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Ron Obvious

Profile Information

Gender: Male
Current location: Seattle
Member since: Tue Dec 13, 2011, 10:37 PM
Number of posts: 3,005

About Me

I got the nickname Ron Obvious because -- in addition to being a huge Python fan -- my name really is Ron and I used to start sentences with \"Obviously\" a lot. Obviously, that\'s no longer a problem.

Journal Archives

Oh frabjous day, the Christian rock band has moved away...

A few months ago, some nice old people in our neighbourhood temporarily moved out to travel abroad. In their absence, they would have one of their young nephews and his friends stay in their house in order to keep an eye on it. They were such nice young men who had nowhere else to go, the aunt assured us, and they were trying to start a band. We were to make sure they weren't too noisy and to let them know right away if they were.

That didn't sound promising.

We saw the fine young fellows arrive on a Friday, and literally that same evening the terror began. Awful industrial noises emanated from their garage at decibel levels high enough to kill small rodents. Accompanying the noises were a variety of uncouth ululations, suggestive of a large animal in dreadful agony. Upon closer inspection, it turned out be, using a broad definition of the term, music. The kind of music, as Dave Barry put it, to slaughter cattle by. The band were practising their dark arts.

Bloody Hell!

I wasn't the first to call the cops on them, nor was I the first to confront them in person. I don't know about you, but I'm usually shy and non-confrontational as a rule.

You've probably known small men who, through their iron will and great spirit, bend people to their will and make them behave. Well, I'm not like that. I have the spirit of a dried-up, tame accountant in the body of a lion tamer. It costs me a great deal to wake the dragon.

However, if there's one thing that can do it, it is inconsiderate, loud behaviour. So one night when the noises were particularly awful, I too, went over there to bang on their door and hurl invective at them.

They actually opened the door to me for a change. I ranted for a few obscenity-laced minutes, but I could tell my heart wasn't in it.

They appeared contrite and even somewhat intimidated.

"But sir," their spokescretin objected, "we are a Christian rock band."

Ooooh, that did it. That automatic, unspoken assumption that being a Christian gave one license to behave like an obnoxious prick.

I tapped hitherto unsuspected reserves of anger and obscenity and told them what I thought of that. I don't remember now what I said exactly, but I think I mentioned that I would have preferred them to be black mass-celebrating Satanists, provided they sacrificed babies quietly.

Boy, did they look terrified then. I thought they were going to be calling the cops on me for a change, but they actually shut down their music and the rest of the evening was peaceful.

It didn't stay quiet for too many days, of course. I wasn't naive enough to think that it would be. Still, it was a small victory and it was much appreciated by the other neighbours. I felt a happy glow of satisfaction that lasted some hours that night.

Well, they've finally moved out the other day and I couldn't be happier.

I'll close with Billy Connolly's views on Christian Rock & Roll which I heartily endorse.

Do you listen to more or less music now than you did 15 years ago?

It occurred to me the other day that we have access to an incredible amount of music in these days of broadband internet and other technological advances, and it's right at our fingertips in a way it's never been before.

I've got our entire CD collection ripped to the hard drive of a server that's accessible throughout the house (or for that matter, the world), so I don't even have to go through the bother of putting a CD in a player. If there's music I would want to listen to but don't yet have, I can probably acquire it within seconds without leaving the house.

And yet I don't listen to music all that often these days. Far less than, say, 15 years ago when I played CDs or 30, 40 years ago when I depended on my records and tapes.

I thought that was rather curious, and it even made me a little sad. I was always so excited to buy and listen to a new LP or CD in the past, and I wonder if I've grown blasť about music because it's so easy to acquire now. Possibly it's because the internet has given us so many competing ways to spend our time and money, or possibly it's because I don't get exposed to a lot of new (to me) music these days since I already have this vast collection.

I wondered if this was a larger trend in society or if it's more likely personal to me. I'd be curious to hear your thoughts.

A FOX Soccer Channel fantasy...

Eric Wynalda: "And with us in the studio today is former Newcastle and England player Warren Barton. What did you think of Barcelona's performance in the first half today, Warren?"

Warren Barton: "I thought them was excellent today, Eric"

EW: "No, you didn't."

WB: "Eh?"

EW: "You thought THEY. WERE. excellent, you stupid motherfucker!"

WB: "I've no idea what you mean. I'm a footballing legend, whereas you stupidly got red carded against the Czechs in your only World Cup appearance in 1990. Who are you to correct me like this?"

EW: "I'm the voice of sanity, arsehole. Say it: THEY. WERE. Say it!" *PUNCH!* "POW!* *SMACK!* *CHOKE!"

WB: "Aaargh! Help, help, help me!"

EW: Say it, motherfucker! "THEY." WERE."

WB: "OK, OK, OK. THEY. WERE. excellent today. Happy now?"

EW: OK, but don't forget. If you make that mistake again, I'm going to cut your balls off."

WB (Wiping blood off his forehead, looking terrified): "Alright, alright, alright! I'll never make that mistake again, I swear!"

EW: "See that you don't. OK. Former Newcastle and England defender Warren Barton thinks Barcelona were excellent today. Back over to you in the studio, Rob".

I just had my front teeth capped

Boy, do I feel violated. It feels nothing like having my other teeth capped. I suspect I'll get used to it in time, though. Still, I look quite the handsome devil here, don't I?


Name your favourite soccer player who looks like Vladimir Putin!

I'll start:

I don't know whether to shit or wind my watch.

Scientists Seen as Competent But Not Trusted by Americans

Posted without comment. Sigh... (<-- I suppose that is a comment, really)

If scientists want the public to trust their research suggestions, they may want to appear a bit "warmer," according to a new review published by Princeton University's Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs.

The review, published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS), shows that while Americans view scientists as competent, they are not entirely trusted. This may be because they are not perceived to be friendly or warm.


The Wilson School's Susan Fiske finds that scientists have earned the respect of Americans but not necessarily their trust.
In particular, Americans seem wary of researchers seeking grant funding and do not trust scientists pushing persuasive agendas. Instead, the public leans toward impartiality.


The article is here.

Nvidia recreates the moonlanding to prove it wasn't fake

The video is well worth watching, I think.

Humanity first set foot on the moon on July 20th, 1969. There is mission data, video, and photos of the event, but a startling number of people still subscribe to the conspiracy theory that we never went to the moon at all. They insist it was all done on a soundstage, and the proof is right there in the video. This claim has been debunked many times over the years, but now Nvidia is thumping the conspiracy theorists one more time in order to show off the power of its new Maxwell GPU.



Whole story here.

My old man's a dustman

Now here's a little story
To tell it is a must
About an unsung hero
That moves away your dust
Some people make a fortune
Other's earn a mint
My old man don't earn much
In fact....he's flippin'.....skint
Oh, my old man's a dustman
He wears a dustman's hat
He wears cor blimey trousers
And he lives in a council flat
He looks a proper narner
In his great big hob nailed boots
He's got such a job to pull em up
That he calls them daisy roots
Some folks give tips at Christmas
And some of them forget
So when he picks their bins up
He spills some on the steps
Now one old man got nasty
And to the council wrote
Next time my old man went 'round there
He punched him up the throat
Oh, my old man's a dustman
He wears a dustman's hat
He wears cor blimey trousers
And he lives in a council flat
I say, I say Less
I 'er...I found a police dog in my dustbin
(How do you know he's a police dog?)
He had a policeman with him
Though my old man's a dustman
He's got a heart of gold
He got married recently
Though he's 86 years old
We said 'Ear! Hang on Dad
you're getting past your prime'
He said 'Well when you get to my age'
'It helps to pass the time'
Oh, my old man's a dustman
He wears a dustman's hat
He wears cor blimey trousers
And he lives in a council flat
I say, I say, I say
My dustbins full of lillies
(Well throw 'em away then)
I can't; Lilly's wearing them
Now one day while in a hurry
He missed a lady's bin
He hadn't gone but a few yards
When she chased after him
'What game do you think you're playing?'
She cried right from the heart
'You've missed me...am I too late?'
'No... jump up on the cart'
Oh, my old man's a dustman
He wears a dustman's hat
He wears cor blimey trousers
And he lives in a council flat
I say, I say, I say (What you again)
My dustbin's absolutely full with toadstools
(How do you know it's full)
'Cos there's not much room inside
He found a tiger's head one day
Nailed to a piece of wood
The tiger looked quite miserable
But I suppose it should
Just then from out a window
A voice began to wail
He said (Oi! Where's me tiger head)
Four foot from it's tail
Oh, my old man's a dustman
He wears a dustman's hat
He wears cor blimey trousers
And he lives in a council flat
Next time you see a dustman
Looking all pale and sad
Don't kick him in the dustbin
It might be my old dad

Donald where's your trousers?

Let the wind blow High, Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go
All the lassies say hello
"Donald where's your Trousers!?"

I just came down from the Isle of Skye
I'm not too big and I'm awfully shy
The lassies say as I go by
"Donald where's your Trousers!?"

Let the wind blow High, Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go
All the lassies say hello
"Donald where's your Trousers!?"

I went to a fancy ball
It was slippery in the hall
And I was feared that I might fall
Cause I hadn't me on me Trousers

Let the wind blow High, Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go
All the lassies say hello
"Donald where's your Trousers!?"

Let the wind blow High, Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go
All the lassies say hello
"Donald where's your Trousers!?"

Now I went down to London town
To have a little fun on the Underground
The ladies turned their heads around
Saying "Donald where are your Trousers!?"

Let the wind blow High, Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go
All the lassies say hello
"Donald where's your Trousers!?"

The lassies love me, everyone
They can catch me if they can
You cannot take the brakes off a Highland man
Saying "Donald where's your Trousers?"

Let the wind blow High, Let the wind blow low
Through the streets in my kilt I'll go
All the lassies say hello
"Donald where's your Trousers!?"
"Donald where's your Trousers!?"

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