schplog

Our latest interweb find — it’s the philosophical abecedarium! Each letter of the alphabet is a different philosopher, and there is a limerick for each one. The schploggers are totally jealous for not having thought of it first.

No, the chalice from the palace has the brew that is true!
Never mind that. One of our favorites is “C is for Confucious”

Kung-fu-tzu, a native of Lu,
Always knew just the right rite to do,
For beneath the Zhou banner
And between mind and manner
Is revealed the one way that is true.

You can read the rest at:
http://homepage.mac.com/jholbo/abecedarium/

What do you call a historian of gang warfare, specializing in the graffiti marks and symbols of west coast gangs?

A Crip-tographer.

“I can has keyboard?” –  Li’l Miss Lolmouse

Why would Microsoft be genetically engineering rodents? Why would they even want to be involved in such a nefarious plot?  Why? Why? Why?

This just in from Business Week:

Companies such as Logitech International and Microsoft spend millions trying to make mice and keyboards that are more ergonomically friendly.

Italics ours.

That FREAKED US OUT until the proverbial penny dropped, two seconds too late.

Can’t those weirdos at Business Week say “mouse-controls” or perhaps come up with something less redundant but also less creepy?

Recent laws passed in Italy are coming down hard on potters. Members of the local sculptor communities and potter guilds, already low on income, must now pay a significant portion of their income to the Greek government, based on the number of glazed clay pots they sell each year.

Said Florentine potter Roberto DiBenedetto, “Practically everything I urn is Grecian”.

Word on the street is:

Party-hard eggnog molotov cocktails are all the rage this season.

They’re totally eggs-plosive.

Important fashion update from the Schplog. Sorry, no pictures.

Word on the street (thnx huggy bear) is that the new hipster shoes are clumpety-bumpkin clodhoppers. It’s part of the new slack couture (slack-jawed yokels meet high fashion).

And don’t forget to stick a piece of straw between your teeth: it’s the new black.

Senior (by which we mean old) Schplog officials have been reporting a recent outbreak of especially bad celebrity-related puns popping up in restaurant menus. And by bad we don’t mean good.

Seen in a pasta joint in San Antonio, TX by one intrepid Schplog associate: “Mack the Knife-aroni and Cheese”.

Why would one stretch the limits of schploggery and punnery when a more obvious celebrity macaroni pun presents itself. Namely, the “Mickey Rooney and Cheese”.

Then ask the waitress if they also serve macaroons with that …

Ha!

And don’t forget to ask if they can seat you in the John Wilkes Booth ….

It’s Friday the 13th and all through the house;
not a creature is stirring; not even a black cat chasing a mouse.

Because unless you’re a triskaidekaphobe, you don’t care. Triskaidekaphobia is a superstitious fear that crazy people have of the number 13. A specific fear of Friday the 13th – held by especially loony people – is called paraskavedekatriaphobia or friggatriskaidekaphobia.

The word is made up of a bunch of Greek parts and everyone knows they were mad as hatters.

Tris = “three”, kai = “and”, deka = “ten” (thus thirteen), + phobia, “fear, flight”. There you have it.

Nutty as the ancient Greeks were, though, the word is actually a modern formation, first appearing in 1911 in I.H.Coriat’s Abnormal Psychology. Speaking of wackjobs.
(Read on …)

Actually, President Tyler was married twice; first to the lovely Letitia Christian Tyler with whom he had eight children, and then to Julia Gardiner Tyler, with whom he had seven children.

Talk about being fruitful and multiplying — fifteen children — and sixteen if you count John Dunjee who claimed to be John Tyler’s illegitimate son from one of his female slaves. Scandal! All these children with only two wives (and possibly a slave).

You have to ask yourself: why didn’t Tyler Marry More?

There once was a blogger named Wibbels

Who much preferred smart rants to snivels

Of a secrets he’s skeptical

Yet not apoplectical

Though over the veracity of their conceptual basis he quibbles

don’t make fun of him or he’ll kick limerick your little behind