idiotprufs

Read by four out of five drunken monkeys–written by the fifth.

Archive for the month “June, 2012”

Klutzy or Unlucky: the Numbers Don’t Lie.

Which number is higher: the amount of times you have inadvertently set off someone’s smoke alarm, or the amount of times you have been crapped on by a bird?

I know those things seem random, but there is a point.

As a small child I decided that it would be the height of scientific experimentation, to melt Play-Doh in frying pan. My mother disagreed in the strongest terms possible.

My ticket to scientific discovery.
image source: dgisbent.blogspot.com

I found out a few things that day:

  • Play-Doh doesn’t melt as much as it burns.
  • Burning Play-Doh gives off a nasty smelling smoke.
  • Smoke from burning Play-Doh, will set off a smoke alarm.
  • Smoke alarms are loud.
  • A screaming mother, upon finding you melting Play-Doh on the stove, is really loud.
  • What you see as great scientific discovery, your mother sees as destroying her good pan.
  • Stoves are dangerous to a small child.
  • Ruining your mother’s favorite pan, is really dangerous to a small child.
  • The question “what were you thinking?” is rhetorical, and should by no means be answered.
  • The Nobel Prize committee is horribly short-sighted.

What I thought would happen.
image source: zimbio.com

That was the first time I set off someone’s smoke alarm.

The second time, I detailed in my post An Act of God?

The third time, I was starting a fire in a friend’s fireplace. (This time was not my fault, but that’s an entire story unto itself.)

How many times I set off someone’s smoke alarm: three.

When I was about ten years old, I was playing tag with some of my cousins in my grandfather’s hay loft. I felt a slap on my back, but when I turned around, there was nobody behind me. I thought this was weird until someone pointed out to me-in between fits of hysterical laughter-that there was a giant load of bird crap on my back of my jacket.

That was the first time a bird crapped on me.

The second time a bird crapped on me, I was playing baseball and the bird crap actually landed in my baseball glove.

The third a bird crapped on me, I was walking down the street, and it landed on my shoulder.

The fourth a bird crapped on me, it landed on my baseball cap. I don’t remember where I was; what I do remember, is it hanging from the bill of my cap.

How many times a bird had crapped on me: four.

By a ratio of 4:3 I’m more unlucky than I am klutzy. (Don’t laugh, it’s science.)

This formula was created by a group of highly regarded scientists who had nothing better to do. They’re the same scientists that McDonalds employed to keep the hot side hot and the cold side cold; they’re that good.

Their work is this impressive.
image source: sweettaterblog.com

Do the math for yourself; you’ll see that I’m right.

UPDATE: Muppet vs. Moppet Intensifies.

Adding to the string of bizarre and suspicious accidents to have recently plagued Canadian pop star Justin Bieber, it seems he has now fallen down a flight of stairs. According to the Daily News , Bieber was unconscious for up to five minutes after the fall.

A bystander claims to have seen a wild-eyed man fleeing the scene. “He had this crazy tuft of shockingly orange hair, and if I’m not mistaken, was screaming, meep meep meep.”

“He brushed against me,” another witness said. “He seemed to be made of felt and some type of latex foam.” (Jim Henson was a pioneer in the use of latex foam puppets on a large-scale.)

A spokesperson for the Muppets released the following statement: We wish Mr. Bieber a speedy recovery, and want to make it perfectly clear that any rumors of a feud between Mr. Bieber and Beaker, are completely unfounded. At the time of Mr. Bieber’s incident, Beaker was in the lab with Dr. Bunsen Honeydew. Something exploded and Beaker was set on fire; it was just a typical day for him.

But I know the facts, and by facts, I do mean wild speculation.

In case you may have missed it, here is my original post regarding the feud between Bieber and Beaker, and how it started:

Muppet vs. Moppet

You have probably seen the recent photos of a disheveled Justin Bieber standing on the side of the street. The story is that Justin assaulted a photographer who was attempting to take a picture of him and Selena Gomez. But that’s not what happened.

Maybe you’ve also heard that he received a concussion while walking into a glass door while leaving the stage at a concert in Paris, France. Do you expect us to believe that anyone is stupid enough to walk into a glass door?–actually, I walked into a glass door once, it really did kind of hurt–Do you expect us to believe that anyone other than myself, is stupid enough to walk into a glass door? That’s not what happened either.

The truth is uglier. Much uglier.

I have an anonymous source who tells me that there is a raging feud going on between Justin Bieber and Beaker the muppet. A feud that at times has become physical.

anonymous source.

“Well, Bieber did this thing with Elmo and he was just hanging around back stage, kinda acting like a big shot. So here comes Beaker on his lunch break. Evidently one of Dr. Bunsen Honeydew’s experiments had gone horribly awry that day, which they have a tendency to do. This poor guy had been electrocuted, blown-up, set on fire, covered with spiders, punched in the face, cloned, shrunken and deflated, just to name a few. Seriously, the guy was actually deflated once, can you imagine that.  So here comes Beaker and he’s all stressed out and what does he see: Justin Bieber sitting there with his feet propped up, chowing down on Beaker’s lunch like he’s king of the world. So Beaker flips out, he’s waving his arms around and he’s yelling, “meep meep meep.” Bieber just starts laughing at him. Beaker tore into him like a frenzied honey badger. They had to be pulled apart, it was ugly. Now every time they see each other bad things happen. unfortunately Bieber and Beaker tend to run in the same circles, so they’re always bumping into each other. That thing that happen on the street in California, that was no photographer. Go ask Bieber why they found felt under his fingernails. And that thing in France: Bieber just “walked” into that glass door. You know, considering he’s made mostly from felt, Beaker is deceptively strong.”

My anonymous source then had to leave; the chicken waiting for him was getting impatient.

Justin Bieber claims that none of this is true and that he has never had anything but respect for Beaker.

Beaker says, “meep meep meep.”

Perhaps we’ll never know the whole truth.

The Experiment

image source: wpclipart.com

This is short screenplay written by Ian Wallace, based on Frankenstein’s Omelet.

Ian Wallace’s Photography

Ian Wallace’s involvement in the film “There are no Goodbyes.”

Opening Credits: Dream Sequence.

Characters: Main Character. Male. Mid-twenties to mid-thirties. Dressed in old fashioned, but not period clothing.

Editing: The opening sequence will consist of a dream sequence that foreshadows the goings on in the body of the film. It would be made up of several different shots  (as described below) spliced together in an abstracted narrative format. The order in which they are presented do not necessarily dictate their sequence.

  1. The main character running through the woods as if being chased. He stumbles but doesn’t fall, and periodically looks back over his shoulder.
  2. Shot of the man’s feet running through the forest debris.
  3. Mob: Rather than bringing more cast members into the film, we could abstract farm implements and torches progressing through the woods. This would maintain the universal monster feel of this opening.
  4. Lightning Streaking across the sky.
  5. Design a makeshift lab. This doesn’t have to be anything overly elaborate, but should at least have the quintessential bubbling beakers. Easy as food coloring and dry ice. There would need to be a workbench, and dissection tools.
  6. Man presses his back against a wooden door, with the classic mob push going on behind it. He looks panicked and winded.
  7. On the workbench is a tray about the size of a dinner plate, or just a dinner plate with a cloth over it. Upon closer inspection, it appears to rising and falling as if breathing. Or more like a pulse depending on the aesthetic.
  8. Slow dolly up to the kitchen refrigerator. Three shots from medium angle light for night. Use green tape around the edge of the door so the glow can be composited in and motion tracked.
  9. As he watches the covered item on the workbench, a shot of blood soaking through the cloth. Lightning flash.
  10. These scenes will be inter-cut with the man sleeping fitfully, as if having a nightmare.  Not over the top, but enough to get the point across. Camera angle and shot variety will create the tension leading up to the point where the man wakes up and it’s morning.

Scene two: Morning

Setting:

A bedroom with a big enough bed for two. He is alone, but the blankets on both sides are disheveled, implying that someone has been there. It’s morning and the room is relatively bright.

Action:

The man jerks awake from the nightmare he was having. He’s disoriented at first, but recovers and rubs his face.

Cut to the man walking into a brightly lit kitchen. He’s awake, but still a bit tired. A woman is busy at the stove. She’s wearing morning clothes and by her mannerisms, you can tell she’s been awake for awhile. At the middle of the space is a breakfast table setting. Burnt toast, coffee, and a large plate with a cloth over it.

He strolls over to the woman:

Man: “Good Morning” he says, still groggy: kisses her on the cheek.

Woman: “It’s about time you got up, sleepy head,” she says lightly.

Man: “Yeah. I was having the weirdest…” stops abruptly as he catches sight of the refrigerator from the dream. Just a normal fridge now. “…dream.” He finishes.

Woman: “You Okay?”

Man: Shakes his head as if to clear the image. “Yeah. I guess I’m just tired.”

Woman: “Awww… I’m sorry. But I have just what you need to feel better: some good old fashioned home cooking.”

Man: Sits down in front of the plate while rubbing his eyes, so that he hasn’t caught sight of the plate covered by the cloth. “Thanks babe,” he mumbles, “what are we having?”

Woman: “Well, it’s sitting right in front of you, silly. Take a look.”

Man: He opens his eyes, looks down and freezes. It looks just like the plate with the soaking blood from the dream. (cut to shot of cloth soaking through) He looks over his shoulder, obviously slightly rattled, then back at his plate.

Woman: “Well go on before it gets cold,” she says in a motherly way, standing by the table.

Man: Gingerly he pinches the cloth and pulls it away. A plume of steam rises up and he winces as if the smell was unpleasant. Before him sits the omelet in all its glory. A pool of liquid surrounds it on the plate. Strange marks, textures and folds in pale yellow and off white. What may be a mushroom slides down it. The man stares down at it. “It looks delicious (he feigns honesty) what is it?”

Woman: “What do you mean what is it?” (sounding slightly annoyed) “It’s a home style omelet.”

Man: (Hiding his bewilderment) “Well, of course it’s an omelet. It just doesn’t seem to be a conventional omelet, that’s all.”

Woman: “Well that’s the stoves fault isn’t it? It’s not level.” (sounding more frustrated)

Man: “Not level?” he replies. “Well yeah, that’ll do it.” (trying to sound confiden.t) Cut to the man investigating the omelet. He lifts a fold of the body and more cloudy fluid trickles out. Under the fold is an 0ff-blue, bruise like patch. Maybe the look of coagulated blood underneath a membrane.

Woman: (Now looming behind the seated man) “Well? Are you going to try it, or just look at it all day?” (covering up aggravation with forced sweetness.)

Man: Looks up at her, makes a smile and laughs nervously. He turns back towards the plate. He cuts a portion from the side with his fork and holds it up, speared. More strange fluid leaks away from the limp morsel. The man grimaces, closes his eyes and shoves it in. At first it’s fine. A look of momentary relief crosses his face. He chews it like a rubber band. Then it hits him.

Scene three: Gastrological disaster.

This scene is a hallucinatory nightmare as the man struggles with the morsel.

  1. Footage of hydrogen peroxide being poured on red meat.
  2. Beads of sweat on his forehead.
  3. Eggs and omelet makings being smashed and mutilated.
  4. Close-up of man chewing. He looks up, red in the face, toward the woman with a facial expression of “why would you do this to me?” Some of the milky liquid runs out of the corner of his mouth.
  5. The omelet on the plate is starting to pump a foul black liquid that begins to fill the bottom of the plate.
  6. Unused shots of the mob scene. (pitch forks and torches.)
  7. Close-up of the man sweating and looking panicked.
  8. Woman dressed like lady Frankenstein or in some other nightmarish costume (think of the Ms. Shields/mother scene from A Christmas Story, where the two are dressed as a jester and a witch mocking aaRalphie with, “You’ll shoot your eye out.” ) laughing maniacally

Man: He finally manages to swallow it. (close-up on his throat swallowing.)

  1. Egg falling on glass, seen from underneath, and bleeding black and green. (inject egg with food coloring and drop it from high enough that it splatters.)
  2. Fluid mixing and congealing. (jello and vegetable oil.)
  3. Stock footage of church burning or volcano erupting.
  4. Woman dressed as a devil with dramatic lighting. Perhaps several people dancing around the table dressed similarly.

The man finally gets it down. Tries to keep from vomiting. Horrible stomach noises can be heard. He looks sick. Back to reality.

Woman: “Well, what do you think?”

Man: (Still looking a little ill) “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever had anything like it before. Ever.”

Woman: “Great!” she says happily, totally oblivious. She turns to go about her day. “Eat up while I get dressed.”

Man: Looks around desperately for a way to dispose of the contents of the plate.  Looks down. The woman’s dog is staring up with hopeful, hungry eyes. The man pauses, looks over his shoulder, and puts the plate on the floor. The dog gobbles the omelet down, licking up the fluid drippings from the omelet, and walks off into the other room. With trembling hands, the man grips his coffee cup and drinks.

Woman: The bathroom door opens and the woman walks out dressed. She pauses. From the other room the man hears the woman scream.

Man: Looks up with wide open, panicked eyes.  “What’s wrong?”

Woman: “The (dog’s name) has vomited everywhere. It’s on my carpet. My freaking couch. It’s everywhere, I just stepped in it.”

Man: Still frozen until he hears the dog growling from underneath the table. The dog bites his leg. The shot is from above the table as you see the man gasping from the bite.

Muppet vs. Moppet

Muppet vs. Moppet

You have probably seen the recent photos of a disheveled Justin Bieber standing on the side of the street. The story is that Justin assaulted a photographer who was attempting to take a picture of him and Selena Gomez. But that’s not what happened.

Maybe you’ve also heard that he received a concussion while walking into a glass door while leaving the stage at a concert in Paris, France. Do you expect us to believe that anyone is stupid enough to walk into a glass door?–actually, I walked into a glass door once, it really did kind of hurt–Do you expect us to believe that anyone other than myself, is stupid enough to walk into a glass door? That’s not what happened either.

The truth is uglier. Much uglier.

I have an anonymous source who tells me that there is a raging feud going on between Justin Bieber and Beaker the muppet. A feud that at times has become physical.

anonymous source.

“Well, Bieber did this thing with Elmo and he was just hanging around back stage, kinda acting like a big shot. So here comes Beaker on his lunch break. Evidently one of Dr. Bunsen Honeydew’s experiments had gone horribly awry that day, which they have a tendency to do. This poor guy had been electrocuted, blown-up, set on fire, covered with spiders, punched in the face, cloned, shrunken and deflated, just to name a few. Seriously, the guy was actually deflated once, can you imagine that.  So here comes Beaker and he’s all stressed out and what does he see: Justin Bieber sitting there with his feet propped up, chowing down on Beaker’s lunch like he’s king of the world. So Beaker flips out, he’s waving his arms around and he’s yelling, “meep meep meep.” Bieber just starts laughing at him. Beaker tore into him like a frenzied honey badger. They had to be pulled apart, it was ugly. Now every time they see each other bad things happen. unfortunately Bieber and Beaker tend to run in the same circles, so they’re always bumping into each other. That thing that happen on the street in California, that was no photographer. Go ask Bieber why they found felt under his fingernails. And that thing in France: Bieber just “walked” into that glass door. You know, considering he’s made mostly from felt, Beaker is deceptively strong.”

My anonymous source then had to leave; the chicken waiting for him was getting impatient.

Justin Bieber claims that none of this is true and that he has never had anything but respect for Beaker.

Beaker says, “meep meep meep.”

Perhaps we’ll never know the whole truth.

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