Thursday, July 17, 2008


I have a creative urge. I wish to make something that has never existed. Music, I think.

And I wish to profit from this creation.


Yet, I am not exactly musical and the odds of becoming super rich from this endeavor are slim at best. But I have an idea.

Between each data packet transmitted across the net is an ever so slight - from our perspective of time - pause. And what is it that happens during that pause? Why a complete copy of my as yet untitled work.

My work will be complete and utter silence. It will be encoded and transmitted between each and every transmission across the world's digital network of networks. And therein lies the catch. The secret to my fortune. Upon copyrighting this work, I will be within my rights to sue everyone found transmitting my work without permission. Which will be everyone transmitting any data non-instantaneously across the net. A limitless number of people to sue for a limitless number of infringements each. Silence.

What about John Cage you might ask. Isn't this just a rip-off of 4'33"? No. It isn't. First of all the length is different. Second of all, his recording was of himself not playing, so there was some ambient and background noise, however slight. Mine is different. It is the complete and utter absence of sound, of data. It's a concept album, really.

And while you might say, "Well, any idiot could have done that," I will respond with "Well, of course, but not just any idiot did this. I did."

I see you're reading this blog post. You might want to call your lawyer.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

A Night at the Improv

"Ah! So here we are! It's so fulfilling to be a couple of successful young doctors!"

"Yes. Yes it is. It's too bad we're trapped in this ice cave though..."

"Yes. Sorry about that. That was really my bad."

"No, no, no. Not at all. I mean, it's not like you could have seen that huge gaping hole in the ice. You know. While we were tethered together and you were in the lead."

"I said sorry. So how do we get out of here?"

"Hmm, yes. That is a pickle. Did you bring the rocket boots?"

"The rocket boots?"

"Yeah, the rocket boots."

"I left them in the car..."

"For the love of Pete!"


"You sir! are a moron."

"Hey! At least I'm not the one who slept with my sister!"

"What? I didn't sleep with my sister!"

"No, my sister!"

"Oh sure! Bring that up now! 'Oh Oh! What should we do while trapped in an ice cave. I know! Let's bring up who did or didn't sleep with my sister!' That's you. That's what you're like."

"Hey! I'm not the one who forgot the rocket boots!"

"Yes you are!"

"Oh yes. My bad. Maybe we could use this grappling hook and rope here."

"Oh yes! Great idea! Why didn't you say that earlier?"

"Oh I don't know. Maybe it was because someone was going on about rocket boots!"

"Okay, okay. Look I'm sorry."

"I'm not a moron you know."

"I know, I know. You're not a moron. You're very smart."

"I did bring a rope and a grappling hook."

"Yes, that was a great idea."

"Thank you."

"So how do you use it?"

"Oh like this."

"...That rope is like ten feet long! Why the hell would you even pack a grappling hook with ten feet of rope? Were you going to sneak up to the second story apartment of the ice cave?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I grabbed the hook you used to climb up to my sister's apartment. Huh? Maybe that's it."

"I used the stairs Frank."

"You son of a bitch..."

"Focus, Frank! Focus! We have to get out of this ice cave! You can kill me later."

"Oh. Well, would you look at that! I did pack the rocket boots after all! I'm such a silly goose!"

"Oh thank god! We're saved!"

"Oh yes. You thank god while I fly out of here."

"Don't you leave me down here you bastard!"

"Oh, just use the stairs!"



Colbert seeded this idea here

Friday, July 04, 2008

Genetic Origins of Humor

Okay, so now I know where my sense of humor comes from. After a totally unexpected comment from my dad, I realized it must be genetic. I guess it could also be environmental since I was raised by him too. So anyway, apparently the Seattle Supersonics are moving to Oklahoma City. I mentioned this in passing after reading the short article in a copy of the local paper about the move. He asked where to. I told him. He said, "I wonder if they'll change the name."

Then he said, "OH! They should call them the Oklahoma City Bombers!"