YSaC, Vol 923: Surely you’re joking, Mr. Eames!
Boy, science really is making progress these days. Time was, you only had a few basic particles. You had your rocks, and then you had your bigger rocks.
Then, the Greeks came along, and you got atoms. Also, yummy tzatziki sauce. mmm.. atoms in tzatziki sauce.
Then we had a bit of a hiatus in the middle ages, until Lavosier came along in the 1700s and identified that there are certain substances that cannot be broken down into different parts. We call these “elements”, like gold, molybdenum, or wonderflonium.
Then in 1897, the floodgates started to open. “Jimmy” J.J. Thomson discovered not only the electron, but also his catch phrase, “Dyn-o-mite”. (Dynamite itself was discovered by Alfred Nobel in 1867, who as we all know went on to establish the Pulitzer Prize.)
From there, you got just MOUNTAINS of particles, including, the proton, the neutron, the muon antineutrino, the W+ boson (who is responsible for the rigging and the sails) and those little black and orange bits you have on your fingers after you scarf down a bag of Doritos.
But finally, finally, the standard model is complete. Turn off the Large Hadron Collider – we’ve found this:
phooton – $45
This is a wood with blue pad phooton.both sides have magazine holders and the arm rest have doors that flip up so u can store stuff in them. Any questions call or text me at ###-###-####
I’m sure there will be LOTS of questions. The phone will be ringing off the hook, and soon this person will have to go to Stockholm so they can accept their Newberry award.
Thanks for the post, Wendy!
Fire the Phooton Torpedoes, Mr. Sulu!
Dammit…late to the party again..
It’s okay, CJ. Once we’ve destroyed the warbird, we’re turning the holodeck* into a giant pool of Jell-O. Then the party will really begin.
*yes, I know, the holodeck comes later.
I’ll bring the punch and quadrotriticale!
Ane nae tribble ‘t’all?
I have a huge crush on Sam Elliott. Don’t tease me like this.
My mind mentally subtracted the h and now I can’t stop giggling.
There’s no “h” in mental!
It’s also started adding a – between the o and the t.
Launch the brown-note missile!
**Der Kondüktor steps up to the podium and taps the stand with his baton.**
I vill give you tree, und den I vill cue der tuben on ze braun note. Eferyvun should hold onto der lederhosen, ’cause der shitten vill flieden.
Mr. Sulu: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Not completely awake yet and first read it as “phooton booth”. Tried to figure out why Sparky would need magazine holders. So he could have something to read while waiting on the next blue phooton blast?
Blue Phooton blast is what happened to me a few hours after I made the mistake of combining super hot peppers and blue raspberry Kool-Aid.
I’m gonna go over here and gouge out my mental eyeballs with this illusory rusty melon baller.
You didn’t think they called them bhut jolokia peppers for nothing, do you? “Bhut Jolokia” is Assamese* for “anal flamethrower.”
* How awesome is it that Bhut Jolokia comes from Assam?
Isn’t a “photoon booth” where a person can make photoon calls if you don’t have a cell photoon?
Yes, though photoon booths have been known to travel through time and space on different occasions.
And then there is the Phantom Photoon Booth, complete with Watch Dog, commonly referred to as the PhanPhot, not to be confused with his brother PholPhot, of Cambodia.
That too.
It’s the o’s. I swore. I mean swear. Thore jost gotting to mo now.
*takes a nap*
He needs an otterman to put his phooton.
And a matching armwaure.
If one has an ottom and a phooton will there be an armwar?
Or is that something that only happens if one is visiting Norway and one of the local matadors dumps a great load of scimitars and the like out of their hut . . . ?
Oddest way to build a space ship, if you ask me.
All my spaceships come with magazine holders. It’s a design feature.
They need to start making space ships with toilets. Asking a crew full of aliens to hold it for a few hundred light years does tend to end up with a few blue phooton accidents.
Maybe the energizer pads are sophisticated enough to extract fecal and urine matter from people before rematerializing them. Which would then cause annoying lines waiting for the “little boys” or “little girls” energizer pad during the halftime of sports events or intermission at concerts. It also opens up the possibility of embarrassing transporter accidents when the away team is going on a mission and somebody with diarrhea (is that the first time this word has appeared on a YSaC comment?) busts into the transporter room and leaps onto an occupied pad for relief.
I wonder if it would be a good idea to install drains in the sonic showers…
Well, that would make visits to the planet Bethselamin a little more convenient. No need to have the difference between the amount you ate and the amount you excreted surgically removed before leaving.
I’m just not having it if the thing doesn’t have a place to store the remote.
I’m pre-coffee and spent a good few minutes looking for the Adore button on Dan’s post commentary. That was quality stuff, Ostrimu (BBUY). I’ma keep looking…
I liked it more than usual, too. They’re always good, but one that mentions tzatziki, “Dy-no-mite,” and the stuff Doritos leaves on one’s fingers is an especially amusing start to a Friday.
Also: extra adores if we could give them for the titular Feynman reference.
Ooh, and tzatziki is good on doritos–even if it’s more of a cultural contradiction than a zombie-Scot-Korean . . .
The wise and wonderful Ostrimu (BBUH) did not mention the great and mysterious Force that binds the entire cosmos together – duck tape.
First pass I read “stuff” as “stiff”…and clearly I’m ignorant on the whole store-yer-dead-bodies aspect of furniture, particularly couches. There does, however, seem to be a real market for this sort of thing though.
Corpse storage: not just for snakes anymore!
You would think something like a large Rubbermaid tub would be more practical than a phooton arm rest. Easier to stack, too.
Also, unless there are properties to the arm rests that they don’t discuss, the Rubbermaid might be better in retarding the decomp-stench emissions.
They’re not very good for storing bodies. As we’ve seen before, mattresses are much more effective.
Man, that’s a hard on to top.
Aaah… get outta’ my head!
No, that’s what chest freezers are for.
PS sorry for two gruesome posts in one day. I guess my brain wandered over to the toilet humor side of town.
And that differs from other posters here in what way? Pull up a chair, Yancy, you are among friends.
I lurk here most days, so I’m pretty familiar with the prevailing sense of humor. I’ve seen posts begin on the opposite side of “the line”. Having said that, I felt the need to apologize for staying on the other side of what I considered a different line, the difference being a line of sexual humor and a line of toilet humor.
By the way, I lived in Carlsbad for several years. Seeing such a tale of macabre from where I grew up triggers a very interesting flavor of nostalgia.
There was some type of garbage bag (Glad Flex Strength?) that was suppose to be better than others. Not that I’ve been doing research or anything…..
AH-HA! Now the collection is complete. We have the up and down quarks (who take care of gravity, and thus mass), top and bottom quarks (also known as the dom and sub quarks), strangeness and charm (also known as the Hawkwind quarks), and now the phooton quark. It’s such a strange thing, as this quark is large enough for the others to sleep on, and it has a magazine rack, doors, and arm rests — presumably for when the other quarks need a rest break and want to see what’s on The Elementary Channel. It seems to have been a forest for the trees situation, where we couldn’t see the phooton quark because every time they were observed, other quarks were sleeping on it, thus obscuring it from observation.
I guess now we can turn the LHC and Tevatron into massive turbocharged go-kart tracks, now.
If it quarks like a phooton…..
But wait, what if the phooton is a meson, instead?
Well, then we have a problem. As I understand it, the mesons secretly control the world.
I have a second-hand apron . . .
One of your best ideas yet, eerily smiling puppy.
(What is the extra “now” for?)
I really want to go go-karting around a particle accelerator. Like, now now.
Considering how little iron tape it would take to make our putative go-kart “go” . . .
Now, if only I knew less about high magnetic flux effects on non-Spark’ anatomy . . .
I know nothing about high magnetic flux on Terran anatomy, so I’m good to go. Bring it on! I wanna go so fast it’ll take my cheeks a week to catch up.
We’ll get you a window to stick your head out of, too.
Which set of cheeks?
Depends on how I’m strapped in. Either way, as long as some part of me is trailing off far behind me in the distance, seeming to stand still in time as we approach light speed, I’m happy.
Judging from the theoretical position to get the other cheeks a flappin’, that part of you trailing far off in the distance might be your colon.
Would that then mean you had a semi-colon?
I know what they were trying to say, but I keep thinking, “Man, those must be some tiny magazines!”.
Seems like everyone is cutting costs now. Tiny magazines that you need to read with an electron microscope maybe quite extreme but at least they wouldn’t take up much space. In fact, you could probably throw them away into space.
I am joking. (Or aren’t I? Is the top still spinning?)
The phooton is in a third-floor walkup, but don’t worry; the phooton is easy to move ’cause it hardly weighs anything. In fact, you’ll be amazed by how quickly you can get it moved.
Now Dave, lets not skip so lightly over the mass-energy ratio.
You know how hard it is to give a phooton a five-hour energy drink, and without those B vitamins the mass goes nearly infinite . . .
Especially after a long night out with the publishing crowd in SoHo . . .
Hee hee hee. Phooton got wood.
That’s a hard on to get a tractor beam fixed on….
To be fair, that was a hot little prooton.
Wow, it’s really quite sexually charged in here today.
I’m not surprised at the attraction between them.
I’m usually so upbeat, but today I find all this positive thinking repulsive.
To tell the truth, I’m pretty neutrino about all of it….
I dunno. I’m feeling pretty adventurous today. I wouldn’t mind experimenting with a double slit.
Is that your #1 pick-up line of choice, Mindfield?
I thought it was “Do you take Traveler’s Checks?”
I thought it was “Excuse me ma’am, I need you to remove your pants. I’m a P.I. – Privates Investigator.”
I’ll go to the corner.
“If I said you had a beautiful body would you rearrange the alphabet and run through my mind all day?”
Ah, Mindfield is being a Strange Attractor again . . .
Strange Attractor is a euphemism for Crazy Magnet.
That would be YSaC in general then.
I’m going to go with Astro’s explanation.
Just call me Magnum. Trojan Magnum, P.I.
Psst, Minefield, you got the initials wrong: I think it’s “Magnum XL” that is even more impressive.
But that would mean I’d have to drive an even smaller car!
Nah, P.I. is so 80s… Todays cool perv is TSA:
Borrowed…
He grasped me firmly but gently just above my elbow and guided me into a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone. Now this was what I was hoping for when I booked my romantic vacation!
He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring voice close to my ear: “Just relax.”
Without warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused hands start at my ankles, gently probing, and moving upward along my calves slowly but steadily. My breath caught in my throat. I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn’t care. His touch was so experienced, so sure.
When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage. And then, as he cupped my firm, full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply. Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine and into my panties.
Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant. This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A man not used to taking `no’ for an answer. A man who would tell me what he wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say … “Okay, ma’am,” said a voice. “All done.”
My eyes snapped open and he was standing in front of me, smiling, holding out my purse.
“You can board your flight now. Next!”
I need to fly more often.
I’m not joking.
And don’t call me Shirley.
I had this at a Korean restaurant once. It gave me gas.
You should have taken some Beamo beforehand.
Miyagi: First, wash all Hadron Collider. Then Phoot. Phooton…
Daniel: Hey, why do I have to…?
Miyagi: Ah ah! Remember deal! No questions!
Daniel: Yeah, but…
Miyagi: Hai!
[makes circular gestures with each hand]
Miyagi: Phooton, right hand. Phootoff, left hand. Phooton, Phootoff. Breathe in through nose, out the mouth. Phooton, Phootoff. Don’t forget to breathe, very important.
[walks away, still making circular motions with hands]
Miyagi: Phooton, Phootoff. Phooton, Phootoff.
But I don’t want to take my foot off.
Phootball haz been berry berry goot to me…
“Now show me ‘Throw the Switch'”
It was a fine day! After years of slogging it in the bowels of the ship, Scotty finally had his chance to shine. Somehow – and he was certain he had absolutely no idea how – every ranking member of the crew above him had come down with a serious case of Space Dysentery and was unable to command the Enterprise. Therefore Scotty was called upon to be Captain for the day.
He sat proud in Kirk’s chair, smirking to himself at this turn of events. This would show everyone just how capable he was! He could finally get that big promotion and move out of the engine room. All he needed was some action, and not the kind you get from a seven foot tall green alien woman with three breasts. Seriously, Scotty needed to stop listening to Kirk’s stories when that man was drunk.
As they cruised through the interstellar blackness, Scotty relaxed back into Kirk’s seat, shifting his bulk here and there in an attempt to meld into the Captain’s preexisting butt-grooves. So far, the day had been pretty easy. They had drifted past a planet that their scanners showed was inhospitable, so they floated on. Then they had passed another planet that their scanners showed was inhospitable, so they floated on some more. Scotty wondered if perhaps he would be able to take a nap if the day continued in this fashion.
Suddenly, the entire ship rocked! Scotty clutched tightly to the arms of the chair and kept his seat by the barest inch of his bottom. Sliding back into the seat, he turned to the pilot and barked, “Wha’ was tha? I need o’ vis’ul. Swing ‘er roond.”
A few buttons later and a ship appeared on the Enterprises’ screen. Romulans! Excitement coursed through Scotty’s veins. Now was his chance! “Prepair t’ retoorn fyre!”
Beep-beep-boop went the computers as the ensigns’ fingers danced across their consoles. Tension was thick on the bridge as everyone awaited their temporary captain’s orders.
“Reada… Reada…” Scotty murmured, leaning forward eagerly in his seat. “Fyre Phootons!”
The room froze. “Uhm…” The bridge’s new offensive intern glanced around at the others. It was his first day, too. “I’m sorry?” he turned around to stare at Scotty.
“Th’ Phootons! Fyre th’ Phootons!” the Scottish Engineer barked, gesticulating toward the ship on the screen.
“O..kay.” The intern gulped. This wasn’t in any of his training classes, but if it was orders, it was orders. After all, Captain Scotty had been on the Enterprise a lot longer than Weaponry Intern. Perhaps this was normal.
With a great deal of trepidation, the intern typed the orders into his console and pressed ‘send.’ Then he prayed Scotty’s ploy would work….
Scotty never worked the bridge again as the Captain. Although the Romulans fled in the face of large, overstuffed Japanese couch-beds – probably more out of confusion than anything else – Star Fleet felt that perhaps Scotty was not the best fit for commanding one of their elite spaceships.
This sooooooo reminds me of a desperate Inspector Clouseau trying to warn everyone about the bim.
*snergle*
Should have been Klingons vs. Phootons….hehe..
😉
Hehe, true. Maybe I’ll change that in the second draft of this epic tale 🙂
Am I the only one picturing the Weaponry Intern* setting a “phooton” on fire and pushing it out of the shuttle bay, much like the flaming couch in Zathura?
*the Weaponry Intern also looks like Zachary Levi. And he’s shirtless.
Well, you’re not the only one anymore.
Not at all. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get this drool off of my shirt.
You put your right phooton,
You put your right phootout;
You put your right phooton,
And you shake it all about.
You do the Hookey-Phookey,
And you turn yourself around.
That’s what it’s all about!
OT: Hey kids, yes, I’ve been MIA and I will likely stay that way for a while, but I had to share what just happened. As I’ve mentioned, there’s a color line I deal with that frequently gets mangled from Tocco Magico to Taco Magic. One of their lines is called color-ton. I just had a client ask me for Taco Magic color-TRON. How very peculiar.
So what colour would that be?
Is “Cranky” considered a color?
You can make it at home yourself!
1) Get a bright, almost neon blue can of paint.
2) Go to TacoBell or similar and order the 12 taco family pack. (Or make them at home)
3) Blend tacos with a healthy amount of sour cream, salsa, guacamole, and any other toppings you wish.
4) Stir blended taco mix into the blue paint.
5) Serve with fresh Spanish rice; use two coats for more vibrant taste. Not recommended for outdoor use or for serving with white wines. Coats 6 people.
And Taco had to get his Tron the ‘old-fashioned way’. I’m just making that assumption, though. 🙂
Hope you don’t have to stay away too long, christina.
Hee hee. Come back soon, Christina!
Pho ‘O’ Ton is my all you can eat Vietnamese restaurant.
I’m two days late to make that joke, darn it.
I thought Pho O’ton is the name of the leprechaun in the Lucky Charms commercials. Be careful! He’s magically pernicious.
I don’t know how that cereal sells. Pho soup with colored, shaped marshmallows … uck!
“Pho’sted Lucky Charms
They’re magically hurlicious!”
Slightly OT: I referred to something IRL as “hurlarious.” Fortunately, the audience got it.
Pho soup? Is “pho” a particular “flavor”…?
or is it some sort of positive affection when trying to describe soup.
As in:
Q: “Did you like the movie?”
A: “Pho sure!”
Q: “Did you like the soup?”
A: “Pho soup!”
[Pho Corey] Traditionally, Pho is a Vietnamese beef or chicken noodle soup, often spiced with basil, lime and peppers. Most Vietnamese restaurants seem to identify themselves with Pho in the title, even though they serve more than just soup. There is a Vietnamese “fondue” (phondue?) that I had once that was absolutely awesome. It was a hot and sour lemongrass base, served boiling on a hot plate at your table to which you added whatever ingredients you wanted — prawns, beef, chicken, various vegetables, hot peppers, etc. — which were presented on plates ringing the fondue pot. Just dump in what you wanted, wait a bit, then serve yourself. Really delish. [/Pho Corey]
In Chemistry we just got our first project, on atoms.*
Gee, I was worried about getting a good grade, but now, thanks to Dan, everything is suddenly so much clearer**! So, let’s see, if I turn in this, I should do fine, right?
A Brief History of the Atom
Democritus thought up the atom to explain how the four humors (tzatziki, Earth, Wind, and Fire) made everything. People thought this was pretty neat, until the discovery of extra-curricular substances, after which they forgot all about Democritus for then next couple thousand years. But Niels Boehr, while researching how to cure asbestos, discovered Democritus’s work and republished it. People thought it was still a pretty neat idea. Next, Lavoisier invented the Periodic Table to measure when his wife was going to go mental. After that ummm… ummm… oh, yeah! Dalton invented the Atomic Fireball! Then Rutherford B. Hayes and J.J. Thompson thought they discovered electrons orbiting the sun. But, of course, we know Bubba Heisenberg pointed out that the two were a pair of bosons, (because those were just Doritos flakes they saw) paving the way for Einstein’s greatest discovery: That stupidity can be generated by exposure to phootons, and that you can find how much stupidity with the equation Ω=ac³†. Then Marie Curie and Victor Frankenstein posted this‡ on Facebook in an attempt to discredit him. But the egg was really on their faces when he blasted a poor red-headed stepchild with his Phooton Ray, which had the effect of making him incredibly stupid, proving the danger of the subatomic particle we now know as a phooton.
*This is true.
**This is not true.
†Stupidity=(phooton exposure in grams/second)(constant of the speed of light in a vacuum^cubed)
‡This entire post served no greater purpose than to give me a chance to link to that picture.
Brilliant!
I say the boy deserves an A.
Was earth, wind, and fire the back-up group for tzatziki?
Staple this to your actual paper, Astro, and see what becomes of it.
Silly Laurel, everyone knows you have to use gluons to attach phootons.
By the way, while I’m on the subject of school, I’d like to post the following. I wrote this on the back of my Latin test. I was excited because I finally know both the words for fish and swim. It got an “Optime, [Latinization of my Name]!” from the Magister.
*Refers to the fact that he has a fishpond in the middle of the classroom styled after a Roman bath.
Pugnato sum et kumquat and romanes avec gallum et pugnato… fish.
Go fish.
Is that anything like Go-Gurt?
First – aww! And second, Google translates* the last line as “Every lover is prevented from swimming”.
*Google translate is hilariously bad at Latin. So much so that a friend who now lives in Canadia uses it as her go to bored-at-work activity and has a copy of the Aeneid on her desk for this purpose.
Newberry award? As in Mickey Newberry? I LOVE that guy!
ToB, hope this Punchity Punch Punch doesn’t turn you black or blue!
G’Night, United Federation of Planets!
Gracias! I feel honored.
I had a hiatus in my middle ages too. Fortunately my doctor was able to push it back in and I’ve been fine since.