Saturday, August 11, 2012

Existence, Sales, and the SSSDSSSSTS

I'm sorry I haven't said much over the last few months. I guess I was a little busy with this and that.
Anyway, I've decided that every 11th of a month, I'm going to start writing something. Then on the 12th, I'll put it here.
Today, it's recognition.
Ask yourself, do dragons exist? Do they? Of course not. If there were giant green scaly things that breathe fire was out and about, then don't you think we'd be a bit worried. Don't be silly Mr. Hester, dragons don't exist. Now keep on going like that, and we'll put you into an asylum.
Ah, but don't they? I mean, look at time. You can't feel it, you can't smell, and you certainly can't affect it. We're not sure that it even exists. But still, we have little round things on our wrists that actually measures this non-existent time.
Likewise, dragons exist. Not as actual manifested flesh, but at least as ideas. There is this definite idea of dragons that we all know, and it exists.
But obviously, there's a problem. When Lewis Carroll wrote The Jabberwocky, did he make lots of things suddenly exist at once? Did all the Bandersnatches, and the Borogroves started to jump up from their ethereal non-existence, into this wonderful new world of existence? Everytime I roll a dice 5 times to choose 5 random letters, hkldn, and I call it one of the legendary monsters that live in the ocean, has 3 wings, and shows no remorse, does it suddenly exist.
I say yes. Yes, they all exist. They exist now. Disagree? Then you might as well time doesn't exist, and turn up 2 hours late to a meeting. I mean, it doesn't exist.
Then dragons. Say we have 10 people gathered round. We all have slightly different interpretation of a dragon. Does that mean 10 different dragons exist? Or do 10 different things exist that happens to have the same name?
Let me also put this in another way. The Western view of the dragon is something scaly, fat, with big wings, breathes fire, and acts like a bully. Say that to the Chinese. Their dragon is long, thin, short limbs, flies with little to no wings, and is generally nice.
So if different cultures have different dragons, then different people would also have different dragons right?
So what if we export this idea from dragons into sales. Say someone gives you a some paper telling you about the Super Sucka Sucky Ducky Slooper Sucker Sackless Sackle Tackle Sucker (SSSDSSSSTS). The bit of paper tells you that it will suck up 99% of all aldehyde on the floor with ease for either a one off payment of $399.99 or a monthly payment of $23.99 over 2 years.
Now, you being clever, say to yourself, instead of paying long term, it's very much cheaper if I buy on the spot. I'll take it!
Of course, you being not clever, find that aldehyde aren't very plentiful on the floor, at least in remotely lethal quantities. It also happens to be awful at sucking up anything else on the floor.
And then there is one interesting thing here. "Ease". Does this thing called "ease" exist? Not physically. But we would recognise it right?
The problem with the SSSDSSSSTS was that every time you would run over a patch of aldehyde, it would suck up 99% of it on the floor, but only 99%. So once you had the first 99% off, you had to go over it again to get 99% off the resulting 1%, and then get the rest off whatever was left again.
Even worse, there was absolutely no "ease" involved. It was big, heavy, luggy, awkward, unethical, and most certainly uneasy. It was hard to operate, it stuck to the floor and went on munching it if you didn't move it quickly. (Well, now you have a good excuse for why it looks like gophers have been going around your home.) It was definitely something you would call "ease".
So obviously, you would go ring up the company selling the SSSDSSSSTS and complain about it. They want to contest that you're probably not using it right. They would send over a professional to show you how it's used.
And what a professional it was. Professional assassin it looked like. He was so big, so menacing, so strong, that you would have expected him to be winning gold for the weight lifting world wide, if he was a little less strong. Consequently, due to his immense strength, he obviously operates in the shadier places of town.
And when you see him operate the SSSDSSSSTS, you can't help but feel you're using it wrong. He swept up most of the aldehyde in your home very quickly, and he carried the thing like it was made of feathers.
"Dat was easy." the scary man said.
Of course, when you actually got hold of your SSSDSSSSTS again, it was back to being that clump of concrete again. That's not easy at all.
So you phone the company again, complaining that the machine is not easy to use at all. You could almost here the lady on the phone (I mean, I'm not being misogynistic. It's just that whenever you phone a company to complain about something, it's always a woman, because as a man, you would feel horrible about yelling at ladies.) shrugging and saying "Well, it's really subjective I guess."
Is it? Is ease for me different to ease for you?
Well back to dragons. Sure, my dragon might be better than your dragon, and my dad is probably better than your dad, but really? If you drew what you thought a dragon was, I would probably recognise it, and if I drew mine, (provided I'm a good enough artist) you would recognise it as well.
So although we all have different views of dragons, we can to a certain degree, recognise dragons.
Likewise, we can recognise ease.
If you were shown a photo of a beach resort with happy surfers on the sea, with sunning bodies on the sand, and dads cooking (burning) sausages on the barbie, you can recognise that as ease right? (Well, apart from that act of arson I guess.)
Likewise, if I showed you a photo of a slave market with young children being made to work day and night, old people being subjected to abuse, and young ladies doing who-knows-what, then that's obviously not ease is it? (I apologise for the graphic display I'm showing here, but at least it's easy to visualise?)
So here, we can probably assume that we would not recognise using the SSSDSSSSTS as ease, and so would we not be entitled to sue this evil company for their false advertisement?
But again, it's probably subjective.
If you want to go poking holes in my logic, go ahead. Humour me.

Monday, June 25, 2012

Watch this Space

My friend and I are starting a project, and I'm helping out from a distance. It's going to be big, it's going to be awesome, and it's going to be gargantuan.

And it's going to be a film.

And I'm not sure if we'll even take off.

But anyway, I'm not supposed to say much about this project, except that it's going to have robots, aliens, and beautiful actors in it.

That is all.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

The Sacking

I'm an awful person. But that's all right. I just forgot my update last week. But here's this week's!

Sack of Essentials

It's a bag! Hurrah! Now I just realised that if you American lot, (100% of my follower(s)) don't know what cricket is, then it's all right. I don't play cricket either. Too busy doing Blender. But none of my stuff is interesting unless you do know what it is, so go to Waikaipaydia and go check Cricket.

I love you all, now have fun.

Saturday, May 12, 2012

The Small Bail Out

Yes! It's Sunday! That means I actually have time! So here:

Ready To Play

It's a... Um... A pair of cricket bails that gets stuck on your chest. Hm... I say.
Anyway, as underwhelming as this might be, I hope you'll enjoy the next few ones that continue this cricket motif, because I like them better.

On another note, some of my other stuff got fixed. First, my cricket cap is (I hope) no longer a blob of green, and the Gummy Bear is now paintable. So I haven't been lazing around.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Aussie Pride

Hi! If you're reading this, then you are cool. Everybody else, eh.

Anyway, here's my first proper update:

Aussie Pride

Is it a bird, is  it a plane? No, the reality is much less exciting. It's a hat. Your ordinary garden hat. I'm almost uncertain why I even posted this thing, but I did. So there.

Anyway, have fun!

Friday, May 4, 2012

Something Sour, Something Sweet

Being bored, I decided that enough is enough:

Luke and Emily sat tied to a chair alone in a similiarly fashioned room as the one Luke was held in before, only the television was larger, and there was a door and a window painted black so you couldn't see outside. Luke was pretty happy, because it was not playing Grey's Anatomy, but was switched off.
Meanwhile, Emily was making an attempt to break out of her ropes by doing some very elaborate wiggling.
"Don't bother." Luke told her. "There's no use, you'll just tire out."
The rope neatly fell around her.
Luke frowned. "I hate it when you do that."
"Now I'll get you out." Emily whispered. She pulled a pen knife from her pocket andproceeded to cut Luke's bonds. But when he was finally free, the two heard footsteps coming from outside.
When the four guards came in, the first thing they saw was metal glinting in Luke's hand.
"I have a revolver and I'm not afraid to use it!" Luke yelled somewhat shakily. Although his voice lacked any conviction at alll, the guards all took cover and raised their weapons.
"That's not a revolver, it's a fountain pen." Emily said, at which the guards all relaxed and giggled shyly as if it was all a bad dream.
"I have a model revolver back home, and if I had it here, I wouldn't be afraid to whack people on the head with it. But seeing that all I have here is a fountain pen, I have to improvise. So technically, it's not a lie." Luke continued to point his pen at the men, while they pointed a minigun at him in return.
"Put that down." she told Luke. "You look daft."
"Rather be daft than dead." Luke sniffed indignantly. "Anyway, see here. If I..." Luke squeezed, and the green ink flew into the face of the largest guard.

Three guards and a Grinch led Luke and Emily,  with their hands tied again, in to a room with one large window looking out at what might be a foundry, or maybe even a chocolate factory. Either way, molten metal was involved.
There were two seats prepared, and Emily sat in one with pride. Luke sat in one with a black eye.
"Welcome back comrades!" the speaker blared out from the corner of the room. "It is always nice to be reacqquainted with old friends."
Emily spat at the speaker, which was an amazing feat as it was a good few meters away.
"Today, we would like to threaten you." he continued as if it was something old friends would do to each other. "Ready the tools."
A cauldron full of bubbling metal was brought before them. A mechanical hand descended from above clutching the familiar grey...
"Gyro?" Luke said. "What are you doing here?"   
The voice groaned. "You would think it was obvious. He would be submerged into that puddle of metal, and then cooled, and trapped in an eternal prison. Unless..."
"Unless?" Luke asked suspiciously. "There's always a catch, and it's usually fatal."
"Unless you bring us the time machine." he said.
Luke looked relieved. "Wow! Is that all?"
Luke explained, "Because I literally cannot do that, therefore Gyro is doomed, and I have no moral qualms and free of guilt."
Although they could not see the man frowning, they were certain he was.
"Very well." he said. "Drop it."
The mechanical hand opened, and Gyro dropped in with a dull splash. The caudron bubbled ominously for a moment, and then was wheeled off out of sight. A few seconds later, it came back with its content solid.
The mechanical arm tipped the dome shaped bit of metal out, and rolled on the floor with a sort of oonga oonga oonga oonga wawawawawa.
Emily stared at the clump shocked, and even more shocked at the fact that Luke was now whistling to the tune of Bonnie Dundee with no moral derailment at all.
"And you are not affected at all?" the voice asked curiously.
"Not at all." Luke answered lightly. "Emily, I suggest you close your eyes, and face away from the window. Oh, you guys can do so too." The last remark was made to the four guards standing behind him. Out of stubbornness, they didn't move at all.
"What?" she asked unbelievingly.
"I wouldn't want to see your pretty face get splintered." he said simply. Luke somehow turned his seat around, and so did Emily.
There was an almighty bang, and bits of splintered glass flew all around them. The two suddenly found the three guards and the Grinch knocked out on the floor with a very large and solid but hot bit of aluminium beside each head. Luke looked back, and saw Gyro quite out of his prison, and very much angry.
"What? Impossible..." the voice started, but was cut off when Gyro angrily smashed the speaker in the corner.
Emily looked surprised. "Oh, so this..." Something in her pocket flashed wildly, and she stopped it. "Time to get out..." she continued, and pulled out her trusty make-a-hole-in-the-wall pistol.
"No need." Luke said, as Gyro rammed in to the nearest wall and and collapsed all four through the shock. "Ha. We don't need to make any decisions. We can just go anywhere we want."
"Oh come on." Emily pulled Luke by the cuffs and ran. Gyro simply rolled around very quickly.
"Ah, back again!" Emily laughed as she darted around the labyrinth. Luke laughed awkwardly with her because it felt appropriate. "Which way should we go?" she asked.
"What about no where?" the voice boomed in the corridor.
"What about forward?" another voice boomed.
A garage fell in front of them from the ceiling, nearly crushing Gyro. (What am I saying? Gyro can't be crushed.) The door rised slowly.
After three seconds, the door was still rising and a pair of skinny legs were seen. A multitude of guards has by now caught up to them, and were priming their guns. One guard fired.
"Luke! Emily! Quick!" Trevor said from behind the corrugated iron.
After another three seconds, the door had stopped. It seemed that the guard had wrecked the motor. All the other guards were ready to pull the trigger.
Emily yelled, "Don't bother waiting for the door! Just crawl in!"
She expertly lunged and rolled under the door with a hail of bullets and electron fragments peppering the floor behind her. Luke expertly lunged, and threw himself at the door like no one else could. Unfortunately, that was not appropriate for the occasion, and he crumpled unconscious on the floor. He was quickly dragged into the garage, and it disappeared into a quantum dimension of quasi-space-time.
"Take us to Rome." Emily ordered, Trevor did so, while she started wrapping a bandage around Luke's head. "Tomorrow, we fight."
Trevor and Emily stared ahead solemnly, while Luke stayed unconscious.
"Stop sounding so serious." Trevor told her.

This is Dymo

About Me

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New Zealand
He has many ambitions, some of which include art, while others include food. The common feature of all his ambitions is that they involve him staying at home. This comic is one of them.

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