My favorite local bagelry went under and got bought out by Blue Sky a few months back. Sad times for the local place, which was really good, but Blue Sky is pretty good too.
This sign they have up, however – at least how I choose to read it – may be a trifle psychotic.
Blue Sky Bagel.
Now………Bagel.
It’s the dramatic pause that the space indicates, only to be followed up by redundancy and questionable grammar. Good stuff.
Yeah.
Bene scribete.
Uh-oh.
Sear the raven found out about Youtube, and endeavors to teach us about stuff.
Forewarning: if you watch it, you might make him feel important.
Happy new year, everyone!
Bene scribete.
I came across this sign posted near the employee break room at a Lowe’s in Meridian, and found it too delightfully absurd not to capture.
I guess they’re trying to make some sort of statement about…workplace precautionary responsibilities…? I don’t even know, but it comes off as a hilarious micro-encapsulation – a reductio ad absurdum – of the whole security vs. freedom polarity.
But you’re right, Lowe’s – it’s hard to be in any less danger than in a state of utter existential stagnation. (>^-‘)>
Bene scribete.
Ever get an uncontextualized picture message from an unknown number strange enough that you have to respond in kind?
Yeah. Apparently I do.
Bene scribete.
Tutorial videos on how to do things correctly are all over the place. It’s old hat, Jack. But what if you need to know how to don’t things in your life?
Well, my friend, I have just the thing! The always funny Me Dangerbolt has just started a new web series of How Don’ts to graciously share with us the less than ideal ways she has found to handle certain life scenarios. (>^-‘)>
Check out the first two episodes on getting ready below:
Bene vīvite.
A bottle of anger,
Bottle of stew.
A bottle for me
And a bottle for you.A bottle of danger,
Bottle of joy.
A bottle to keep,
And then one to destroy.A bottle of stranger,
Bottle of friend.
A bottle to start
And a bottle to end.A bottle of languor,
Bottle of time.
And an elephant.
You can’t put everything in a bottle.
Bene scribete.
The numbers herein
Tell a harrowing story.
Behold them and weep.
Oh, Fred Meyer…
Bene lūdite.
I’ve been looking at a lot of houses these past couple months.
On Thursday, while wandering through a pretty decent tri-level, I saw something unexpected in the dining room – a hole in the ceiling above the table. And I don’t mean some nasty, haphazard, accidental hole. This hole was large, perfectly rectangular, and even framed, complete with a couple bars of trim segmenting it like a window to the second story.
Why would there be a hole in the dining room ceiling? Why would there be a hole in the floor upstairs? What could be directly above this room that would possibly make that a desired feature? I stepped closer to get a better look at what was in the room above.
Now, I’m going to be honest with you. When I peered up through that hole, for one brief moment, sure as sure things, the following thought legitimately took residence my mind (a very tiny fraction of a second, mind you, but long enough to actively acknowledge myself actually, for realsies, having it):
Oh, what the f***, why is there an upside-down table hanging from the ceiling upstairs!?
But, you know, I was looking at a mirror.
Bene scribete.
I received this curious envelope in the mail the other day:
I wasn’t expecting a letter. And who’s it from? Hmm. Let’s see what’s inside.
O.K., a pretty standard ad flyer for cable Internet. But why was it addressed by hand? They send out thousands of these things. And why in an unheaded envelope?
Oh, wait, what’s that written at the top?
We just added the Internet at our place. We never knew the Internet could be so interesting – and so fast! Thought you would be interested.
—M
Well, then. Who, indeed, could have possibly known that the Internet was interesting? Who would suspect that there would be anything of note within the largest collection of information and widest array of communication that has ever existed on this planet? And it’s fast, you say? Then I sure am glad you just now added it at your place, M, and that you realized that I would be interested that the Internet is interesting.
This is one of the more harebrained (not to mention a little creepy) marketing campaigns I’ve seen from a large corporation, lately. Note how they think they’re being extra clever by omitting a return address and just using an initial (because it must certainly be from that person I know whose name starts with ‘M’) – real people always send things to their friends and family as close to anonymously as possible, right?
I think it’s the bizarre sloppiness that strikes me the most, though. They go through the effort of hand-addressing these and passing them off as coming from an individual, but that’s the message they choose? The Internet is interesting? I mean, it would be no simple task to convincingly convey why clandestinely forwarding an ad flyer through the post would be anyone’s means of broaching the subject of Internet acquisition with a friend, but I would expect something a little more creative than this bland, generic nonsense – that’s what the rest of the page is for!
Also, I kind of don’t live in Illinois.
But, on the other hand, this amused me enough to share it, so I guess their advertising dollars aren’t completely going to waste. (>^-‘)>
Bene scribete.
In lieu of having time to finish the article I meant to post this week, I shall instead very belatedly insist upon the reading of the ever-hilarious Me Dangerbolt‘s harrowing adventures with a psychotic neighborhood dog who thinks its life is a video game:
And don’t forget to check out the DLC! (>^-‘)>
Bene scribete.
Writin' Fish 