Saturday, July 25, 2009

Space Widow

Man: "Im leaving"

Woman: "What do you mean you're leaving?"

Man: "I told you last night, im going into space forever"

Woman:"I thought you said you were going golfing"

Man: "look, I dont like this any more than you do... Im sorry, I said that wrong... Look, I like this a lot more than you do"

Woman:"Is this why you showered me in gifts?"

Man:"Yeah, I didnt want to leave you here on earth alone. Im not an animal. Animals do that"

Woman:"What animal? What animal would do that?"

Man: "Listen, shut up. I'll email you. I promise. If I can get access to a fax machine, I'll send you some of the things I draw sometimes"

Woman:"Where are you going exactly? Why are you going?

Man:"It's a galactic colonisation thing. We're going to Proxima Centauri. Me, and Jeff, and two genetically compatible female astronauts."

Woman:"What does that mean: genetically compatible?"

Man:"It's a 25 year flight, baby. We're going to have to reproduce in order to increase our workforce. No emotions. Purely scientific rocket breeding.
You and me, what we have is love, theres nothing more valuable to me than that in this world."

Woman:"Im not sure that expression applies here"

Man:"This is for the species. You care about the species dont you? I have a Duty. Duty calls. Duty is making me leave. Duty is making me breed with one or both of those astronaught ladies. I dont want to, but Duty, for the species"

Woman:"So you're leaving, just like that?"

Man:"I wish i could apologise, but Duty Baby.... I think I hear the rocket roaring, I got to go."

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Border Insecurity

Phone call to airline service desk. A terrorist, Michael, is threatening to blow up a plane.

Michael: Hello? Is this Airport security?

Sec: Yes sir, how can I help you?

Michael: I'm going to blow up one of your planes.

Sec: Okay sir, firstly, can I inquire as to whether this is an international or domestic threat?

Michael: We are domestic. We are the Sons of the Southern Cross. We have placed a bomb on board the 7.15 to Brisbane

Sec: Very well sir, unfortunately I must inform you that all domestic terrorist threats must be made half an hour prior to the flight's departure.

Michael: What?

Sec: This is standard airline policy sir, in order to ensure convenience for you and all our passengers.

Michael: Well, you've had me on hold for over 10 minutes.

Sec: We encourage all terrorists to allow extra time for queuing in their plans.

Michael: Look, we didn't have to threaten your airline. There are plenty of other airlines out there. This is ridiculous.

Sec: Sir, many other terrorists manage to work within our guidelines. Our low prices...

Michael: Listen mate - I've had just about enough of you lot. I threatened a flight last week and it was delayed for six hours! SIX! In the end we just took the bomb and went home.

Sec: Sir, do not take that tone with me.

Michael: Sorry, sorry. I'm just .. frustrated. I promised the kid's we'd blow up a plane to Movieworld.

Sec: I understand. Look, I'm afraid the best I can offer you now is to blow up the 8 o'clock plane to Townsville. From there you should be able to blow up a bus to Brisbane. Or maybe hire a car bomb?

Michael: Hmmm... Okay. I guess I'll have to go with that.

Sec: Glad we could sort something out. Have a safe flight.

Again, ending is weak. Also beginning is weak. I like the 'blow up a bus to Brisbane' line, and the rest I can take or leave.

There's an Economy in my Bathroom Eating Cake.

There's an Economy in my Bathroom Eating Cake.

An office. The Boss (Mr Corgan) Looks dishevelled. He may occasionally swig from a bottle of whisky. His shirt is torn. He is unshaven. Crazy eyes. Enter a worker.


BOSS: Frank! Frank! Thank god you came...

WORKER: What is it Mr Corgan?

B: Frank... oh god... I need your help Frank.

W: Of course Mr Corgan... what can I do for you?

B: It's the economy Frank...

W: Well, sir, look... We all know times are tough ... if there have to be more layoffs, it'll be hard, obviously, but we'll deal with it.

B: No. Frank. You don't get it ... You're my friend, aren't you, Frank?

W: Well, Mr Corgan, we've worked together a long time. And I have enormous respect for you, obviously.

B: Exactly ... friend ... friend... (Pathetic, clawing at Frank)

W: You're scaring me slightly Mr Corgan

B: Call me Geoff, Frank.

W: Ok, Geoff. You can call me Mike, which is my actual name.

B: Ok Mike. (Pulling self together). Tell me Frank. What do you know about the economy?

W: Oh. Well, the economy is the web that binds all commercial interactions. It is a construction of society built on transactions and trust based estimates of the value of fungible assets.

B: Frank, Frank... you poor fool. What would you say if I told you the economy was a ravenous beast, fueled only by an insatiable hunger?

W: Well, Mr Corgan, I'd say you weren't the first to use such a metaphor, but it's a rather negat...

B: FRANK. What if I then went on to tell you it's not a metaphor...

W: I'm sorry?

B: What if I told you that the economy REALLY IS a ravenous beast...

W: Ummm

B: What's more a beast that is living in my bathroom...

W: Sir, I would say that perhaps it's been a long week, and perhaps you need a lie down and some mood stabilisers of some kind.

B: Frank. Open that door.

W: This door?

B: Yes.

(Frank opens door with only a small trace of trepidation)


W: JESUS! (Slamming door quickly) What the fuck was that?

B: That, Frank, is the economy. That is the she beast at whose tit we all have sucked.

W: The hair! The fat! The pustulous boils!

B: Not an attractive sight, I will admit. But it was not always like this.

W: How did it get in here?

B: I brought it here ... But then it was just a small, heavily regulated fiscal market! I guess I took pity on it. I fed it on dividends, cash deposits... but then cash became scarce ... by this time it was strong, stronger than I could handle, and I had to search elsewhere for food ... I made do with derivatives, unstable futures ... in the last two years it has feasted on a sickening swill of collateralised debt packages ... and still it asks for more...

Needs an ending. I thought that the boss will probably end up feeding the worker to the economy, but that might confuse the whole thing. Help? Also, how does my economic bullshit sound?

Friday, July 17, 2009

This is an engineering joke.

I just think you should have more self control about these things, Al.