Sunday, March 30, 2008

Cocktail Links: The Office

Warning: Not for those with a weak stomach and probably NSFW.

1. Whack you boss (game)
2. Office slut (animation)
3. Office politics (animation)

Saturday, March 29, 2008

We're all gonna die!!!!!

We're all gonna die!!!!


The Death of Spock

Photographer's suicide


Pennywise was busy...

Precious oil

Fair warning

Death waiting

Lactose intolerance

We're always watching you...

I Want Your Hand

by Rati Amaghlobeli

I want your hand to be placed on my heart, and come,
I want the palm of your hand on my heart, for it to be placed on me.
Before you come I shall light a fire and I shall await
Your coming patiently. I want the big fire

To be alight all night, and voices in the silence of this fire
To be heard only as we once heard the sound of the sea,
For your shoulder, hand, arm to be put on my heart,
And for the fire to be alight.

Let it snow outside, let’s not remember anyone outside.
Let the town fall into a heavy sleep, let the town sleep,
Let fathers, brothers sleep sweetly and bitterly.
Let every place, space and area be covered in white snow.

Let factories, stations, the airport sleep in peace,
Let the sky too rest in sleep, let there be no flying,
Let the yard dogs, the tramp, the bird on the wire
Be overcome by slumber, let everything surrender to slow

Sleep and peace. But let me hold your weak
And white hand the whole night and have it on my heart.
Let for a moment an unknown god stop by our windows,
And let us too go to sleep, but let the fire stay alight.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Why alcohol should be served at work

1. It’s an incentive to show up.

2. It leads to more honest communications.

3. It reduces complaints about low pay.

4. Employees tell management what they think, not what management wants to hear.

5. It encourages car pooling.

6. Increase job satisfaction because if you have a bad job, you don’t care.

7. It eliminates vacations because people would rather come to work.

8. It makes fellow employees look better.

9. It makes the cafeteria food taste better.

10. Bosses are more likely to hand out raises when they are wasted.

11. Employees work later since there’s no longer a need to relax at the bar.

12. It makes everyone more open with their ideas.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Internet Evolution

Take a look at the evolution of 10 popular websites since the age of the Internet began.

Yahoo Today / 12 Years Ago / 8 Years Ago / 4 Years Ago

(Click on the title for more)

Saturday, March 22, 2008

The Waldo Ultimatum

His identity erased. His past stolen. His whereabouts unknown. Where is Waldo?

Last Supper

Leonardo De Vinci's Last Supper gets lampooned as well.

The Simpsons Last Supper

Hollywood Last Supper

House Last Supper

(Click on the title for more.)

Many Views of Abbey Road

This iconic image by Iain MacMillan of The Beatles became the cover for the group's 1969 album Abbey Road. It's been imitated, lampooned, honored, and recreated by several artists.

The Simpsons

(Click on the title for more.)

Thursday, March 20, 2008

South Park vs The Simpsons

Simpsons Intro South Park Style

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

The Booze Test: Name That Alcohol

Do you know your alcohol? Take this test and find out.
The good news is: I'm not a drunkard or an alcoholic...yet.


Writer's Block: Sablayisms

There are two things that Pinoys are searching like crazy for online these past two weeks.
One is on the Pacquiao-Marquez fight last Sunday, and the second is for Bb. Pilipinas World 2008 winner Janina San Miguel.
If you haven't heard already, San Miguel has been the butt of jokes and criticism for her atrocious English during the pageant Q&A --- a huge no-no in the age of cyberspace where you can get more than 15 minutes of unwanted fame.
Apparently Janina gets advice and defense from former beauty queens Ruffa Bektas and Melanie Marquez.
"May karapatan siyang magkamali sa Ingles kung maganda siya," (She is allowed to make mistakes if she is beautiful," Marquez was quoted saying.
Marquez, Bb. Pilipinas International 1979, was taunted for her difficulty with the English language. But the former beauty queen made this her trademark and even authored a book titled," Don't Judge Me, I'm Not A Book".

Here are some samples of those quotes:

"My brother is not a girl; he’s a gentleman."

"Don’t judge my brother; he’s not a book."

"I won’t stoop down to my level."

"I don’t eat meat. I’m not a carnival."

Going back to Ms. San Miguel, I suppose Marquez is right in certain ways. She is after all, only 17 and has time to improve her English communication skills - especially since she wants to become a reporter.
The good news for her is that if she ever becomes a reporter with bad grammar - there are editors. We can make you look good, no matter how painful your writing gets.
In the meantime, pray she won't make the same boo-boo in the Miss World competition.
There's still hope, so don't judge her - she's not a book! -wmf


Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Coffee Break: 100 Best Last Lines

The American Book Review has come up with a list of the 100 Best Last Lines from Novels. Here are a few:

15. Before reaching the final line, however, he had already understood that he would never leave that room, for it was foreseen that the city of mirrors (or mirages) would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men at the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth. –Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967)

39. Yes, they will trample me underfoot, the numbers marching one two three, four hundred million five hundred six, reducing me to specks of voiceless dust, just as, in all good time, they will trample my son who is not my son, and his son who will not be his, and his who will not be his, until the thousand and first generation, until a thousand and one midnights have bestowed their terrible gifts and a thousand and one children have died, because it is the privilege and the curse of midnight’s children to be both masters and victims of their times, to forsake privacy and be sucked into the annihilating whirlpool of the multitudes, and to be unable to live or die in peace. –Salman Rushdie, Midnight’s Children (1981)

52. Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody. –J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye (1951)

88. “Meet Mrs Bundren,” he says. –William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying (1930)

Monday, March 17, 2008

Writer's Block: "Love Vacation"

A Finnish MP has proposed a law for couples granting them a seven-day "love vacation" to keep them from drifting apart in this overly stress-laden world.
In Japan, one company ( I forget which) has actually provided employees a "heartbreak leave" after you break up with a significant other.
According to the article, heartbroken 20 somethings get a day off, while 30 and 40-somethings get at least three days off - mainly because love sucks as people get older, and prospects of finding someone worth your while actually gets slimmer.
Too bad these aren't laws in a single country. That way you can take a seven day love vacation and file for a heartbreak leave after.
That's about ten days off. Ten days that can be put into good use - especially if you have to restrain and gag someone against their will in order to take that week-long love vacation. - wmf

Autumn Song

by Dante Gabriel Rosetti

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

And how the swift beat of the brain
Falters because it is in vain,
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf
Knowest thou not? and how the chief
Of joys seems--not to suffer pain?

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the soul feels like a dried sheaf
Bound up at length for harvesting,
And how death seems a comely thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf

Monday Poem: Wakening

by Jim Culleny

1 Facing Goliath

Like wound springs we wait inside a medic's room
my dearest friend and lover sits upon the table.

We do the ritual things we do
we laugh against doom.

Like David with his stone
we do the tiny things we're able.

2 The Surgeon Said

Some days I think
lies would serve us best
but this is my delusion

How could I choose
to ditch what's real
for a figment of my imagination,
isn't that the definition of a fool?

Whatever it is it's here so deal with it.

So sorry, the surgeon said,
about the biopsy.

3 The Cardelaveo Abyss

Without you would be the
Cardelaveo Abyss
which is no place I know
or which even exists
unless by coincidence
because I just made it up
to convey the vast emptiness
I would know without you.

4 Wakening
On being up in a 2:00 am funk

What I was doing up
was being down
not in a dreadful sense
but in the way of anyone
suddenly too tuned to everyday events
once hidden in convenient clouds
but now laid bare
as an avocado pit
exposed in half a fruit
staring at the heart if it
and first time seeing it
from head to boot.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Writer's Block: March 14

Who would have known that yesterday, March 14 - was a packed day.
For the geeks out there - it was Pi Day, a "celebration of the mathematical ratio that man has been trying to unlock for millennia".
How did they come up with the date for the famous constant, you ask? The rough ratio of pi 3.14 gives us the date for Pi Day.
Do the math.
Incidentally, Pi Day coincides with Albert Einstein's birthday, and in the full opposite of genius - Steak and Blow Job Day.
If you've never heard of this day, rest well you aren't alone. What you do on this day I think is already self-explanatory, but generally it's a day when women are supposed to show their -ahem- "affection" for their man.
In other words, it's payback time for the obligatory card, teddy (both kinds, and depending on your mental age), roses, chocolate, and dinner out a month previous.
Not that Valentine's Day* is all that great to begin with. * Most people don't know this - but Valentines is a day couples came up with to remind single people that they are alone. Unfortunately we don't know who said that. - wmf

Saturday Strip: Bad Day

Trouble Waiting

The Inner Child

Sound Advice

Why some people hate hospitals...

The clown business just never recovered after Pennywise came to town.

Why we never heard of Super Chicken:

Coffee Break Poem: Hospital

by Marianne Boruch

It seems so—
I don't know. It seems
as if the end of the world
has never happened in here.
No smoke, no
dizzy flaring except
those candles you can light
in the chapel for a quarter.
They last maybe an hour
before burning out.
And in this room
where we wait, I see
them pass, the surgical folk—
nurses, doctors, the guy who hangs up
the blood drop—ready for lunch,
their scrubs still starched into wrinkles,
a cheerful green or pale blue,
and the end of a joke, something
about a man who thought he could be—
what? I lose it
in their brief laughter.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Coffee Break: For the love of...

Apparently, some designer made this coffee mug with a hidden love message. Cute, but not smart.
I think he forgets: Coffee gets cold.

(click on title to view larger image)

Writer's Block: The Terrifying Balut

"Balut" or boiled duck fetus has been identified as the most terrifying food in the world.
It's so terrifying it seems, that this is one of the few dishes they serve on Fear Factor.
In fact I once watched an episode where they had served balut. Naturally, everyone was at the verge of throwing up - except for one guy.

When asked why, he said, " I'm Asian, man". (Balut can also be found in Cambodia and Vietnam, so he may not have been Pinoy. Besides, he didn't ask for rock salt)
It's raining out tonight. Hmmm... suddenly I have cravings for duck fetus. - wmf

Lady Lazarus

The Guardian brings you seven of the greatest poets of the 20th century: Sylvia Plath, WH Auden, TS Eliot, Philip Larkin, Ted Hughes, Seamus Heaney, and Siegfried Sassoon.

This is by Sylvia Plath:

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it -

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify? -

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
And I a smiling woman.

I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot -
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart -
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash -
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there -

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Coffee Break Poem: Resources

For sleeping between two chairs at the hospital –
two books, which I place under my head,
and a cotton shawl from India, maroon and cream batik,
to lay across my legs.

Of the books, one is Chekhov’s stories in Spanish,
which I don’t read,
and one a life of Lorca,
which I do.

In his last days
hiding out in the house of a fascist friend,
and in his last hours
in the holding house far from anywhere

before they gave him lots of coffee,
the code for shoot him,
I am there in the olive grove
with the old teacher chained to him
and he is here with me
perhaps wrapped in my Indian shawl,
the knowledge of his last hours in my vigil by your bed,
the knowledge of my vigil by your bed in his last hours.

by Julia Casterton

Saturday, March 8, 2008

Cocktail Links

-How EVIL are you? (test)
-Whoops! (animation)

Coffee Break: 3-Way Chess

Chess enthusiasts, rejoice! If you've always been left out of a game for being the odd person out, you may want to take a trip to the Czech Republic and pick up this 3-way chess set.
The same rules apply except for a few modifications of moves at the center of the set.

Saturday Strip: Famous