Print them out on sticky paper and decorate your world.
Monthly Archives: November 2007
Fifty Reasons to Leave H.R. Giger Alone
1. He asked you politely to do so.
2. The long-bore rifle in his closet.
3. You want to sleep with his daughter.
4. Remember what happened last time?
5. You are not “the same way” he is.
6. There can be only one. You make two.
7. H.R. Giger reengineered death to be more efficient.
8. He’s a figment of your imagination.
9. Like the signs say, “Just don’t screw with H.R. Giger.”
10. H.R. Giger’s made of anti-matter.
11. Ron Popeil and H.R. Giger are bosom-buddies.
12. It’s not a nervous tick. It’s a highly-contagious disease.
13. His business card doubles as a sushi knife. That’s just geeky.
14. Dude brings you coffee in the morning. Why ruin it?
15. That one time H.R. Giger made you a drawing of bunnies and rainbows.
16. That biohazard tattoo on his arm isn’t referring to the band.
17. Your handlers would get suspicious if they knew.
18. He caused an earthquake and no one knows how.
19. H.R. Giger’s the only H.R. Giger you actually know.
20. Only he knows where to get that amazing tequila.
21. 25% of people named H.R. Giger are likely to give you money randomly.
22. He paid me to write this.
23. His birth name was Wilhelmina Hitler.
24. Poll numbers for H.R. Giger are through the roof.
25. If the government says so, you should do it like the good sheep you are.
26. There was the time he lent you his hat when it was cold.
27. He’s not the guy who signs your checks, but he’s the guy who gives your checks to the guy who signs your checks.
28. Remember that sealed court file in Fort Lauderdale?
29. His righteous window herb garden.
30. Remember what happened to Polyphemus?
31. H.R. Giger defeated the I.R.S., image what he could do to you.
32. He’s a vampire.
33. On his time off, he attends furry conventions dressed as a sexy Snoopy.
34. In his house he has forty three hammers and no pillows.
35. Fred already gave you eight dollars to leave H.R. Giger alone.
36. You already stole all his atlases, isn’t enough enough already?
37. Do you really want to get stabbed with a barbeque fork again?
38. The restraining order kind of mandates it.
39. The guards really don’t like it when you tap morse code on the walls with your spoons.
40. Leaving H.R. Giger alone got three stars in the Michelin Guide and two thumbs up from Roger Ebert.
41. Every time you bother H.R. Giger, Zeus throws more lightning bolts.
42. Thom Yorke said Radiohead would play a special concert for you in your bedroom if only you would leave H.R. Giger alone.
43. H.R. Giger’s wife is tired of cleaning up after you.
44. Because Grover sang “Be is for you can bemoan, L is for leave H.R. Giger alone.”
45. The Cray supercomputer has computed that leaving H.R. Giger alone would be advisable to eight hundred and nine decimal places.
46. Leaving H.R. Giger alone will help you avoid that pesky Gypsy curse.
47. What would Jesus do? Yep, Jesus would leave H.R. Giger alone.
48. Leaving H.R. Giger alone would get you two free stamps on your Subway Club card.
49. H.R. Giger is just so, so tired.
50. Leaving H.R. Giger alone would give you more time to pester Andrew Cotton.
Katie Stalin in New Hamphire
Rascard, NH– Set in the darkest and deepest hollows of New Hampshire’s forested hinterland bordering Sinonipponesia, Rascard, a sleepy little New England town right out of a picture postcard, nestles within a large meadow. But, I wasn’t coming here to look at the local scenery, nope. Trees I’ve seen. Wildflowers are old hat. I came here to see the local color, specifically Hermie Luger, who the townsfolk affectionately call “The Measuring Man.”
Mrs. Gina Wilkins, The Measuring Man’s long-ago high school sweetheart spoke to me for a bit on her rooster-decorated verandah. The closed-in porch was filled to the brim with rooster paraphernalia and the diminutive, middle-aged Mrs. Wilkins made no bones about her continued visits with Hermie. Visits some townsfolk consider scandalous.
“Why, Hermie comes on by any old time he likes to measure the cocks. He’s brought his own over sometimes,” Mrs. Wilkins told me. I wondered how a man could measure so many things throughout the course of his life, but then I met The Measuring Man himself at the local diner comparing stacks of flapjacks.
Armed with his trusty and ever-present tape measures, rulers, yardstick, calipers and a smile, the former landscape architect spends his every waking hour measuring. From dawn till dusk he wanders throughout the town measuring everything he can get his hands on. The guy can’t even walk by a picket fence without stopping to measure every single picket in all three dimensions.
His cargo pants and measurer-laden halter are both made by hand by his mother Mamie Luger, whose measuring cup and measuring spoon-filled kitchen may have something to do with The Measuring Man’s proclivities. Mamie has the state’s largest collection of such objects, with over 3000 1/4 teaspoons alone. She also gave Hermie his first laser calipers, which he now uses almost constantly.
“Four point one eight inches,” Hermie triumphantly declares, holding out a pine cone for me to examine. It seems he knows the width, breadth, height and circumference of every single object in this little rustic town. From the campus bell tower to the shoe size of every man on Lenton Street, The Measuring Man has a notation in his workbook. Neighbors say he’s friendly, helpful, and always ready to measure anything be it a lead pipe or a robin egg.
Of course, I say The Measuring Man is a creepy weirdo. For one thing, he offered to measure my vaginal depth and then even tried to measure the circumference of my left areola. So, I kicked him in the balls and then smacked him in the face with his own meter stick. Pretty ironic, huh? And then I told him to measure how far I’d shove my boot up in his ass. Stupid Measuring Man.
Hopefully these laser calipers will come in handy at some point. See ya next month!
Love
Ask Montezuma: Vespril 2007
It’s the Anwer Man from Tenochtitlan
Montezuma once spackled an entire wall
using only toothpaste. His favorite atomic
element is Neon but he also loves learning
about voles and foxes.
Dear Montezuma,
Is it possible for a ray of light to go into orbit around a black hole?
Stan Foley
Boron Park, FL
Stan Foley of Boron Park, Florida. Stan Foley…Stan Foley. Where have I heard that name? Ah, yes, in the letter I just received from you, of course. It was actually on the outside, too, written in the correct spot for the return address. Excellent work in that regard Stan Foley, excellent work. Keep it up.
Montezuma,
It’s difficult for me to take cookies with me wherever I go so I can have them whenever I want them. I’m an important person on the go, you know? Is there some way I could take this cumbersome food along with me on trips, while jogging, or perhaps even on the train?
Peter Oregon
Cape Town, South Africa
Mr. Oregon, I wonder how much of a person on the go you truly are. In my plush leather chair here in my study I sit pondering if perhaps it’s only your arms that are this “on the go.” Perhaps they move on ahead of you just a little too quickly, floating there in the grocery store aisle waving ineffectively at the cookies while they wait for the rest of your body to catch up. Or, even better, what if it is your nose that speeds on ahead of your face, saving up the smells along the way for you to savour when you finally reach it. Your life must be incredibly interesting my friend.
Dear Montezuma,
I just entered the modern era with the purchase of a cellular telephone after years of deriding the devices as vainglorious and superfluous. The tipping point was when I realized all the women I was trying to meet had cellular telephones and expected me to as well. On top of that it would come in handy from time to time when trying to plan dinner with the person who shares my flat. He has known me for years and consequently made fun of me. Should I have murdered him in his sleep through the clever use of fire-escape-trained green anoles, or should I continue to poison him slowly with my arsenic-laden s’mores?
Steve Crowsfeet
Ozone Park, NY
Technology, Steve, has forever been central to the attainment of one’s reproductive and pleasurable goals. For instance, Dubner Mulcahy created the avocado slicing catapult system merely to impress the future Mrs. Mulcahy, whose bosoms were ample and seductive. Fire, it is presumed, was originally brought into the cave rather than left outside in order for male humans to become titillated by the sight of their fellow cavewomen. This may have prompted the arms race of masquerade and obfuscation that is the subtle and not-so-subtle plays of appearance the female of the species has engaged in for millennia.
Hey Monty,
My girlfriend and I recently broke up after several years of dating. In fact, I arrived home just the other day to find a box of my stuff waiting for me at my apartment with a bit of an unfriendly note contained within letting me know she would not be speaking to or seeing me. After contemplating whether or not to respond, I did so by email, though I did know there was no way by this point to disabuse her of some strange notions. In fact, I received an electronic mails reply back with some more strange notions and one which was even silly. Again the missive closed with the notice that she did not want to see or talk to me. Now, the crux of the matter is that she frequents the Irish pub at which I prefer to engage in the game of darts and have done so for the better part of the last decade. Obviously the injunction against seeing her (which I must respect) precludes me from going to said pub because I might see her. What should I do?
Joshua Marigolden
Hollis, NY
Joshua, she doesn’t own the pub. Go, make merry, and should you run into her, pretend to be a visiting Canadian of the same name and personality.
Montezuma,
Why does it seem that only retarded, college-age boys who don’t know how to shave are into banjo music? The same goes for that mandolin. Seems like just a bunch of overwrought hogwash to me.
Simon Pepperidge
Burlington, Province #1
Because that is who is into such music Simon, that’s who’s into such music.
Opening cans of tuna fish (in water or oil) is one of the most dangerous and difficult operations in the home. Lost limbs are the hallmark of the seasoned and foolhardy tuna fish can openers. When opening the can, make sure to place it firmly on a surface such as a counter or table. Never try to open a can of tuna fish with the bottom placed against a wall or person! Next, you’ll want to make sure you have a can opener handy. The rotary can opener has been the standard for nearly a century. If you are left-handed, do not use a right-handed can opener. You risk death or worse! Once in hand, place the wheels of the can opener around the rim of the can and bring the handles together. Make sure your fingers are not in between the handles. Hold the can firmly with one hand while twisting the knob with the other. Do not stop until you have completely cut around the metal top of the can. Remove the opener, remove the lid, and enjoy tasty tuna fish.