In August of 1976, Tom Miller of the United States, spent 4 days, 23 hours, 47 minutes, and 3 seconds, pushing a peanut to the summit of Pike’s Peak, with his nose.I’m sure you’ve heard of the Infinite Monkey Theorem. It states the following:
If you’re having a child’s birthday party, don’t hire a clown, or a pony, or a big sweaty guy in a SpongeBob SquarePants costume. Get a monkey in a cowboy hat on a unicycle; your children will have infinitely more fun.
I’m joking, that’s not really the Infinite Monkey Theorem. (But seriously, go with the monkey in the cowboy hat.)
Wikipedia describes the Infinite Monkey Theorem this way:
The infinite monkey theorem states that a monkey hitting keys at random on a typewriter keyboard for an infinite amount of time will almost surely type any given text, such as the complete works of William Shakespeare. In fact, the monkey would almost surely type every possible finite text an infinite number of times. However, the probability that monkeys filling the observable universe would type a complete work such as Shakespeare’s Hamlet is so tiny that the chance of it occurring during a period of time hundreds of thousands of orders of magnitude longer than the age of the universe is extremely low (but technically not zero).
So, I acquired a couple of monkeys, (don’t ask how, it involved unsavory behavior and a yak) I gave them a couple of typewriters and let them go nuts. I wanted to see if there was anything to this Infinite Monkey Theorem. Plus, monkeys are fun.
We got off to a rocky start: there was some feces hurling and some disturbingly lengthy (and quite frankly, hurtful) obscene gesturing, but eventually they got to work.
While they didn’t reproduce any of the works of Shakespeare, they did type the phrase: Hamlet smells of cheese and Denmark multiple times.
Then something bizarre happened: the monkeys began to reproduce most of the contents of this blog and in shockingly less time than it took me to produce it. They even corrected some of my grammar errors.
And these weren’t the smart type of monkeys that do sign language; these were the type of monkeys eat their own poop and smoke cigarettes and one of them was really drunk at the time.
They rewrote several Curious George books, except every book ended with George violently attacking The Man with the Yellow Hat.
Then they started writing limericks about me that were really filthy.
After that they peed on the typewriters and mocked me with their superior verb tense usage.
It was all very disheartening.
I think I’m going to read Hamlet and pretend it was written by a drunken monkey.
Better yet, I’m going to read Curious George books and pretend they were written by a drunken Shakespeare.
Addendum: the monkeys rewrote this post too and it was better than this crappy version.
Trouble is brewing in the Kingdom as allegations of unwanted advances have been leveled against the princess by a local frog.
“I was sitting here in the swamp next to husband when out of nowhere this giant blond tart grabs him and practically sticks her tongue down his throat,” the lady frog complained. “It was repulsive. And to make matters worse, after she gets done groping my husband, he turns into a prince. He used to be green, slimy, and lovely. Now he’s just huge, pink, and disgusting.”
“When the Wicked Witch turned me into a frog, it was the best thing that could have happened to me,” the Prince said, “People think being a prince is all wine and roses. Well, there are a lot of wine and roses, but there’s also a lot of headaches: the threat of assassination, diplomacy with other kingdoms is a nightmare, moat maintenance is a constant struggle, and there’s always the worry that at some point the peasants will realize how oppressed they are and revolt–when you’re a frog you don’t have to worry about angry mobs with pitchforks.” The Prince then leaned in and said in a hushed voice, “And that Princess is no picnic either.”
“Do you know how many frogs I had to kiss before I found the right one?” The Princess said in disgust. “Do you see this ugly sore on my upper lip, I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of frog herpes.”
“Look at this worthless ineffectual tongue,” the Prince continued, “how am I supposed to catch flies with this thing? What I wouldn’t give for one blood filled mosquito right now.”
“Excuse me while I go vomit,” the Princess said as she left in disgust.
When contacted to see if she could turn the Prince back into a frog, the Wicked Witch replied, “I’m not freaking Oprah–I don’t just give things away. I do things to make people miserable and unhappy; it’s in the job title.”
“I tried to go back to the swamp, but it’s not the same,” the Prince lamented. “I’d known my wife since she was a tadpole, but now she wants nothing to do with me. I guess I’m stuck with the Princess. Did you see that gross sore on her upper lip? Yuck!”
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“Confectionery manufacturers have to realise this is 2019”, said Olly Chuzzlewitt, Student Union President of Much Craplock University (formally Much Craplock College of brick-laying and beauty studies). “They can no longer use terms like ‘midget’ as if we were back in Victorian times or being subjected to ‘The Greatest Showman’.” “This has to stop. Looking…
via Student Union bans the sweets ‘Midget Gems’ until they are renamed — The Daily Squabble
A woman has recently cancelled a baby shower because her family and friends are less than fully supportive of her choice of names for the child.
I personally find it reprehensible for a person’s loved ones not to be fully supportive, regardless of how ridiculous this woman’s choice of names may be.
Sure, her choice–Squire Sebastian Senator–is a bit odd, but just think of the character her son will develop by being repeatedly beaten as a child.
What kind of heartless animals are this woman’s family and friends.
She posted the following statement to Facebook:
“Dear Members of the Squire Sebastian Senator baby shower. I have a really important announcement to make. It brings me pain to have to tell you this, but I am cancelling the event.”
Exactly what I would do. Screw all those people who want to give you a bunch of free stuff; a baby doesn’t need things like diapers or clothes or formula, when he has such a regal sounding name.
Her post went on to read:
“Y’all have been talking s— about my unborn baby. AN UNBORN CHILD. How can you judge an unborn child??”
Some of you might argue that people aren’t talking shit about the child as much as they’re talking shit the THE UNBORN BABY’S batshit crazy mother. Well, you people disgust me.
Her post continued:
“He will not be allowed to have a nickname, he is to be called by his full and complete first name…”
You may thinking the child will receive nicknames regardless of the mother wishes. Nicknames such as:
The woman defended her choice, claiming her family is descended from a long line of “both squires and senators.”
She went on to write:
“If you look back in our family tree, the survival of this clan is literally rooted in squiredom. We are all related to senators too. This name conveys power. It conveys wealth. It conveys success.”
I wholehearted agree with this assessment; I am overwhelmed by its undeniable brilliance.
You may be thinking that while the survival of this woman’s clan is literally rooted in squiredom, the child’s survival will be literally rooted in his ability to runaway very quickly from other children throwing rocks. Shame on you.
I wish I had a name like Squire Sebastian Senator. My name is Larry; its sheer boringness has crippled me.
I applaud this woman and I hope she has a dozen more kids, all named as regally as Squire Sebastian Senator.
Godspeed good woman.
Addendum: I’m considering having my name legally changed to Lord Larry Legislator. Then I can just sit back and wait for the power, wealth, and success to start rolling in.
It’s happened to everyone hasn’t it? Throughout the course of your life at some point or another, you are going to set somebody’s carpet on fire.
Accidents happen. Things explode. Things catch on fire–it’s inevitable really.
It shouldn’t be a big deal.
But evidently it is a big deal to some people.
It’s a big deal to people who have no sense of humor.
It’s a big deal to people who have a tendency to be ill-tempered.
It’s a big deal to people who have a tendency to say angry hurtful things.
It’s a big deal to people who have no sense of humor, a tendency to be ill-tempered, and to say angry hurtful things.
It’s a big deal to people who have high-pitched, squeaky, cartoon-rodent voices.
It’s a big deal.
There were valuable lessons learned the day of the exploding vacuüm cleaner and the great carpet fire:
Squeaky-voiced Owner: Why is my smoke alarm going off?
Fire-starter: Probably because of all the smoke in the room.
Squeaky-voiced Owner: Why is the room full of smoke?
Fire-starter: It probably came from the carpet fire.
Squeaky-voiced Owner: Why is the carpet on fire?
Fire-starter: It must have spread from the vacuüm cleaner.
Squeaky-voiced Owner: Why is the vacuüm cleaner on fire?
Fire-starter: It caught on fire after it exploded.
Squeaky-voiced Owner: Why did it exploded?
Fire-starter: Act of God?
Squeaky-voiced Owner: It sounds more the act of an idiot.
Fire-Starter: I turned it on and it just burst into flames.
Squeaky-voiced Owner: It just burst into flames?
Fire-starter: Crazy isn’t it? There should be a clearly defined label that reads: Warning, use may cause detonation.
Squeaky-voiced owner: You must think I’m the biggest moron on the face of the planet.
Fire-starter: Not the whole planet.
Squeaky-voiced owner: (Silent staring, and in a really creepy frightening way.)
Fire-starter: You know, if you cleaned more often, I wouldn’t have to…
Squeaky-voiced owner: (Censored for filth and because it was really hurtful.)
Fire-starter: That’s not a real word, and a human isn’t physically capable of doing it.
Squeaky-voiced owner: Let’s find out.
There was one more important lesson learned: the phrase “some day we’ll look back at this and laugh” does not always apply.
So I was perusing the map on my stats page that indicates where page views originate when I made a disturbing discovery: there are 183 countries and territories represented, but there was not one page view from Greenland.
What the hell, Greenland?
I understand that Greenland has a population of only 56,000 people, but all I’m asking for is one page view.
Do you know what this is, Greenland?
It’s a list of places from which this blog has received one page view–I’m not greedy.
This blog has received multiple page views from Côte d’Ivoire and St. Kitts and Nevis.
That second place is clearly made-up.
And don’t try telling me to leave you alone because Greenland is cold and desolate and miserable. I don’t want to hear any of that whimpering–I live near Erie, Pennsylvania!
Let’s get to it, Greenland–I will be awaiting your response.
Addendum
My apologies to St. Kitts and Nevis–you are a real place.