Yet she became more and more promiscuous as she recalled her youth, when she was a prostitute in Egypt. There she lusted for her lovers, whose genitals were like those of donkeys and whose emission was like that of horses.
By Douglas Adams, age 9.
A pocket knife is about the most massively useful thing any young man can have. Partly it has great practical value – you can hunt with it as you bound across the cold taigas of Jaglan Cappa; you can open beverages and sip them on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Renthar VII, inhaling the intoxicating sea vapours; pry loose the seven breasted whore of Babel; battle the Beast of Trafalgar IX (a sincerely reluctant opponent, it hesitates to attack as it is daftly afraid of occuring social faux pas – but very ravenous); remove splinters and thorns incurred from rummaging through boreal forests, and of course peel an apple.
More importantly, a pocket knife has immense psychological value. For some reason, if one discovers a young man with a pocket knife, he will automatically assume that he is also in possesion of a sash, merit badges, regulation brown short pants, short sleeved khaki shirt, toothbrush, flask, compass, map, ball of string, mosquito repellant, poncho, space suit, etc., etc. Furthermore, they will happily offer to buy original buttery flavoured kettle corn from said young man. What this person will think is that any boy who can handle a pocket knife can rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and can light a fire with two twigs and a rock is clearly a boy to be recokoned with.
Disclaimer: Douglas Adams didn’t actually write this.
I wrote a novel about life on a planet named Gramma-Nine, which had low gravity compared to Earth. The people there used to fly around. Sometimes they jumped and never landed.
This created terrible problems for the people of Gramma-Nine. The law of gravity required that objects with mass attract each other. This was a problem because the people of Gramma-Nine were ugly.
But the Federal Government came through with an emergency program. It gave a heavy lead ball to every man, woman, and child on planet Gramma-Nine.
There was a cable with a harness on it attached from each ball. With the help of the balls, Gramma-Ninians could go on inhabiting the planet without fear of floating off into space.
Unfortunately, they were still ugly and died of lead poisoning.
Starbucks is annoying sometimes… well all the time. Someone should just go in there and ask the ‘barista’ to supersize their ‘tall’ mocachino. Wait, I already did. The girl laughed a bit and then rung in my overly expensive ‘tall’ coffee. Starbucks is everywhere, more so in downtown Vancouver. I really didn’t think this street had enough of them, please build three more Starbucks, thanks.
Anyway, I tried to count how many Starbucks I came across but as soon as I got into Metrotown, bam. I lost count. Let’s see, one at Chapters, the foodcourt, the Skytrain station, by an A&W, bah. Too many.
Bah. Can’t we just call them what they are? Small, medium, and large. One exception, Grande Supremo would be a sweet name.
So on my way to the “Comedy of Errors” I met Eli by chance on the Skytrain. We immediately sat and watched this kid, the Pinball Wizard, talk to everyone on the Skytrain.
“DO YOU KNOW HOW TO MOTION TWEEN!??!!”
I hate kids like that. The girl in the green dress was hot.
Anyway, the G-Union is on strike. Expect crime rates to go down and German poetry to go up.
SPAKE!
