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The Toxic Custard Workshop Episoder 201 to 205
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*****NUMBERS 201 TO 205***********BY DANIEL BOWEN (tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu)*****
"Toxic Custard Sells Out"
====== ===== \\ \\ ====== ===== ====== === Toxic Custard
\\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ Workshop Files
\\ \\ \\ \\ \\ ==== ===== \\ \\ \\ Number 201
\\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ \\ 1st June 1994
\\ ===== ======== \\ ===== ====== ==== by Daniel Bowen
There's a new innovative design in alarm clocks on the market.
The Custardmatic 4000 alarm clock. Not only does it have numbers so
big and bright that it makes it difficult to get to sleep in the
first place, but it also has four modes of alarm, that successively
get louder and more vocal, to make sure you get out of bed.
1. The normal beep we all know and love from our current
conventional alarm clocks.
2. A few minutes later, the louder beep.
3. Next, the first of the voice circuits gets into gear, angrily
demanding that you "Get up! Get up!"
4. The ultimate in waking machines. A rubberised mallet on an arm
extends itself from the clock and starts whacking you on the
head, while the voice synthesiser shouts "Get up! Get up and
get out and earn a living, you lazy git!"
The alarm clock is sensor linked to your bed, so it *knows* when
you've actually got up. The snooze button is not available on alarm
4, and an optional recording unit is available to allow you to record
your mother telling you to wake up.
The Custardmatic 4000. Available now.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
DANIEL'S GUIDE TO HOUSE HUNTING
First you need to find a house you like. Then keep dreaming, 'cos
you'll never be able to afford it. Go to see the bank. Don't plead
for mercy. If you plea for mercy, they won't take pity on you,
they'll just completely rule you out of a loan. Because anyone who
looks pathetic is a bad risk. They'll only lend money to people who
don't need it. So take this tip. Go to the bank with a convincing
argument. Preferably at least a 12 gauge.
Check out the house carefully. Hire someone to check all the
structural bits and make sure it's not going to implode or sink into
that river next to it, the one that makes it look so picturesque.
Make sure you get it in writing that the house is okay. Then, if it
isn't, you can sue, and with the payout, buy a better house.
Next, you have to keep the price of your prospective house down.
The trick is the inspection days. You have to go to every possible
inspection. Not to actually look inside the house, but to walk up and
down outside with your mates, all dressed as skinheads, shouting
"fuckin' hell" a lot. That should scare off the bulk of the other
potential buyers. Then the next time, you turn up all in wheelchairs,
waving your arms uncontrollably, and screeching "house! House!" That
should get rid of the remaining buyers.
And meanwhile, the real estate agent and the house owner will be
standing there amazed, saying to themselves "I never saw those people
around here before..." It also helps if you know people at the
newspaper who can "lose" the ad.
Get all your friends to be there on auction day, too. The same
friends that have grafitied all over the front fence and wall the
night before the auction. Just to ensure there's no last minute
buyers.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Not only are shampoo manufacturers using more and more ridiculous
shaped bottles, but it's got so bad (ie stylish) that you can't
balance most of them upside-down when they start running out. Some of
the packages are so slick, dynamic that they look like prop buildings
from futuristic car ads. It's not just shampoo anymore, either - it's
a hair revitalisation experience.
And that's why we introduced the Custard Care range of shampoos
and conditioners. They help to keep your hair bouncy... beautiful...
and lumpy. Available for normal, normal and normal hair types,
Custard Care shampoos and conditioners are available now wherever
crap products are sold.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The thing about being left-handed is that scissors hate you. Almost
all scissors, which look at first glance like placid, inanimate
objects, sense that they are being lifted by someone's left hand and
entirely cease to work. And when us lefties manage to find a pair of
scissors that DOES work, anyone else who picks them up has the nerve
to claim they don't work!
Well now you can throw those scissors out the window (and hope
they land in the head of whoever designed them). Because New Custard
Scissors will cut through anything. Paper, iron rods, skin, bone,
plastic... they'll cut straight through anything you so much as bring
into the same room as your Custard Scissors.
Custard Scissors have been available to torturers in all leading
fascist dictatorships for many years, but now they're available to
the public at a very reasonable price! How much would you expect to
pay for these glorious scissors that if dropped will cut their way
through your foot?
Don't ask -- you also get a complete set of thumbscrews. This
genuine ex-KGB stock is just what you need for that annoying little
sister. And each thumbscrew comes in its original condition, many
with the thumbs still in them! An offer like this can't last, so call
now.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
We've all been in the situation. That itch in the very centre of your
back, that you just can't quite reach? (At least, not without having
your arms surgically stretched). Well itch no more! We now introduce
the Custard back-scratching service.
Just call 1800-SCRATCH and a special team of well-manicured
scratching experts will be despatched to your door, driving at
alarming speeds to reach you within a guaranteed time of 8
minutes(*). Hell, you can't even get an ambulance that fast these
days. Our expert scratchers will care for your every itch,
methodically scratching to your every direction (eg "up a bit! No,
down just a tad. Left a little bit. Oh yes, it's there.... oh
yeaaaaahhhhh.....")
(*) Offer available only in Metropolitan areas within 8 minutes of a
Custard Scratching Services depot. Customer pays traffic fines.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Toxic Custard back-issues are still
available by ftp... Okay, to be honest,
we've got hundreds of the bloody things,
rotting away at some ftp site. Please,
take them off our hands. Email
tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for details.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without
profit provided no modifications are made.
--
Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| I, me, myself alone, am
Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| totally responsible for the
Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| content of this post. No-one
TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| else would admit responsibility
Nb. I only throw in words like yeaaaaahhhhh to harass the
spelling-checker.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Illegible Toxic Custard"
===||===================|||||==||||===|||||===||||====TOXIC CUSTARD
===||||==||||=||====||=||=========||=||===||=====||===WORKSHOP FILES
===||===||====||====||=||||====||||==||===||==||||====Number 202
===||===||====||=||=||=||=====||=====||===||=||=======6th June, 1994
====||===||||==||||||==||=====||||||==|||||==||||||===by Daniel Bowen
It makes you think. If doctors' writing is so bad that the chemist
has to check your name and address from the prescription... what are
the chances that the medicine you're given will be wrong? "Oh, you
needed Elzinphatom, not Elbonphateem. Sorry. Elbonphateem is for the
treatment of gangrenous piles, actually. Not bronchitis."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
This is a plea to any of my relatives who may be reading. (Actually,
not many of my relatives do read this drivel, meaning that my
standing in the family as a "fine upstanding young man with a
promising career etc etc" has not yet been completely shattered. Give
it time.)
Don't give me any more novels to read. The backlog is getting
embarrassing. They pile up in the bookshelf... Okay, I admit it, I'm
not a great reader. I've never been a great reader. In school, it may
have looked like I was reading "1984", but to tell the truth, I never
got past the first sentence. The one about clocks. "Animal Farm" --
no problem. Appealed to my love of small furry animals, probably. (I
still deny any accusations of cruelty to these particular creatures.
There is no substantial evidence.)
It's not that I can't read. I've read for many years. It's just
that I have a belief in only reading things that can keep me
interested. If a book doesn't have one even mildly interesting
thing on each page, then chances are I won't be bothered. It's not
like music, which you can just turn on and listen to without too much
bother. You can leave it going in the background. Books are *effort*.
Maybe I just don't have enough patience. I just can't be bothered
to read through 250 pages of narrative to discover that the butler
did it. Maybe I'm too much a part of the TV generation. Maybe the
whole plot has to be given to me on a 19 inch black-tinted plate with
stereo sound. And commercial breaks every five pages.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
So, what did I do on my weekend? Well, here's a clue
It's great to chainsaw a chihuahua
And to inflict pain on a poodle
To make cuts into a kelpie
To draw things on your doodle
I just love cutting my arms off
And flushing them down the bog
Then stomping round the garden
In big boots, squashing frogs
Head butting semi-trailers
Run/walking in one shoe
And pushing dog owners' noses
Into their own dogs' poo
These are all things I take part in
But the silliest of all the things I do
Of all the ways I spend the weekend
Is writing this Custard stuff for you
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Have you walked into a darkened room just as the florescent light is
coming on? Looks like some sort of bad horror movie, as the light
flashes on and off.
Actually, once I was lying in bed listening to a thunderstorm. As
the lightning flashed, I made out a big darkened silhouette in the
corner. Argrghh! Holy shit! Intruder alert! Get the cricket bat! Who
was it?! Oh yeah, the hatstand with the old hat on top and the
overcoat hanging off it...
And once you've calmed down a bit, you're in that limbo
situation, not quite asleep, not quite awake. And your body decides
to trip over something imaginary. And for a split second, you think
you're falling over, and you wake up completely...
Actually, I seem to have great problems getting to sleep. I
fidget. I toss and turn. And when I eventually fall asleep, I'm in
such a position that most of me aches the next morning. Why can't the
brain keep an eye on things while I'm tossing and turning, and
proclaim "No, don't go to sleep like that, your back will hurt like
buggery in the morning".
Now that really is a strange expression. "It'll hurt like
buggery." I wonder if whoever made it up was speaking from personal
experience, or just playing guessing games. Perhaps he got up one
day, found himself aching... and thought "I'm going to make up a new
expression for pain. Now, what can 'it' hurt like? KFC? 'It hurts
like Kentucky Fried Chicken'? Nah, doesn't really work... Chopping
off a finger? 'It hurts like chopping off a finger'? Hmmm.. not bad,
but it doesn't quite capture the essence of this particular pain. How
about buggery? 'Hurts like buggery'? Could be, I'm not sure. But I'd
better find out... Better whip out the Yellow Pages... Quick find
index... Cars... Cats.... ah! Churches - Catholic! Here we go..."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
THING PART 8
====================
(Ron is on the couch. Jeff is on the phone)
JEFF: Yes, yes, I'll hold.
(Jeff waits)
JEFF: Hello? Yes, I'm told I need to get a form 14 F. What? Yes,
I'll hold.
RON: Government departments...
JEFF: Hello? Yes, I'm trying to get a form 14 F. What? But I just
spoke to them, they transferred me to you.
(Jeff hangs up in disgust.)
RON: Huh... bloody government department bureaucracy.
JEFF: Who said anything about government, I was just trying to
order a pizza. I knew it was a mistake to phone this one. (He
holds up a leaflet.) Huh. Red Tape Pizza.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You are privileged to have survived another
episode of Toxic Custard. Despite this, we
hope you have a nice day. If you would like
to spoil the rest of the week by reading
Toxic Custard back-issues, (available by ftp)
then email tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for details.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without
profit provided no modifications are made.
--
Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| Telecom have absolutely
Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| nothing to do with whatever
Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| garbage I decide to
TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| write in my spare time.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Historic Toxic Custard"
+====+ ===+ ++ ++ ====+
|| || || || || Number 203
||oxic ||ustard || || ||orkshop ||=+iles 12th June 1994
|| ===+ == == || Sculpted by Daniel Bowen
Ladies and gentlemen, climb into your police-box, put your weird
time-trousers on, cast your spells, call your travel agent, or do
whatever you normally do when you travel through time... but come
with us on a trip through time...
TOXIC HISTORY OF THE WORLD
Part 1 of A Bunch
1800-1700 BC
The first use in Egypt of papyrus. Before long, Egyptians on their
way to work would be reading the morning papyrus on the camel
train. In 1748 BC the first Scroll Three girls were introduced by
papyrus baron Rupmur Doch. Yes, that is a very very bad try at an
ancient Egyptian name.
1400 BC
Moses finally gets sick of Egypt and walks out, taking all his
mates with him. He gets into an argument with some dam builders
along the way and wins a monumental bet from them. He also
ghost-writes the world's first ten point etiquette guide.
1300-1200 BC
The Hittites, controlling Mesopotamia, discover the wonders of
smelting iron, and open iron smelting shops up and down the
country. In them, tough and/or sinewy men stand around very hot
furnaces cracking dirty jokes, and pinning up Scroll Three girls.
The Hittites, having armed their men to the teeth with big hammers,
Singer sewing machines and complete spanner sets, then clash with
Egypt. History says that neither wins, and both empires begin to
crumble. *I* say one crumbled a tad more than the other. In fact,
*I* say I've never heard of the Hittites. 'Nuff said?
1180 BC
The famous Siege of Troy, where the Greeks came up with the idea of
giving away free samples (of giant wooden horses) for product
promotion and genocidal purposes. The horse is left outside the
gates of Troy, loaded with Greek warriors, who manage to keep from
giggling while the Trojans drag it back inside. The rest is
history. Now, where does Pandora fit into all this?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
THING PART 9
====================
(Someone knocks on the door. Jeff goes to look
out the window and see who it is.)
JEFF: Oh Shit, it's the Salvos!
RON: But we're not homeless. We live in what could loosely be
described as a home. Ergo elk, we're not homeless.
JEFF: I think you'll find they're not after us to give us tea and
save our souls, more like scum some money off us.
RON: Oh, now that's a different matter.
(Another knock on the door)
JEFF: Quick Ron, get rid of them.
(Ron opens the door).
RON: Yeah?
SALVO 1: Hello, we're collecting for the Red Shield Appeal.
RON: Sorry, we don't have any spare red shields.
SALVO 2: No no, a donation. Money.
RON: Money? Dollars? Cash?
SALVO 1: Yes.
JEFF: Tell her there's none in the house.
RON: There's none in the house. It's all hidden in a small metal
box buried in the park, due east from here, landlubber.
SALVO 1: (backing away) Yes well, fine, sorry to trouble you.
RON: Take thirty steps north from the roundabout, arr, and there
ye be.
(Jeff comes to the door and pushes Ron away.)
JEFF: Please, don't worry about Ron. Ron, go sit down. Hello, Red
Shield Appeal, is it? Collecting for the homeless?
SALVO 2: Yes.
JEFF: Right, well, I don't know if you realised this, but we don't
actually live here. We're wossname.. squatting. We're
actually homeless. So... ummm.. could you give us some
money?
SALVO 1: What?
JEFF: Go on, just a few bucks for a pizza. Oh, and a bottle of
Coke. It'd save our lives.
SALVO 1: It doesn't actually work like that. Besides, this
doesn't look like a squat.
JEFF: Doesn't it? Oh well, no, that's because we've taken very
good care of it. We're squatters, but we're *proud*. And
because other organisations have donated... the sofa, and
the TV...
SALVO 2: And the drinks cabinet?
JEFF: Erm... yeah, look... heh heh...
(Jeff shuts the door in their faces
and goes back to the sofa.)
RON: So can we claim a tax deduction?
JEFF: What, just because they came to the door? No, I think you'll
find in the small print in the Tax Pack that it says you
actually have to give them some money before it's
deductible.
RON: I don't know why they bother collecting for the homeless.
How would they find them?
JEFF: Give me strength, Lord.
RON: Oh sorry, I didn't realise you were a Christian.
(Ron goes back to watching the telly.)
JEFF: I'm not a Christian, I was just requesting that a deity, any
deity, enhance my powers of patience in order to aid my
dealings with your STUPID MIND! ALL YOU EVER DO IS SIT THERE
PICKING YOUR NOSE AND MAKING THE MOST STUPID OBSERVATIONS!
RON: Haha ha! Those Biker Mice From Mars are great. Sorry, what
did you say?
JEFF: Don't worry about it. Just sit there. Go on! Sit there! Just
sit there watching cartoons. Don't try and indulge in any
type of intelligent conversation. Just sit there with the
brain on neutral and take in the telly.
RON: Okay. Oh, commercial break. Hey, have you seen my Berholt
Brecht anywhere?
(Ron goes off to find his book)
JEFF: And while you're at it Lord, please strike Ron down. Just a
little bit? Please? Just a small lightning bolt? A small,
localised, swarm of locusts? Bees? Some kind of killer mind
eating disease?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here we can see the terror in their eyes -
eyes that have just been forced once again to
read Toxic Custard against their will. And
the real tragedy is that if the U.N. doesn't
intervene soon, they will have the chance to
get Toxic Custard back-issues, just by
emailing tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for details.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without
profit provided no modifications are made.
--
Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| All this is done in my spare
Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| time, not in Telecom's. That's
Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| right, I have nothing better to
TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| do with my time. Pretty sad, eh?
I wonder if they have identification parades in Legoland...
"Just walk along the line, Miss, and tell us which of them it was."
"Oh how should I know, they all look the fucking same!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Toxic Custard in triplicate"
Dear readers,
I would like to apologise for the abundance of Toxic Custards
that have inundated you over the previous two weeks. However, I'm
sure you'll be aware that the Internet Committee For Increased
Bureaucracy now requires that mailing lists are always sent to
readers in triplicate. The recommended method of reading is to
print out your Toxic Custards three times onto transparent paper,
and hold them together up to the light for reading. It's
especially cool when two of the copies are either upside-down or
back-to-front or both.
(And yes, I am wrestling with the mailing software).
=============== =============== = = Number 204
T O X I C =C=U S T A R D = = = June 20th, 1994
=============== = = =============== Written by
= W O=R K S H O P = F I L E S = Daniel Bowen
=============== =============== =
TOXIC HISTORY OF THE WORLD
Part 2 of A Stack
c1060-c970 BC
David is king of Israel. During this time, the first negotiations
take place with the PLO, but to no avail. The rest of the world
eagerly waits for a resolution...
c970-c940 BC
Solomon is king of Israel. Sheesh, why couldn't Israel make up its
mind? Anyway, Solomon uses his enormous wealth to build the Temple
at Jerusalem. Others argue that such a large infrastructure project
should not be contemplated under such economic conditions. Solomon
starts to get irritated when a petition is raised by local
residents fearing noise from prayers and the destruction of a local
beauty spot (where the sand is piled into particularly picturesque
dunes).
800 BC
The Phoenicians found Carthage. They shouldn't have lost it in the
first place. Carthage had actually been left on the bus from
Dandios to Chadzintium in 802 BC, and had been sitting in a lost
property office for 18 months. The Phoenicians just happened to be
going past the lost property office the day before everything got
auctioned off, so as you can see, it was a pretty close run thing.
776 BC
First Olympiad. Karlos Lewisophonos is stripped of his gold
medallion when it is found he has been using performance enhancing
herbs. Greek women protest at their non-admittance, mainly because
they want to see the athletes, who are competing nude. Several
well-endowed athletes injure themselves during the running events,
inspiring the Pole Vault for the next Olympics.
753 BC
Rome founded. It probably involves some Caesar or other digging the
first sod, or opening a plaque, or some other kind of ceremony. "I
hereby declare this Empire open. May Zeus bless her, and all who
live in her." Something like that. Followed by an inaugural
crucifixion.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
What's this? O.J. Simpson charged with murder?! No! So, let's take a
walk down to the betting shop to see who'll be the next famous person
to be arrested...
1000 to 1 on Prince Charles being charged with littering
500 to 1 on the Pope being caught stealing condoms from the
Chemist
100 to 1 on Roseanne Arnold murdering Tom and eating his corpse
50 to 1 on John Major assaulting photographers outside Downing St
10 to 1 on Ron Birchall, Jeremy Beadle's neighbour, going round
to Jeremy's place to smash his face in
4 to 1 on Keith Richards being arrested for drugs possession.
(Normally it's all used before he can be caught)
3 to 2 on Axl Rose being arrested for assault/drugs/drink
driving/noise pollution offences. Again.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Yes, it's true. Shoes harass me. I've been looking for a new pair of
runners for several months now. And while my old, increasingly
soleless shoes continue stepping their way to destruction, I find
myself unable to make a definitive decision about a new pair. "What's
the problem", I hear you ask. (Other questions you may be asking are
"What fucked up his mind?" and "What's the number of that therapy
clinic?")
The problem is that of choice. Too much of it. I know it's meant
to be wonderful to live in a consumer society. I know it's great to
have the power of choice over which one of a million products I want
to throw my cash at. But how *do* you choose two shoes out of a
million pairs? Apart from ensuring that they are a matching pair, and
are a reasonable fit on my feet, what other criteria are there?
Okay, I don't plan to wear anything too outrageous. And it has to
be within the bounds of what's sensible to spend on a pair of feet
protectors. I'm unlikely to be attracted by the kind of shoes that
would put the country's richest entrepreneurs into bankruptcy. (In
fact, it's known that several rising stars of the 1980s got caught
when it came to footwear.)
There are shoes for everything. For jogging (ie slow running with
the aim of ultimately going nowhere, because you generally run to
"somewhere and back"), cross training (for example, angrily telling
those miserable kids in the junior footy team to get on with 50 laps
of the oval and 10 push-ups each before they get their dinner),
tennis, etc, etc, etc. I just want shoes to wear while doing stuff.
But they don't seem to have a category for that, so I have to try and
work out what the closest to "stuff" is.
Anyway, you'll be happy to hear that I've solved the whole
problem. I'm determined now. Tomorrow, I'm going to the absolutely
biggest shoe shop in the city. I'm going to walk in there, my head
held high. I won't browse. I won't "just look". I will choose my
shoes at a speed estimated by witnesses as less than three seconds.
It will be fast. It will be decisive. And it will be random, because
I'll be going in with a blindfold over my head, and pointing to a
random pair of shoes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ladies and Gentlemen, just to announce that
Toxic Custard has finished for this week.
Those wishing to obtain back-issues by ftp
can enquire at their nearest Toxic Custard
Subscriptions Information office. Email
tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu for your nearest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without
profit provided no modifications are made.
--
Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| Toxic Custard is entirely
Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| comprised of Daniel's spare
Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| time, and contains no additional
TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| Telecom time or opinions.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Quick brown Toxic Custard"
_____ ___ ____ ____ ____ ____
| / \ / | / \ / \ |___ Toxic Custard
| | \ /\ / |___ ____/ | | \ Workshop Files
| \___ \/ \/ | /_____ \____/ ___/ 27th June 1994
TOXIC HISTORY OF THE WORLD
Part 3 of A Rather Large Pile
750-550 BC
Greek city states emerge on Greek mainland and around the coasts of
the Mediterranean and Black sea. It's probably about now that the
name "Macedonia" first gets argued about.
691 BC
Assyrians conquer Egypt. The Assyrian accountants spend endless
summer evenings arguing about how the Egyptians ever could have
raised the cash to build the pyramids, especially during the
recession of 3000 BC. An attempted calculation of the depreciation
on the Sphinx causes overloads on several abacuses (abacii?)
660 BC
First Mikado in Japan meets rapturous applause and goes on to do a
six month season at the Tokyo National Theatre.
659 BC
First Pirates Of Penzance in Japan. We don't really need to take
this joke any further, do we?
612 BC
Chaldeans conquer Assyrians (just as they were getting their heads
around tax rebates for infrastructure investments) and establish
second Babylonian Empire. They are condemned for their execution
and torture of civilians, and for giving inspiration for Boney M
over 2000 years later.
597 BC
Nebuchadnezzar, Chaldean emperor, captures Jerusalem in a campaign
of rock throwing and car bombs, and carries off the Jews into
captivity.
594 BC
Solon lays the foundations of Athenian democracy. Unfortunately,
stone voting tablets make counting a real pain in the arse.
560 BC
Buddha born. It wasn't until later that he put on weight. It is not
recorded whether or not he gained hair before losing it all again.
Amongst his most amazing achievements is getting copyright over his
own image, which means that if you look carefully you'll find a
"Copyright (c) Buddha Holdings Inc, 520 BC" on the bottom of every
Buddha. Well, okay, not the *bottom*... oh, you know what I mean.
551 BC
Confucious born. His first great saying is "goo gaa gggoo blarp."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. The quick brown fox
jumps over the lazy dog again. Perhaps the lazy dog should get up
from where it's lying and go out and get a job. The taxpayers
shouldn't have to support a dog that is so lazy that all it does is
lie around being jumped over by quick brown foxes. In fact, it's
parasites like the lazy dog that make it very difficult for many
quick brown foxes to keep jumping.
Many quick brown foxes spoken to by Toxic Custard were unhappy
about this. "Yeah, it's like we're subsidising them lazy dogs..."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
THING PART 10
====================
(The television starts to go fuzzy)
RON: Hey, what's wrong with this telly?
JEFF: Wrong? Nothing? Nothing should be wrong. It's brand new, we
only bought it last week. Should be nothing wrong. Wrong?
What do you mean wrong? What have you done to it? What
buttons have you pressed? What foul deeds have you performed
on its fine tuning? What desecration has been done to its
antenna?! What sacrilege is this?!!?
RON: Keep your toupee on, I'm sure it's nothing serious.
(Jeff tries switching channels.)
JEFF: Nothing serious?! That was my fucking five hundred dollars!
Look, none of the channels work!
RON: Yeah yeah yeah. Hold on, I'll try a kick.
(Ron gives the TV a kick on the left hand side,
and is about to try another on the right when Jeff
grabs his leg, pulls Ron's shoe off, throws it out
the window, and starts hitting Ron's foot with a mallet.)
JEFF: Don't kick my telly! Don't kick my telly!
RON: All right, all right! Ow! All right, it's under warranty,
we'll call a TV repairman.
JEFF: Correction: YOU will call a repairman. I'll get back to
reading the new phone book. Now, where were we? Ah yes,
Government Services fast index...
(Later. Jeff is still reading the phone book. Ron is
asleep on the couch, probably dreaming about naked people,
with a big grin on his face. There is a knock at the door.
Ron wakes up with a start, and goes to open it.)
RON: Yeah?
TV MAN: TV Repair.
RON: Oh yeah, come on in.
JEFF: Just a minute. Photo identification, please.
TV MAN: What?
JEFF: Identification. We can't let just anyone in here, you know.
Security. For all we know, you could be a lunatic
psychopathic who'll plant a bomb in our telly which kills us
all when we tune into A Current Affair.
TV MAN: So the fact that I said "TV Repair", when your mate here
answered the door, and I could have only known that you
wanted a TV repaired if you had rung me, is of no import?
JEFF: Ah well, yes. That death-defying logic will do. Come in.
TV MAN: So, this is the telly, is it? Tsssstt.. I dunno. The ol'
Mitsanyasonic '94, is it? Tricky to get the parts for this
one...
JEFF: May I remind you that this is under warranty, so you don't
need to inflate the price or repair time by saying Tssst a
lot and muttering about cowboy manufacturers?
TV MAN: Oh. Okay. Well, let's try...
(He kicks the TV on the right hand side.
The picture comes back instantly.)
TV MAN: All right? Sign here please.
(Jeff signs the clipboard, and the TV man leaves.
Ron changes the TV back to the cartoons, and Jeff sighs.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That's it. Go back to something sensible.
Got back-issues if you want 'em. Enquire
at tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed without
profit provided no modifications are made.
--
Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia--| Toxic Custard is a product of
Work: dbowen@vcomtelc.telecom.com.au| Daniel's mind, and Daniel's
Play: dbowen@gnu.ai.mit.edu---------| mind alone. Telecom have nothing
TCWF: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------| to do with it. Lucky them.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
the Toxic Custard Workshop Files by Daniel Bowen, Melbourne, Australia
Copyright (c) 1994 Daniel Bowen. May be freely distributed
without profit provided this notice remains intact.
For subscription information, contact tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu
