Ask a Stupid Quetion Get a Stupid Answer

[rcgldr]

Why do people post in threads like this?

I find your insinuations offending.

Hey, it was my stupid question, no offense meant, note that I had posted already. (Busy looking up "odious" - like an "od" , "inveracities" - cities in "vera").

You didn't answer the question:

Why do people post in threads like this?

Similar to climbing mountains, "it's just because they are there".

How does a complain generator work?

Similar to a man, but louder and more often. I've included a sample video demostrating the complain generator in the second half of this video:

reftrain.wmv

grasshopper

Reminded me of the TV series "Kung Fu". In a rare episode there's a woman wanting to be a student, as usual, Master Po tells the woman, "when you can snatch this Milk Dud from my palm, then you will be ready", not realizing that the woman is already chewing it by the time he says "can".

If black is a color, is silence a sound?

 

[hypatia]

Yes, I have the record, The Sounds of Silence...by Simon and Garfunkle.

What can be done stop people from saying catsup for ketchup?

 

[Mattara]

Actually, I believe that the correct Mr. Burns pronunciation is "cetsup". Don't get me started on the number of episodes where Mr. Burns have gotten killed.

What is your favourite formula in electromagnetism? F = QvB or F = BIL?

 

[turbo]

Actually, my favorite formula is AlNiCo. It has an air of permanance.

Given that mankind has been using ink far longer than oil, why haven't the ink wells dried up by now?

 

[Yonoz]

Given that mankind has been using ink far longer than oil, why haven't the ink wells dried up by now?

Duh - ink is made from squids. It can't run out.

What does "why do the smilies keep moving?" mean?

 

[zoobyshoe]

What does "why do the smilies keep moving?" mean?

Nothing. It's a gross mistranslation of an old, old Yiddish song that used to be sung by the ink well drillers in the ink fields of southern Poland and expresses a dilema they set to song to relieve their stress while they drilled, for a famous Rabbi had discovered a line in the Torah that might or might not indicate that ink well drilling might or might not be kashrut, depending. So each day they weren't sure they were doing the right thing: it was still being debated, and it might turn out, retroactively, that they ought not to have been handling ink all this time. So they worried, and because they worried, they sang.

Now, the Polish peasants who heard the song couldn't understand the lyrics. To them it sounded like they were singing "Why do all the smilies keep moving?" Mentor Evo, being half Polish, and three quarters terminator, remembers her great, great, grandfather's stories about the song of the Jewish ink men, and utters the line once in a while when she doesn't have anything important to say or any posts to terminate. I don't know, though, she might mean "I'm not feeling terminatey today."

Anyway, the debate ended when it was determined that ink deposits in the ground have nothing to do with squid ink, and are, therefore, OK to handle, as long as you still wash your hands before eating.

It was moot, though, since the next night a new guy forgot to put the cap back on an ink well before going to bed and the whole ink deposit of southern Poland dried up overnight. The entire village relocated to New Jersy to work in the newly discovered ink fields there. Well, they left one guy behind to fend for himself.

What ever happened to that guy who forgot to put the cap on the inkwell?

 

[tribdog]

What ever happened to that guy who forgot to put the cap on the inkwell?

That's actually a very interesting and important story. Paddy O'Silverstein was thrown into the stockade and placed on display in town square. Where he spent the next several weeks being harrassed by children and spit upon by tobacco chewing women. He would have died there if it wasn't for the magnificent Melvin Belli, Attorney at law. Mr. Belli showed, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the ink well did not dry up because his client forgot to put the lid on it, but that the ink well dried up because his client put the lid on the wrong well. Mr. O'Silverstein was immediately released from the stockade to the cheers of townfolk everywhere. He was given the key to the city and a parade was held in his honor. At the end of the parade, in front of the mayor, the butcher and a candlestick maker named Pierre, Mr. O'Silverstein was led to the gallows, which were operated by Mr. Belli himself, and hung until dead. He had after all put the lid on the wrong inkwell.

Why was the butcher sitting next to the mayor when everyone knew they despised each other?

 

[zoobyshoe]

Why was the butcher sitting next to the mayor when everyone knew they despised each other?

That's actually a very interesting and important story. I'll go into it later if at least ten people PM me begging to hear it.

In the meantime, let me explain that the butcher and the mayor were once rivals for the same girl. I don't remember her name for some reason. Anyway, she didn't like either of them, and wanted to be matched up with Marvin McMorgenstern, the future town drunk, though no one knew it at the time. The girl, whose name escapes me, kept the butcher and mayor busy by pitting them against each other in contests of affection, like, which one could climb the mountain fastest and bring her back a daisy (or Polish equivalent thereof) the soonest and so forth. All very trite and nothing to it. Untill...

The town went into a frenzy one morning when the body of Marvin McMorgenstern, future town drunk, was discovered with it's throat cut out by ink well # 17. He was a nice guy, so people said his demise was a shame. Too, everyone worried what would happen in ten years when the current town drunk's term of office expired. It was a sad day. Then the butcher mused aloud in an offhand way "Say, I wonder who would do a thing like that?" The mayor, standing nearby, turned to him, his rival, and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Well, you're pretty good with a knife, aren't you?"

"What? Are you meshugannah?" cried the butcher. "You think I did it?" The mayor shrugged, noncommitally, and walked away.

Now, having set the stage, I may explain at a later date why they ended up sitting next to each other.

I just can't remember: what was that girl's name?

 

[Yonoz]

Why was the butcher sitting next to the mayor when everyone knew they despised each other?

It would void his Kosher certificate. Ecclesiastes 19:5 states "Ink is to the mayor as proper meat is to the butcher; Therefor kill more disbelievers". In the diaspora there were many such cases where an ignorant butcher met with the mayor and the town was forced to feed on rats until the feuds with one of the nearby towns was resolved and a new butcher was sent. That is why the bubonic plague had struck few Jews, further adding to the suspicion against them - which was a major factor in their expulsion from what is today known as http://www.molvania.com.au/" . BTW, the local goyim at the time were bitter due to their difficult times and called the Jews "smilies". To this day there is a proverb in the Molvanian Jewry "The smilies keep moving and the gentiles keep cooking New England boiled dinners".

What the heck is a beef joint?

 

[zoobyshoe]

It would void his Kosher certificate. Ecclesiastes 19:5 states "Ink is to the mayor as proper meat is to the butcher; Therefor kill more disbelievers". In the diaspora there were many such cases where an ignorant butcher met with the mayor and the town was forced to feed on rats until the feuds with one of the nearby towns was resolved and a new butcher was sent. That is why the bubonic plague had struck few Jews, further adding to the suspicion against them - which was a major factor in their expulsion from what is today known as http://www.molvania.com.au/" . BTW, the local goyim at the time were bitter due to their difficult times and called the Jews "smilies". To this day there is a proverb in the Molvanian Jewry "The smilies keep moving and the gentiles keep cooking New England boiled dinners".

What the heck is a beef joint?

I beat you. My quetion takes presidence.

 

[Yonoz]

I beat you. My quetion takes presidence.

The question was:

Why was the butcher sitting next to the mayor when everyone knew they despised each other?

You have not provided an entire answer:

That's actually a very interesting and important story. I'll go into it later if at least ten people PM me begging to hear it.

You keep avoiding the questions. Your posts are filled with half-lies and quasi-sensical propaganda. You are only capable of presenting your skewed, slanted, segregated, superstitious views.

I'll let you have presidence because you can't do worse than the current guy.

 

[zoobyshoe]

Sore loser.

 

[Yonoz]

I just can't remember: what was that girl's name?

It was the infamous Sylvania of Österhepburg of Tchaikovski fame. His sixteenth piece, an opereta for a full ballet ensemble, 6 eunuchs and a clavichord (one of his lesser known works, truly ahead of its time) tells her story - from a magical Eastern-European childhood of blindfolded cricket hunts through difficult times of nights spent making beef sandwiches. The venerable Edith Piaf portrayed her in a WW2 cinema adaptation - a cult film in the military-industrial complex circles.

How is the military-industrial complex related to the enzyme-substrate complex again?

 

[zoobyshoe]

How is the military-industrial complex related to the enzyme-substrate complex again?

They're not really related. That's a rumor the enzyme-substrate complex fostered at the start of its carrear to garner prestige. It backfired when Eisenhower openly stated in front of a news conference he'd never heard of an enzyme-substrate complex and didn't believe in all that Freudian nonsense anyway. Still, the rumor persists.

Once, when I was crawling on all fours toward the phantom memory of a dimly remembered woman, a vague feminine presence in the distance tickling my hippocampal-amygdaloid complex challenging it to recall the only feebly etched imprint of her name, poorly impressed there by some shoddy workman using inferior, squid ink, a strangly crazed, inexplicably hostile character appeared looming before me, and shouted down at me: "You keep avoiding the questions. Your posts are filled with half-lies and quasi-sensical propaganda. You are only capable of presenting your skewed, slanted, segregated, superstitious views," and then stormed away.

You drink a lot of coffee?

 

[Yonoz]

You drink a lot of coffee?

Not nearly enough, as a matter of fact it's time I went to bed. I have to tie myself in otherwise I post April fools' pranks on internet forums in my sleep. It's a great excuse to be late for class though.
What was your greatest late excuse?

 

[zoobyshoe]

What was your greatest late excuse?

I always used to tell the professors that I was violently accosted in a dark thread by some sort of unbalanced mad cow disease sufferer who got all up into my face shouting: "You keep avoiding the questions. Your posts are filled with half-lies and quasi-sensical propaganda. You are only capable of presenting your skewed, slanted, segregated, superstitious views," and who then ate my homework.

Recently I was delighted when I responded to the sound of the clanging of the mail slot, to discover the new issue of Zoobie Cuisine had arrived. I picked it up and was about to tear the seal open when, suddenly, the doorbell rang. This alarmed me because I wasn't properly dressed. Dashing to the bedroom I scrambled to find my half hockey mask bite preventer and my straight jacket, and, donning them quickly, I stepped onto my automated dolley and wheeled myself to the door.

"Come in, please." I said

From behind the door came the sweet, occulted, West Virginia drawl I considered the most delectible sound in the world:

"Dr. Lecter?"

"Is that you, Clarice?"

"Dr. Lecter, I need your help."

"Well, helloooow Clarice! Do come in and well have a nice chat, shall we?"

"I'm not allowed to do that. You know the rules."

"Ah, yes! The rules. Well, tell me Clarice, is there some new trouble maker in your life? Some tedious serial head basher or blood-bathing dilitant out there you want me to help you catch? Why don't you tell me about him, everything you know. I'll listen and give you my thoughts. But you must do something for me, Clarice, in return, you understand?"

"What do you want, Dr. Lecter?"

"I want you to push the door open so I can see you. I want to see you, Clarice. I want to see the expressions on your face, and to look into your eyes when I speak to you. It's only polite. Will you do that for me, Clarice?"

Slowly and tentatively the door swung open revealing Math Is Hard standing there with a nice handbag and cheap shoes wearing a Jody Foster mask.

"It's nice to see you again, Clarice."

"Not to be rude, Dr. Lecter, but this isn't a social call."

"I can see you haven't been sleeping well, Clarice. Bad dreams? Has it come back? It has, hasn't it: the screaming, that terrible screaming of the lambs...? What does he do? Tell me of his heinous crimes, and I will do my best to restore the silence of the lambs...till next time."

"He accosts people in dark threads..."

"And?"

"He shouts at them. Suddenly, inexplicably. He says, "You keep avoiding the questions. Your posts are filled with half-lies and quasi-sensical propaganda. You are only capable of presenting your skewed, slanted, segregated, superstitious views."

"I see. Well, you have a very disturbed boy there, Clarice. He won't stop, you know, can't stop."

"That's not all. He has an accomplice."

"How nice. A chum."

Just then, and to my complete surprise, a stout, indistinct figure jumped from the bouganvilla bushes, loomed menacingly behind Math, and shouted: "If I have a bias, it is only against disdainful, mutinous bullies who promote group-think attitudes over individual insights. Now that you've read the bulk of this letter, it should not come as a surprise that Jeff Reid's musings reflect several layers of moral concern for many religions. However, this fact bears repeating again and again, until the words crack through the hardened exteriors of those who would make malodorous nitwits out to be something they're not. I am referring, of course, to the likes of Jeff Reid."

Anyone watch "Monk"?

 

[tribdog]

Sure, lots of people do. Even unpopular shows get some viewers. I myself have never seen an episode, but there is a good reason for it. . On my last fact finding tour to Northern Dalmatia in Croatia, I visited an old, family farm where they specialize in growing the national staple, dalmatian puppies. It is one of the few farms that has not gone commercial and still does everything the old fashioned way, up to and including using barefooted virgins to step on the puppies instead of putting them through a mechanical juicer. Their 1992 Shorthair Grenache was voted best of breed during the annual meeting of the American Sommelier & Puppy Clubbing Association back in '85. It was at that meeting that former treasurer Al De Fleur, in a drunken stupor, forgot to lock the kennel door allowing a pack of dogs to escape. These dogs were never caught and can been seen roaming the streets of Casa Grande AZ to this day. One of the decendants of this pack of wild dogs bit my best friend, the Rev. Desmond Tutu, causing him to require stitches and therefore miss my nephew's bris. Al De Fleur bears a striking resemblance to Ted Levine who plays the Captain on the television show Monk. I have vowed to never watch an episode until my nephew recovers from the infection he received during his botched bris.

Why do monks shave their heads in such a funny way?

 

[Yonoz]

Why do monks shave their heads in such a funny way?

It is said that it will ensure they are not reincarnated as a turtle. They also receive tax benefits, including $400 whenever they pass "go". In the recent Thai coup 3 monks received municipal fines after they were caught using the confusion to move houses and hotels between adjacent properties. Thai residents are eagerly stocking up on material possessions since the military's declaration it will abolish the Baht and print new currency, rumoured to be named after one of Myanus's moons. The original planning was to name the new currency after an actual planet, but the latest Pluto sex scandal shuffled the deck.
How do you do that fancy card-shuffling trick?

 

[zoobyshoe]

How do you do that fancy card-shuffling trick?

In reading this quetion I was strangely fascinated by your employment of the adjective "fancy". It's not a complex or unusual word, but stands out for being on the verge of going out of fashion. Anyway, before proceeding I consulted the dictionary to refamiliarize myself with its shades of meaning, but in the course of that I noticed, and became fascinated by, the word, fantod which I'd never heard before:

Main Entry: fan·tod
Pronunciation: 'fan-"täd
Function: noun
Etymology: perhaps alteration of English dialect fantique, fanteeg, perhaps blend of fantastic and fatigue
1 plural a : a state of irritability and tension b : FIDGETS
2 : an emotional outburst : FIT

Now, I thought that was interesting because I recently had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of a fantod (definition #2) when I was cornered in a dark thread by a lunatic who screeched: "You keep avoiding the questions. Your posts are filled with half-lies and quasi-sensical propaganda. You are only capable of presenting your skewed, slanted, segregated, superstitious views."

So, to address your quetion, I'm not allowed to tell you how it's done, but I can keep making the card you played show up, over and over, indefinitely, first in your pocket, then in your beer bottle, then in your shoe, and so forth.

Which brings us, logically, to how the mayor and butcher got shuffled next to each other, despite their mutual dislike.

Anyone see now how it was done?

 

[Math Is Hard]

Which brings us, logically, to how the mayor and butcher got shuffled next to each other, despite their mutual dislike.

Anyone see now how it was done?

For many years, scientists believed that bakers were evolutionary descendents of butchers. Bakers assumed themselves genetically superior and the butchers naturally resented it. It wasn't until 1973 that the drunken archeologist, Philogenous Phloi stumbled into a deep pit on a night time digging expedition, and accidentally discovered the remains of an early hominid alongside tools for carving meat, slicing bread, and melting beef tallow. This Phloidian slip revealed that the butcher, baker, and candlestick maker all evolved from a common ancestor.

I bet you didn't know it is a misdemeanor to mark mustaches on mischievious minors in Montana, did you?

 

[zoobyshoe]

I bet you didn't know it is a misdemeanor to mark mustaches on mischievious minors in Montana, did you?

I did know, yes, having found out the hard way. However, in my defense, let me place before the court this photographic evidence that the Montanese minors mentioned were mostly matured by the moustches, making them mannish, much modifying their minority mannerisms:

------------------

That may be the first time a stupid anser was accompanied by an illustrative photograph.

Should we stop now before it becomes a habit?

 

[tribdog]

Should we stop now before it becomes a habit?

http://imageigloo.com/images/9623yes.jpg

Is it too late?

 

[Math Is Hard]

Is it too late?

I would say so. The trend seems to have gone global:

and victims are getting younger:
http://ginoruberto.5u.com/E-Gino's%20Birthday%20Picture%20with%20Mustache.JPG

Should we ban the sale of eyeliner pencils?

 

[Yonoz]

I would say so. The trend seems to have gone global:

and victims are getting younger:
http://ginoruberto.5u.com/E-Gino's%20Birthday%20Picture%20with%20Mustache.JPG

Should we ban the sale of eyeliner pencils?

Absolutely not. http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/624272.stm" !

How many pencils fit on a lorry?

 

[zoobyshoe]

How many pencils fit on a lorry?

It's funny you should ask that quetion because just the other day when I was staring up at a structure known as the "Space Needle" in the city of Seattle, Washington, U.S.A. I was violently accosted by a sort of crazed, mad cow disease sufferer who got all up in my face shouting "Say, you're a zoobie, aren't you? How many brush shelters could you fit on the space needle?"

"Well", I said, "At least one. I see someone has built one up there already."

"What the hell're you talkin' about?" he queried. "Where?"

"Right up there." I pointed indistinctly in the general direction of the tower.

"I don't see it."

"Well, squint and study it meticulously. Remember: essentially, you're looking for a haystack in a needle."
------------------

Recently when looking through a bookstack for a beatle, I found the following bit of book copied in my own hand on a piece of paper:

"Paris, France, 1839. Turmoil, riots, inflamed mobs surging through the streets with torches and clubs chanting "Kill the monster! Kill the Monster!" Slowly they make their way toward the studio of Monsieur Daguerre, inventor of the first viable photographic process, intent on burning his demon laboratory and pulling him to the guillotene for a traditional French execution.

These are the artists of Paris and his photographic technology has put them out of work, rendered them moot, reduced weeks of work to a few seconds. They must squelch it or starve. If photography catches on the painters and etchers of the world will go extinct..."

-The Great 1839 Photography Riots
by Claude de la Mouche
Cheval Jaune, publisher, Paris, 1839
Illustrated with daguerreotypes by Daguerre

I can't for the life of me remember these riots and whether or not the mobs were able to rid the world of the scourge of photography.

How did it turn out?

 

[scott1]

How did it turn out?

Simple your ancentors are form France and they still had realtives in france. When your ancentors realtives sent them news articles about it and they kept it.Why was Monsieur Daguerre called a monster?

 

[zoobyshoe]

Why was Monsieur Daguerre called a monster?

Simple your ancentors are form France and they still had realtives in france. When your ancentors realtives sent them news articles about it and they kept it.

Recently, when I was hard at work on my new painting Portrait of a Zoobie Painting a Scene from the Great Photography Riots of 1839 or Night Of The Fantod, I was dismayed to discover I was out of the necessary color Fantod Purple. Jumping up from my canvas, I rushed out into the street, ran left, took the first subway, emerged from the earth, and joined the throngs of other artists on their way to the studio of Monsieur Daguerre to burn it to the ground and save our livelihood. As we slowly snaked our way through the streets of Paris' left bank, the sound of our chanting proceeded us and echoed through the allys and sewers, where operatic phantoms gnawed the score of Tchaikovski's Sylvania and crazed, mad cow disease suffering loiterers waited for the next stranger to accost.

Up ahead somewhere, Daguerre was erecting his tripod ready to catch our image in one last fanatical act of photographism before he was decapitated. Brushes held pointing forward like swords and our palettes serving as shields we advanced like so many insectile, absinthe disorganized, bubble bursters and flowed on the riverine current of history toward the final showdown between art and photography that settled the matter once and for all, and whose story is known to every schoolchild.

Who was it won again?

 

[turbo]

Who was it won again?

The impressionists won as everyone knows. Daguerre's process was very slow, requiring that people sitting for portraits rest their skulls in braces and assume a frozen expression to get a sharp portrait. The mad oncoming rush of painters was captured as a vague, fatalistic blur against a tack-sharp street scene, but this tour de force was unappreciated by the contemporary French critics. They assumed that the blur and lack of definition was what drew them to the image, without appreciating the dichotomy between subject and foreground. This set back the appreciation of photography as art for over a century (at least in France) and even now Photoshop contains filters to blur and otherwise contaminate nice images to make them look like heavily-daubed paintings made by near-sighted Frenchmen. You are a Philistine!

Who was Daguerre's type?

 

[Pythagorean]

The impressionists won as everyone knows. Daguerre's process was very slow, requiring that people sitting for portraits rest their skulls in braces and assume a frozen expression to get a sharp portrait. The mad oncoming rush of painters was captured as a vague, fatalistic blur against a tack-sharp street scene, but this tour de force was unappreciated by the contemporary French critics. They assumed that the blur and lack of definition was what drew them to the image, without appreciating the dichotomy between subject and foreground. This set back the appreciation of photography as art for over a century (at least in France) and even now Photoshop contains filters to blur and otherwise contaminate nice images to make them look like heavily-daubed paintings made by near-sighted Frenchmen.

Who was Daguerre's type?

http://www.daguerre.org/opendag4.html

is this a stupid question?

 

[turbo]

http://www.daguerre.org/opendag4.html

is this a stupid question?

Ah, you have linked to a tinted ambrotype, in which a glass photograhic image is hand-colored and is mounted over a dark background. I don't think your stupid "quetion" is sufficiently stupid to warrant a reply from this august body. You may submit another or risk approbation. Of course, given your location and isolation, you may welcome a visit by MIH to get beaten to a pulp with a salmon. (frozen if she doesn't get a favorable first impression) I am still on friendly terms with MIH, but only because I have forgiven her for the tough love, and I didn't end up with too many fractures. You should pray that she uses a fresh river-caught Atlantic Salmon and not a frozen Chum or King. She's got a wicked swing

Can Carole King be your chum?