So, what was wrong with the show? In one sentence: It was not original at all, and leeched off the Monty Python Franchise. Somebody who had never seen the movie would have been lightly amused by the jokes, and only knowing the film made them hillarious – and the audience loved it.
Maybe it’s me, but I am not easily amused by recycled jokes. They are okay for a stand-up commedian or a Highschool-Theater production. But a Broadway Production, where even the cheapest tickets are barely affordable? Sorry, but then I’d rather see either a show that pushes the Envelope (like Elton John’s Aida), or a really well-acted classical piece, like Marsha Norman’s “night, Mother”.
My recommendation: Rent the movie, Invite a few friends over and crack a few coconuts.
The components of the formular are weather, debt, money due on January’s pay day, the time since Christmas, the period since the failure to quit a bad habit, general motivational levels and the need to take action and do something about it.
As I said, it can only get better…
At a morning press conference, Attorney General John Ashcroft said he believes the man is a member of the notorious al-gebra movement. He is being charged by the FBI with carrying weapons of math instruction. “Al-gebra is a fearsome cult,” Ashcroft said. “They desire average solutions by means and extremes, and sometimes go off on tangents in a search of absolute value.
“They use secret code names like ‘x’ and ‘y’ and refer to themselves as ‘unknowns,’ but we have determined they belong to a common denominator of the axis of medieval with coordinates in every country. As the Greek philanderer Isosceles used to say, ‘there are three sides to every triangle.'”
When asked to comment on the arrest, President Bush said, “If God had wanted us to have better weapons of math instruction, He would have given us more fingers and toes.”
“They’re made out of meat.”
“Meat. They’re made out of meat.”
“There’s no doubt about it. We picked several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all the way through. They’re completely meat.”
“That’s impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars.”
“They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don’t come from them. The signals come from machines.”
“So who made the machines? That’s who we want to contact.”
“They made the machines. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Meat made the machines.”
“That’s ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You’re asking me to believe in sentient meat.”
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in the sector and they’re made out of meat.”
“Maybe they’re like the Orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage.”
“Nope. They’re born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn’t take too long. Do you have any idea the life span of meat?”
“Spare me. Okay, maybe they’re only part meat. You know, like the Weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside.”
“Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like the Weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They’re meat all the way through.”
“Oh, there is a brain all right. It’s just that the brain is made out of meat!”
“So… what does the thinking?”
“You’re not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking. The meat.”
“Thinking meat! You’re asking me to believe in thinking meat!”
“Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?”
“Omigod. You’re serious then. They’re made out of meat.”
“Finally, Yes. They are indeed made out meat. And they’ve been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years.”
“So what does the meat have in mind.”
“First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the universe, contact other sentients, swap ideas and information. The usual.”
“We’re supposed to talk to meat?”
“That’s the idea. That’s the message they’re sending out by radio. ‘Hello. Anyone out there? Anyone home?’ That sort of thing.”
“They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?”
“Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat.”
“I thought you just told me they used radio.”
“They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat.”
“Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?”
“Officially or unofficially?”
“Officially, we are required to contact, welcome, and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in the quadrant, without prejudice, fear, or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing.”
“I was hoping you would say that.”
“It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?”
“I agree one hundred percent. What’s there to say?” `Hello, meat. How’s it going?’ But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?”
“Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can’t live on them. And being meat, they only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact.”
“So we just pretend there’s no one home in the universe.”
“Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you have probed? You’re sure they won’t remember?”
“They’ll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we’re just a dream to them.”
“A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat’s dream.”
“And we can marked this sector unoccupied.”
“Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?”
“Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotation ago, wants to be friendly again.”
“They always come around.”
“And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the universe would be if one were all alone.”
Five candidates in each of the 30 categories give you plenty of choice, and you can even vote (until May 23rd, time is running out!). The winners will be announced June 5.
Actually, it’s not fair to file this under Humor, as it is no joke, but when I heard this the first time, I had to laugh nevertheless. And there are good reasons to become ordained. Would you prefer to be wed by a priest or city official you barely now, or by a good friend who got ordained over the Internet the day before? See what I mean?
As expected, the poll turned out to be a huge disaster. In Africa, the participants didn’t know what “food” is. In Eastern Europe they didn’t know what “honest” means. In Western Europe they didn’t understand the word “shortage”. The Chinese didn’t know what “opinion” means. The Middle East had to inquire what was meant by “solution”. South America didn’t understand “Please”. And in the USA, nobody know what “the rest of the world” is.
- “Please don’t regard my 14 positions as job-hopping. I never once quit a job.”
- “I realize that my total lack of appropriate experience may concern those considering me for employment.”
- Qualifications: “Twin sister has accounting degree.”
… and many more. Don’t forget to check out the Hall of Fame!
A couple of New Jersey hunters are out in the woods when one of them falls to the ground. He doesn’t seem to be breathing, his eyes are rolled back in his head. The other guy whips out his cell phone and calls the emergency services. He gasps to the operator: “My friend is dead! What can I do?” The operator, in a calm soothing voice says: “Just take it easy. I can help. First, let’s make sure he’s dead.” There is a silence, then a shot is heard. The guy’s voice comes back on the line. He says: “OK, now what?”
If you want to know why this joke won, and some of the psychology behind it, click here.