This was probably the strangest topic I will choose to cover...
Topic: The story about how Reddit user Battymo wins the lottery and buys a zoo full of animals. Sexy animals.
“You want what, ma’am?” asked the general manager of the Cincinnati Zoo, staring across his desk at a woman dressed in what could only be described as a velvet kangaroo costume.
“I want the entire zoo, and I am prepared to pay for it” said the woman in the velvet kangaroo costume “and please…” she purred “call me Battymo.”
The general manager looked down at the papers on his desk and looked back up at Battymo, puzzled. The manager looked toward his window out at the zoo, the zoo he had managed for 20 years, and then back at Battymo and sternly blurted out “It’s going to cost you 18 million.”
Without missing a beat Battymo screamed back “done!” And with that, she pulled out her checkbook from her massive pouch, wrote out a check and placed it on the table. “Brian…” she calmly whispers, looking at the manager “you’re fired.”
The next day, after Battymo had cleared the zoo of visitors and staff, she made her way to the animal cages to look them over. In moments she spotted a particularly beautiful horse and walked past it, swaying her hips with each step.
The horse stared straight ahead as she passed in front of him, and as soon as her back was turned he turned his head and stared at her swaying buttocks. “Well nayhayhayhayhayyyyyyy.”
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Reddit Challenge story #4
Police brutality against OWS protestors from a cop's POV.
I was never what you would call a stereotypical cop. I was never involved in crazy on-foot pursuits of most-wanted drug kingpins; I never fired my weapon in combat, much less in a blazing gunfight amidst a burning building. The guys down at the precinct used to call me ‘the mark’ because in the game of cops vs. criminals vs. their marks, I always seemed like the oblivious, carefree mark about to get whacked. Of course, they called me ‘the mark’ as a joke, and we all ragged on each other; but last week, everything changed.
I got assigned to the protest because, lets face it, nobody in Washington much less anybody in the NYPD takes these protesters too seriously. I didn’t, and I still don’t, but that doesn’t change what happened…
It was a nice day and the park was filled with people, I was posted on the southwest corner, near a small street band, performing throughout the day. Every few minutes I would step over to the group of people surrounding the band and look in to see if anything suspicious was happening. For most of the day, all was routine. I began to fall back into thoughts about my fiancé, and thoughts about the baby that was due in just four months! In four months I was going to be a father or a mother. What would that be like, how would I change, how would my wife?
Just as I began to delve into another round of thought, I realize it was time to check the band once again. I began to politely move my way through the crowd when a man I bumped into became agitated. He screamed at me that I was invading his privacy and violating his rights, and before I knew it, six or seven of the people around him had circled me and joined in the screaming. I held my hand at my waist, just above the handle of my pistol. The group of people got louder and drew closer to me, their yelling masked from my fellow officers by the noise of the band. Immediately I noticed the man I had bumped into was drawing a knife from his pocket. He lunged at me with the knife. It was obvious he was not very adept at stabbing as I was able to grab the knife and subdue him immediately. However, this caused the group to become agitated even more, and people began to grab at me, pulling my shirt and trying to take my walkie talkie and badge. Seeing my options collapse with an angry, knife wielding teenager at my feet, I pulled out my mace and sprayed around me. As soon as the crowd dispersed enough where I could reach the button, I called for backup. It was all over in seconds.
What is my wife going to say, what will my child think when he or she finds out what I did? I only did what I needed to protect myself, I didn’t break any laws. I don’t even disagree with the protestors. Why do I have to be the one on trial?
I was never what you would call a stereotypical cop. I was never involved in crazy on-foot pursuits of most-wanted drug kingpins; I never fired my weapon in combat, much less in a blazing gunfight amidst a burning building. The guys down at the precinct used to call me ‘the mark’ because in the game of cops vs. criminals vs. their marks, I always seemed like the oblivious, carefree mark about to get whacked. Of course, they called me ‘the mark’ as a joke, and we all ragged on each other; but last week, everything changed.
I got assigned to the protest because, lets face it, nobody in Washington much less anybody in the NYPD takes these protesters too seriously. I didn’t, and I still don’t, but that doesn’t change what happened…
It was a nice day and the park was filled with people, I was posted on the southwest corner, near a small street band, performing throughout the day. Every few minutes I would step over to the group of people surrounding the band and look in to see if anything suspicious was happening. For most of the day, all was routine. I began to fall back into thoughts about my fiancé, and thoughts about the baby that was due in just four months! In four months I was going to be a father or a mother. What would that be like, how would I change, how would my wife?
Just as I began to delve into another round of thought, I realize it was time to check the band once again. I began to politely move my way through the crowd when a man I bumped into became agitated. He screamed at me that I was invading his privacy and violating his rights, and before I knew it, six or seven of the people around him had circled me and joined in the screaming. I held my hand at my waist, just above the handle of my pistol. The group of people got louder and drew closer to me, their yelling masked from my fellow officers by the noise of the band. Immediately I noticed the man I had bumped into was drawing a knife from his pocket. He lunged at me with the knife. It was obvious he was not very adept at stabbing as I was able to grab the knife and subdue him immediately. However, this caused the group to become agitated even more, and people began to grab at me, pulling my shirt and trying to take my walkie talkie and badge. Seeing my options collapse with an angry, knife wielding teenager at my feet, I pulled out my mace and sprayed around me. As soon as the crowd dispersed enough where I could reach the button, I called for backup. It was all over in seconds.
What is my wife going to say, what will my child think when he or she finds out what I did? I only did what I needed to protect myself, I didn’t break any laws. I don’t even disagree with the protestors. Why do I have to be the one on trial?
Reddit Challenge story #3
The Fall of the Roman Empire
Simeus Finteleus was not a criminal. He had never stolen anything in his life, he never slandered his neighbor, he never struck his wife. Simeus Finteleus had been in prison for the past 25 years. A corrupt Roman official had despised Simeus because his fabric shop competed with that of the official’s brother. Rather than deal with the problem head-on, the official had Simeus framed for a series of malicious crimes. Being that Simeus was a Jew, it was easy for the official to pin a false crime on him without the public inquiring as much into the details- at the time a Jew was generally an equal but still discriminated against. Simeus plead his case in court, but the official had bribed the judges. Simeus’ rabbi, a highly respected member of the Roman community, even tried to step in, but before his appeals could be heard, the official stepped in and stopped it. Simeus had suffered for 25 years, but today he would be free.
The Roman Empire had fallen, the civilization that once ruled the world had collapsed, and along with it, the official who had imprisoned Simeus. In fact, all those imprisoned no longer had anyone to control them. After informing the prisoners of the news, the guards opened the gates and let everyone go. Simeus rushed home to his family. As he ran to his home, Simeus wondered what would have become of them in the years he had not had any contact with him. His infant daughter, his seven year old son, his beautiful wife; what will have happened in 25 years? Simeus wondered if his wife would have taken a new husband, if his daughter had a husband of her own! Simeus grew distressed as he opened the door. As he saw his house revealed before him, he saw his wife, and his two now-adult children sitting by the fire. Surprised they looked up toward Simeus. His wife’s eyes widened, and a smile emerged after years of fear and loneliness, she ran up to embrace him.
“Oh Simeus, I knew you were alive, and I knew you were innocent, we all did! We thought we might never see you again, but the love we shared kept my hope alive.” His wife gushed as she embraced Simeus with the lost love of 25 years. “Thanks Jupiter for the fall of the Roman Empire!”
Simeus Finteleus was not a criminal. He had never stolen anything in his life, he never slandered his neighbor, he never struck his wife. Simeus Finteleus had been in prison for the past 25 years. A corrupt Roman official had despised Simeus because his fabric shop competed with that of the official’s brother. Rather than deal with the problem head-on, the official had Simeus framed for a series of malicious crimes. Being that Simeus was a Jew, it was easy for the official to pin a false crime on him without the public inquiring as much into the details- at the time a Jew was generally an equal but still discriminated against. Simeus plead his case in court, but the official had bribed the judges. Simeus’ rabbi, a highly respected member of the Roman community, even tried to step in, but before his appeals could be heard, the official stepped in and stopped it. Simeus had suffered for 25 years, but today he would be free.
The Roman Empire had fallen, the civilization that once ruled the world had collapsed, and along with it, the official who had imprisoned Simeus. In fact, all those imprisoned no longer had anyone to control them. After informing the prisoners of the news, the guards opened the gates and let everyone go. Simeus rushed home to his family. As he ran to his home, Simeus wondered what would have become of them in the years he had not had any contact with him. His infant daughter, his seven year old son, his beautiful wife; what will have happened in 25 years? Simeus wondered if his wife would have taken a new husband, if his daughter had a husband of her own! Simeus grew distressed as he opened the door. As he saw his house revealed before him, he saw his wife, and his two now-adult children sitting by the fire. Surprised they looked up toward Simeus. His wife’s eyes widened, and a smile emerged after years of fear and loneliness, she ran up to embrace him.
“Oh Simeus, I knew you were alive, and I knew you were innocent, we all did! We thought we might never see you again, but the love we shared kept my hope alive.” His wife gushed as she embraced Simeus with the lost love of 25 years. “Thanks Jupiter for the fall of the Roman Empire!”
Reddit Challenge story #2
Underwater Basket Weaving Tragedy.
Amos Diaz lived a life that few people could imagine, and even fewer people would ever experience. For a man like Amos, the most difficult of tasks came easy and the most profound realizations became simplistic. Amos excelled in all of his pursuits, and raised a lovely family with his wife, who he had met in High School. Amos so excelled at the pursuits of the norm that he came to seek pursuits above and beyond the norm. He was not happy in life if not engaged in a challenge, and the level of challenge he required for satisfaction was greater than that of 10 men’s greatest challenges combined. This is how Amos discovered the CUBWA, the Competitive Underwater Basket Weaving Association.
At age 16, Amos competed in his first youth underwater basket weaving challenge and astounded judges by completing his basket 1 minute and 47 seconds faster than the runner up. With the top basket weavers in the nation at the time rarely defeating their opponents by more than a few tenths of a second, Amos was in another league before even reaching the pros. Amos went on to weave professionally, and won 6 consecutive World Underwater Basket Weaving Championships before his death yesterday in Sydney, Australia. While competing in an exhibition weave at a depth of 20 meters, he became tangled in his supplies and drowned. Rescue workers were unable to obtain his body as it was immediately devoured by a shark. The tragedy is that he was only 26 years old.
Amos Diaz lived a life that few people could imagine, and even fewer people would ever experience. For a man like Amos, the most difficult of tasks came easy and the most profound realizations became simplistic. Amos excelled in all of his pursuits, and raised a lovely family with his wife, who he had met in High School. Amos so excelled at the pursuits of the norm that he came to seek pursuits above and beyond the norm. He was not happy in life if not engaged in a challenge, and the level of challenge he required for satisfaction was greater than that of 10 men’s greatest challenges combined. This is how Amos discovered the CUBWA, the Competitive Underwater Basket Weaving Association.
At age 16, Amos competed in his first youth underwater basket weaving challenge and astounded judges by completing his basket 1 minute and 47 seconds faster than the runner up. With the top basket weavers in the nation at the time rarely defeating their opponents by more than a few tenths of a second, Amos was in another league before even reaching the pros. Amos went on to weave professionally, and won 6 consecutive World Underwater Basket Weaving Championships before his death yesterday in Sydney, Australia. While competing in an exhibition weave at a depth of 20 meters, he became tangled in his supplies and drowned. Rescue workers were unable to obtain his body as it was immediately devoured by a shark. The tragedy is that he was only 26 years old.
Reddit Challenge story #1
The Founding of Dunkin Donuts:
Smoke billows in a darkened boardroom. Six men sit at the table, they look like the type of men you would imagine are fueling the current wall-street debacle; at the front of the table one man, wearing an expertly tailored pinstripe suit, puffs on a cigar like a king, savoring each breath.
“The time has come, men” the cigar-smoking man says, taking a long drag on his cigar before letting the smoke flow effortlessly above his face. The men all nod in agreement, as they begin to flip through their paperwork. One man, appearing to be in his mid 30s, wears a grey suit and looks at his paperwork
“I” the grey-suited man begins; the wrinkles on his face unable to hide his distress. “I cannot condone this, I cannot accept this. I cannot be a part of this. I have to go” The man then stands up, gathers his paperwork and walks out of the room.
The man sitting next to him appears to be much older; he wears a blue polo shirt and khaki slacks. As the man in the grey suit walks away he looks toward the cigar smoker curiously. “What the hell was that Frank? I thought you told me the little twerp was in?” The man with the cigar takes another slow pull and looks toward the end of the table, appearing to stare into the nothingness beyond the dull light. “This was as unexpected for me as it was for you, Mr. Ashworth, now I suggest you pipe down before-“
Just before Frank is able to finish, Mr. Ashworth interrupts “before what? You whack me? You sick fuck!” In a near instant after Mr. Ashworth finishes, Frank stands up abruptly. The other four men erupt in angry, frantic yelling for several seconds before Frank retrieves a revolver from his coat and fires a round into Mr. Ashworth. Ashworth collapses out of his chair and the four men look on in astonishment. Frank allows them to process the event for a few seconds before finally speaking “Does anyone else want to pull out as an investor in my donut shop?”
End.
Smoke billows in a darkened boardroom. Six men sit at the table, they look like the type of men you would imagine are fueling the current wall-street debacle; at the front of the table one man, wearing an expertly tailored pinstripe suit, puffs on a cigar like a king, savoring each breath.
“The time has come, men” the cigar-smoking man says, taking a long drag on his cigar before letting the smoke flow effortlessly above his face. The men all nod in agreement, as they begin to flip through their paperwork. One man, appearing to be in his mid 30s, wears a grey suit and looks at his paperwork
“I” the grey-suited man begins; the wrinkles on his face unable to hide his distress. “I cannot condone this, I cannot accept this. I cannot be a part of this. I have to go” The man then stands up, gathers his paperwork and walks out of the room.
The man sitting next to him appears to be much older; he wears a blue polo shirt and khaki slacks. As the man in the grey suit walks away he looks toward the cigar smoker curiously. “What the hell was that Frank? I thought you told me the little twerp was in?” The man with the cigar takes another slow pull and looks toward the end of the table, appearing to stare into the nothingness beyond the dull light. “This was as unexpected for me as it was for you, Mr. Ashworth, now I suggest you pipe down before-“
Just before Frank is able to finish, Mr. Ashworth interrupts “before what? You whack me? You sick fuck!” In a near instant after Mr. Ashworth finishes, Frank stands up abruptly. The other four men erupt in angry, frantic yelling for several seconds before Frank retrieves a revolver from his coat and fires a round into Mr. Ashworth. Ashworth collapses out of his chair and the four men look on in astonishment. Frank allows them to process the event for a few seconds before finally speaking “Does anyone else want to pull out as an investor in my donut shop?”
End.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Prosperity, thy name is dumplings.
I just had one of the best eating experiences I have ever had in New York City, and it only cost me two bucks. That's less than a soft pretzel at most food carts.
What I had was 10 fried potstickers from a little joint called Prosperity Dumplings, just off Canal Street in Chinatown. At a dollar for five, it is one of the best food deals in the city. Each dumpling is hand made, from fresh ingredients and fried on the spot, the resulting taste experience is simply immaculate. Each bite of the pork and chive filled dumplings tops the next, like a grand symphony for your taste buds, playing a full-force encore over and over. There simple is no place where you can get more food for less, or more flavor for less. Cheap and cheerful? I think so.
What I had was 10 fried potstickers from a little joint called Prosperity Dumplings, just off Canal Street in Chinatown. At a dollar for five, it is one of the best food deals in the city. Each dumpling is hand made, from fresh ingredients and fried on the spot, the resulting taste experience is simply immaculate. Each bite of the pork and chive filled dumplings tops the next, like a grand symphony for your taste buds, playing a full-force encore over and over. There simple is no place where you can get more food for less, or more flavor for less. Cheap and cheerful? I think so.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
A Titan is gone. Steve Jobs dead at 56.
It feels like the first real death of the technology age. Jobs is gone and the computer world needs someone new to lead the way in the future and I just don't know who it could be. I mocked Apple on this blog, and yet you always feel respect someone who did so much to move the industry forward. I may have even said I hated Mr. Jobs from time to time, but I was always hiding a secret: I loved my iPod. RIP Steve Jobs.
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