Post by The OP on Nov 26, 2008 11:31:07 GMT -5
I just wanted to post the following in tribute. It's what made me really fall in love with Dinobot, because it had me laughing so hard. Even being so sad, I still had to laugh so hard even now reading this. It's a blog from his myspace page, that I guess is a story or part of a story. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did and hopefully cheer people up a little like it did me:
I Have Amnesia, Remember That? by Dinobot
As I awoke from that coma, I sensed something strange in the air. It wasn't flatulence or a hippopotamus, no, it was something more unusual. So I leaped out of that hospital bed with the awesome up and down feature that we all think is so very swell and I threw on my very best Thanksgiving sweater with many pilgrims and turkeys on it, and I yelled for a cab. But since couldn't get one I hopped on a random businessman and he whisked me away to my apartment where I flipped through my diary. I searched high and low for information about who I was, since now I have amnesia...did I mention that before? No? Well, I do. But don't ask how I remembered where I lived...it was in my wallet or something, my name wasn't, that's not so strange. But back to what's important. Looking through my diary, that I somehow immediately knew where to find, I found a small clue. It told me of a girl, by the name of Emily or Marge, I've already forgotten while looking at it. I tried calling her, but the phone...it confuses me, so I made smoke signals instead. But that businessman, who apparently won't leave, told me that regular non-amnesia people don't use those anymore so that girl, Alice or whatever wouldn't reach me back. I told him to mind his P's and Q's, then I asked him what 'P's and Q's' meant, he told me and I thanked him, amnesia people still have manners, we aren't rude...just stupood. <--see, told ya. But that's more of a visual written gag, so don't have anyone read this to you or you might think they're a lot like me. Me, not he who wrote this, he's sane, but I'm not. I don't know what you are, hope you're not some kind of super advanced robot like Isaac Asimov warned us about, but don't ask me how I remembered about that, maybe I don't. But since I mentioned it, obviously I do. Don't confuse me.
Okay, so where was I? Ah...yeah, smoke signals. If I could cue a flashback to three years ago, I somehow remember one morning at 3a.m. while in my vintage He-Man underpants watching F-Troop and that's how I find out about smoke signals, before that I just thought they were a myth, like Gene Hackman's third eye, but boy howdy, they're ever-so real and kinda useless, we'd have more luck with two cups and a string...but not those guys from that show, they're better than us because they're on tv. I wish I was on tv sometimes, then I'd have better writers who can stick to better continuity, geeks love that kind of stuff, or so I've heard, maybe, I forgot. Back to the story at hand of my dilemma; after the signals of smoke failed miserably I went to wash my hands due to some ash and dirt, that's disgusting. With my hands properly taken care of, I moseyed over to that businessman, who now resembles a lamp and ask him which state we're in. He didn't reply back. Silent treatment, how rude. I flipped his switch off and on, off and on and off and...yeah. The bulb blew out on me eventually. Guess he wasn't too bright, but that's buisnessmen for ya.. Oh, look! A unopened box of Apple Jacks! Wait...how does someone with amnesia eat? We're not look like norms, your modern way of eating nutrients frighten us. There's no one here to explain this, so guess I'll have to starve.
Now, as hungry as a tramp with a karate fetish, I leave that place and fall down a flight of stairs, Ouch, arg, bonk, crash and bang was overheard...you know, like sound effects and my screams of comedic pain, walking down stairs is a lost art form to someone like me. You may brag about it, but I'll just have to weep. Though, those tears will soon become dry because I found what I was looking for, a goldfish. His or her name is Val, it's very androgynous...though technically a goldfish wasn't what I was looking for, just got sidetracked, so flushed him/her down a Taco Bell toilet and rushed to the nearest police station. They put me behind bars for rambling about like some goon, yeah, they thought I was one of those insane folks you've heard so much about in your Highlight magazine. Now I'm sitting in jail...there's a cot and I share this cell with this rather friendly fellow, he's telling me why he's in for, but I've already forgotten and tell him that there's no way that Walter Mondale could climb Mount Everest, due to not having any idea who and what they are, but he didn't ask me about that apparently and so he started banging my head against the concrete wall. But that's when the deputy came by and unleashed me back to the outside world, said something about there being a misunderstanding and I wasn't criminally insane, and there's no crime against amnesia, though in my case there should be. Standing outside the 1940's jailhouse, I roamed about this pleasant town, the bright summer sun was shinning down as I gave the salvation army Santa a nickel and tossed a giant radioactive rat a jelly-filled donut, yeah, everything was going just find and dandy. But that was before...before IT happened. IT, something so terrifying, only one thing can be said to explain it...
to be continued!
I Have Amnesia, Remember That? by Dinobot
As I awoke from that coma, I sensed something strange in the air. It wasn't flatulence or a hippopotamus, no, it was something more unusual. So I leaped out of that hospital bed with the awesome up and down feature that we all think is so very swell and I threw on my very best Thanksgiving sweater with many pilgrims and turkeys on it, and I yelled for a cab. But since couldn't get one I hopped on a random businessman and he whisked me away to my apartment where I flipped through my diary. I searched high and low for information about who I was, since now I have amnesia...did I mention that before? No? Well, I do. But don't ask how I remembered where I lived...it was in my wallet or something, my name wasn't, that's not so strange. But back to what's important. Looking through my diary, that I somehow immediately knew where to find, I found a small clue. It told me of a girl, by the name of Emily or Marge, I've already forgotten while looking at it. I tried calling her, but the phone...it confuses me, so I made smoke signals instead. But that businessman, who apparently won't leave, told me that regular non-amnesia people don't use those anymore so that girl, Alice or whatever wouldn't reach me back. I told him to mind his P's and Q's, then I asked him what 'P's and Q's' meant, he told me and I thanked him, amnesia people still have manners, we aren't rude...just stupood. <--see, told ya. But that's more of a visual written gag, so don't have anyone read this to you or you might think they're a lot like me. Me, not he who wrote this, he's sane, but I'm not. I don't know what you are, hope you're not some kind of super advanced robot like Isaac Asimov warned us about, but don't ask me how I remembered about that, maybe I don't. But since I mentioned it, obviously I do. Don't confuse me.
Okay, so where was I? Ah...yeah, smoke signals. If I could cue a flashback to three years ago, I somehow remember one morning at 3a.m. while in my vintage He-Man underpants watching F-Troop and that's how I find out about smoke signals, before that I just thought they were a myth, like Gene Hackman's third eye, but boy howdy, they're ever-so real and kinda useless, we'd have more luck with two cups and a string...but not those guys from that show, they're better than us because they're on tv. I wish I was on tv sometimes, then I'd have better writers who can stick to better continuity, geeks love that kind of stuff, or so I've heard, maybe, I forgot. Back to the story at hand of my dilemma; after the signals of smoke failed miserably I went to wash my hands due to some ash and dirt, that's disgusting. With my hands properly taken care of, I moseyed over to that businessman, who now resembles a lamp and ask him which state we're in. He didn't reply back. Silent treatment, how rude. I flipped his switch off and on, off and on and off and...yeah. The bulb blew out on me eventually. Guess he wasn't too bright, but that's buisnessmen for ya.. Oh, look! A unopened box of Apple Jacks! Wait...how does someone with amnesia eat? We're not look like norms, your modern way of eating nutrients frighten us. There's no one here to explain this, so guess I'll have to starve.
Now, as hungry as a tramp with a karate fetish, I leave that place and fall down a flight of stairs, Ouch, arg, bonk, crash and bang was overheard...you know, like sound effects and my screams of comedic pain, walking down stairs is a lost art form to someone like me. You may brag about it, but I'll just have to weep. Though, those tears will soon become dry because I found what I was looking for, a goldfish. His or her name is Val, it's very androgynous...though technically a goldfish wasn't what I was looking for, just got sidetracked, so flushed him/her down a Taco Bell toilet and rushed to the nearest police station. They put me behind bars for rambling about like some goon, yeah, they thought I was one of those insane folks you've heard so much about in your Highlight magazine. Now I'm sitting in jail...there's a cot and I share this cell with this rather friendly fellow, he's telling me why he's in for, but I've already forgotten and tell him that there's no way that Walter Mondale could climb Mount Everest, due to not having any idea who and what they are, but he didn't ask me about that apparently and so he started banging my head against the concrete wall. But that's when the deputy came by and unleashed me back to the outside world, said something about there being a misunderstanding and I wasn't criminally insane, and there's no crime against amnesia, though in my case there should be. Standing outside the 1940's jailhouse, I roamed about this pleasant town, the bright summer sun was shinning down as I gave the salvation army Santa a nickel and tossed a giant radioactive rat a jelly-filled donut, yeah, everything was going just find and dandy. But that was before...before IT happened. IT, something so terrifying, only one thing can be said to explain it...
to be continued!