Chatroom, Elbows & a Red Footed Booby

So, here’s the thing that just bounced to mind, the sudden, like an olive bouncing from a salad to the floor.

(No one likes olives, aways, see.)

TPL has a chatroom.

Screen Shot 2016-04-28 at 9.39.57 AM

Screen Shot 2016-04-28 at 9.35.43 AM

An official chatroom! This makes me feel sorta proud, not sure why.

Now, the sad thing is this: TPL has had a chatroom for some time. But I’d forgotten about it. We really must schedule a chat sometime. The difficulty is, see, scheduling a chat that everyone can get in. What with time zone differences and all.

It’s so vexing. Help! I’ve got no idea how to run a chatroom.

In other news, the professor nearly broke his arm.

I probably told you this.

I’m making it sound way more exciting than it really is.

Elbow's are so weak.

Elbow’s are so weak.

Also in the professorish news:

If I was a bird…this would be me, yo:

Red Footed Booby

Red Footed Booby

Why Conor McGregor is like Tom Brady

professor speaks

Okay.

So, this professor just thought he should say a few words about it.

Not that it matters much one way or another.

But this fellow:

011316-ufc-Conor-McGregor-pi-mp.vresize.1200.675.high.25

Conor McGregor

Has something very interesting in common with this fellow:

what-s-at-stake-for-tom-brady-and-the-patriots-in-the-afc-championship-game

Tom Brady (with blurry background)

You see, both fellows bucked authority and fought the bad guys. McGregor, the UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) and Dana White; Brady, the NFL (National Football League) and Roger Goodell.

And this is the funny part, see.

While that looks grand and all that, here’s the thing: It’s all a setup.

In truth, that’s true

The NFL created deflategate for publicity; McGregor said he was going to retire for publicity. See, and many sees, it had nothing to do with the fact that footballs were deflated a few PSI, and it had nothing to do with not wanting to do any more press conferences.

Which means, McGregor and Brady did not buck authority.

That’s right.

They followed authority.

Like mooses in the field.

Following authority

Following authority

So, they’re alike because they follow authority not rebel against it.

What a thing.

I did not see that conclusion coming myself.

Moral: If you’re going to buck authority, don’t do it because you’re following authority. That’s just messed up. And the professor is wise to you, too.

Okay, that’s the professor’s conspiracy theory for today.

PVJ out.

Decisions, Decisions

What makes something precious? The amount of people willing to die for it.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledThe professor stopped right there and his jaw dropped a bit, bits, and little bits.

“You’re working for Mr. Magi?!” I asked.

After all, this professor wasn’t on good terms with Mr. Magi. He was of the school of thought that this professor was a thiever, because well, I took the Jeweled Katana to prevent further thieving.

Just goes to show you that they learn nothing in school, really.

Sweet Sue turned and looked at me, as if she was maddened she had to explain. She was always like that, see.

Direct.

And to the point.

I wear a shirt like this every other day.

I wear a shirt like this every other day.

Great spy characteristics is one of her strong suits, see.

“I said freelance, Noodle. No one owns me but myself. Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn you in. I was there when you and Mr. Magi threw down the gauntlet.”

“You were?” The professor may have been shocked. Not that I’ll admit it freely again, though, see.

Sweet Sue just looked at me. You know. That look.

“Well,” Clara Higgins huffed, looking at Sweet Sue. “I think you should turn him in! He’s the one that got me involved in this whole thing!”

“Did he really?” Schwarz Tauptinker said, shaking his from side to side and staring at me. “I don’t believe it…”

But he did.

“We better get a move on,” Sweet Sue said. “If you want to get out of Prince Beef’s palace alive.”

And that’s when the cat–who had attacked the guard–jumped back into the basket.

“Ahh, George,” Sweet Sue said. “Where would I be without you?” George looked at her with his eye lids at half-mast and purred loudly enough to scare a grizzly bear.

George and Sweet Sue are un-seperate-able. This is fact. The professor should get a cat.

This is another fact.

I’m full of facts today, I think.

Check it out! A list of cat fats. This just fits somehow...

Check it out! A list of cat facts. This just fits somehow…

Anyways and some, Sweet Sue and George led us through the caverns of the prison until we all popped out in a small forest near the palace.

forst
This professor could see the palace from the forest. Which was neatio. Keeping an eye on things, see. It’s always good to be able to see, double-see.

“Now,” Bud Parker said, folding his arms. “We’ve got to regroup and go back in.”

“What?!” Clara wasn’t happy–she was almost howling.

“We do,” Schwarz admitted. “We need the katana, oh yeah.”

“Schwarz, no,” Gertrude said. “Let’s just go.”

“No, baby sister,” Schwarz replied. “Must. Do. It. Do it NOW!”

“We’ve been trying for it for some time,” Parker said, casting me an ugly look. “PVJ got in the way, though.”

“Look here,” I said.

And everyone did.

I was surprised it worked. Must remember it works that way, see. #MentalNote

“This sort of thing is quite vexing. Let me be frank–“

“I thought you were PVJ,” Schwarz interrupted.

That was a thing.

“Well, then,” I continued, “just let me say this: Originally, this professor thieved the katana in order to stop Prince Beef from having Fats Henry thieve the Diamond of Drake. I thieved to stop thieving. Which sorta makes thieving okay.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Clara mumbled. “It was stupid.”

“Since then,” I continued undaunted by the mumbling, “things have happened. The marriage has been called off.”

Gertrude started to cry here. “There…there…there was going to be a party tonight to celebrate our marriage! But…but…but…then she came along!”

Clara looked away.

“But,” I said, continuing on my professorishly topic, “Prince Beef still wants the Diamond of Drake. Which means, we’re right back where we started at.”

“Bud,” Parker said, “Schwarz and I are moving in. Tonight. We want the sword.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, yeah,” Schwarz agreed. “The Prince is still going to have the party, I’m sure. You don’t have all that stuff prepared just to waste it, tell you what.”

The professor’s mind went like this:

The katana the prince had was fake; but they didn’t know that; they would make a great distraction if this professor needed to go back in tonight; did the professor need to go back in tonight?

I looked at Sweet Sue. Sue looked back at me. We both nodded. And then it became clear.

PL Symbol

Sweet Sue Busts Us Out

Big ups and thanks to Susan Price for brainstorming with me on this one. In TPL, she’s Sweet Sue. Yo.

If you feel vicious, take it out on the weeds.

V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, there we were.

Sitting in a dark, dank prison. And it was full of lice, ticks, spiders, worms, and the scurvy.

Anyways, it was quite a meeting. Sort of.

We were all sitting in a circle: Schwarz Tauptinker, Bud Parker, Clara Higgins, Gertrude Tauptinker, and of course, this naughty, naughty professor.

None of these dispirited ones were talking either.

“So,” this professor said, breaking the silence. “We’re all going to die, that’s an interest.”

“Shut-up!” Clara snapped.

Schwarz piped up to announce: “I’m not going to die, tell you what, chickit. I’m busting out! Oh yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Yeah sure, bud,” Parker said. “Like that’s going to happen. We’re like heavily guarded.”

Gertrude started to cry.

“Stop it, man!” Schwarz yelled at Parker. “Look what you’re doing to my sister, dude! Just stop, man.”

Silence again.

It was also very dark in the cell.

YUTE_G_09

The door was shut, tho.

Presently, a quiet sound that grew louder filled the room.

“And this,” said a narrating voice, “is where we keep the worst of the criminals.”

It was a group of people. A tour.

See, every so oftens, tours come through Prince Beef’s palace.

What a thing.

I felt like a bear in a zoo.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

The professor.

The group stopped in front of our cell.

“Look at them,” the tour guide said. “The worst of the worst.”

I must admit, Clara did look pretty bad, but I thought I was rather spiffy looking, still.

Of course, this professor scanned the group…and that’s when I spotted someone who I didn’t expect to see.

Sweet Sue. There she was, mingling in the crowd.

But she had many other different names, really. See, Sweet Sue is an epic spy, always going about the land doing secret missions of the upmost importance.

There was no way, of course, that she was just here for a tour. Besides, this professor and Sweet Sue are great friends. I looked at her.

She looked at me and I saw she had a basket with something orange and white moving in it.

Then I knew that she knew: She was going to bust us out.

The group left and this professor stood.

“Well, well, welly,” I said. “Dadblame all the ticks in here, we’re getting out.”

“I knew it would happen if I was patient,” Schwarz answered, standing.

Parker shook his head. “Don’t get your hopes up, bud.”

“Just shut-up, all of you,” Clara said. “We’re not getting out, we’re going to die.”

“You shouldn’t have attacked Prince Beef.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please stop.”

“If you insist,” I said.

“I do.”

“K.”

Footsteps again. And light.

It was Sweet Sue with her moving basket.

“I’ll get you all out of here,” she said. “But just because the professor and I are friends.”

There were some exclamations of surprise amongst the group.

“You’re friends with PVJ?” Parker asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “We’ve done missions together before.”

“Secret, secret missions,” I said. “I’m an inhuman spy.”

“Knew that,” Clara mumbled.

“They were wonderfully great missions,” she said.

Then Sweet Sue had the door open very fastly fast. How she did it, I’ll never know. But she’s like that: Quick as a sleeping chap winking. Which is very fast, since sleeping chaps never wink.

In an instant and some, we were all out and following her down the hallway.

“Do you know the way out of here?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” she said.

And that’s when we ran into a guard. At the same moment, something white and orange jumped out of the wobbly basket and distracted the guard with his claws before the guard could say cat.

“Hey!”

But that’s all he got out.

In another twinkle (sleeping wink), Sue had him on the ground and out of the game.

“Why are you here?” I whispered as we left the palace.

“I’m working freelance for Mr. Magi…”

Oh dear.

PL Symbol

Tiger vs Tiger Salamander

So, I’ve got a very pressing question, the sudden.

Would you rather be a tiger…

tiger-dirk-freder-isp

…or a tiger slamander…

tiger-salamander_739_600x450

An odd question, I’m sure you’ll agree.

Let me start at the beginning, tho.

See, the professor was in a Discovery Store in a mall. Well, sorta like a nature store.

I walked in ’cause there were these things about:

semiprecious-stones

This professor was only looking for a minute before a young man came up. He had bushy eyebrows, lots of hair, and thick glasses.

“Hey,” he said.

He also worked there; I could tell by his shirt, see.

“Many hey’s in return,” I answered. Didn’t want to be bothered, really.

“Can I ask you a question? Good. Would you rather be a tiger or a tiger salamander?”

Now, this was a thing. Not too hard of a decision either. See, tigers are definitely more vicious than tiger salamanders–that’s what I was thinking, at least.

“You know,” I said, “I’d rather be a tiger. A black one, tho.”

And that’s when the fellow got really excited.

“That’s what you say now!” he said, gesticulating wildly about. “But what if I told you tiger salamanders can transmit Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis which is the cause of the disease Chytridiomycosis, which is a danger to most frog species.”

“You just blew my mind.”

“Which means,” he continued undaunted, “tiger salamanders can be the greatest weapon ever, if you’re fighting a population of frogs.”

“I see, but–“

“Which means, even though on the surface a tiger seems way more powerful than a tiger salamander, tigers are not as effective against a population of frogs as a tiger salamander would be.”

“Wow, what a thing–“

“See? Size isn’t everything. Sometimes slimy wins out.”

He laughed at his own joke there.

“But,” I countered, “let’s suppose, just for kicks, giggles, and whatnot, that a particular tiger–a real beast of a fellow–hated frogs to no end. In fact, he made it his sole ambition in life to go around and squish them up. What then? Maybe just as effective as the tiger salamander?” 

The fellow was shaking his head. “Not at all. Chytridiomycosis can spread to way more frogs! Way more than the tiger could ever crush.”

There was silence for a time.

Finally, he said:

“And that is why I’d rather be a tiger salamander than a tiger. Did I change your mind on it, too? Would you rather be a tiger salamander, too?”

I looked him straight in the eye, and said:

“No, I think not. I’d rather be a tiger still. And the first thing I’d do as a tiger is find you (as a tiger salamander) and squish you right and proper.”

I left.


TPL Schedule

Sunday: OFF — Day of Shalt Nots

Monday: OFF — All Day Sleep Does

Tuesday: Professor Speaks

Wednesday: TPL Story

Thursday: TPL Story

Friday: Professor Speaks

Saturday: OFF — Chickens Need Fed

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