Google illustrates a story (Ramble #2)

So I'm going to do an experiment.  (Apparently it will be both religious and homosexual.)

It will probably end up as a total mess.  (But damn, will it look like a sweet bike.)

 I'm going to write a story, a simple one, and then type each sentence into google.  (Each sentence will be part of a paragraph, because that is how writing works!  Yey, kids!)

 I will put the first image result beneath that sentence.  (Like Charles Bernstien did before me, with poetry, evidently.)

 I will not censor anything.  (Look at me, I am smart.  I am the stuff of motivational posters.)

 Anything can, and will, happen.  (You can say that again.)

I will explain my friend google's choice in parenthesis.  (My friend is shy.  This is how he says hello.)

So without further ado, let us begin with the story.  (Google wants to share the world with you.  Isn't that just the sweetest?  He's so thoughtful.)

Henry woke up in the morning with a mess of frizzy hair.  (So Henry is a girl.  That kind of looks like a guy.  Maybe he's a transvestite?  A cross-dresser?  I guy who like to wear bras?)

 He washed it, combed it, brushed his teeth, and grabbed everything he needed to get to work.  (Really google?  There was a picture of a baby doing the dishes in the second spot.  I mean this makes sense, I guess.  So good job.)

 He walked out the door.  (I'm sorry, Google, I didn't know you had to comply with federal regulation.  Is there anything I can do to ease the pain?)

It caught on his finger.  (Eww, Nasty.)

 He cussed and hurried on his way.  (I can't.  I just can't.  That's perfect, Google.  Absolutely breathtaking.)

 He stopped at a bus stop. (A bus stop.  We're hitting a rhythm here, keep going!)

 He waited for the bus.  (And split into his three alter-egos, the boy, his sister, and their dog.)

 The bus came. (Aawww yeaaa.)

 But it turned out that the bus driver was a demon from hell.  (oooooh we will eat your soul)

  So Henry tried to run away.  (And, um, this guy too?  No wait, is that the bus driver?  It has to be!  Just look at that face!)

 But the demon bus driver smashed his giant bus into Henry's skull.  (That's, uh, that's really dark of you, Google.)

Henry's bones were ground to dust.  (What is its, precious?)

 The demon bus driver laughed.  (And showed Henry the comic he had been working on, about his terrible childhood, and how his father Satan abused him, that if we read we would all love him for.)

He drove away into the sunset (in a sweet ride).

 The end.  (Curtains drop.)

Autopsy:

That was quite the ride.  I'm sure my friend Google here agrees.  He did such a great job, don't you think?  You should praise him by Googling cool stuff.  Here's his contact info.  Go have fun.  

Dream blocks

Last night I had the unique opportunity to experience my own dreams in that semi-lucid state where I don't know it's a dream but can still "watch" impartially.  Because of this, I was able to notice some interesting things: namely, that everything in my dream came from somewhere.

I won't explain it.  I'll show you.

So this first thing I remember was getting a mail-order fiance through gmail.  I saw an image of the gmail mailbox, and of course the concept of the mail-order bride exists.  My mind combined the image of gmail with the feeling I get when I think of mail order brides.

That's easy.  Pretty simple, the concepts are basic and not all that uncommon.  Take this more as an easy to understand example. 

So I had a job, in my dream world, and that was to deliver things.  It was my only job, and I ran about the dystopian city, well, delivering things.  The images were a mashup of two dystopian fictions, The City of Ember and The Giver.  I've read the books and seen the movies of both.

  

Note here that my mind did not generate any images from scratch, it simply took frames remembered from both fictions (ones rendered in my head while reading, and ones I watched in the movies).  I did, however, feel different about the books than I had before, based in some part on the feelings I had about the previous scene.  I'm not going to make any claims other than that this is what I felt.  

Next is where it gets weird.  So, before this point, my dream has been in drab color.  There hasn't been much in the way of visuals, though they are there, and they are from the various sources I mentioned.  Every visual has a source. 

So I bought a wallet online a week ago.  My brain remembers this, and I take it out and offer it to one of my customers, I think my dad.

Here is where I got it from.  

  Again, an imported image.  My feelings about it are new.  I bring it out and offer a strip of it to the person, now my brother.  (A group of people I know have gathered.  Imported mannerisms, I know them well, so my mind renders them in full 3d.)  It's turned into a Listerine box, you know, those thin films.

Now here is where it gets weird.  You know what else comes in consumable strips?  On blotter paper?  In little squares?  You guessed it, LSD.  And my brain explodes in color.  

I realize that something is amiss.  I try to remember what happened before I got my mail order bride.  I can't.  Cue inception bwaahs!  It really works! 

 But the problem is, my mind tricks me!  The matrix man arrives, Samuel L Jackson in my dream!

In a burst of crazy irony, I take the red pill and am sucked into a world of--the matrix?  So, I'm dreaming that I'm stuck in the matrix, and I know about the matrix, but I don't know about the dream.  My mind tricked my, well, the other half of my mind into believing that that feeling of dream-ness was due to the matrix.  I mean, it can't get any more ironic than that.

So I get an ocular implant just because (star wars knights of the old republic, the hidden bek leader, specifically) and go underneath a machine (totall recall, that baby--

right there,) and I can now see into the infrared and ultraviolet spectrum  (Pictures and information about night scopes and bee vision, mixed and matched, like here

)  So I run around town for a while, feeling really amazing, and finally I'm driving down the road and see a rainbow disc--a multilayer section of the sky filled with color as in This minute physics video.  The images in my head were lifted from said video, and then given an applied bloom like an instagram photo.  But let me tell you, it looked absolutely amazing.  

I will go so far as to say that it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life.  Real or otherwise.  It's up there with the feeling I felt when looking at

while I was in Yosemite National Park a few years back, or

when I was in Carlsbad Caverns even further back  It was recreated--no, I'd go so far as say created--inside of my dream by the amazing, ocular-implant enhanced of a trippy LSD rainbow disk (All images lifted from real life and pasted into my dream.)  

The only thing different was how I felt.  It brings up a lot on the nature of dreams, but I'm sure you can find out more by Googling.  

Dreams are fun.  They're like the reference magazine in your head.  Everything has a source.  You feel different about them each time.

I would give this dream a 9/10, minus one because Don't Do Drugs, kids  

Gillette aluminum zirconium deodorant review

Any chef would be blessed to have Gillette Endurance deodorant as part of their flavor palate.  The fruity odor, the tangy aluminum taste, the crystal clear sauce itself, all combine to turn any culinary experience into a heavenly one.

When one first takes off the cap one is assaulted with a fragrant memory, a smell reminiscent of those days spent on the beach buying banana Popsicles.

 Or maybe those times when one want to the aquarium and saw the shark tank.

That brusque aluminum odor, that sweet smell of zirconium, that delectable octaclorohydrex parfum compliment any cuisine with just the right amount of "eliminates odor at the source."

The sauce itself is pure, clear, suspension of hydrous aluminum which looks fantastic on foods ranging from spaghetti

\

To day-old potato chips.

You can dip it, spread it, baste it, boil it, cover it, slather it, roll it on with the E-Z roll grip, paint it on with a mascara brush, dip some on your finger and mix it in without fear of putting that nasty sweaty skin smell inside of your masterpiece.  The perfect stuff, for all occasions.  Move out of the way, ketchup.  I'm looking at you too, katsup.

The vehicle itself is a marvel of human ingenuity.  A dial at the bottom allows for precise flow control, so you won't pool sauce where you don't want it to pool.  The grated opening

 allows for easy, all-around application to any flat food surface.  Try it on your pancakes!  And the rounded top, oh, the rounded top, never miss the inside of those baked potatoes again, never spend too much time scraping your sauce of choice over toast, never--

Hold it!  Hold it!  I just had an idea!

Why don't we put butter in containers like this?  Then--

I have discovered the key to the universe.  

10 octaclorohydrexes out of 10, would discover key again.  

Hey, this is my idea.  Don't steal it.  I'm going to be rich!  

One-way ticket to heaven

So I was walking around campus today and all of the sudden I hear a girl say to another random girl--

"I'm putting together an all girl's D&D campaign."

I almost trip.  The guy I'm walking next to looks at me kind of funny.  My mouth is ajar.  I lost the lid when I heard "all girls," and "D&D campaign" in the same sentence.  I mean, just think about that.  For a moment.

This

is what a D&D campaign should look like.  At most one girl.  Two is pushing strange.  Three is just outright impossible.

But an all girl's campaign?  Holy Jesus!

Grab the wig!  Call up my buddy Sherlock!  Put some mascara on my lips and powder on my wig!  Out the door to buy a dress!

I want to be a part of this! 

But wait.  I need a better plan.  My abs are too stiff for a girl.  My pecs are too square to pass as round.  My neck is too thick--

--you get the point.  So what am I going to do?

Option one:

Get fat!  This guy did it!  I can too, right?  I just have to find somewhere to get one of those fat suits.  Ebay?  The thrift shop?  

All right.  This will work.  I just have to hope that the girls don't notice my square jaw or my biceps bulging through the fabric.  

But, is there a better option?  I mean, that suit looks heavy.  And besides, I really don't want to get pinned as 'that fat girl' in a room that will be full of hot chicks.  Right?  Hot chicks, right?  Cuz, you know, they're girls, and they play dungeons and dragons, so they have to be hot.  

So what else can I do?

Option two: 

Join the club.  If you can't beat'em, you join e'm, said lots of people during wartime.  And who am I kidding, this is war!

So, I did a little bit of research.  With medical treatment--not secondarily surgery--I can get my gender legally changed in California, Vermont, Washington, Oregon, and DC.  Too bad I live in Louisiana.

Option 3:

Unashamed compromise!

If I wear something totes cra cra, they'll have to recognize my initiative and let me in.  I mean, it will be embarrassing to get there, but who am I kidding, the ends justify the means here.  They can't say no to fashion, nu-uh.  I'll get my princess voice all warmed up before hand, and I'll check out my nails every five seconds so they'll never have a chance to protest.

I'm kind of worried, though, because I won't be able to stay in character twice.  I mean, in D&D, the adventure takes precedence, no matter what.  So, if I get a gruff dwarf berserk-er with a chaotic evil alignment, there's no way I'll be able to act him out to the stringent specifications required by the D&D gods.  And, since I'll be in heaven, I don't want to get on their bad side anyways.  

So what else is there?

Option 4: 

Admit defeat.  After thinking about it, this option is starting to get better and better.  I mean, who am I kidding?  Heaven's no place for a lonely adventurer.  I don't even have the alignment for it.  True neutral, all the way here.  There ain't no gods in my sphere that would allow that sort of unabashed skulduggery to go unchecked.  It's too pure.

But, I can't.  I can't give up.  I have to keep pushing, it's what an adventure would do.  I'll level up.  I'l grind monsters.  I'll come up with epic back stories.  I'll be a good player.  I'll even bring my own character sheets.  I'll work my ass off to be the best adventurer there is.  

Option 5:

Just ask.  They're people too, those girls playing D&D.  I mean, they may not want to let a guy in at first, but if I make a strong enough case, I'm sure that they'll be lenient.  

Unless they're rabid feminists or something.  

In which case, I'd rather stay away from them.