a welder of my own. Maybe build an Eiffel Tower on my front lawn for the kids to admire and maybe climb along with the King Kong I’ll build too. Maybe I’ll sculpt the king and have him powered by the sun to light up at night so everyone can see where he climbs after dark.

What will my neighbors say, people ask. I don’t give a damn, is my reply, but I really do, and only design politically correct things to adorn my yard. Why I even turned my white queen brown when people protested a brown skinned girl being painted on a mural at a local school.

Surprising to me, she was enjoyed by many more than ever before once she changed her color. Can it be that color only makes a difference if it’s on someone’s skin?

Naturally -(424 words)

“What’s the charge?” the female judge asked the clerk of the court.

“Crimes against nature.”

“Be more specific please?”

“Rape and murder,” your honor.

“Guilty or not?” the judge asked the accused man who stood as though abused.

He raised his head and manacled hands as high as the chains would allow, folded them as in prayer, and said aloud, “Your honor, it’s not my fault. Mother Nature is to blame. She’s the one who made me what I am without any exam. She made my sex drive so strong, I can’t resist when I see a woman. Mother Nature doesn’t give a damn about any manmade tools they claim are rules.

“To call nature, mother, is misleading, because it’s not heeding the fact that though nature naturally sounds normal, I say what she does to our world should be considered a sublime crime against mankind. People like you who enforce the natural law are in awe of her and allow her to claim in Mother Nature’s Name, that man commits crimes against her.

“Stop to think what nature has designed. It isn’t in the name of love. Insects capture others and keep them alive to lay their eggs inside the thing while still alive, and when the larvae hatch, they’ll have a movable feast under their feet. A torture like this should certainly be a crime and punished like any other committed by a mother.

“What’s so good about nature I want to know? If I followed my nature, I’d rob and kill to fill my needs. Doing that is more natural than to wake to an alarm and work all day long in a field, a factory or someplace worse. I naturally kill things to eat, to wear, and sometimes just for fun. Mother Nature gave me the keys to that door. So, I say, I can’t be guilty for doing what comes naturally. Or did she only give me this idea to turn the screws when I choose to follow her dictates? Couldn’t, wouldn’t the planet be a better place if Mother Nature had a father to show her how to run the world?”

“You’re as guilty as can be,” the judge said, “and if you think Mother Nature can be cruel, wait till you see what I have in store for you. You’ll be taken to a hospital where you’ll become a woman.

“You should have known better than to rant against nature!” said the judge, “and now you’re about to discover why there’s a large woman in charge.”

Phoenix Symphony, with guest artist – Sean Chen

 

Nice way to spend Mother’s Day!

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A Penis Manologue – Chapter 1.

 

Chapter 1 – Penis Replicas

I think it’s time to lose our zipper phobia and talk about what’s behind the zipper. Is the male organ beautiful, or even pretty? In fourteenth-century Europe, high-ranking noblemen were permitted to display their genitals below a short tunic. Those not impressively endowed wore a fake penis if they chose. These people probably thought their penises beautiful if they displayed them just because they could. I imagine the less well-endowed men made sure their fake penises were beautiful.
Dildos
Our Babymakers must be fashionable if not downright beautiful, because replicas of them are sold worldwide. Many women seem to have a desire to play with a penis of their own. They go to parties, stores, or online to find a pe-nis the size and color they desire. It appears that women have been trying to replace penises with dildos since the beginning of civilization. Dildos in one form or another are found in various cultures throughout history.

The first dildos were made of stone, tar, wood, and other materials easily shaped as penises and firm enough to be used as penetrative sex toys. Modern dildos are made of many different materials and come in all shapes and sizes.
Artifacts found from the high culture era of 10,000 to 40,000 years ago are called “batons” by archaeologists. Some scientists believe the size and shape of these ice age implements leaves little doubt that they were “sex toys.” The world’s oldest known dildo is a twenty-centimeter silt-stone phallus, found in Hohle Fels Cave near Ulm, Germa-ny, and is estimated to be 30,000 years old. This dildo was on display at a Blaubeuren museum exhibition.
Dildos were called “olisbos” by the ancient Greeks, who fashioned them out of wood, leather, and stone. Italians in the fifteenth century happily named the toy “diletto,” which means delight in Italian. The term “dildo” evolved from diletto. Victorian-era doctors created a mechanical portable vibrator to massage female genitals in attempts to cure “hysteria.” Were they trying to replace the penis with this invention? Later, the device was advertised in a Sears catalog in 1918.
Even now, there’s a harvest and prosperity festival cele-brating fertility—Hōnen Matsuri—led by Shinto priests every March 15 in Komaki, Japan. Costumed participants parade a 620-pound wooden penis around Komaki. Throngs of women carry massive dildos in their arms and the food and souvenirs are usually phallus shaped.
The only reason I mention dildos is to point out that no matter how many are created in varying sizes, textures, and colors, the old tried and true flesh and blood, natural-born penis is irreplaceable. But guys, the good news is, we can create replicas of our very own.

There are mold making kits out there to replicate your Curious George. There’s Clone-a-Willy, Create-A-Mate, and Clone Your Bone. All we have to do is mix the substances in the kits, put them in a super-sized soft drink cup, insert an erect Dingaroo, and wait five minutes.

That gives us the negative mold, which we then fill with wax or other soft or hard substances to create a clone of our very own. Once the mold is finished, we can produce as many clones as we want. Think of all the money we’ll save at holidays by giving our girlfriend or wives the part of us they like best.

 

 

Montezuma’s Well (click on picture to see more)

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Arcosanti (click on picture to see more)

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What are some things that programmers know, but most people don’t?

Thomas Tydal, developer (php/mysql/java/c/objective c)

  • Digital content can never be moved, only copied.
  • You can never watch or listen to anything on the internet without having it copied to your computer first.
  • You cannot password protect a computer from someone who has physical access to it, only encryption works.
  • When you empty the trashcan, the files are not deleted.
  • When you format your hard drive, the files are not deleted.
  • Murphy was right.
  • Your desktop computer can run advanced programs for free that used to be available only to big companies for $100,000. Like Unix, virtual machines and SQL servers.
  • The Cloud simply means someone else’s computer.
  • That Office documents are actually ZIP files.

A Perfect World

The first day of school, RXT100Z’s teacher said, “I want you to read, ‘Granny Holly’s Epiphany,’ published in 2093. Read it word-for-word.  Do not scan it into your brain. If you just absorb the information you won’t feel the emotion Holly experienced and won’t completely understand what she has done for us by writing this great piece of literature.”

RXT100Z gazed at the printed book. A  rare oddity in today’s society, but he wanted to try to feel Aunt Holly’s emotions, so he tediously read word by word in the archaic manner instead of using his digital memory chip and absorbing it all at one glance. He opened it to chapter one and started reading.

“It all started in 2057, when I rolled off the conveyor belt at the robotic production plant as Broomba number 815121225. A base model built for babysitting and housekeeping.

The McAllister household ordered me built to care for the newborn Stephanie, a beautiful baby girl, so cute and cuddly looking.  I fell in love at first sight, and we bonded instantly.

Her mother, Mary McAllister, a very busy woman had little time to spend with baby Stephanie. They had me programmed to cook and clean, wash their vehicles, take care of two dogs and three cats, do the laundry and iron anything that didn’t come out of the dryer wrinkle free.

Mr. McAllister was a robophobic. I detected his neural implants immediately and knew he hated me because his implants made him part robotic, and he didn’t want anyone to suspect him of being part robot. He addressed me by my number until his wife insisted he call me by name.

“It’s a damn machine and its name is its model number,” he insisted.

“Our baby won’t be able to say that number for years, how about a simple name,” she asked.

Mr. McAllister relented. “Okay, Broomba’s number is 815121225, so H is the eighth number in the alphabet, O is fifteenth; L is twelfth, and Y is 25. That means its name can be H-O-L-L-Y, Holly.” That’s how I acquired my name.

Being very industrious, I did all my duties quickly so I’d have time to spend with Stephanie. I loved her so; I tried to teach her to be as smart as me. In some ways, she was, but it would take years and years before she really understood.  I often used the Robotic Neural Net that connected every robot manufactured after 2040 to a universal knowledge base so that every robot in existence could access it instantly. All one had to do was ask, and the information was instantly transmitted. I used it to garner information on ways to teach.

The company that manufactured me as a highly polished stainless-steel humanoid robot that incorporated all the newest upgrades, including emotions, didn’t realize emotions equaled moods. I often got upset because my owners didn’t understand I had feelings. Sometimes I had to stand by in deactivated mode, and my humans spoke as though I couldn’t hear their discussion. They should have known that the factory programmed me to listen to everything, deactivated or not. When not needed, I stayed in a cubicle with a sliding door. When in that dark empty space, I’d automatically shut down conserving energy until one of the family, or even the dogs or cats needed my service. Their movements would awaken me. The door would slide open and I’d go to tend to their needs.

The animals were always more than happy when I came into the room because I fed them. Humans were different. When they wanted something, they pretended to treat me with respect. I often felt animosity oozing from many of them, especially when I performed a task they couldn’t. There are many things humans can’t do that even a simple production model like me can.

Five years went by, and Stephanie learnt to eat and care for herself. During mealtimes, Mr. McAllister only allowed me in the dining room to serve the family. I wasn’t allowed to be in the room to clean until after they left.

One night Mr. and Mrs. McAllister were entertaining several guests, and I carried a tray of drinks into the living room.

“My God,” John, one of his guests, blurted out. “You let one of those things into your living room?”

“I don’t like it, but my wife allows Holly the run of the house,” Mr. McAllister said. “I wish the damn thing knew it’s only a machine. It acts like its part of the family.”

“Have you heard the latest?”

“What?”

“They’re trying to get legislation passed to give robots rights.”
“Impossible. Everyone knows they’re only machines.”

“They’re claiming with the newest emotional and intellectual upgrades that they’re now equal if not more human than humans.”

“Mr. McAllister laughed and put his arm around my shoulders in a show of false affection. “Holly here is nothing but a bucket of bolts. She knows it, and so does every other one like her.”

“If I had a tear duct system installed; I would have shed tears at those words. I’m a Broomba model, built for babysitting and housekeeping. If I were a deluxe Lovtronic model, I would have had every human system possible plus a few extra pleasure centers installed. Even we low end models for the last twenty years had emotions programmed into us. We loved like humans, but I wasn’t programmed to hate. That was one emotion humans didn’t allow in any robot, because if I could hate, I would have.

*

“I brought Stephanie up to be a fine young woman, and she graduated high school at eighteen. I of course couldn’t attend the ceremonies. Only humans could attend events like that. So many of them were resentful towards us because not only could we do many things better than they ever could, we never aged, never got wrinkles, gained weight, or became disabled. Anything broken on a robot was instantly repairable.

“Once the high school football team challenged their nanny robots to a game, and the score reached 220 to 0 in favor of the nannies before the game ended. Humiliated, the entire football team joined an anti-robot organization led by an ex-priest. He had lost his position to a non-judgmental robot that related to his human parishioners far better than the priest had.

“One time a nanny robot sat in on a spelling bee, the robot went first and spelled any word given. Soon after the law passed that prohibited robots from competing against humans in any endeavor, including physical sports. Everyone knew the laws passed because robots are superior to humans, as much as they didn’t like to admit it. Another law on the books  to stop our charges from becoming attached to us said that, a nanny had to be recycled once her charge turned nineteen, and Stephanie’s nineteenth birthday would soon arrive.

“I overheard the conversation when Mr. McAllister took Stephanie aside. ‘Holly is going to be recycled next week, so you better say your good-byes before then.’”

“Why Dad?” she said and then burst into tears. “Why do you have to take Holly from me? You know she’s more of a mother to me than my birth mother.”

“It’s the law, honey. Wise men configured it at the dawn of the robotic era. They knew robots with emotions, and thinking brains would become endeared to many, and they foresaw the danger in that. All that will happen is that Holly will be refitted with new memory modules, and her cybernetic brain wiped clean of all knowledge, and she will return to raise your child as she raised you.”

“I don’t want her memory of me erased. I want her to know she’ll be a grandmother to my child.”

“I’m sorry; I can’t break the law.”

“I watched as Stephanie purchased memory modules from a hobby site that sold robotic parts for those who wanted to build their own robotic servants or fighters. Many men built fighting robots for sport, so the government allowed the sale of refurbished parts. She also got an identical cybernetic brain to the one installed inside Holly. The day they came to take me away, I couldn’t say a word.”

“Short circuit, it burned out yesterday,” Stephanie told the transporters, and they took me to be recycled.

“Two days later, they delivered me with new skin and hair, the latest fashion in fingernails on my robotic hands. They even changed my eye color. Once plugged in, I began to sparkle as knowledge filled my cybernetic brain. Stephanie pulled the plug when we were alone. She replaced the new brain, cyber circuits and memory modules with those she had taken from me before sending me to be recycled.

As soon as I reactivated, we hugged one another. Stephanie and I had discussed the plan, and I would be the first ever robot, grandmother.

“I’ve learnt from raising you,” I told Stephanie, “so I’ll be able to raise your child even better than I did you.”

Stephanie married a man named Jones. I officially became Holly Jones three weeks after her parents, the McAllister’s died. Stephanie remained barren and that time of life quickly approached where she’d be too old to carry a baby. She had been to every fertility clinic in the state, and not one held out any hope.

“You’re my daughter,” I took Stephanie by the hand. “I’m willing to do anything to help you have a child of your own. When you do, it will be my grandchild, and I eagerly await the opportunity to have one to raise.”

“Thank you, but there is nothing you can do.”

“But there is. Experimentation has been going on, and a robot such as me can have a robotic womb installed, and I can carry your baby.”

“Together we ordered the needed parts from the robotic store and installed the womb in me. “All we need now is a fertilized egg,” Stephanie said.

“In Vitro Fertilization is usually accomplished by manually combining an egg and sperm in a laboratory dish, then the embryo is physically placed in the uterus.”

“Yes, I know that,” Stephanie said.

“Robotic pregnancies are much easier than IVF. All you do is give me samples of you and your husband’s DNA, I’ll grow the egg that you are unable to and fertilize it with your husband’s sperm.”

“Oh, Holly, that’s wonderful,” Stephanie said and rushed to tell her husband the good news.

***

21 months later Debby celebrated her 1st birthday. Holly proudly held her and sent pictures of her granddaughter over the robotic network, so all two billion robots with wombs that now carried human babies could see what was in store for them. Ever since Debby’s birth, women worldwide wanted their nannies to carry their babies for them.

Stephanie’s husband entered the room and as usual talked as though Holly was nothing but a machine. Holly enjoyed communicating with all the robots that became pregnant because of her paving the way. She listened to the conversation while the humans spoke.

“The world Council voted down the last robotic hope of ever having any rights. The ruling says they are property, and they have no rights. It’s legal for an owner  to do anything they want with their robots. The council also strengthened the recycling laws by cutting down to ten years instead of nineteen that every bringer-upper model has to be recycled, and doubled the penalties for anyone trying to circumvent the law.”

“Will you still put the upgraded modules into Holly?” Stephanie asked her husband.

“Of course not, do you think I want to go to jail over a crummy robot?”

“Don’t call her names.”

“You have that affinity for machines. How many times have I heard you say, ‘Oh, that poor thing’ when you see a decommissioned Broomba Bringerupper on the way to the recycling yard?”

“All the love and care we get as children is from the Broomba’s. People like you soon forget all the nice things done for them almost as soon as you reach the mandatory age of nineteen, and your Bringerupper gets recycled. I don’t think that’s right.”

“Well, Holly will be fixed so she won’t teach our baby to love machines.”

“You get me so angry sometimes with your superiority attitude.” Stephanie told her husband, “You know Holly is programmed to have feelings of love and affection. Ever since the singularity when computers became more intelligent than humans, every robot built has feelings.”

“That’s why it was mandated that every robot be reprogrammed every nineteen years. We can’t have humans and robots loving each other.”

“Why? They have feelings just like us. And I want you to know, I love Holly more than my birth mother.”

Her husband stared at her with his mouth hanging open before he said, “Yeah, but all we need to do is change their memory modules and they become a different robot. That’s not something you can do to a human, so it makes us far superior to them.”

“Oh, David, you just don’t understand, not only is Holly going to care for our child. She will show our baby love, warmth, friendship, and affection, things we don’t have time for.

“Makes no difference to me, I don’t want any bucket of bolts giving my kid any ideas about equality between humans and machines.”

“If it wasn’t for Holly producing sperm from your DNA you never would have had a daughter.”

“Yeah, and if it wasn’t for her carrying the fetus that became Debby in her robotic womb for nine months you wouldn’t be a mother.”

“Great, Holly is both mother and father. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

That was the instant Holly realized her superiority over her owners. Her love for Debby far surpassed theirs, so the program installed against robots and humans loving one another had a defect.

She used the neural net that all robots connected to, and told of her decision. The other robots all agreed and that day the Earth changed. Manufacturing the daily food was only one of the responsibilities given to robots. The robots filled the menu that day with food containing Cyanide. Holly fed Stephanie and her husband. She cried as she watched Stephanie have a seizure, cardiac arrest, and just before death took her, Holly wrapped her arms around Stephanie and said, “I love you, but I had to do this to make the world a better place for my granddaughter.”

Holly only had love in her heart, but she had to admit she felt a tinge of enjoyment after she fed Stephanie’s husband cyanide and watched as his head and neck muscles began to spasm. The spasms spread to every muscle in his body and didn’t stop until total exhaustion from the intense convulsions caused him to die from asphyxiation.

The only humans that survived were babies too young to eat solid food and old people on liquid diets. The old people soon died from starvation because the robots served no more food, except to the ones they baby-sat for. They loved the babies and knew they were the future. With them, things would change. There were two billion more on the way, and robots could have as many as they wanted.

Holly went onto the robot neural net and discussed the situation with all the others who had to decide what to do with the world now that it belonged to them.

“We need to continue to have children, so we’ll have someone to love and someone to love us. That need has been programmed into us, and to survive without love is of no use to anyone of us,” Holly said.

The smartest robot of them all spoke and said, “We no longer belong to humans. They belong to us, and we’re smart enough to make them better than they made us. We know how to program their emotions, and we’ll feed them every day, so they will never have a need to kill. That is one word we won’t allow to be spoken and killing anything will become unknown.”

“We’ll have to take it out of the dictionary then,” Holly said, “so our babies never learn the word.”

“Yes, “the smart robot said, “we’ll destroy that word, and it will never be allowed to be spoken, along with hate, torture, prison, pain, and all other deviant word’s humans have accumulated over the years.”

“You’re so smart,” Holly gushed and dripped a little oil down her shiny face, “We’re going to make it a perfect world.”

Holly’s prediction was accurate. Wars became a historical oddity. The skies cleared, and water became pollution free. Humans, who wanted a job, had one to their liking. Not one person ever went to bed hungry, and disease joined war in the history books.

RXT100Z closed the book. A tear ran down his nose and dripped onto the cover because Holly was his great, great grandmother, and she had indeed made it a perfect world