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Wednesday, February 1, 2012

VOLUME XX - The Most Interesting Volume of The Archives in the World and Other Tales

VOLUME XX - The Most Interesting Volume of The Archives in the World and Other Tales

c. July 15, 2011 Anno Domini

Sometimes I wish I could draw proficiently.  Mostly because it would amuse me to have a picture of Optimus Prime sitting behind a dungeon master screen and telling Bumblebee, Rachet and Grimlock, "Autobots, roll for initiative! 
c. July 30, 2011, Anno Domini

I was recently stuck at a stop light next to a damsel driving a Scion tC.  I thought about rolling down my window and asking her, "Nice Scion, but wouldn't you rather bear my scion?" Merely for comical effect, of course.  I didn't actually say it because rather than find it amusing, she would have most likely gone into an apoplectic road rage and run my tiny Hyundai off of Polk Street 

c. August 21, 2011 Anno Domini

Last week, I wore my trademark red hat and my David Tyree jersey to the preseason game between the New York Football Giants and the Carolina Panthers.  For some reason, I parked in a garage on East Trade Street eight blocks away from the stadium.  After the game, a random drunk guy followed me half the way back to the car telling me my hat looked like a hat a rabbi would wear and yelling, "RABBI TYREEEEEEEEE!"  He asked me to be his rabbi, and I told him I couldn't because I wasn't a rabbi.  He asked if I had ever certified any food as kosher so they could put a K on the label, and I told him I wasn't qualified to do that because I wasn't a rabbi and was not, in fact, Jewish at all.  He said he wasn't Jewish either, because his mother wasn't.  I didn't ask if his father was, seeing as how it was none of my business.  Due to his frequently yelling, "RABBI TYREEEEEEEEE!," several people were looking at him as if he were a bit odd and giving him a wide berth.  I was very happy to see him stop following me to turn into a parking garage after four blocks.  I was also happy I had parked four blocks away from him, because I wasn't looking forward to him following me all the way back to Pineville and yelling , "RABBI TYREEEEEEEEE!," the whole time.  I never did tell him that in addition to not being a rabbi I wasn't David Tyree either.  I wonder if he figured that out on his own. 

c. August 26, 2011 Anno Domini
The process I typically use to make a student loan payment is as follows:
1. Spent eight minutes attempting and failing to log into because I forgot my username and/or password
2. Click the password reset button
3. Immediately remember the answers to both randomly selected security questions without even a modicum of difficulty
4. Wait two minutes for an e-mail from Sallie Mae indicating my password has been reset
5. Abandon all hope of ever receiving the aforementioned e-mail
6. Wait a few days
7. Check my e-mail, see a message from Sallie Mae indicating my password has been reset and remember I never did get around to making this month's payment
8. Smack head
9. Make payment
By a miraculous stroke of luck, I managed to remember that my password was REDACTED and log in successfully on the first attempt for the first time in 14 months today.  Of course, now that I have a hot streak going, I never have to log in again.  I might do it next month anyway just to prove to myself that I can.
c. September 1, 2011 Anno Domini
One would think that with Borders going out of business and trying to get rid of their wares the staff would be tempted to slack off as far as shelving books in the proper sections is concerned, but no.  I found a book entitled "New Tax Law Simplified" right where it belongs today.  In the fantasy section. 

c. September 1, 2011 Anno Domini

Snakes Breaking the Plane!  That's right.  Samuel L. Jackson is so awesome I named my fantasy football team after one of his movies despite the fact that he has one fewer touchdown pass as an NFL quarterback than John Beck.  In defense of Mr. Jackson's quarterbacking skills, it may be a few months before Mr. Beck pulls two ahead of him. 

c. September 8, 2011 Anno Domini

Many years ago, when disputes between men were settled by crossing blades,  certain knaves, blackguards and rabble made a point of visiting their foes' weaponsmiths to demand intelligence such as types of blades their enemies used, the blades' lengths and weights and the alloys used in the production of the blades.  Forearmed with such knowledge, those blighters were able to initiate duels with their more honorable nemeses having seized a significant tactical advantage.  To address this issue, a wise and just ruler issued a decree prohibiting weaponsmiths from disclosing information pertaining to their customers and the swords they purchased.  This decree was known as the Anelace, Gauche and Rapier Information Portability and Accountabilty Act, or colloquially, AGRIPAA.

c. September 18, 2011 Anno Domini

I won a gnome in my disc golf league last week.  Generally, the winner of the gnome keeps it for a week, brings it back to the league and makes a speech about the gnome's adventures before bestowing it unto the next winner.  Things were a bit disorganized this week and the league members dispersed before a proper gnome-bestowing ceremony could occur, so I ended up not making the following speech:

It has been an honor to have the gnome as a guest for the past week, but I feel like our time together has been entirely too short.  There were so many things I wanted to do with him but wasn’t able to get to.  We never traveled together to the beautiful city of Nome, Alaska.  We never played musical instruments together and kept time with a metronome.  There was no time to take a math class and learn about the binomial theorem or to study scientific nomenclature.  Much to my dismay, we never read to each other from the Necronomicon or the works of Noam Chomsky.  Perhaps worst of all, we never watched old baseball highlights from the careers of Hideo Nomo and Nomar Garciaparra.  My advice to whoever wins the gnome this week is to cherish your time with him.  The gnome will be gone before you know it.  It isn’t his fault.  He was just born to be a nomad.

c. September 18, 2011 Anno Domini

Mario: Not you again, Toa--- What?  You're not Toad!  It's a pleasure to meet you m'lady, err, your highness, err, princess?
Princess:  Princess is fine.  Teehee.  Thank you so much for rescuing me from that repugnant, reptilian ruler!
Mario: You mean that distasteful, diabolical despot?
Princess: That malevolent, monstrous monarch!
Mario: That terrible terrapin tyrant?
Princess:  That pestilent Pleurodira potentate!
Mario:  Hmm... we are both talking about Bowser, right?
Princess: Bowser?  Who is that?  I was referring to King Koopa
Mario: King Koopa?
Princess: King Koopa.  Big, ugly turtle.  Breathes fire.  You just drowned him in that pool of lava.
Mario: That was Bowser.
Princess: I think I would know who kidnapped me.
Mario: Are you sure Bowser didn't drop you on your head while he was kidnapping you?  You seem to have gone a little daft, Princess Peach.
Princess: Peach? Peach?  My name is Princess Toadstool!
Mario: So let me get this straight.  You're Princess Toadstool.  King Koopa kidnapped you, Bowser kidnapped Princess Peach?  I hope I don't have to rescue her manservant from seven different castles before I find her too.
Princess: It doesn't matter, Mario.  You rescued me.  You're my hero.  You're so dashing!
Mario: Me?  Dashing?  I'm not even moving, let alone walking while holding the B button!
Princess: *groans* *smacks forehead*
Princess: I think I liked it better before you rescued me.
Princess: *dives into lava* *searches for King Koopa* *or Bowser* *or that frog boss from SMB2* *anyone except Mario, really*

c. September 28, 2011 Anno Domini

An n-entendre, where n is a non-negative integer:

Q: Why did Lando cross the empire?
A: To get to the other side

c. October 4, 2011 Anno Domini

An explanation of September 28's n-entendre:

‎"Crossing the empire" could refer to moving from one side of the territory belonging to the Galactic Empire to the other, or it could mean angering of Emperor Palpatine, Darth Vader, et. al., to confuse the same parties or to betray (as in double-cross) them. "The other side" could mean the region on the opposite side of the empire's territory from Bespin, the opposite side of the rebellion (i.e. the Rebel Alliance) or the opposite side of the Force. If you're feeling particularly cheeky, "the other side" could even mean Lando's chef prepared two sides of bantha (because they don't have beef in the Star Wars universe) for the dinner at which Han Solo was frozen in carbonite and Lando ate one, but Darth Vader had the other frozen in carbonite and sent to Jabba along with Han. The first side of bantha was so delicious that Lando felt compelled to cross the empire to get to the other one, thaw it out and feast upon it.
If "Cross the empire" has four possible meanings and "the other side" has four, then there are sixteen (16) possible interpretations of the question and answer above. I dare say all sixteen (16) are semantically meaningful (although perhaps George Lucas would only consider twelve (12) to be canonical). That makes it a hexadeci-entendre, Q.E.D. I am the king of entendres.
c. October 13, 2011 Anno Domini
At the social security office, I saw a woman in her late forties or early fifties wearing a Mr. Peabody shirt.  I couldn't resist complimenting her taste by telling her, "Mr. Peabody?  Awesome!"  She replied, "You know who he is?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!," as if I were some ignorant child.  She was rather polite aside from failing to respect my venerable age and gave me a coupon worth up to 20 percent off a single item at a nearby clothing shop owned by her brother-in-law.  I checked out the store's web site and determined said coupon could be worth up to at least $200 USD.  Sadly, they don't sell Mr. Peabody shirts. 
c. October 16, 2011 Anno Domini
If I were running for elective office, I would have an autodialer call potential voters several times betwixt the hours of 2 a.m. and 5 a.m. over the course of a month with recorded messages urging people to vote for my opponent.  Then, I would run on a "not disrupting my constituents' REM cycles" platform and be guaranteed to win. 
c. October 26, 2011 Anno Domini
You have to respect a band that performs a full set of their own orignal music, thanks the audience, runs off the stage and returns a few minutes later to perform eight Ramones covers as an encore.
Between the opening act and Shonen Knife's performance, a random fellow said his friend wanted to know my name, so I told him it was Jonathan.  I should have told him it was Mr. Roberts, but I was in too good of a mood to be as difficult as I normally am.  After the show, his friend told me the reason she wanted to know my name is that she and her boss had a bet on what the name of the guy wearing the red hat was.  If my name had been Barry, her boss would have won.  If my name had been Ira, she would have won.  I asked why they thought my name would be either Barry or Ira.  She said it was because I looked like a man named Ira Glass, who she described as "the biggest bad-ss in the world."  I asked, "Even moreso than Samuel L. Jackson?"  She stopped to think for a moment, replied affirmatively and told me I would know who he was when I got old and started listening to NPR.  I told her I was already old, but she doubted me.  I suggested she and her boss break the tie on their name bet by guessing my age.  She guessed 25, her boss guessed 26 and her husband joined in and guessed 32.  I laughed at her and her boss, told them I was 30 and reveled in her admission that I was older than she.  I said since they were still tied, they could take turns trying to guess my social security number.  The boss said the joke was on me because he had already stolen my wallet and looked at my social security card.  I was tempted to tell him the joke was on him because I keep a fake social security card, with the number 555-55-5555 on it, in my wallet to fool would-be pickpocketing identity thieves and those who cheat on bets, but I didn't.  He never did explain why he thought my name would be Barry.  I was wearing my pimp suit, not a San Francisco Giants jersey, and I certainly don't look very roided up.
During the above conversation, a random woman literally fell over herself to tell me how wonderful my hat was.  She tripped over a sign whilst approaching me, tore a hole in her pants and skinned her knee.  After recovering, she successfully walked the remaining distance and initiated a conversation about how wonderful my hat was.  I told her the story about the girl at the movie theater who said I was "sooooooooo hot" and that she loved my hat.  When I got to the part about how I told the girl it was all the hat, not me, and the girl agreed after I took my hat off, the woman said, "No, it's not all the hat.  It's also the suit and the tie."  She added the parenthetical phrase, "(because it certainly isn't anything inherent about you, Mr. Roberts)" but didn't speak it aloud.  I apologized for causing her to ruin her pants and skin her knee by wearing such a pimpalicious hat, but she said she tripped because she was drunk and accepted full responsiblity for the consequences of her intoxication.  I think she was right, because if she had been sober she would have known that I am already aware of how wonderful my hat is and did not need her to inform me.  I remained fully sober and managed not to injure myself attempting to inform Ritsuko (Shonen Knife's bassist) of how dreamy she is because I'm sure she already knows exactly how dreamy she is without any input on the subject from me.  Huzzah for abstention from intoxicating liquors.
I also met a mother who was wearing an Err hat and brought her daughter to see Shonen Knife.  She said she saw them several years ago.  She also mentioned that she didn't know who the Mooninites were and wanted to wear her Meatwad hat, but her children wanted her to wear the Err hat.  I filled her in on the Mooninites as a girl I met at the concert looked up a picture of them on her phone and told the mother that her children's friends would definitely consider her to be the cool mom for wearing an Err hat.  She politely informed me that she was the cool mom for taking her daughter to see Shonen Knife, and I admitted that trumped Err.
Atsuko, Shonen Knife's original drummer, was running their merchandise table.  I was happy to see her there, but she may think I am a thief.  I purchased a few items before the performance started and accidentally scooped two tote bags a price tag off the display on the table along with my merchandise and walked away.  I didn't realize what I had done until I started trying to put everything into my pockets and realized there was no way everything was going to fit due to the excess items.  I promptly returned everything, and Atsuko-san was very polite about it, but I'm sure I still looked like a thief.  After the show, I purchased a few posters and joked with her that I wasn't going to steal anything else.  She said she liked my hat (but managed to remain upright!  Let that be a lesson to tipsy women everywhere), so I stuck it on her head.  It went well with her glasses and looked better on her than on me,  but she returned it and graciously signed my poster.  I'm not sure about how many people recognized her, but she was awesome.
They performed in Brooklyn on Sunday night, and I had been in the NYC area for a wedding until Sunday morning.  If I had been thinking things through, I would have stayed there an extra day and taken Wednesday night off from work so I could have seen Shonen Knife in Brooklyn, flew back to Charlotte on Monday, driven to Durham to see them last night and raced to Atlanta to see them tonight.  It would have been worth it.
c. October 27, 2011 Anno Domini
Things I ponder whilst waiting in line at Gamestop:
How many times per day does that girl at the register get asked, "Do you sell belts that you can clip a Wii remote into like Captain N did with his NES controller?"
Instead of asking her, I examined the Wii accessories section myself and determined that Gamestop does not sell any such thing.  Someone needs to get on that.
c. December 10, 2011 Anno Domini
As I was walking to the train station in Flushing, New York today, I passed an outdoor vegetable stand.  A woman purchased a tomato and accidentally dropped it.  The tomato rolled into the street.  I used my uncannily fast reflexes to dash into the street and pick it up  before a careless, inattentive driver was able to run over it.  I returned it to the lady without either myself or the tomato incurring so much as a scratch, and she thanked me kindly.  I assume she was planning to wash the tomato prior to consumption, even if it hadn't rolled in the street.
c. January 7, 2012 Anno Domini
Customers who bought items in my recent history also bought...
It seems to me that someone from Amazon, from whom the preceding list was obtained, is a joker, because my recent history does not include anything Batman-themed or a buzzer ring.
c. January 19, 2012 Anno Domini
I have a legendary collection of neckties.  I am too lazy to count them, but I estimate they number between thirty-five (35*) and forty-five (45).  Unfortunately, I do not have an equally legendary method of necktie storage.  They are, in fact, stored quite mundanely.  Ideally, I would rectify this by procuring a tie rack in the form of a hydra statue with one head (and, naturally, one neck) for each necktie I own.  Upon each hydra neck, one of my ties would be worn.  I realize no precedent for such a polycephallically prolific hydra exists in history, mythology or the complete unabridged works ofGygax, et. al., but that presents no obstacle.  The major obstacles are my lack of talent as a sculptor, my lack of talent sculptor acquaintainces and the likely to be legendary cost of commissioning such a grand work.  If I can become fabulously wealthy between now and November, I may communicate my desire to a few artisans at the Rennaissance Festival and try to reach an agreement with one.
* The original version of this entry, as posted at contained a typographical error.  Thank you much much to the esteemed Mr. Jacob Collins for alerting us to our failure to meet our usual high orthographic and typographical standards.  In addition to correcting the error here, we have severely chastised ourselves.  Future occurrences will result in self-imposed revocations of blogging privileges.

c. January 27, 2012 Anno Domini

I took the light rail uptown to see Madama Butterfly today.  Unfortunately, the train was experiencing some sort of technical difficulties between the I-485/South Blvd station, so I ended up having to take a bus from there to the Arrowood station.  Despite the delay involved in waiting for an extra bus to be dispatched to I-485/South Blvd and and the havoc the train's technical diffiuculties wreaked on the schedule, I arrived at my destination in a timely manner.

My trip back passed without incident until the Sharon Rd West station, at which point the following conversation occurred:
Random Inebriated Woman: Sorry, but my friends are making me take a poll.  When you check out girls' -sses, do you notice their panty lines?
Me: I'm too clumsy to walk and chew gum at the same time.  Do you really think I could manage to walk and check out a woman at the same time?
Random Inebriated Woman: Well, if you did.
Me:  I wouldn't be looking for it.  Most women's panties are really none of my business.
Random Inebriated Woman: Wow.  You're a really nice guy *extends hand, as if to shake*
c. January 31, 2012 Anno Domini
B-gg-r this.  I'm switching to Google Plus.  Facebook apparently prohibits the use of commas in users' names, thereby preventing me from entering, "Jonathan Roberts, OBE" as my username.  Entering "Jonathan Roberts OBE" is permitted, but results in "Jonathan Roberts Obe" being displayed.  Entering "Jonathan Roberts O.B.E." results in an error message stating the name entered contains too many periods.  Mr. Zuckerberg would probably correct this issue in three shakes of a lamb's tail if Lizzy knighted him,  but in that event I would seek to distance myself from the Order rather than representing myself as a member on the internet.


  1. oh-my-god, reading this only reminds me how geeky you are. i got that impression the first time i read your earlier posts. but this one is very pronounced. i wonder why american guys on okc who talk(ed) to me are all similar to you. you all should form a facebook group or something. oh, you would understand those jokes they use on 9gag. optimus prime and darth vader. i don't get them.

    i think i got over my literature-geekiness after college. now i identify myself as a crazy cat lady: paranoid and hostile and never leave the house unless i have to teach and buy cookies.

    and i'm not a robot!!@#$%^&*

  2. Of course you're not a robot!

    Everyone says I am a nerd, moreso than most American men. Everything nerdy has become mainstream and cliche over the past years, so several geeky men contacting you may only be the result of men being more geeky in general. In a few years, everyone will get over being a nerd and move onto something else.