The Smart Girl..
Thursday 19 June 2008
Thursday 12 June 2008
Wednesday 11 June 2008
The Eat Less Diet
The Eat Less Diet
by: Steven Parks
My name is Steven Parks and I live in Denton, Texas. I am the creator of “The Eat Less Diet.” I came up with this concept years ago and copywrited it because I really think it has potential as a book, a calendar, an e-book, or just a simple common sense idea. What I am really trying to do is find a publisher, author, agent, grandmother, queen, prince, duchess, ex-duchess, or anyone to collaborate with me to get it published in some form. In other words, I am trying to sell the concept which is virtually 100% complete. Eat Less. That is my conclusion as to the best method of dieting. I am not a doctor. I have no credentials and I herby disclaim myself from all potential liability in saying that. But, hey, don’t we all know that all diets in some form or another deal with eating less, calorie reduction, counting calories, portions, eliminating certain foods, etc? How did Fergie lose weight? Eating less. How did the lady on the View lose weight? Eating less. How does anyone lose weight? By eating more - no..by eating less. It is nothing but common sense. I “googled” the words, Eat Less, and it found over 1,000,000 hits. All of the famous diet doctors have some reference to Eating Less in their diet. Of course, you should consult you physician, include exercise….blah, blah, blah. You have all heard that. But it all comes down to Eating Less. Duh! This project is a humorous, non-scientific, fun poking look at dieting. PLEASE TALK TO YOUR DOCTOR. Duh.! I have the usual disclaimers and blah blah in the first few pages and then every single other page in the book (or whatever) says, Eat Less along with a simple anecdote. Day 1 - Eat Less, Day 2 - Less, Day 3 - Eat Less…etc etc. I really think this project has potential to be a funny, money making venture. Please buy the project from me or publish it! Have you heard of these great books - “Why do Men have Nipples?”, “The Bitch Series”, “Sudoko for Dummies”, the books about “Twinkies”, and others. I see the Eat Less Diet as having at least the same potential. It needs to be refined, packaged and promoted well. It might need a celebrity endorsement to kick it off. Help me find one and lets all Eat Less! (This note for the judge in the lawsuit- Your Honor, I told them over and over again that this was a joke and they still sued me. I object!) For an almost complete synopsis of this project go to http://www.theeatlessdiet.com and BUY IT. Get all the credit and some of the money. I have no ego. Put your name on it. Just Eat Less. Remember the pet rock? This is far (well maybe some) more merit and is good for you too.
Hi! I'm a Happy Axe Murderer!
Hi! I'm a Happy Axe Murderer!
by: Denise Tarka
The shriek was one of complete, conscious fear. Their parents raced to the room. Matthew stood over his quivering, prostrate sister, plastic axe in hand, beaming. Matthew’s father boomed, “WHAT HAPPENED HERE?” His sister choked out the words between sobs, “He, he hit me with his axe.” Matthew’s mother checked her darling daughter for gashes and contusions. “She’s okay,” she assured everyone, “just shaken.” A cuddle, a kiss away of tears, and the six year-old sidled to her bedroom to avoid the inevitably loud reprimand. “MATTHEW,” boomed his father, “WE-DO-NOT-HIT-PEOPLE-WITH-AXES!” “No hit people with axe?” Matthew queried. “No, we do not hit people with axes.” “Okay, hit couch with axe?” He looked hopefully at his father. His father sighed. “Yes, you can hit the couch with the axe.” “Matthew fire-fighter,” he said as he repeatedly walloped the couch. Matthew’s mother feared for the integrity of her sofa’s fabric. “Come here Matthew,” she said. He did, axe in his left hand. She lifted him onto her lap, took his right hand, moved it softly over her hair. “This,” she said, “this is how people liked to be touched.” “Pat people, mama?” “Yes, pat people.” “And cuddle people?” His mother smiled. He was learning. Realistically, juvenile detention could be ten years away but he was capable of learning. They wouldn’t have to worry about defence lawyers’ fees eating into their non-existent retirement fund. She pulled him to her chest, “Yes, cuddle people.” Matthew drew back, smiled, raised the axe in his left hand, “Then hit people with axe, mama?”
by: Denise Tarka
The shriek was one of complete, conscious fear. Their parents raced to the room. Matthew stood over his quivering, prostrate sister, plastic axe in hand, beaming. Matthew’s father boomed, “WHAT HAPPENED HERE?” His sister choked out the words between sobs, “He, he hit me with his axe.” Matthew’s mother checked her darling daughter for gashes and contusions. “She’s okay,” she assured everyone, “just shaken.” A cuddle, a kiss away of tears, and the six year-old sidled to her bedroom to avoid the inevitably loud reprimand. “MATTHEW,” boomed his father, “WE-DO-NOT-HIT-PEOPLE-WITH-AXES!” “No hit people with axe?” Matthew queried. “No, we do not hit people with axes.” “Okay, hit couch with axe?” He looked hopefully at his father. His father sighed. “Yes, you can hit the couch with the axe.” “Matthew fire-fighter,” he said as he repeatedly walloped the couch. Matthew’s mother feared for the integrity of her sofa’s fabric. “Come here Matthew,” she said. He did, axe in his left hand. She lifted him onto her lap, took his right hand, moved it softly over her hair. “This,” she said, “this is how people liked to be touched.” “Pat people, mama?” “Yes, pat people.” “And cuddle people?” His mother smiled. He was learning. Realistically, juvenile detention could be ten years away but he was capable of learning. They wouldn’t have to worry about defence lawyers’ fees eating into their non-existent retirement fund. She pulled him to her chest, “Yes, cuddle people.” Matthew drew back, smiled, raised the axe in his left hand, “Then hit people with axe, mama?”
Global Warming Update: Eskimos Spot First Palm Tree
Global Warming Update: Eskimos Spot First Palm Tree
by: Tom Attea
In an especially inarguable event that global warming is proceeding apace, a group of Eskimos noticed – while hunting for caribou on the sort of unusually balmy day that they’ve been experiencing with ever-growing frequency – a tree they were not familiar with, growing high above the tundra. Priding themselves on knowing the flora and fauna of their land, they puzzled over the strange growth. “Look,” one said, “a tree I never saw before.” “No branches,” another one puzzled. “Even a bear couldn’t climb it,” a third one noted. Then one of them pointed to the groups of large roundish green objects in the high and odd-looking leaves, known in warmer climes as palm fronds. “Look,” he speculated, “big fruit, maybe.” Just then one of the ovoid objects happened to break loose and fall toward them. Unfortunately, for the fellow who had just identified it as fruit, the object hit him on the head and, being rather heavy and hard, it knocked him out. When he awoke, he felt the lump on his head, and concluded, “Not very ripe.” Respecting the environment, as all Eskimos are famously known to do, except when poaching, they decided not to chop the tree down to take it back via dogsled for identification but to settle for returning with the unidentified object that had hit their unsuspecting fellow villager on the noggin. When they got back to their village, they went straight to the village elder, who was revered for many reasons, one of them being that he was the only resident of the village who, one year when the salmon catch had been especially bountiful, had managed to wangle a trip to Florida. When he saw the strange object, his brows fretted and he looked up, saying, “I thought you went caribou hunting?” “We did,” one of the hunters replied. “I did not know that there are caribou in Florida,” he said, questioningly. “Florida?” another hunter asked, now even more mystified. “Yes, because as far as I know, this thing only grows in Florida. As you know, once, in my younger days, I went there for a mid-winter break.” “Then you know what it is?” the fellow who had been hit on the head with it asked. “Yes, he replied. “It’s called a coconut.” “Coconut?” they variously puzzled, passing it around for another look. “Yes,” the elder confirmed. “Where did you find it?” “In a tree we never saw before.” “And where did you see this tree?” the wizened man questioned. “In caribou country,” one of the hunters affirmed. “I swear,” another added. “Then,” he told them, “thanks to global warming, our way of life is about to change. You have found a palm tree in Alaska.” “Palm tree?” they wondered. “Yes,” he said, and whacked the coconut with a large knife. He savored a sip of the nectar within and, passing the coconut around so the hunters might experience the milky delectation, he concluded, "And so, if I live long enough, maybe I will get to enjoy the climate of Florida without having to make another trip there.”
by: Tom Attea
In an especially inarguable event that global warming is proceeding apace, a group of Eskimos noticed – while hunting for caribou on the sort of unusually balmy day that they’ve been experiencing with ever-growing frequency – a tree they were not familiar with, growing high above the tundra. Priding themselves on knowing the flora and fauna of their land, they puzzled over the strange growth. “Look,” one said, “a tree I never saw before.” “No branches,” another one puzzled. “Even a bear couldn’t climb it,” a third one noted. Then one of them pointed to the groups of large roundish green objects in the high and odd-looking leaves, known in warmer climes as palm fronds. “Look,” he speculated, “big fruit, maybe.” Just then one of the ovoid objects happened to break loose and fall toward them. Unfortunately, for the fellow who had just identified it as fruit, the object hit him on the head and, being rather heavy and hard, it knocked him out. When he awoke, he felt the lump on his head, and concluded, “Not very ripe.” Respecting the environment, as all Eskimos are famously known to do, except when poaching, they decided not to chop the tree down to take it back via dogsled for identification but to settle for returning with the unidentified object that had hit their unsuspecting fellow villager on the noggin. When they got back to their village, they went straight to the village elder, who was revered for many reasons, one of them being that he was the only resident of the village who, one year when the salmon catch had been especially bountiful, had managed to wangle a trip to Florida. When he saw the strange object, his brows fretted and he looked up, saying, “I thought you went caribou hunting?” “We did,” one of the hunters replied. “I did not know that there are caribou in Florida,” he said, questioningly. “Florida?” another hunter asked, now even more mystified. “Yes, because as far as I know, this thing only grows in Florida. As you know, once, in my younger days, I went there for a mid-winter break.” “Then you know what it is?” the fellow who had been hit on the head with it asked. “Yes, he replied. “It’s called a coconut.” “Coconut?” they variously puzzled, passing it around for another look. “Yes,” the elder confirmed. “Where did you find it?” “In a tree we never saw before.” “And where did you see this tree?” the wizened man questioned. “In caribou country,” one of the hunters affirmed. “I swear,” another added. “Then,” he told them, “thanks to global warming, our way of life is about to change. You have found a palm tree in Alaska.” “Palm tree?” they wondered. “Yes,” he said, and whacked the coconut with a large knife. He savored a sip of the nectar within and, passing the coconut around so the hunters might experience the milky delectation, he concluded, "And so, if I live long enough, maybe I will get to enjoy the climate of Florida without having to make another trip there.”
Idiotic Human Behavior Traced To Greenhouse Gases
Idiotic Human Behavior Traced To Greenhouse Gases
by: Tom Attea
An innovative study by an environmental scientist attempts to explain the recent uptick in idiotic human behavior. According to the resourceful researcher, the likely culpret is the abundant supply of greenhouse gases. As a result of their ascendance, there is simply not enough oxygen left in the atmosphere for the human brain to function at the usual level. He reasons that the principal greenhouse gas, carbon dioxide, is frequenly derived from carbon monoxide, the toxic effluent of tailpipes and other smokestacks. To become the dioxide version, the monoxide must add an atom of oxygen, which, for lack of other alternatives, it removes from the atomosphere. To make his determination, the scientist measured the percentage of oxygen currently available for general breathing and the amount of the same invigorating substance in a sealed time capsule that was buried during the 1950s, a time, history tells us, of an extraordinary degree of human sanity. By comparing the two samples, the investigator was able to determine that there is significantly less oxygen in today’s atmosphere. Commenting on the finding, George Bush said, ‘I disagree with the finding, and I'll tell you why. Today I can think just as well as I could in 1950.” Dick Cheney remained committed to the present course, saying, “Don't pay any attention to these environmental reactionaries. They're bad for the economy. And, if you think we’re dumber now, wait till we’re too dumb to notice. Then the problem will be solved.” On the other hand, Arlen Spector, R-PA, noted, “I have actually detected a noticeable slowdown in the intellectual activity of Congress. When I first came to Washington, I can remember an occasion or two when I actually heard an intelligent argument.”
by: Tom Attea
An innovative study by an environmental scientist attempts to explain the recent uptick in idiotic human behavior. According to the resourceful researcher, the likely culpret is the abundant supply of greenhouse gases. As a result of their ascendance, there is simply not enough oxygen left in the atmosphere for the human brain to function at the usual level. He reasons that the principal greenhouse gas, carbon dioxide, is frequenly derived from carbon monoxide, the toxic effluent of tailpipes and other smokestacks. To become the dioxide version, the monoxide must add an atom of oxygen, which, for lack of other alternatives, it removes from the atomosphere. To make his determination, the scientist measured the percentage of oxygen currently available for general breathing and the amount of the same invigorating substance in a sealed time capsule that was buried during the 1950s, a time, history tells us, of an extraordinary degree of human sanity. By comparing the two samples, the investigator was able to determine that there is significantly less oxygen in today’s atmosphere. Commenting on the finding, George Bush said, ‘I disagree with the finding, and I'll tell you why. Today I can think just as well as I could in 1950.” Dick Cheney remained committed to the present course, saying, “Don't pay any attention to these environmental reactionaries. They're bad for the economy. And, if you think we’re dumber now, wait till we’re too dumb to notice. Then the problem will be solved.” On the other hand, Arlen Spector, R-PA, noted, “I have actually detected a noticeable slowdown in the intellectual activity of Congress. When I first came to Washington, I can remember an occasion or two when I actually heard an intelligent argument.”
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