Parthian Shot

Sola lingua bona est lingua mortua.

[The only good language is a dead language.]

US

No one likes us — I don't know why
We may not be perfect, but heaven knows we try
But all around, even our old friends put us down
Let's drop the big one and see what happens

We give them money — but are they grateful?
No, they're spiteful and they're hateful
They don't respect us — so let's surprise them
We'll drop the big one and pulverize them

Asia's crowded and Europe's too old
Africa is far too hot
And Canada's too cold
And South America stole our name
Let's drop the big one
There'll be no one left to blame us

We'll save Australia
Don't wanna hurt no kangaroo
We'll build an All American amusement park there
They got surfin', too

Boom goes London and boom Paris
More room for you and more room for me
And every city the whole world round
Will just be another American town
Oh, how peaceful it will be
We'll set everybody free
You'll wear a Japanese kimono babe
And there'll be Italian shoes for me

They all hate us anyhow
So let's drop the big one now
Let's drop the big one now

— Randy Newman 'Political Science'

How To Vote Card

Caucasians

Armenians
Azerbaijani
Georgians
"White" Americans

Successful Head Transplant — Unforeseen Teething Problems

Being & Having

I am dead if I lack desire
I lack desire because
I think I possess
I think I possess because
I do not try to give
Trying to give,
You see that you have nothing
Seeing you have nothing,
You try to give of yourself
Trying to give of yourself,
You see you are nothing
Seeing you are nothing,
You desire to become
In desiring to become,
You begin...to live

 — Doug Anderson

When In Ancient Rome, Do As The Ancient Romans Do

Antiquis temporibus, nati tibi similes in rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem.

[In the good old days, children like you were left to perish on windswept crags.]

Mediated Social Intercourse

Village Idiot

Materialist Anagram

Felonious Monk Anagram

Meantor

The Pseudo-Left

The Right-In-Exile.

In Vino Veritas

The Digital Age

Idioteration

God Almighty!

Profit And Loss

James Hardie reported net profit of $US104.9 million in the three months to June 30 2010, up from a loss of $US77.9 million in the first quarter of 2009/10. Net operating profit was $US40.5 million, excluding the company's asbestos obligations, down three per cent on the prior corresponding period.

On the other hand, my 79 year old mother is now dying from pleural mesothelioma. The only cause of this lethal cancer is exposure to asbestos.  My father worked for James Hardie's for 30 years as an electrician on the factory floor.

The building giant yesterday blamed restructuring for the move, which it said was likely to reduce the amount it paid into the fund in July next year by up to $US11.4m ($10.76m).

Asbestos campaigners reacted angrily. "It's not the case that asbestos isn't manufactured any more and therefore is no longer a problem," Karen Banton, widow of veteran asbestos campaigner Bernie Banton, told Seven News last night. "Asbestos is everywhere."

Mesothelioma, a cancer usually triggered by asbestos exposure, has long been seen as a disease affecting men. But a study by the NSW Cancer Institute found that while the mesothelioma rate in men had stabilised, the rate in women was increasing by 4.9 per cent every year.

The Devil-You-Know Anagram

Double Life Anagram

Infinity

There are an infinite number of ways to misunderstand the notion of infinity.

The Flying Spaghetti Monster Saves

Why Angels Can Fly

Vasco Pyjama meets the Fallen Angel who tells him that the only reason angels can fly is because they take themselves so lightly.
— Michæl Leunig 'Selected Moments from The Voyage of Vasco Pyjama'

The Opposite Of Self-Defence

The scapegoat teaches Vasco Pyjama the art of "copping it sweet" … the opposite of self-defence.
— Michæl Leunig 'Selected Moments from The Voyage of Vasco Pyjama'

Recent Anagram

The Soul Of Approval

… suddenly the Jungle of Arguments petered out, the bicker bushes parted and there on a vast and sunny plain, picknicking under a lone curly palm, sat the famous Seal of Approval with his immortal thumbs–up sign and a splendid agreeable smile on his face.
— Michæl Leunig 'Selected Moments from The Voyage of Vasco Pyjama'

Are we alone in the universe?

yes we are … all of the species … on all the living planets … in the entire universe … we’re all alone.

One Life-Form's Meat Is Another Life-Form's Person

"They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"Meat. They're made out of meat."

"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."

"No brain?"

"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?"

"Both."

"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."

"That's it."

"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 mark 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 rotations 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."

— Terry Bisson 'They're Made Out Of Meat'

Ready For Whatever The Day Has In Store

Menagerie À Trois

Attention To Detail

Anyone who doesn't take truth seriously in small matters

cannot be trusted in large ones either.

 — Albert Einstein