President Trump signs new executive order.

June 23, 2017


The Church of the Small White Square.

June 22, 2017

The congregation fell silent as the lights inside the church dimmed to black. All eyes were focused on the pastor standing at the front of the darkened interior illuminated only by a projected image of a small white square on the wall behind him.

Suddenly the square moved up towards the ceiling. “Uh”, the pastor called out while pointing to the square, his voice rising in pitch.

Then the square moved down towards the floor. “Uh,” the pastor called out again, this time his voice descending from a high whine to a deep baritone.

The square again moved up towards the ceiling and the pastor’s voice again changed in pitch from low to high.

The square moved back down towards the middle of the wall before it suddenly increased in size to cover almost the entire wall. “AAIIEEEE!” The pastor screamed and immediately turned away from the wall before the image exploded into tiny projected squares that flew in all directions.

Then a blue square appeared on the wall and rose towards the ceiling. “Uh”, all the men in the congregation said in unison with their voices rising in pitch.

The blue square lowered towards the floor. “Uh”, all the male voices responded, their pitch in united descent.

This went on for a few more minutes until the blue square rose to the middle of the wall and suddenly enlarged before exploding. “AAIIEEEE!” all the men screamed as they ducked to avoid the flying pieces of the blue square.

Now a pink square appeared and moved up and down and this time all the women in the congregation responded with their voices varying in pitch according to the square’s movements, and when it too exploded, all the women screamed in unison as they dodged the flying pieces.

Finally, the white square returned and the entire congregation rose to its feet. They watched in silence as the square grew larger and larger and soon it filled the entire wall before exploding. Then colorful confetti came drifting down to the cheering congregation, with its participants jumping gleefully with their arms raised as if feeling rejuvenated by the squares.

Then the lights inside the church came back on to illuminate the room with the ecstatic congregation still on its feet.

“This concludes our service for this morning,” announced the pastor. “May the blessings of the squares be with you all.”

An e-mail from Yahoo?

June 21, 2017

I got this e-mail today. At first glance it looks pretty serious.

2017-06-21 16_13_12-Inbox - Mozilla Thunderbird

Then the mood switched from serious to suspicious. I took a look at the sender’s email address and noticed it wasn’t a Yahoo address. Even more unusual was the presence of another non-Yahoo address for sending my replies.

Then there’s the question of Yahoo closing my account just because I didn’t do the upgrade, which sounds ludicrous. Yahoo Mail is web based, so there’s really nothing for me to do on my end.

Finally I took a look at the link I’m supposed to click on to verify my account. It pointed to a completely different domain other than Yahoo, so this email was probably a phishing attempt to try getting me to disclose some sensitive data such as my bank account information. Nice try. I seriously doubt Yahoo itself sends out e-mails like this one.

Should you get an email like this, it helps to analyze it like I did. If it sounds suspicious, it probably is.

Woodburning a sign.

June 20, 2017

My mother recently asked me to woodburn her a sign for her kitchen to go along with the other two signs I made. She wanted the sign to say “My Kitchen Was Clean Last Week, Sorry You Missed It.” So began what would become my most challenging woodburning project yet.

The first thing I did was go online and try finding a font that matches the message of the sign. After experimenting with different fonts, I eventually decided to use one that was already installed on my computer, one called Poor Richard. I composed the layout of the sign and ended up with this template.


The challenging part was getting this template transferred to the wood on which I would do the woodburning. The wood was 23 inches long and I had to find a way to enlarge the template so the letters wouldn’t be too small. I found Rasterbator to be the perfect solution. I uploaded my image, specified the number of pages I wanted to use and minutes later, downloaded the PDF file of my image for printing across two pages. I taped the pages to the wood in preparation of transferring the template. Looking back on this step now, I should’ve adjusted the margin settings at Rasterbator to make the letters more visible among the two pages, but I was still able to transfer the template to the wood as described in the next step.


Next I used a pen and pressed down on the wood as I traced the outlines of the letters.


After I removed the paper, I took a pencil and marked the outlines to make them more visible.


When that was finished, I could see the transferred letters more easily.


All that was left to do was the woodburning.


Here’s how the sign looked after I intentionally burned “My Kitchen”.


After the lettering was done, I put in a border to complete the sign.


Of course, I signed and dated the back of the sign for posterity.


Now it’s ready for delivery to my parents’ house, where my mother will varnish the sign before hanging it in her kitchen.

Hello, world.

June 17, 2017

The song that destroyed the world.

June 15, 2017

It all started innocently enough with three guys getting together for an evening of rap. The Saturday Night Rapdown, they called it.

One of the guys, some loser named Ian, had been working on his answer to the classic 15-minute Rapper’s Delight with the epic Thuggers De Life that stretched to a full 30 minutes. Unfortunately Ian’s song would win him and his friends global fame for all the wrong reasons.

Thuggers De Life was a brutal song that spared no victims. It attacked just about everyone under the sun, specifically people who had jobs, homes and families. Ian had none of those, which infuriated him, so he rapped of his plans of revenge through committing destruction and violent crimes. Yet Ian wanted to write the song solely as a means of blowing off steam. The last thing he wanted was this song to be heard outside the room where it was performed. He himself knew it was bad and was careful not to perform it where someone might hear it and become offended by its hideous lyrics.

During that evening, Ian performed Thuggers De Life in its entirety, not aware that fellow rapper Steve was recording his performance. Steve was so impressed that he uploaded the video to YouTube, where it quickly went viral. Hate comments poured in as outraged viewers demanded to know where Ian lived, and Steve innocently gave out Ian’s address and phone number. His actions ultimately cost him his friendship with Ian, as well as his own life.

There were repeated attacks on Ian’s house as well as the buildings where his parents worked. Steve was seen as a collaborator and was later hunted down and killed. The group’s DJ Dave was burned alive when his house was torched down by arsonists. Ian himself was killed when his house was firebombed.

Ian’s song was singlehandedly responsible for the breakdown in relations between the United States and the rest of the world, and terrorist attacks escalated to the point where world leaders were assassinated. The world was thrown into turmoil as governments collapsed with the advent of World War III. Millions of people were killed and countries were ruined beyond repair. Thuggers De Life had just succeeded in bringing forth the end of the world.


June 15, 2017



This is actually a fake post designed to complicate your search for illegal torrents. You’re welcome.

Guys without talent.

June 15, 2017

The nervous rappers stood on the stage in the empty auditorium before the panel of celebrity judges as the cameras rolled on “Planet Earth’s Got Talent”.

“Well, what did you think?” Ian asked. “Did you like our performance?”

What performance?” the judges asked.

Did they just say that?

“We called you back out because you didn’t do your audition,” said Howie Stowie. “When you were on stage a few minutes ago you guys just made a lot of noise and then left.”

“But that was our audition,” Ian protested.

“It was?” Howie exclaimed. “Roll the tape.”

On the large screen behind the rappers played the recorded performance of their audition just moments before. Ian and Steve both rapped as Dave stood on stage holding a boom box. When the playback ended, Howie’s mouth was open in mock horror.

“So that was it,” Howie said. “Tell me something. How on earth did you guys make it past the local auditions?”

“There were no local auditions,” Ian replied. “We’re the only ones from Florida so we were allowed to bypass the local auditions and go straight to you guys.”

“That explains it,” Howie said. “Let me ask you something. What’s the name of this show?”

“Planet Earth’s Got Talent.”

“And do you guys have talent? No. That was pathetic. If you’re expecting us to allow you in the competition, you’re only kidding yourselves. A retarded gorilla has more talent than all of you. I’m sorry, but you’re out. All of you. Get out. Go home. And bring some talent next time!”

“No. There won’t be a next time,” Mighty Klump said. “I don’t want to see these guys again.”

And that was that.

“Dad, take that paper bag off your head. It’s not safe for driving.” Ian said. His parents had picked him and his friends up at the airport the day after their disastrous audition.

“Retarded gorilla,” Ian’s father said. “I am ashamed. Everyone knows who you are. Everyone knows who we are. Did you see that YouTube video playing at the airport? It’s gone viral! Millions of views within 24 hours? The shame, oh, the shame!”


But it was too late. The car crashed through a guard rail and flew off the road.

“Retarded gorilla,” Ian’s father muttered as the car continued its flight. “I’d rather this car crash and explode into millions of pieces than be seen in public again.”

Seconds later, Ian stood in line outside the Pearly Gates along with his friends and his parents. Ron was still wearing a paper bag over his head.

“Dad, take that paper bag off your head!” Ian hissed.

“Retarded gorilla,” Robert muttered. “I’d rather be at That Other Place than to be seen here with you.”

“Request granted!” shouted St. Peter, who had overheard Ron’s remark.

Seconds later, Ron was at That Other Place where it was too hot for paper bags.

“Retarded gorilla,” Ron muttered. “I’d rather be -”

Then Ron realized he was alone.

“So you’d rather be someplace else?” sneered The Big Red Guy With The Pitchfork. “I know just the place for you!”

Seconds later, Ron was in a dark room, but he could sense he wasn’t alone. He could hear a steady growling as not one, not two, not three, but twelve angry gorillas circling him and demonstrating their fierceness in spite of their mental disabilities. Alas, Ron never said a word again, for minutes later he became retarded gorilla shit.

The Jai Alai Chronicles.

June 13, 2017


It was five minutes before game time, and all the visitors were placing wagers on who was going to win the first game. They had 8 players to choose from, but who was the best?

One person knew. Or he thought he did. He was so confident about Player 5’s victory he placed his very life on the line. This man came up to the cashier window and placed his bet. “Here’s a twenty on 5. I also would like to bet my cat, my house, my luxury yacht, my basset hounds and everything I own that good old 5’s gonna win tonight! Besides, he’s got a 2-5 chance of winning!”

After placing the wager, the confident man went to his seat and boasted that 5 would surely win.

The game started. The man sat back calmly, expecting 5 to win.

5 lost the game.

Silence. All eyes in the auditorium fell on the shocked man. He rose slowly to his feet and let out a bloodcurdling scream.


The second game began.

This time, the person to get in trouble was a loud-mouthed heckler who placed his week’s pay on Number 7.

“Come on, we’re talking money, not brain stems, you cockaninny!” he screamed. “Play the hell out of Number 4. Show him what Jai-Alai is!”

He rose to his feet.

“Hit it! Sling it! Fling it! Hey Number 4! How can you play like that when your fly’s undone!”

Player 4 stopped, looked at his pants, and suddenly the pelota struck him in the head. 4 fell to the ground, unconscious. He came to and protested bitterly.

Suddenly, a voice boomed over the intercom. “Will the heckler who made 4 lose please come up to the playing area?”

The heckler stood up and walked into the playing area behind the fence.

He was ordered to stand right in front of the wall. Then, to the audience’s amusement, Player 4 flung the pelota at the heckler, and the ball struck his head off his shoulders.

Solving a Rubik’s Cube with magic.

June 12, 2017