Ask a Stupid Quetion Get a Stupid Answer

[Mattara]

Why does McDonald's need a secret sauce? Does the NSA know?

Well, it is your lucky day, turbo-1. I'm feeling turning-everything-everyone-says-into-something-dirty.

Yes, they know. Heck, they are behind it all.

NSA (National Sodomy Assessment)

The NSA is a subunit within Microsoft (again: microshaft = small..erm..) that deals with fastfood resturants trying to put "secret sauce" into anything. This sauce comes from people when they ejaculate.

ejaculate as in a quote from Sir. Arthur Conan Doyle's A study in scarlet:

"A steady, respectable, middle-aged man, too, on the face of him–all facts which led me to believe that he had been a sergeant.”
“Wonderful!” I ejaculated.
“Commonplace,” said Holmes, though I thought from his expression that he was pleased at my evident surprise and admiration. “I said just now that there were no criminals. It appears that I am wrong–look"

The "special sauce" is actually just a way of mind control. It is "Henchmen # 4" from the hit television serie 24 second season, episode 14 that is the executive of the NSA and secretly control everyone on this planet useing modifides sine-ways that originates from peoples electrical stuff. These modified sine-ways makes people behave as though they were...stupid.

How would you define "stupid"

 

[turbo]

How would you define "stupid"

I'm not smart enought to be able to define "stupid".

Could we wipe out any diseases through global worming?

 

[Mattara]

Could we wipe out any diseases through global worming?

Yes, we can.

The most exposed area to diseases are Africa. I propose that we install hacks on all the supplies that are sent to africa. The hacks would be a dormit and inactive worm, that when eaten, it would make its way trough veins, trough the spine and up to the mastah of teh central nervous system, also known as "teh niarb". From there, the worm would generate little MS anti-spyware babies that would run trough the body constantly, removing any unwanted pathogens and so on. Although it is costly i think we could do it. Ofc MS anti-spyware is a budget version only, but i don't want to waste money

What must a guy do to get an stupid answer to a stupid question ála zoobyshoe (i.e. übercreative)?

 

[jimmy p]

What must a guy do to get an stupid answer to a stupid question ála zoobyshoe (i.e. übercreative)?

Something about needing to spend a lifetime in a brush shelter first.


What kind of brushes does zooby live under?

 

[Livingod]

A paintbrush, toothbrush or an underbrush, I'm not exactly sure.

But then again, who is?

 

[jimmy p]

We know for certain that you aren't. And as a living god, everyone alive was made in your image so therefore no-one. Apart from Bort Volfsson. But he isn't saying anything.

Shouldn't he not be saying nothing?

 

[turbo]

Bort is hereby granted clemency. Boris needs treatment.

Can we agree to disagree? More importantly, can we disagree to disagree?

 

[jimmy p]

Can we agree to disagree? More importantly, can we disagree to disagree?

I thoroughly agree to disagreeing about disagreeing. Or do I? Maybe I disagree with it. Whichever is easiest. Bort would know what I am talking about. Boris would disagree about agreeing with disagreement.

Why are people who agree with disagreeing so disagreeable?

 

[turbo]

People who agree to disagree are pukey wimps. They ignore their god-like abilities to be correct on every subjective issue and are unworthy of their daily sustenance. If you say "tomahtoe", you are an infidel and I will hunt you down relentlessly.

Is shooting a lawyer a bad thing, even if he dies?

 

[jimmy p]

If you say "tomahtoe", you are an infidel and I will hunt you down relentlessly.

Which thread did I say that in I can't remember!

Is shooting a lawyer a bad thing, even if he dies?

I found originally it was a bad thing because you waste bullets. That is why the longbow was invented. You could shoot them at a great distance, like you can with a gun, and the bonus is that you can then go and retrieve your arrow, wipe the jelly off and continue on your merry lawyer hunt.

Why purple?

 

[turbo]

Why not purple? Without purple, we would not have "Smoke on the Water" or Kunta Kinte. I can understand a deep-seated revulsion toward orange or pink, but you have crossed the line on this one.

What is the best/worst way to waste your time?

 

[jimmy p]

What is the best/worst way to waste your time?

I feel it is a combination of doing nothing for a purpose and doing something for no real purpose. Sleeping is a perfect example of time wasting. You do nothing for a period of time and then wake up. All you have done is skip a few hours, by closing your eyes. People who blink however are the biggest time wasters. And then they have the audacity to go to sleep as well. I am just a mere mortal, to properly answer that quetion, talk to someone who blinks.

Why is it called a mouse?

 

[Orefa]

Why is it called a mouse?

It isn't. It is called a rat.

Why is "abbreviation" such a long word?

 

[turbo]

Why is it called a mouse?

OK, do we have to get into etymology here? The word mouse has come down to us from the Germanic "maus", which is the root word from which the fine Mauser firearms company drew its name. I personally own several of their firearms and I can attest to their effectiveness in controlling rodents in the home. The 8mm K98 rifle is a real favorite, but I must point out that I do not live in a apartment building, but a private home. You could have problems with whiners and complainers in an an apartment building.

Why do we have log scales, log-log scales, etc? When I was a kid, the log buyers scaled logs with big wooden calipers and they did not increase the mass of the wood we took to market exponentially, like some of this crazy mathematical stuff.

 

[zoobyshoe]

Why do we have log scales, log-log scales, etc?

I don't know. It is often a tremendous amount of trouble to have to scale a log before eating it, and I'd prefer they breed something more oven-ready.

-------

"I'm shipping out tomorrow." said the young guy in uniform to the lipsticked blonde sitting across the table from him in the big, smokey hall as a brassy swing band blared a Benny Goodman tune from the stage. "They're sending me to...well, I can't say. Loose lips, you know. All I can tell you honey is I'm going to a dangerous place, and may not make it back."

"Got another Chesterfield?" said the girl.

"And I'm a young, healthy guy, as you can see. I got dreams. I got things I wished I could do before it's all over. That's not too much to ask is it, considering I'm putting my life on the line?"

"Got any gum?" asked the girl, examining an extended leg to make sure her nylons weren't bunching up at the ankles.

Leaning over the table to show her the sincerity in his eyes, the young man continued, "See, sweetcakes, I never been with a girl. I mean, in that special way, if you know what I mean. Two weeks: I might be dead with a Kraut bullet in my gut. I don't want to die thinking I missed out on one of life's best things. You and your girlfriends down at the airplane factory, you'll be alright back here. We'll see to it. You'll have your chance at a life and family after this big mess is over. But for me, every day's going to be Russian Roulette. A cute dame like you could give a man like me the night of his life so's he could die happy. I know I never laid eyes on you till an hour ago, but things have to happen fast in these dangerous times. I just got a letter from my Mom yesterday telling me Arnie Hancock from high school got shot down over Krautland last week. Next week, that could be me. I ain't a coward, but I'm scared. I don't mind tellin' ya. I'm going to a place where every one there is only thinking about one thing: puttin' a bullet in me."

He sat back and took a fumbling, nervous puff off his Chesterfield, watching her face as she gazed down at the floor. He saw she was troubled, considering, thinking, ruminating. He couldn't tell if it was just cause of the smoke in the air, but dammed if her eyes didn't look a little teary. He waited.

Finally, she spoke, "Will you write to me every day as long as you're not shot?"

The young man suddenly thought he heard some different music mixed in with the Benny Goodman; a couple of phantom bars of the "Hallelujah Chorus".

------

Did he write?

 

[jimmy p]

Did he write?

He wrote a great many things whilst in the frontline. He wrote many of the world reknowned books on the origin of dinosaurs that wore leather. He wrote long war poems such as "Stop firing those bloody guns at me". He wrote masterpiece novels, the styles copied by many of today's authors.

I was sitting here discussing with 4 members of MENSA and a goat about life after death. We came to the conclusion that Life was a hitman hired to take out the Grim Reaper, and that the Grim Reaper's cape wouldn't taste as nice as grass. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. The candles blew out, and a cold chill entered the room. We cowered in terror for 27 hours using the goats milk for sustenance, and the goat using my curtains. Finally when we built up the courage to light the candles and go downstairs. Upon opening the door we were confronted with a scene. A baby eating pizza and a duck drinking wine from a slipper.

Who's been knocking on my door?

 

[zoobyshoe]

Who's been knocking on my door?

Nothing to worry about. Just a disoriented MP looking for directions back to his London flat. He's eccentric and likes to pose as a pizza/duck/wine/slipper delivery boy on weekends, and sometimes combines that with amateur obstretrics. Anyway, he became disoriented when his delivery van spun around in the mud at a crossroads, and he ended up facing the Big Hitman, Life, square in the arse, and was farted so far off course, so very far from his accustomed masquerading grounds that all he remembered of his past life was the smell of goat and candle smoke, which, since you had both, attracted his confused attention. However, since you didn't answer the door, his critical vote will not be cast in tomorrow's great debate, the issue will go to the opposition, and in two weeks you'll find yourself in a trench outside Dusseldorf surrounded by people who only want one thing: to put a bullet in you.Will jimmy write?

 

[jimmy p]

Will jimmy write?

I thought about the concept of writing while at war, and find it a tad difficult to write anything without a pen or paper, or an address book to see who I could write to. Instead of writing I will relay messages from Dusseldorf to England by blinking in morse code. I will pass the message to a runner, and he (with his address book) will travel to the correct destination and blink the message to my family/friends/zooby.

Is there a better way?

 

[zoobyshoe]

Is there a better way?

Well, I'm surprised you haven't heard of carrier jellyfish, a natural messenger creature that has been employed for this purpose since the time of Seizer's Bollock Wars. They're taken into battle dried, reconstituted with water from the nearest rain filled bomb crater, and sent on their merry way back to the aquarium in which they were raised. They always make it: too low for radar, and too slippery and rubbery to take a bullet. They're relentless, as well, and the message never fails to arrive in a year or two. There's nothing like the site of a nocturnally roving herd of weird, purple jellyfish squitching their way over a battle scarred landscape, dragging a string with an urgent communication for headquarters tied to it. Stalwart Jellyfish! True purple fearless creatures glinting wet in the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, an inspiration to the downtrodden, tired men to squitch forward like them, to victory. Damn the torpedos! THIS, was their finest hour!

Jimmy forgot about them, didn't he?

 

[jimmy p]

Jimmy forgot about them, didn't he?

Jimmy was aware of them from a long time ago in posts far, far away from this one. However he only thought them to be myths, like the much searched for zooby. However just the thought of these brave purple messenger jellyfish, crossing a battlefield to deliver a message that a morse code blinker or pigeon could not, causes something to stir inside of me.

What is it?

 

[zoobyshoe]

What is it?

It's that sparky, tingly feel when you're surrounded by flying bullets, and angry shrapnel, the stench of cordite, smoke gets in your eyes, you don't expect to be alive for two more minutes, the girl at the dance hall said yes, and every second is a precious moment of sensory exhilaration.

You take out your stub of pencil and scrawl a goodbye note to your mother on the back of a letter from a homosexual seargent at bootcamp who wrote to invite you to move into his hunting lodge after the conflict, despite your having gone over his head to report him, and as you scrape the pencil on a rock to sharpen the tip, a little orphan jellyfish born right there on the battlefield crawls up next to you for comfort and protection.

Unbeknownst to you, and everyone else around, the treaty was signed hours ago, and you all are lobbing grenades and blasting away at each other in a vast folly of magnificent waste.

Just then, a "jerry" rushes you from behind a stone wall. His ammo is gone and he's amok, thinking he'll kill every remaining allied soldier with his bayonette. You look up to see him grinning at you in his mania as he charges with his sharp!pointy!bayonette! sharply pointed at your head.
He's a blind rhinoceros about to skewer you with his horns, without fear or regret.

And who do you think saves you?

 

[jimmy p]

And who do you think saves you?

Actually there was a lot of saving going on. Seeing that I was just about to be charged by a "jerry" soldier, my paternal instinct kicked in and I dived over the baby purple jellyfish, whispering my final message to it before I was to be stabbed, and getting badly stung at the same time. Who saved me was obvious. Our squad's gunner. As I recall he was a blind rhinocerous, who didn't take kindly to people doing impressions of him, and detested people personifying him. He caught wind of "jerry's" intentions and charged headlong just as the bayonet was to pierce my jugular. Whilst the wrestling match between the blind rhino and blind rhino impersonator was going ahead, the baby jellyfish crawled out from under me, and with a parting sting, squitched off to aid the fight. It killed "jerry" so well it brought a tear to my eye, but left me wondering...

Was this fate?

 

[zoobyshoe]

Was this fate?

No. It was "Jerry"fish, the Jellyfish, as he later came to be known, and that was the first of many acts of heroism which earned him his name, made him the subject of lore and legend, several biographies, and two Hollywood films. The first made in 1955, The Tentacled Messenger starred Jelly Cooper, and won an oscar for Best Actor. The second, The Long Squitch Home, was made in 1978, and starred Gel Gibson as the post tramatic stressed "Jerry"fish, struggling to put his life in order and adjust to peacetime after raising himself, all alone, on the front lines of battle. It won the 1981 Jellbel Prize for that years most accurate screen portrayal of a siphonophore. A third version of the brave jellyfishs' life was in the works at one point but it got into the hands of mad director, Ken Russell, who tried to ascribe the raising of the flag on Iwo Jima to "Jerry"fish, as well as the secret rescue of Amelia Ehrhart. Financial backers pulled the plug on that one.

Still, though, I've read the script for the Ehrhart sequence and it was quite interesting: after a long search through leach-infested pacific jungles he finds her in a gold bikini chained to an unbelievably fat Japanese commander with a deep, rumbling voice. After killing the obese strong-man thug, and several hundred Japanese soldiers, he rushes Amelia back to base camp where, after a night of jellyfish love, she's packed off in a transport back to the states, with a time bomb of a surprise inside her, set to go off nine months later, and "jerry" squitches off to Iwo Jima.

Did she ever persuade him to quit smoking?

 

[Livingod]

If I had read your entire post instead of just your question, I might be able to come up with a reasonable answer, but then again, that sort of thing is frowned upon in this thread. So instead, I will improvise an answer as I write (that is why I'm writing so much, it's because I'm still thinking about the answer I am to give you. omg! I found an answer!) and now I proceed to answer your question: No, Philip Morris started it, only Philip Morris can end it.

If philipmorrisusa.com is the site to help you stop smoking, what Philip Morris site helps you start?

 

[zoobyshoe]

If philipmorrisusa.com is the site to help you stop smoking, what Philip Morris site helps you start?

If I'd read your entire quetion, instead of your post, I might be able to scale to the top of the Empire State building holding Math Is Hard in one hand, but that sort of thing is ecouraged in this thread. So instead, I will improvise a scene from a play Shakespeare never wrote, but which he would have if he'd been a Phillip's Morris executive.

If I had posted the entire scene, instead of just announcing my intention to create it, I might be able to ask a new quetion, but that sort of thing is frowned upon in this thread, so, instead, I'm demoting Livingod to "Liver-pod", (that is the reason I'm thinking so much. It is because I am still writing about the quetion I am about to give you. omg! I have lost the quetion!) and now I proceed to quetion your anser:

Could someone please provide a comprehensive definition of the term "liver-pod" ?

 

[turbo]

Could someone please provide a comprehensive definition of the term "liver-pod" ?

Well, it has something to do with unborn infants breathing urine, although I'm not sure this answer is sufficiently stupid to satisfy the goals of the thread.

http://fanac.org/fanzines/Plokta/issue5/liver.htm

Will breathing urine ever catch on amongst adults?

 

[zoobyshoe]

Will breathing urine ever catch on amongst adults?

Not unless you get busy and pioneer it for us! We all look forward to your reports!

Does anyone remember the lyrics?

 

[turbo]

Not unless you get busy and pioneer it for us! We all look forward to your reports!

It's hard lining up research assistants. The lady at the Ford agency keeps hanging up on me.

Does anyone remember the lyrics?

There's a bathroom on the right.

Why did Oliver want more?

 

[jimmie]

Why did Oliver want more?

Because he desired to be with the whole girl. Oliver wanted all of her.

Speaking of reach exceeding grasp, why can't i grasp that it's not possible to reach that which i want to exceedingly reach?

 

[zoobyshoe]

Speaking of reach exceeding grasp, why can't i grasp that it's not possible to reach that which i want to exceedingly reach?

The reason you can't grasp this is because it requires standing with your left side to it, your right side to the setting sun, your right shoe on your left foot, your left shoe in your right pocket, and, on the stereo, in the background, just beneath the threshold of hearing, the soundtrack to The Benny Goodman Story.

Joe approached her just about holding his breath. She'd been alone pretty much the past half hour after the stringy, tall guy had danced with her. For some reason he'd wandered away when they were done. Joe couldn't figure. She was way better than that guy should have expected. Maybe that was it: he realized she was too good for him. Anyway, no one else had moved in, so Joe decided if she'd danced with the limp beanpole she'd surely agree to dance with him.

As he got closer she noticed him coming. It was just a glance, but if she wasn't stupid she'd know there wasn't anywhere else he was aimed but at her. Looking right into her eyes for that second would have stopped him in his tracks if he'd been walking any slower. She was actually cute. Dark brown eyes, dark hair, red lipstick, some sort of bluish colored dress that fit her better and better the closer he got.

Finally, he was there, and she lifted her face to him. He felt strangely calm, committed: "Say, I was wondering if I could ask you for the next dance?"

"Ya could if you wanted!" she said, sassy, and winked. It was the sexiest thing Joe had ever seen. The sexiest thing a girl had ever done right in his direction, on purpose. And at that point something happened to him I can't mention, it being 1940, and such things not discussed. Joe needed time to calm down. "Say, great!" He smiled. "Your quite a card! Hows about I get us some punch, first! Be right back! Stay right there!" and he spun and headed for the punch bowl on the other side of the room hoping his jacket was casting shadows in the right places.

What did Joe think about to calm down?