Posts Tagged 'TPL'

Things go South

Sometimes, the best way to end things, is to initiate them.

~ V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, the professor was in the lodge, surrounded by all these evil people with guns.

And Count Mastoid was there.

“Take off his mask,” Count Mastoid repeated.

He was talking about me, of course. This professor had an epic spy mask on.

But no one was making a move.

So, the professor, being the genial fellow he is (usually), I took it off.

“Who are you?” the count asked.

“I’m Professor VJ Duke, of course,” I said. Straight up. Honest. My goals in life.

That puzzled him right up the middle for a second or two.

“Why do you want to kill me?”

Time to epic obfuscate. I looked about at all the men with guns surrounding me. “Doesn’t seem like I’m the one trying to kill anyone, you know.”

He didn’t buy it. “You know what I mean.”

Now it was time to tell a few little lies.

Here’s the thing, see, a little lie plus another little lie, doesn’t really equal a big, fat lie. Rather, they equal two little lies. Don’t ask me why. It’s just how lies function in mathematics. #thisiskindatruebtw

Anyways and some, this professor said:

“I didn’t want to kill you, of many courses. I was just…” And I trailed off.

How do you explain the fact that you were walking around like this–

ffd918d6982efe5d55ed9aabbfe5187c

–in a vacationing destination.

“He’s lying,” the girl said. The girl who had tackled me. (The pink is not sexist of me. I’m running out of colors.)

“No, he’s not,” I answered her.

“Yes, he IS,” she repeated, a bit more slowly this time.

“Hush!” Count Mastoid said.

“Look here,” I said, taking charge of the situation, “if this professor was trying to kill you, it’d be dadblamery. Analysts say that not everyone is as focused on you as you are. Do you know what I’m trying to tell you? You think everything revolves around you, when, actually, it revolves around the sun.”

unknown

It made sense to me.

“Dad, I don’t believe him!” the girl said. “He was trying to kill you! Why else is he dressed like that?”

Dad? What an interest, the sudden…

And, of course, just when the professor thought I might be able to talk my way out of things, Daddy Salami and Ruber show up, banging through the front door, guns ready.

“Well, well, welly,” Salami said, looking from Count Mastoid to me. “Looks like our boy”–indicated me here, I fear–“found ya.”

Dadblameit.

PL Symbol

Late Because Not My Fault

The professor is a patient person.

Usually.

Sometimes, I’m not, and that’s when I riot. #riotingisfun

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A picture of me after rioting.

But, anyways and some, I pushed the elevator button, because I had to go up, after all.

Just up a floor, mind.

And I had to get there within three minutes. Not a problem.

Sadly, that’s when it all went south, like a buffalo running down a hill who loses control and starts to tumble.

jumpingbuffalo-yellowstonenationalp

You see, that’s when the hallway became packed with so many people, I feared–the sudden–for my oxygen supply.

Then there was a ding, and the elevator opened.

It was going down, not up.

“Dadblameit!” I cussed.

“That’s not going to help anything,” a girl next to me, who was also waiting, said.

“What’s not?”

“Cursing. It’s not how you should live your life.”

“But you’re as wrong as wrong can get, because I’m always right. It definitely helps. After all, Mark Twain and John Wayne said it does, and they can’t possibly be wrong.”

This is the first thing John Wayne said to me when I met him back in the day.

This is the first thing John Wayne said to me when I met him back in the day.

She raised an eyebrow.

The elevator came again.

And success!

It was going up.

But, rats and a heifer, there was no room.

That’s when the professor glanced at his watch.

Just thirty seconds now.

I ran to the stairs.

And wonders of wonders, can you believe when I arrived at the correct floor, the door to access that floor was handle-less?! No handle. No way to get it.

What made it even worse was the fact that I could see the place where I needed to be through the window.

The professor just couldn’t get there.

So…I rioted.

Riot mode.

Riot mode.

The professor busted down the door with inhuman strength, charged into the nearest room, grabbed the nearest employee, and dragged him back to the door.

“What is wrong with your building, hmm, dadblameit?! Elevator service is awfully awful and there’s no handles on your doors! What is this? A giggle-joke?!”

“I’ll fix it right away, sir!” the fellow said nervously as he shook brutally.

“You better,” I said, relaxing. “Now you’ve gone and made me late.”

“I’ll make it up to you!” He was on his knees know, begging. “Please don’t hurt me!”

The professor raised an eyebrow. “A free lunch? That’s what I require.”

“Yes!! You got it!”

Double-dadblameit. That sounded so good, too.

That’s how I did it in my mind, see.

In reality, I stood there, staring through the door for a good ten minutes, before I decided to try to find another way in.

The professor was late, and there was nothing a soul, or ghost, could do about it.

Lodge Fight

If you wonder about the origin of everything, you may come to the conclusion that there was no origin of anything.

~ V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet

UntitledSo, the professor ran back into the lodge like a bat from the depths of heaven, running from an angel who’d had a bad day, and was carrying a torch that was glowing purple, which made it very freaky.

If you think that was a run-on sentence, or that something was wrong in the preceding paragraph, please think again–at some other time, just not now.

Anyways, the decision was before the professor.

Should I help Salami and Ruber knock off Count Mastroid…or, should I do the just thing and stop them?

Of course, the professor, being a righteous and just soul, full of the iniquity of many different nations and tongues, I decided to let things just ‘roll’.

But first, I changed into an epic spy uniform.

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Yups. That’s kinda what I looked like. Complete with the boom-boom as well. #evil

Anyways and a sum that would boggle the mind of an accountant, once dressed, I went downstairs.

That was a mistake, I fear.

“Oh my!” one lady screamed. “We’re all going to die!”

At first, this professor just chuckled. I mean, after all, if I looked that scary, then… #success.

But things got worse. Everyone started screaming. Chaos. That’s what it was. Babies were bleating, too.

Then, this professor noticed movement out of the right side of my right eye on the right side of the lodge.

I thought nothing of it, for this professor was heading towards the door. I had to meet two fellows outside, after all.

But that moving thingy rammed right into this professor, and knocked me clean off my feet, like a potato that’s slipped down a peeler’s sharp blade and into the moist sink. (Yes, ‘moist’ is a disgusting word, I fear. I’ve outlawed it, the sudden.)

I went tumbling and landed on my back. The moving thingy–which was a human–was straddling me.

The boom-boom was knocked from my hands.

The human, who was dressed very similar to me–so I couldn’t see the face–began to try to choke the poor, dull professor out.

Now, the professor has jitsed in his day, and–

bjj-program

–it’s very easy to discern between the sexes, you know. It becomes readily apparent for a few different reasons.

The professor could tell that the human was, in fact, a girl.

#timetowar&riot

I pulled her close, executed a flip (I was on top now, see) and pulled a knife from my boot.

She grunted as she hit the floor.

Not too much like this, tho...

Not too much like this, tho…

And that’s when the professor felt a muzzle press against his head.

No, it wasn’t the pooch kinda of muzzle either.

“Well, well,” a voice rang out.

The professor was hauled to his feet, off the girl, who stood. She was #cranky.

I was surrounded by at least ten men, all armed to the teeth–and even eyes. The lodge had cleared out. All the vacationers were gone. Quite gone.

A fellow with a gray goatee was standing close by.

“I knew the assassination attempt was coming. I just didn’t think the assassin would walk through the lodge and announce himself like an idiot. This was too easy.”

Then, to his men: “Take off his mask!”

The Professor Returns

Many hi’s to you all! (I’m thinking if that should be “hies”, since it looks better. But that reminds me of pies, and we can’t have pies, so let’s forget about this whole thingy.)

How’ve you all been?! I want details. But not too many. Maybe one or one and a half.

You’ll all be excited and dismayed to know that I’m back. The professor has many awful plans, of course. Plans that I’ve not really spoken about too much yet. Or thought about.

Maybe we shouldn’t even call them plans, actually-ish.

I’ll be getting TPL back online in just a bit…a few days, maybe.

In interesting professor news…I actually taught a class on this book! Well, a chapter from this book.

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And I learned two important things, of course. (I’m always learning things, you know, you know… This goes to show you even old people can learn things.) 

One, I learned how to spell feminist. Yes, I happen to be the worst speller ever. No judging. Or I might get a complex.

And, two, I learned that this professor can counter-lecture other professors quite effectively. It was an interesting debate.

That’s all.

I shall be around with more useless news, of course.

Since it’s around Christmastime, Merry Dadblameits to you all.

Schwarz Tauptinker, The Patriots, and Please Stand Clear of the Doors

“Please stand clear of the doors,” is an interesting thing of interest.

Of this, there’s not many doubts.

(Perhaps, someone might be able to raise a doubt here, there, or over there, but I doubt it.)

Now, here’s the thing: What do you suppose is meant by such a phrase?

Not being one to jump to conclusions (I fear conclusions like I fear fat sausages) I took up the matter with Schwarz Tauptinker.

“What does it mean, that phrase?”

“Obviously,” Schwarz answered, “I’ll tell you.”

There was a pause.

“Whenever you’re ready, of course.”

“Okay.”

Another pause.

“So,” I said, starting at the beginning again, “what is meant by the phrase, “Stand clear of the doors,” do you suppose?”

“Obviously they just cleaned the glass, tell you what,” he said.

That was shocking.

“Cleaned the glass? I’m not following.”

“Yeah, cause it’s clear, dude. Stand clear of the doors. The doors are clear. And dirty glass is not clear.”

“I suspected it was some sort of code like that.”

“Not a code,” he said, somewhat miffed. “That was easy to figure out. The secret meaning, or code, is this: Don’t let the doors hit you.”

***

Anyway, that is what is said by Mr. Speaker overtime one gets on or off the T.

midland_metro_tram

So, yes, that’s nice and colorful. And looks fast, too. Mine isn’t like that at all. It’s boring and white and slow. And bumpy. And full of beetles.

So, I just had to write about it.

Also, check this out:

edelman

Go Pats! I might be able to watch that over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.


TPL Schedule

Sunday: OFF — Day of Shalt Nots

Monday: TPL Story

Tuesday: OFF — Because I'm Gone

Wednesday: Professor Speaks

Thursday: OFF — Because Yes

Friday: OFF — All Day Sleep Does

Saturday: OFF — Blue-Footed Boobies Need Fed

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Punchy Argot:

1. Dadblameit.
2. Humdinger
3. Chickit
4. Chicky-woot-woot
5. Malediction
6. Rapscallion
7. Gardoobled
8. Congratulilolations
9. Togoggin
10. Gargonic
11. Two and Five Gurgles
12. Rats and a Heifer
13. Two nods, a wink, and an astroid
14. A bit, bits, and little bits
15. Huff-Hum and a Roar
16. So many thanks, I can't begin to thank you
17. Ri-do-diculous


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