Kursk

Posted in Random on April 29th, 2005 by admin

Tonight is my last night before I no longer take collegiate classes. I feel
pretty good.

I never really thought about how much I enjoyed the class “ritual” until now,
but I must say Its better than work. Even if they’re (classes) at 8am, its still
pretty glorious to be learning something instead of checking your e-mail or
isolating regression coefficients. Yep, college is a great place. Not only that,
but this could be the last time I regularly (except for Friday or Saturday) get
to sleep by 2 and can still get a good 8 hours.

“It’s dark here to write, but I’ll try by feel. It seems like there are no
chances, 10-20%. Let’s hope that at least someone will read this. Here’s the
list of personnel from the other sections, who are now in the ninth and will
attempt to get out. Regards to everybody, no need to be desperate. Kolesnikov.”


K-141 Kursk, Lieutenant-Commander Dimitry
Kolesnikov

Zach

Posted in Random on April 21st, 2005 by admin

The best part of this video is Bradley Whitford. The second best part is
Mischa barton. The worst part is Zach Braff. I do not enjoy scrubs (except for
the doctor that was in Platoon) and I hate, hate, hate Garden State.� The
entire scene of “Yelling into the deep pit” had me blowing chunks.

�

Chapman

Posted in Random on April 21st, 2005 by admin





New Page 1

John Cleese did present the following opening speechClick for larger version
at the Chapman tribute, two months after Graham’s death:�
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“Graham Chapman, co-author of the ‘Parrot Sketch,’ is no more.

He has ceased to be, bereft of life, he rests
in peace, he has kicked the bucket, hopped the twig, bit the dust, snuffed it,
breathed his last, and gone to meet the Great Head of Light Entertainment in the
sky, and I guess that we’re all thinking how sad it is that a man of such
talent, such capability and kindness, of such intelligence should now be so
suddenly spirited away at the age of only forty-eight, before he’d achieved many
of the things of which he was capable, and before he’d had enough fun.
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Well, I feel that I should say, “Nonsense.
�Good riddance to him, the �freeloading bastard! �I hope he fries. ” �

And the reason I think I should say this is,
he would never forgive me if I didn’t, if I threw away this opportunity to shock
you all on his behalf. �Anything for him but mindless good taste. �I could hear
him whispering in my ear last night as I was writing this:

Alright,
Cleese, you’re very proud of being the first person to ever say ‘shit’ on
television. �If this service is really for me, just for starters, I want you to
be the first person ever at a British memorial service to say ‘
fuck’!



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You
see, the trouble is, I can’t. If he were here with me now I would probably have
the courage, because he always emboldened me. But the truth is, I lack his
balls, his splendid defiance. And so I’ll have to content myself instead with
saying ‘Betty Mardsen…’

But Bolder and less inhibited spirits than me
follow today. Jones and Idle, Gilliam and Palin. Heaven knows what the next hour
will bring in Graham’s name. Trousers Dropping, blasphemers on pogo sticks,
spectacular displays of high-speed farting, synchronised incest.



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One
of the four is planning to stuff a dead ocelot and a 1922 Remington typewriter
up his own arse to the sound of the second movement of Elgar’s cello concerto.
And that’s in the first half.

Because you see, Gray would have wanted it
this way. Really. Anything for him but mindless good taste. And that’s what I’ll
always remember about him—apart, of course, from his Olympian extravagance. He
was the prince of bad taste. He loved to shock. In fact, Gray, more than anyone
I knew, embodied and symbolised all that was most offensive and juvenile in
Monty Python. And his delight in shocking people led him on to greater and
greater feats. I like to think of him as the pioneering beacon that beat the
path along which fainter spirits could follow.

Some memories. I remember writing the
undertaker speech with him, and him suggesting the punch line, ‘All right, we’ll
eat her, but if you feel bad about it afterwards, we’ll dig a grave and you can
throw up into it.’ I remember discovering in 1969, when we wrote every day at
the flat where Connie Booth and I lived, that he’d recently discovered the game
of printing four-letter words on neat little squares of paper, and then



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quietly
placing them at strategic points around our flat, forcing Connie and me into
frantic last minute paper chases whenever we were expecting important guests.

I remember him at BBC parties crawling around
on all fours, rubbing himself affectionately against the legs of gray-suited
executives, and delicately nibbling the more appetizing female calves. Mrs. Eric
Morecambe remembers that too.



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I
remember his being invited to speak at the Oxford union, and entering the
chamber dressed as a carrot—a full length orange tapering costume with a
large, bright green sprig as a hat—-and then, when his turn came to speak,
refusing to do so. He just stood there, literally speechless, for twenty
minutes, smiling beatifically. The only time in world history that a totally
silent man has succeeded in inciting a riot.

I remember Graham receiving a
Sun newspaper TV
award from Reggie Maudling. Who else! And taking the trophy falling to
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the ground and crawling all the way back to his table, screaming loudly, as
loudly as he could. And if you remember Gray, that was very loud indeed.

It is magnificent, isn’t it? You see, the
thing about shock… is not that it upsets some people, I think; I think that it
gives others a momentary joy of liberation, as we realised in that instant that
the social rules that constrict our lives so terribly are not actually very
important.

Well, Gray can’t do that for us anymore. He’s
gone. He is an ex-Chapman. All we have of him now is our memories. But it will
be some time before they fade.”

Khan 0- Montelban

Posted in Random on April 17th, 2005 by admin

I am Ricardo. I am Ricardo Montalban.

You have likely stumbled upon this post in a futile attempt to
discover naked images of "Star Trek: The Next generation"’s Jean-Luc Picard. I
regret to inform you, he and I are not the same. Jean-Luc represents all that I
despise – and nothing else.

I underwent Nine-and-a-half hours of spine surgery to regain
use of my lower appendages in 1951, yet I am still at least 300% sexier than
anyone reading this. I can barely summon the strength to critique your faults
and shortcomings, yet I still find myself in the unique position to critique
every individual deficit in your character.

I am Ricardo, I am Ricardo Montalban. You are inferior to me
in every respect, Yet, Enlightenment alludes me.

Waders

Posted in Random on April 12th, 2005 by admin

Does anyone have waders?

I will pay you up to $9 Dollars American. (I used a ‘$’ sign
and the word “dollar”)

Brisco

Posted in Random on April 2nd, 2005 by admin

As recently as 2001 I could still read sheet music at what I would classify
as an “advanced” level, in that I could sight read nearly anything put in front
of me. I’m not saying I could play it, but I could read it.

My teacher used to say things like, “how did you know there were 32 trills
there in that measure?” and “how is it possible you haven’t seen this before?”

These worlds were closely followed by, “dammit, do you ever practice?” and
“if you could play for more than 20 minutes you’d be better than Christ as a
trumpeter.”

..

I usually responded with the, “sorry, my endurance is down…It’s the
weather” choice.

……………

In homage to the great Bruce Campbell..

I present the greatest TV Partnership of the 1990’s.

Amanda Wickwire: What’s your name?
Brisco County Jr.: Brisco County.
Amanda Wickwire: Is that where you’re from?
Brisco County Jr.: No, that’s who I am.