Advice for time travellers in the rough, with your hosts present and future Abby McGuile!
Dear Abby & Abby,
I made a small error and sent myself way too far back in time! Everything’s all oozy here and the insects are HUGE. The bug spray I brought doesn’t work on them. As I write this there’s a twelve inch leech sucking on my left leg. Ouch! What do I do, Abby and Abby?
-Bug Bitten, Time Shy
Dear BBTS,
Whatever you do, don’t kill them! That could alter the time stream and change the future. Last time that happened we ended up with Charlie Sheen. Get back in the time machine right now and come home before you mess anything up. Bring the leech with you. Once it falls off it makes a wonderful conversation piece.
-Abby & Abby
Dear Abby & Abby,
I invented the time machine a number of years ago, and ever since then people have been going back in time to steal my plans and invent it earlier than I did. It’s a real pain, and the patent office is so stubborn. What can I do?
-Patently Discouraged
Dear PD,
I’m afraid that we are legally unable to answer this question due to our currently pending patent on the time machine, which we originally invented.
-Abby & Abby
Dear Abby & Abby,
I went back in time and, well, I guess I have to admit it. I fell in love with our common ancestor. She has the most beautiful green eyes and she loves flowers, spareribs, and the copy of House of Leaves I brought with me. I know it’s technically incest, but what can I say? I dig the earthy girls. Is there anything I should be careful of in this relationship?
-Late Into the Eve
Dear LITE,
We’re very glad that you’ve found true love, but honestly the fact that you’re not only sleeping with your mother, but everybody’s mother, is a little creepy. Think long and hard about whether you’re willing to cross this boundary, because once you do there’s no pulling that fig leaf of shame off.
-Abby & Abby
Dear Abby & Abby,
I wanted to see my own death. I know, I know, "time travel tourist," but I was curious, so I went forward seventy years. What do you know, I'm still alive and kicking! So I go ahead another hundred years. I'm still there. I go forward another hundred years, and I'm still alive. What the hell, Abby & Abby? With these new fangled advances in medicine, a regular guy like me can't do a simple little thing like see his own death! Is that too much to ask? This country is going to hell in a handbasket.
-Crotchety and Still Alive, Dammit!
Dear CASAD,
Change is a tough thing to deal with, but the possibility of immortality is the sort of thing you just have to come to terms with eventually. It's tough for all of us, but you have to stop being so egoistic. You want to see yourself die. It's all about you you you! If you can't see yourself die, stop being so selfish and go see other things die. Abraham Lincoln is a popular destination, as is Pompeii, or the extinction of the dinosaurs. Hopefully you will get your fill of death.
-Abby & Abby
Monday, March 10, 2008
Four Days from Now: A Review
I just got out of my time machine. I just bought it like a week ago, and I have to say that I will be disassembling it very soon. What a bore! I was all excited to see the future, so I went four days from now. Whatever! No flying cars, no utopian societies. Just a bunch of fatasses talking about Ohbomba and Hillary whatever or something. I asked someone about the cure for cancer and they were all "Someday we hope there will be a cure. Scientists are making lots of advances and it seems like the technology is within our grasp." Whatever.
Our future is a failure. I couldn't even get a decent interview because people were like "it's Thursday, I'm busy." They weren't even impressed that I was from the past. I was all "I'm from four days ago, baby" at a bar and the girl just looked at my clothes and said "more like four DECADES." I thought it was a compliment at first but then she left the bar.
I was expecting some crazy technology advances, maybe some phasers or whatever. All they had were tasers. Laaaaame. Cool communication devices? I guess the iPhone was pretty cool but it was all plastic or whatever and it was totally not a robot. I was going to get one to bring back to me, but when I went to the bank to see if my account had gotten billions of dollars in interest while I was gone, like in Futurama, the bank lady was all "your balance is zero just like it was four days ago." What a gyp. I said that to her and she was all "that is a racial slur please do not use it." I guess the PC POLICE don't go out of fashion any time soon. Whatever. That's when I decided to come back to the present.
Before making the return trip, I met a guy who had time traveled from four days in the future to be there. I asked him what it was like eight days in the future and he said it sucked. Whatever. I stole his wallet. I couldn't wait until I got back so I wouldn't have to worry about global warming anymore.
Our future is a failure. I couldn't even get a decent interview because people were like "it's Thursday, I'm busy." They weren't even impressed that I was from the past. I was all "I'm from four days ago, baby" at a bar and the girl just looked at my clothes and said "more like four DECADES." I thought it was a compliment at first but then she left the bar.
I was expecting some crazy technology advances, maybe some phasers or whatever. All they had were tasers. Laaaaame. Cool communication devices? I guess the iPhone was pretty cool but it was all plastic or whatever and it was totally not a robot. I was going to get one to bring back to me, but when I went to the bank to see if my account had gotten billions of dollars in interest while I was gone, like in Futurama, the bank lady was all "your balance is zero just like it was four days ago." What a gyp. I said that to her and she was all "that is a racial slur please do not use it." I guess the PC POLICE don't go out of fashion any time soon. Whatever. That's when I decided to come back to the present.
Before making the return trip, I met a guy who had time traveled from four days in the future to be there. I asked him what it was like eight days in the future and he said it sucked. Whatever. I stole his wallet. I couldn't wait until I got back so I wouldn't have to worry about global warming anymore.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Fun Home Art Projects!
Hello again! Break out the crayons, dive into the construction paper, and haul out the paint thinner, because it's time for a fun home art project!
This week is a little early for Easter, but the supermarkets don't seem to mind starting the celebration now, so neither do I! This week we're going to paint eggs! Doesn't that sound like fun?
Start out with an egg. Have your parents boil some water and put it in. Make sure that your parents put the egg in the boiling water. I remember my brother when I was young - he put the egg in himself. The egg got too hot in the water and was about to explode. My brother screamed - it was a yell which rocked our house to its foundation as he plunged his young forearm into the boiling water to grab the egg. Flesh dries in water - dries in its slow burn, char creeping over fingers and down to the hand, turning to dead black ash the skin up to the elbow. The pain made him squeeze the egg until it broke. Egg shell and hot yolk flew everywhere, raining down from the air onto his writhing body as the family came to his side just in time to see the last glimmer of his hope of becoming a concert pianist fade away.
Okay!
After the egg is hard boiled, drain the water, let the egg cool, and take it out of the pot. Don't eat it! If you eat it you will feel the shell splinter between your teeth, the gritty crackling sound as you eat that which is not meant to be eaten. Chalky shell coats and lightly cuts at your tongue. You will taste sand for days. One shard is stuck in the back of your throat. You cough. You hack. You can't get it loose as it stays there blocking your windpipe. You knew you weren't supposed to eat it. You knew. You knew but you did anyway and this is the thought that runs through your head as you cease breathing and fall to your knees, your vision beginning to black around the edges like your vision of the world did as you grew up and found nothing in adult life but disappointment.
Well!
Now you're ready to paint. Get some watercolors and a brush. Think of what you'd like your egg to look like and start painting. Keep painting. You must keep painting. Your brushstrokes move the room around you and for once in your life you find something over which you can have control. The brush is abrasive against the egg, and you hear a faint scratching sound. A picture on the egg is taking shape, but NO! The egg is too small for what you see, what you must put on the egg. So you throw the egg against the wall to hear it shatter. There is a dent in your wall from doing this every Easter since you realized that nobody will ever understand exactly what you're trying to say. They will always get it just a little bit wrong. Just a little bit because we are truly all our own island with our own lonely language which nobody else speaks. Take your brush and go to the dent and paint the face of the person who is most responsible for your torture. Here you will have painted the face of God.
And now you're done! Enjoy your egg.
This week is a little early for Easter, but the supermarkets don't seem to mind starting the celebration now, so neither do I! This week we're going to paint eggs! Doesn't that sound like fun?
Start out with an egg. Have your parents boil some water and put it in. Make sure that your parents put the egg in the boiling water. I remember my brother when I was young - he put the egg in himself. The egg got too hot in the water and was about to explode. My brother screamed - it was a yell which rocked our house to its foundation as he plunged his young forearm into the boiling water to grab the egg. Flesh dries in water - dries in its slow burn, char creeping over fingers and down to the hand, turning to dead black ash the skin up to the elbow. The pain made him squeeze the egg until it broke. Egg shell and hot yolk flew everywhere, raining down from the air onto his writhing body as the family came to his side just in time to see the last glimmer of his hope of becoming a concert pianist fade away.
Okay!
After the egg is hard boiled, drain the water, let the egg cool, and take it out of the pot. Don't eat it! If you eat it you will feel the shell splinter between your teeth, the gritty crackling sound as you eat that which is not meant to be eaten. Chalky shell coats and lightly cuts at your tongue. You will taste sand for days. One shard is stuck in the back of your throat. You cough. You hack. You can't get it loose as it stays there blocking your windpipe. You knew you weren't supposed to eat it. You knew. You knew but you did anyway and this is the thought that runs through your head as you cease breathing and fall to your knees, your vision beginning to black around the edges like your vision of the world did as you grew up and found nothing in adult life but disappointment.
Well!
Now you're ready to paint. Get some watercolors and a brush. Think of what you'd like your egg to look like and start painting. Keep painting. You must keep painting. Your brushstrokes move the room around you and for once in your life you find something over which you can have control. The brush is abrasive against the egg, and you hear a faint scratching sound. A picture on the egg is taking shape, but NO! The egg is too small for what you see, what you must put on the egg. So you throw the egg against the wall to hear it shatter. There is a dent in your wall from doing this every Easter since you realized that nobody will ever understand exactly what you're trying to say. They will always get it just a little bit wrong. Just a little bit because we are truly all our own island with our own lonely language which nobody else speaks. Take your brush and go to the dent and paint the face of the person who is most responsible for your torture. Here you will have painted the face of God.
And now you're done! Enjoy your egg.
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