January 16, 2010
Joker Kickflips Over Batman
A Story of Ant-Brutality
My little sister bought herself an ant farm - one of those gel ones, where you can see through the glass frame all the tiny tunnels that the little blighters make, and watch them waving their little anty antenna around, and doing whatever it is ants decide to do in edible blue gel.
She loved this ant farm. She populated it with a few black ants, and true to form they dug mini catacombs, and ran around, content in their own little ant eutopia. It was the ant equivilent of surburban bliss, with blue gel instead of picket fences. After a while, a few of these ants died fat, content deaths of old age. So, my little sister, concerned that her sociable little ant friends might get lonely now there were so few of them left, trotted off to find some new ants to add to the colony.
She was very careful to chose black ants, as everyone knows black ants and red ants hate each other.
Well, it turns out that there is some civil war going on in black ant land.
It was a massacre. Through the clear glass frame, we could do nothing but stand helplessly by as a vicious and bloody genocide swept through the blue gel tunnels. Limbs were removed, and left to clutter up the floor. Feuding ants formed katamari like balls of rage, that rolled down the gentle inclines of their mini citadel. Corpses were piled in corners. One savage ant trooped onwards, the severed head of a foe still clamped in death onto his hind leg. It made the 300 look like a carebear movie.
In true Highlander form, in the end, there was only one. One battle weary ant, with a dead head still attached to his back leg. He lived out the rest of his days in catacombs full of ant corpses, and my sister didn't dare give him any more friends for fear of the terrible rage he might unleash on them.
When he finally died, she tried washing out all the dead ants from the tunnels with water, but they simply swirled around like a really horrific version of an ant massacre snow globe. She tried to introduce new ants, but as if sensing the death and destruction that had occured in the tunnels below, they huddled on the surface and refused to go inside.
In the end she gave up, and started raising sea monkeys instead.
She loved this ant farm. She populated it with a few black ants, and true to form they dug mini catacombs, and ran around, content in their own little ant eutopia. It was the ant equivilent of surburban bliss, with blue gel instead of picket fences. After a while, a few of these ants died fat, content deaths of old age. So, my little sister, concerned that her sociable little ant friends might get lonely now there were so few of them left, trotted off to find some new ants to add to the colony.
She was very careful to chose black ants, as everyone knows black ants and red ants hate each other.
Well, it turns out that there is some civil war going on in black ant land.
It was a massacre. Through the clear glass frame, we could do nothing but stand helplessly by as a vicious and bloody genocide swept through the blue gel tunnels. Limbs were removed, and left to clutter up the floor. Feuding ants formed katamari like balls of rage, that rolled down the gentle inclines of their mini citadel. Corpses were piled in corners. One savage ant trooped onwards, the severed head of a foe still clamped in death onto his hind leg. It made the 300 look like a carebear movie.
In true Highlander form, in the end, there was only one. One battle weary ant, with a dead head still attached to his back leg. He lived out the rest of his days in catacombs full of ant corpses, and my sister didn't dare give him any more friends for fear of the terrible rage he might unleash on them.
When he finally died, she tried washing out all the dead ants from the tunnels with water, but they simply swirled around like a really horrific version of an ant massacre snow globe. She tried to introduce new ants, but as if sensing the death and destruction that had occured in the tunnels below, they huddled on the surface and refused to go inside.
In the end she gave up, and started raising sea monkeys instead.
The Moral of the Story
The teacher gave her fifth grade class an assignment: get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it. The next day the kids came back and one by one began to tell their stories. As the day went on, the teacher noticed Timmy sitting quietly in the back of the class.
"Timmy, do you have a story?"
"Yes, ma'am, my daddy told me this story about my Uncle Bob. Uncle Bob was a pilot in Vietnam and his plane got hit. He had to bail out over enemy territory and all he had was a bottle of whiskey, a machine gun and a machete. He drank the whiskey on the way down so it wouldn't break and then he landed right in the middle of 100 enemy troops. He killed seventy of them with the machine gun until he ran out of bullets, then he killed twenty more with the machete till the blade broke and then he killed the last ten with his bare hands."
"Good heavens, what kind of moral did your daddy tell you from that horrible story?"
"Don't fuck with Uncle Bob when he's been drinking."
"Timmy, do you have a story?"
"Yes, ma'am, my daddy told me this story about my Uncle Bob. Uncle Bob was a pilot in Vietnam and his plane got hit. He had to bail out over enemy territory and all he had was a bottle of whiskey, a machine gun and a machete. He drank the whiskey on the way down so it wouldn't break and then he landed right in the middle of 100 enemy troops. He killed seventy of them with the machine gun until he ran out of bullets, then he killed twenty more with the machete till the blade broke and then he killed the last ten with his bare hands."
"Good heavens, what kind of moral did your daddy tell you from that horrible story?"
"Don't fuck with Uncle Bob when he's been drinking."
January 14, 2010
*sigh*
Did You Know
Michael Jordan having "retired," with $40 million in endorsements, makes $178,100 a day, working or not.
If he sleeps 7 hours a night, he makes $52,000 every night while visions of sugarplums dance in his head.
If he goes to see a movie, it'll cost him $7.00, but he'll make $18,550 while he's there.
If he decides to have a 5-minute egg, he'll make $618 while boiling it.
He makes $7,415/hour more than minimum wage.
If he wanted to save up for a new Acura NSX ($90,000) it would take him a whole 12 hours.
If someone were to hand him his salary and endorsement money, they would have to do it at the rate of $200 every second.
He'll probably pay around $200 for a nice round of golf, but will be reimbursed $33,390 for that round.
He'll make about $19.60 while watching the 100-meter dash in the Olympics, and about $15,600 during the Boston Marathon.
This year, he'll make more than twice as much as all U.S. past presidents for all of their terms combined.
Amazing isn't it?
However...
If Jordan saves 100% of his income for the next 500 years, he'll still have less than Bill Gates has at this very moment.
Game over. Nerd wins.
Michael Jordan having "retired," with $40 million in endorsements, makes $178,100 a day, working or not.
If he sleeps 7 hours a night, he makes $52,000 every night while visions of sugarplums dance in his head.
If he goes to see a movie, it'll cost him $7.00, but he'll make $18,550 while he's there.
If he decides to have a 5-minute egg, he'll make $618 while boiling it.
He makes $7,415/hour more than minimum wage.
If he wanted to save up for a new Acura NSX ($90,000) it would take him a whole 12 hours.
If someone were to hand him his salary and endorsement money, they would have to do it at the rate of $200 every second.
He'll probably pay around $200 for a nice round of golf, but will be reimbursed $33,390 for that round.
He'll make about $19.60 while watching the 100-meter dash in the Olympics, and about $15,600 during the Boston Marathon.
This year, he'll make more than twice as much as all U.S. past presidents for all of their terms combined.
Amazing isn't it?
However...
If Jordan saves 100% of his income for the next 500 years, he'll still have less than Bill Gates has at this very moment.
Game over. Nerd wins.
...except in the end - life wins
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)