Puke Of Hurl
Puke, Puke, Puke of Hurl
Puke, Puke, Puke of Hurl
Puke, Puke, Puke of Hurl
Puke, Puke, Puke of Hurl
As I walk through this world
Nothing can stop the Puke of Hurl
And you, the trap you unfurled
And you can so hurt me, oh yes
TWO DAYS EARLIER
I love leftovers. There I was at the fast food restaurant picking up dinner when I had my aha moment. I’ll get extra deep fried things on purpose so I’ll have enough for leftovers in the future.
Eureka.
It would be something, a small thing, that I was actually looking forward to.
Meanwhile, deep in the Pacific Ocean, somewhere over the Great Pacific garbage patch, ominous dark swirling clouds began to form.
PRESENT DAY
It was almost lunch time. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was in a good mood. I was on the way to the kitchen to prep my lunch. The lunch I had been looking forward to for two whole days. There was a bounce in my step as I walked down the hall. I hummed a little song to myself. I paused in the living room and played a game of peek-a-boo with the cat.
In less than five minutes I would be dead.
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Fukushima #reblog
Today’s regurgitation reblog is served up by the WordPress “random post” feature. Back on July 24, 2011, I posted an “Aerial Reconnaissance Challenge” that was a photograph of the Fukushima nuclear reactor. It was also a Sunday.
This morning, while looking for an updated photograph, I found this news scarcely four hours old:
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How To Survive After A Disaster
Gurney can be so meanie but those eyes are so dreamy.
I am not in the mood for writing. Not at all. So I’m not gonna. Today I’m just going to go wordless because Wednesday is making me its bitch. No words for you!
Gurney Halleck: Not in the mood? Mood’s a thing for cattle and loveplay, not writing!
Tom B. Taker: I’m sorry Gurney.
Gurney Halleck: Not sorry enough!!!
Okay, okay! Dammit. I will wordlessly through the power of magic share one of my most top secret survival tips of all time. For you, the loyal reader, this is when all the bullshit you’ve put up with finally pays off.
Any idiot can survive a disaster: natural, manmade, Godmade, or otherwise. All it takes is shit-ass luck. So you survived. What do you want? A medal. Fuck that. Now comes the hard part.
Surviving your fellow human beings.
Good luck. You’re gonna need it.
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Honey Boo Boo Impersonation Contest
The spawner of Honey Boo Boo.
Finally, this is your chance to win.
An opportunity like this comes along only every so often. Gobble it up while you still can.
It’s the Honey Boo Boo Impersonation Contest.
The idea is simple. Pick one of the following phrases, record your impersonation, and share it with us. Our select Panel of Judging will pick a lucky winner who will be showered with indeterminate prizes that may or may not exist.
I know it sounds too good to be true. But wait, there’s more. Oh my God, there’s always more. Hey, cameraman! Get a shot of that, will ya?
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Who Wants To Be A Bouillonaire?
I have good news and bad news.
The good news is that I write my own material. The bad news, well, look above and see for yourself. 🙂
I wrote the joke above while thinking about odds and probabilities, especially in terms of events like the Indiana State Fair and the nuclear disaster at Fukushima Daiichi.
We often hear things expressed in probabilities. For example, “This luxurious home is offered at only $999,995. It is located on a 100-year flood plain.”
According to Wikipedia: “A one-hundred-year flood is calculated to be the level of flood water expected to be equaled or exceeded every 100 years on average.”
“A 100-year flood has approximately a 63.4% chance of occurring in any 100-year period, not a 100 percent chance of occurring.”
Interesting. I did not know that. I assume that such estimates are based on a lot on factors like recorded history and an evaluation of as many guessable variables as possible. But who knows how accurate such things are?
In the case of something like a nuclear reactor, I always wonder how they can estimate the probability of something for which no history yet exists. Truth be told, it sounds a lot like total theory and guesswork to me.
Is it the height of hubris to think we really know the odds of what might happen, what might be possible? And do we always tend to err on the side we favor? And if so, what is the cost of this bias?
The Challenger Disaster
Back row (L-R): Ellison Onizuka, Christa McAuliffe, Gregory Jarvis, Judith Resnik. Front row (L-R): Michael J. Smith, Francis "Dick" Scobee, Ronald McNair.
STS-51-L Mission insignia
I’m not always that bright. We were playing Trivial Pursuit and someone (not me) got the question: “How many people perished in the Challenger Space Shuttle disaster?”
As my opponent took an interminable period of time to ponder their answer, I couldn’t contain myself. “Holy shit! Come on! I can name all seven!”
Well played. I just gave my opponent the answer and another little wedgie piece for free. Dammit.
Then I did name all seven, from memory: Smith, McNair, Jarvis, Resnik, McAuliffe, Onizuka, and Scobee.
I’ve heard that most people remember exactly where they were when they heard the news about JFK being shot. That was slightly before my time. But I grew up with the NASA quest for the moon. The Mercury missions, then Gemini, then Apollo. And the Space Shuttle program.
For me, Tuesday, January 28, 1986, is my JFK moment. I remember that day vividly. Shortly after sleeping in, I found my roommates in front of the TV. We sat and watched the coverage for hours. Continue reading →
Shouts from the Abyss 
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