Diary of Johnny Walker

I woke up in the morning with a strange feeling: It is a curious universe today, a little bit more wet than usual!. In 1.5 seconds I found the reason: I did pee on me over the night. It definitively means that I had again the dream about the policeman who put me on jail for smoking some grass on the zebra crossing. Who could ever imagine that you can go
to jail only for a small delay on zebra crossing? Stupid society!, stupid rules!… Worse than that, in jail I met a guy called Jumbo who loved to call me Honey! Come to shave my legs!… Awful, isn’t it? Of course, in my dream I always answer full of dignity: Cut your nails first!. Hummmm….

		Ok, now I am fully awake and I have plenty of time to drink my first cup of coffee. And my first bottle of whisky, obviously. As usual, I started to think while working at that damn coffee (bottle was ended long time ago, 2 or maybe 3 minutes…): What is life?, and, to make things even more
complicated, I also posted into the eternity an even deeper topic: …and if life is a shit, who is the guy who has been washing each day the closet?. Once, I supposed that the guy from the pic above is the one… just because he was screaming all the time Help! Help! Mom, I promise I’ll wash the closet next time, put me back in the airplane!. And again, several thousands of Help!. He crushed on the church one street away. Logically, it resulted that he is not the one I’m talking about. But what about his mom? Too complex for the first coffee. Let have a second cup! Ok, but first… cheers! Some whisky will help, to quote that poor creature.

Time goes by and now I am at the 5th cup of coffee. I have a small headache – maybe I used too much sugar… again…
I didn’t get any answer yet at the ontological questions above, but no problem! Tomorrow is another day. Hopefully.

To make myself usefull, I started to look on the window. Gradually, using my left eye first, and then, suddenly, with both of them. This is my strategy to surprise the universe doing its secret stuff believing that no one will notice. But it doesn’t work with me, no sir! I am pretty skilled in monitorizing stuff.
This time the universe was a little bit boring. Nothing special to be written down in my diary, only few birds respectfully waiting for me to throw with some stones on them… Let them wait, I still have some coffee to deal with.

Ooops! I did it again! (…I regret now the link, sorry guys!)
No more whisky, pal, therefore you, dear diary, could rightly ask why to drink coffee anymore…? Good point.
Therefore I have to walk a little to the store onshore. It’s like an initiatical journey, like the dizzy steps from the proof of a theorem…
What theorem?
What theorem? Stupid diary, you should know it, I wrote it on page 743… It was a dark day of April, remember?
Why dark?
…Because Mc’Zombie, the owner of the store where we used to buy our daily whisky was killed by his wife because she got him drinking on the sly some milk… from their young servant. Remember? All that day we drunk only a small, small coffee..
And the theorem is a famous one, is well known as Johnny’s theorem:

Theorem Under the following axioms:
(a) Each man has the rights to drink a bottle of whisky.
(b) If one drinks a bottle of whisky then he become another man.
it holds that any man can drink as much as he wants.
Proof It applies mathematical induction for n = number of bottles .

It scientifically shows that we can drink as much as we want. Thank you, God!
Well, to be honest, it was originally created by a Romanian mathematician called Grigore Moisil and it was initially related to a glass of wine.
With my genius, I’ve just generalized the result to bottles of whisky. I’m damn goooood!

Time for shopping!
Walking, walking, walking… that’s my name!

Crossing the bridge to the Mc’Zombie ‘s store, I never could stop myself to wonder: What if the Atlantic Ocean would be made of whisky instead of water…?

Hummmm, it would be nasty. We should have to catch and kill all fishes, not to drink from our whisky.

…so what? It would be funny.

 

(c) marius09.wordpress.com

		Paparazzi diary Pics above were shot in Bergen & Haugaland county, on June 21th 2009. I bet that you don’t know what Bergen or Haugaland are. No problem as long as this is the only thing remained for you to know…

		New stores, same brand  http://health.demo-research.com/diary-of-johnny-walker/ http://nascar.sportsgamingwire.com/sea-salt-zebra-crossingsea-salt/

(c) 2009 marius09.wordpress.com

On how to make your boss to cry

		This is one of my favourite topics. It is usefull to know that everyone has a boss, at least one – ask married people that live together with their mother-in-low. There it is actually a small board of bosses planning all the time to show you how mizerable being you are. Which is
pretty fair, from philosphic point of view. But it still hurts. There are maybe exceptions – those local celebrity guys like Rockefellers, Rotschilds or Ktchumb Zdu Prmzk, the wise lider of a honorable Pygmy tribe from the Amazonian’s jungle. Actually, I am not very sure about the first two guys, but ok. You can notice now that the remained people on the planet , those having a boss, are quite many. Have here the math behind (written in LaTeX, man!): Do you still pretend that you don’t have a boss…? Well, it’s a honour for my blog to have you as a reader. You might be Ktchumb Zdu Prmzk, right…? Hi, boss!

I will not speak here about why the darwin theory of evolution pushed us down, bellow other more adapted creatures, usually known as bosses. Anyway, whatever reason could stay behind of this, we can agree that a short genetic implant of botox in our brain maybe will help us in the future. But for the moment, let focus on what we can do against this damn genetics.

Do you remember the first interviews for getting a job…?

Do you want revenge?
If yes, have here is my top three advices on how to make your boss to cry. Because I think that this one should be the first step forward for us, the under-boss species.
If no, it would be nice for me to hire you. Because I’m planning to start a small business based on ™creating a museum of stubs. You could be my first collector of exhibits. Yep, let keep in touch, come tomorrow to talk about the salary and the rest .

Ok, for those choosing yes, let overview several startegies. The rest, the no-people, please click here. 45,788,666 times. After that go to bed.

Ok. Let see…
The top three advices on how to make the boss to cry… I had them here, one sec please… Ok, got them!, here it goes.

Tell him each day that his blackhead from the nose makes him to seem more taller and that it perfectly fits with his shoes. With a sort of envy in your voice, say it loud, to be heard by all the guys from the office: I bet that if you smash the blackhead you’ll get several kilos of uranium…
It works in 30% of cases. The rest of 70% of the studied sample were men.

Whenever you enter into his office make it as you enter into the Olympus after a long period of comfortable atheism. Instead of an ordinary hi, champ! just tell him Finally I have the oportunity to look into your eyes and to say what I’m really thinking. It doesn’t matter that you don’t use to think, that it makes you feeling seek, just say it and he will start in the very second #2 to be worried that someone in his company could think.
Don’t forget to say when you leave: Ok, I’ll tell you that next time.
Statistics shows that 1.3% of bosses commit suicide after one year of perseverent chat. Is not too much, but who knows, maybe you’ll be the lucky one.

If your boss is a woman, don’t forget to mention this all the time: You, as a woman, should know that…, or As any woman, you might think that…, or, better, No problem, it could happen to any woman….
And don’t forget to organize socialization meetings like jogging or going to swimming pool, exactly on those days of the month…
Theoretically, in 6 month she should start to cry instantly when you enter in her office.
Scientists show that some of the samples could escape to this strategy, especially those older than 45-50 years. Or those divorced. Anyway, the widows are the most resistent. In that last case, you should make your move very carefully, avoiding to be their next victim.

That’s all falks.
If it doesn’t work, come back here, I’ll give you the money back.
What money?
5 bucks for the next top three advices… Deal?

---

	™ © No-people section. Exclusively.     Click here to continue.
		Training for interview

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	™ © Yes-people section. Exclusively.     No need for more clicks.
		Victory

 

(c) marius09.wordpress.com

		Thanx Pics above were collected from: http://www.docstoc.com/docs/283142/Funny-Monkey-Photos-Pictures/ http://www.funny-games.biz/pictures/705-monkey-pee-trick.html http://graphicshunt.com/funny/images/dead_boss-12097.htm

		Scientific community starts to publish more and more studies about this hot topic  http://health.demo-research.com/on-how-to-make-your-boss-to-cry/

(c) 2009 marius09.wordpress.com

Symmetry from the outer space

		We are a team from planet Bd’jallamz, from a galaxy known here as FYS-6201. Pretty ugly name, honestly speaking. All of us are sad because you’ve named our home this way. …Would you like if, instead of Milky Way, we would call your galaxy Bull shit way? Imagine how we feel, because in our culture FTS stays for fuck yourself, stupid!. That made us a little bit nervous. As you maybe already suppose, we came in peace. Of course, we could easily destroy your planet, I have here, in my pocket, 3-4 black holes and I have just to throw them on your planet. But your luck is that our federation decided to let you make the first step, and only after that we are granted to kill you all. So. Say something! Only one word. A half. One syllable. A vowel, anything! Come on, Khrmz’uh, these creatures are deaf. Ok, Barrbz’k. Let stay and wait… Have a beer and keep an eye on them. The yellow one.

Meanwhile, the humans decided to keep their mouth for a while. During this period of planetar silence, the scientists from a Zimbabwe institute developed a crazy weapon which reverse the symmetry.
Bruce Willis, as usual, was nicely asked to save the mankind. Unfortunatelly, the hero was costipated that day due to an un-printable reason.

No problem!, said President Obama in the same time with Dalai Lama (pretty curious the phonetics…). I will do it!, he said.
No,no,no! I will do it! screamed Dalai Lama.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Stupids!, whispered all of us, looking scared at the aliens who started to scratch their antennas with theirs 4-5 best placed legs.

I will do it!, said Obama, because I had the lunch yesterday in the same Mc’Donalds with Bruce!
Nope, nope, nope!, said Dalai Lama. I have to do it because I am the most bald guy on the Earth.

Finally, a voice arised from the closet:
Here I am! Move away and give me that damn evil gun!

Yep. It was our saviour. Bruce. The Willis.
So he was launched in space… After 2 years a weak signal arrived on the Earth:
Sorry, now I’m done… damn indian food…! I’ve been looking for some toilet paper from one years pals! But I finally got the user manual for this gun and… well, I’m pretty clean now. Ok, now I’ll kick some alien asses! What button do I have to push…? Hello! Houston! We have a problem…!

That moment Dalai Lama said:
Amithaba! This Bruce is really awsome.

We don’t know what button pushed Bruce, but it happened that all the aliens were dimensional inverted

This sounds very promising for future NASA missions.

Promissing my ass!
Don’t bother. It’s Dalai Lama. He was again refused with the visa.

 

(c) marius09.wordpress.com

		Paparazzi diary Pics above were shot in Odda & Sauda, on August 2007, …I think. Call me if you need exactly date and hour. By the way, Odda & Sauda are small counties in Norway. By the way #2, Norway is somehere around Sweden …

(c) 2009 marius09.wordpress.com

Winggy Wing reloaded

A small message wrote with a crooked finger on the dust of my monitor awared me this morning:
I’m back!

That moment I knew that Winggy Wing did return. Because is hard to hide or to move to another apartment in such a short time, I decided to face her and to teach her a lesson of dignity.

Therefore I came back from my job and I screamed, as usual:
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Then, with a smile in the corner of my virile mouth, I said:
Come out, Winggy! Repair that!
And I added about 84 more Fuck!s.

This wasn’t fair at all!, said a voice and Winggy suddenly appeared through the walls. I don’t care, it’s your job to protect me, so do it, bitch!, I said laughing a lot in my inner forum. But why, honey, why?, asked her. Because of Prizee, this is why! And all is your fault. Of course, she said, let me see what is all this about. Tell me everything, we’ll get a solution.

Ok, remember our last discussion? I have more news related to this damn game.

First of all, let see a more actual graphic of bubz, got between the dark age between Silver 4 and Gold 2 ranks.

You discovered the “ultimate formula” of the game
Bubz = 0,0274 * DayNo + 25,562

..and I was happy a while. A short moment.
Then I started to think about relations and rules that acts between the classes of bubz.

I said: Let study a little bit the main classes of bubz, 0-10, 11-20, 21-30, 31-40, 41-50, 51-60, 61-70, 71-80, 81-80, 91-100 & over 101. If I consider my daily earned bubz as an instance of one of these classes, maybe I’ll be more closer to the mastermind behind Prizee.
And this is what I done.
For instance, if in day #414 I got 33 bubz, then day #414 will be labeled with class 31-40. This way we get a sequence of classes instead of a sequence with numbers.
This is pretty funny, because the next step is to represent in terms of graphs the relations between these classes.

Interesting, this is a connected graph having the incident matrix

Ok, it’s a small step for man, but a huge one for… dolphins. Because mankind has different stuff to do.
Now, we get the background for detecting the behaviour of each class. Because the graph built is a very common random graph, let generate random paths on it and see what kind of distribution we get for each node/class. It would be like 1000 users would play based on the statistics hidden in the early displayed bubz per day data.

Good plan. But how?

Simulating plays under the control of statistics bubz per day produces our first nice result:

		Result #1  Each class of bubz is instantiated based on a normal repartition.

These are pretty good news related to the honestity of the people who give us our daily bubz.
Of course, it matters a lot the average and the standard deviation of the repartition, but what the hell!, in a way or another, if we play enough, we will get “for sure” any instance of the classes. I mean all! For sure you will get a day when you will get less than 10 bubz, and this – doesn’t matter if you are Platinum 4 ranked! Of course, the probability is small, but it still exists.

In my case, the probability of getting less than 10 bubz is about 4%, and to be honest, in about 150 days it happened once, in the darked day #526. On the other hand, in the early days of of Bronze rank, it happened many, so painfull many times…

You can see beside an example of a beautifull Gaussian bell for the class 61-70. See the rest of distributions bellow.

This is the behaviour of each class of bubz, ok.
What about the relationsships between them? If, let say, if today I make 42 bubz (therefore an instance of class 41-50), what should I expect from the day of tomorrow? Ok, I have an formula which estimates me a certain amount of bubz, but I want more!

Actually, it would be nice to have what could be called the genealogy tree of the bubz.
Obviously, some classes of bubz are more appropiated by another ones, more often it happens that after a day when you get something between 21-30 bubz the next day or the previous one you got something from 41-50 or 11-20. Basically, it is the ancient say that “a trouble never comes alone” – or something like that. If there is no such a say, it should be created.
Well…

Ok, here it comes the nicier part of applying the great neighbour-joining algorithms.
I will come back later with some small details on this and also on the metric used. If you want to get an idea about what this metric is and how it is related to the the neighbour-joining algorithm see

An Eficient Approach for the Rank Aggregation Problem

A low-complexity distance for DNA strings

written by an interesting math guy called Liviu P. Dinu.
Anyway, I used his metric – which actually is one of a common-sense with some really astonishing results in genetics.

Ok, here we go. Bellow you get the data processed in a very primitive way.
On the first hand, the table of neighbour occurrences:

On the second hand, the rankings of each class based on its neighbours:

I was a little bit forced to work with characters (A,B,…,K) instead of ordinary numbers (1,2,…,11) for fetching data with my app. Anyway, A stays for 1, B for 2,…, K for 11 and the meaning of the row 41-50 DECBFGAHIJK, for instance, related to class 41-50 is this one: class 0-10 is the 4th/D ranked from occuring as a neighbour for class 41-50, class 11-20 is 5th/E ranked, class 21-30 is 3rd/C ranked and so on up to class over 100 which is 11th/K ranked from the same neighbour point of view.

Pretty exciting.
Now we can run our small .NET app and get this genealogy/philogenetic tree of classes of bubz.

		Result #2  The genealogy tree of classes of bubz is:

It can see the “balancing” way of acting of the bubz generator. As a famous Prizee player, Mr. Fazikowi, said in a certain moment of his life, if you get something poor in bubz today, let say 8 bubz, it’s pretty probable that yesterday/tomorrow you got/will get about 60-70 bubz.
Of course, the general formula published in the previous post acts very ok, but in a statistical way. Concretelly, today or tomorrow there are good chances to get bubz in the most appropiated “relative” class to the one I instanciated today.
Got it?

Winggy!
What the fuck are you doing while I’m speaking here…..?

(c) marius09.wordpress.com

		Thanx! Pics above were collected from: http://www.imagehousing.com/image.php?file_thumb=http://img396.imageshack.us/ img396/7388/cce730aa16309b2c4dfc3ecqw0.th.gif&cat=angel http://www.imagehousing.com/image.php?file_thumb=http://img152.imageshack.us/img152/6056/ 3e6b90a86a43e51015521dczy7.gif&cat=funny

		Normal distribution for each class of bubz

		Info for next generation of prizeefobia     Prizee is a nice French site hosting a set of Flash games. As everywhere in this part of universe, you create an account and start to play. What to play? Well, there is a standard set of different games and you get only one of each per day, for free. If you want more, then you pay and get more. It is about you, I am too parsimonious. Winning a game will put some bubz in your bag. When you get a certain amount of bubz, you can order various gifts. Try it, if you really need to lose some time…

		More info about Kolmogorov test & the other algorithms    …I’ll be back on these. Anyway, the net is full of examples and discussions around these topics

		Evolution of population of Winggy Wing’s fans

(c) 2009 marius09.wordpress.com

Inside the Agency

I am an 007 agent, dealing with the nasty stuff like killing bugs in the building and, sometimes, cooking some hot-chilli pizza for the daily lunch. The hard times of cleaning up the closets are part of my life. I am the toughest from the tough. Keep in mind that some previous 007 did die due to some liver diseases, because pretty often people eat beans during the agency secret meetings and all the walls become pretty yellow and wet… They were considering
that eaten beans is a real advantage in a grapple, and as result we were hardly trained.

Kelly Spelly is the boss, il cappo di tutti cappi, if you know what I mean. Or, at least, if you know some Italian.
His favourite joke is to look at you, smiling, and to say You were a nice man, what a pitty that you are the next…. Each time you ask: The next to what? and then he usually say: The next to pee in Elisabeth’s purse…. Yep, it’s about the queen of England. The previous 007 took it seriously and it was shot inside Buckingham Palace while drinking a juice for getting
some inspiration to pee. It was an orange juice. From that moment I decided to drink only Coke.

Natasha Kuznetzova-Washington DC is our secretary. She actually is a funny black girl from Niger. In order to be under covered, the agency created a new Russian identity for her. Officially, she is a young Russian lady called (imagine, what a bad luck!) Kuznetzova and due to a marriage in States she added to her name Washington DC. Pretty clever, isn’t it?
		However, her marriage is not a fictive one. She got a husband through chating on the net, but unfortunatelly her husband was a guy from Mexico City. That guy was called initially Jose De La Vida Bonita con Chicas del Sol y Pais Bonito del Alhambras y Mortadella, but she convicted him to
change his name into a more human one: Washington DC. He initially wanted something like South Dakota, but this one was already taken by another agent. Anyway, because of the fact that Natasha knew some karate he agreed with the name and she finally fulfilled the requirement of the agency and was recruited immediatelly in the very first morning after the wedding. The new Jose Washinton DC was eliminated, of course, in the same morning. It happened that an helicopter crushed in his head.

Luke Skytalker is what we call the puker. It is a hard and a dangerous work but he is also trained well. Basically, to have the needed mood all the time, he has to eat daily a lot of yogurt, one kilo of onion and one liter of ketch-up.
His basic job is, of course, to puke. He got his targets by email (lukepuke@yahoo.com), directly from our boss. Usually, it is about wives of ambassadors or widows of millionaires. The plan is to introduce himself at a party where the victim is invited and to accidentally puke on her chest. After that he
has to run as fast as he can, bringing the victimin in the prepared trap. This trap is usually a big hidden digging hole in the sidewalk, but in 99% of cases the victim is so blinded by rage that she is just falling down breaking her legs (75% – both, 18%-the right one, 7%-the left one). From this point she is quickly taken by our men in black for a specific interrogation. And this way no one will never know anything. This is what I call a trap. Oh yes, sir! …What? What about the rest of 1% of cases? Well…, these ones broke theirs necks, because the holes are pretty deep, 2-3 meters in the ground…

Zualda Zozony is the fatal woman of the agency. She loves to be called Zozo Gonzales, but no one knows why. Gonzales was a trafficant of badges assasinated by mistake, some years ago, by Zualda. By mistake – because they made it with Zualda on top, and Zualda was, at that time, a beauty of 200 kilos… Now, due to a diet based on cabbage, she weighs only 25. On the Moon.
		These days she was sent somewhere in the Middle East to persuade an arab prince to buy a fotball club in Europe. Our strategists hope to penetrate this way the Premier League and to see for free different football matches. Because all of us, here inside the agency, love the football. You know it, …Name of the game? …Chess!
Ok, I will kill myself this one. It’s Mike, a stupid guy that graduated math and believe he is smarter. All the time it happens this way when I’m talking with somebody, all the time! … Stupid! Let me say it once more: …Name of the game? Quickly, guys: Footbaaaaal! This is better. Yep.

And this one bellow is Mike. The stupid Mike who plays chess with computer all the time. He didn’t ever win, and this fact made him a strange creature with a very strange universe.
He is not fired because all of us, including our boss, hope that someone from another agency will assasinate him. We all printed his name on our visit cards and, of course, we all give them to all people we ever meet.
But he escaped all the time, desperating us.

This is all I know, I swear.
Now, let me go, pal, otherwise they will come after me. You are in a really, really big shit.
By the way, which is your name?

Kaloob, I am from Jupiter and I peacefully came on your planet. What the hell did you look for under my UFO?

I was just shitting, pal. Sorry. Have here my card.

 

(c) marius09.wordpress.com

		Paparazzi diary Pics above were shot in Haugesund, on April, …I think. Call me if you need exactly date and hour. By the way, Haugesund is a small town in Norway. By the way #2, Norway is somehere around Sweden .

(c) 2009 marius09.wordpress.com

Globalization vs Drink-ization

Today I had to choose between thinking at globalization issue or to drink a beer. It took me a huge eternity of 2 seconds to admit that the beer is the winner. So I got a beer and started to drink it in a very scientific way: counting the bubbles from the glass. Of course, at the 895th I did snooze a little bit, but in 5 minutes I was back to work, ready to finish my beer. In the next 14-15 seconds job was done. Now, the same problem arised: what now?, should I think at globalization or to drink a second beer? Due to statistics behind, the beers won again. Dilemma iterates again and again and I finally said: Wait a minute!It’s not fair! Why the beer should won each time?. Therefore I patiently waited to finish
the current beer and, when the critical moment of question What should I do now, bla-bla-bla…? I screamed: Stop it! The correct question is: Shall I start to think at globalization or to drink a wine? A red wine, maybe..?. Obviously this was the correct question. Therefore, I got a bottle of red wine and nothing special is to be mentioned for the next 45 minutes. After that, I faced the same huge challenge: globalization or… or… or what?

Hummm, versus what? Let me see…. no more beer, no more red wine… Hummm.
Ok,well…, let think about globalization., I said. It seems that it’s the perfect time.

This is the point where I started my inner conferrence on globalization, and I wrote it down for you guys, to get the essence of this issue.

My opinion about globalization is that it is too global, it would be ok to be only half of the actual global globalization, and…

Hei! That’t it! Your two hours have gone!
This is me, when I start to talk about my favourite subjects I lose the sense of time… This is not very critical because I lose a lot of another things. For instance, yesterday I lost in the park the keys from home, but no problem!, anyway I had kicked out of house by the bank one year ago.
Two days ago I lost also my underwear in a bush, when I was trying to behave like a multi-tasking processor: to pee and to sleep simultaneously. I heard that it was in history a short guy good in making more things in the same time, Napoleon. And I don’t talk here about women, ok?!
Three days ago – and this is the last example given for free – I’ve lost the bus, but my luck was that it was the wrong bus… It was supposed to go in Washington DC – and I really try to avoid people from that area.

Anyway, what’s so hurry? I have a lot of subjects to think at.
And I’m damn good in prioritizing them.

 

(c) marius09.wordpress.com

		Thanx Pics above were collected from: http://www.funatiq.com/simply-funny/hilarious-photos-with-drunk-people/

		Some pubs remembering me

(c) 2009 marius09.wordpress.com

Thomas the hairy monkey with big ass

It is really hard to understand why people look so carefully at your ass. Seriously. So what if it is a little bit larger than your pants, letting half of your buttocks enjoying the fresh air of the mother Earth?
I planned to participate to the next elections having as a public project a new law, rewarding people that expose theirs buttocks in the restaurants and fast-food commercials. Because I care, because I am involved, because I have a big ass. As you, as your pals, as any responsible hot-dog eater on this planet.

Politics of making proud people about their big asses have to be developed with some programs encouraging scientists in getting new revolutionary methods of processing the hair from the chest, ass and nose – because, of course, some of us have plenty of this and we have also constitutional guaranteed rights.

When I was a small boy spreading my hair all around desks, dishes, school books, my girlfriend from that time made a heart attack when she got some fleas from my nose. What did she look for inside my nose – I didn’t ever know, love is really, really blind. But she stayed paralized, after that moment, about two years, in a dedicated house for people scared about my hair. It was built by authorities in the exit of our town. Originally, it was a museum of art,
but after a while people started to put in it all stuff they didn’t need anymore. I myself put inside Jane, that younger love of me, in a shinny day of March the 1st. I remember I installed her in a very comfortable chair, on the main coridour of avangardist portraits. I loved her so much.

When I graduated the high-school, all the teachers have gone drunk, celebrating my success. It was a nightmare, but we are free now., said in the local newspaper my sexy teacher of math. This unbelievable young Thomas has to move his ass in another town, following his promissing career of serial killer. We, all his teachers, have to say to
him a sincerely Good bye, Thomas! Keep up the good work on another planet! Of course, before leaving the town, I visited at home each of them for saying my innocent thank you! and blessing them as much as I was able to bless someone at that time (nowadays I am an expert on this). I preapared a speech of two hours and only half of them survived to the first 20 minutes. The rest have gone by themselves to take a sit beside my beloved Jane.

I moved to the capital and started to study hard the human nature. Police put me a restriction in going to the centre and some governmental laboratories did offer me a job in testing some vaccines against various extra-terrestrial viruses. I met Suzanna and we started to work together for getting a hope for all of you.

Meanwhile I preapare myself for the next elections.
Vote me, pals! Let make together the world a more hairy place! Unleash your ass right now!
Vote me! Vote me! Vote me!

 

(c) marius09.wordpress.com

		Thanx Pics above were collected from: http://monkeys.funny-animal-picture.com/

		About Thomas and his huuuuuge ass     More and more paparazzi are interested in Thomas’ ass: http://fas-newsfashion.blogspot.com/2009/06/thomas-hairy-monkey-with-big-ass.html http://music.demo-research.com/thomas-the-hairy-monkey-with-big-ass

(c) 2009 marius09.wordpress.com

About relativity with Tarzan

I told to Kim, the famous Korean scientist moved one month ago in our ghetto, that the theory of relativity has a weak point. Which one, Tarzan?, asked Kim. Don’t call me Tarzan, stupid!, I gentle said to him (him, Kim!). Even my parents called me this way, you have to know that they had a cruel death. Once, when they called me at lunch, laughing as usual at me, it happened that some axes entered through the window and crushed their skulls. It was my cousin Kunta Kinte who suddenly started to play darts with me. But I don’t have windows at my trailer…, said Kim. So what, there are lasers nowadays…

Don’t worry, I have a lot of similar academic debates with Kim. He graduated physics and moved to the land of all possibilities, where he works as a carpenter, of course. I love to play with Kim the rock-paper-scissors game using his hammer, we have a lot of fun.

Ok, what about the relativity?, asked Kim, eating in a very asian manner his hot-dog.
Listen here, pal. It could be a theorem, but I have still some details to be put in order before publishing it with grafitti on the main walls in the slum. Anyway, the main idea is: the Universe itself get rid of the priciple of relativity, I mean that all observers will observe exactly the same velocity for this meta-object. Which is finally a simple moving object.

And I proudly looked around to see if the mankind is still contemporaray with me. Or, at least, Kim.

Drinking his Cola, Kim finally said:
I don’t know, pal. I forgot almost all physics. But I can write a small review in red and blue when you will publish it. I will say that you are an honest man and there is no reason for your sayings to be put under doubt. I think your theorem is correct and Einstein is a stupid.

I had a tear in the corner of my eyes. Look at this small Korean guy, maybe his cock is small, but what a big heart!
I started to cry.

Give me a hug, Kim! I am really sorry that you have such a small cock…
No problem… Tarzan. Tarzan! Tarzan! Tarzan!, screamed him (him, Kim!), running away through people.
Shut up! Shut up, you beast!, I desperately screamed, I will invite Kunta Kinte to have a darts match in front of your trailer! You small rat!

I am alone, again. I and my theorems. People around move in a very relative way, but I know the truth: the universe itself has the velocity zero, related to each of us… I am so clever… I would deserve a nicer name… Bagheera, for instance.

I will publish my work tonight.

 

(c) marius09.wordpress.com

		Paparazzi diary Pics above were shot in Bergen, on May 23rd. It was a very relative Sunday.

(c) 2009 marius09.wordpress.com

The fabulous life of Chuck

Each time when someone claims different stuff about me in magazines or newspapers, I use to say to Zuzuka, an old pal living in the neighborhood: I knew it!, I told you!. Of course, there are several issues involved here: (1) Zuzuka never answers because of the fact that unfortunately he is dead from one year; (2) no newspapers have written about my stuff yet. But anyway, I am prepared to face all these unconfortable issues. I use to spread my opinions all around bushes and non-bushes, therefore the time of glory should come.
As Zuzuka told me once: You have high potential, Chuck! Try to avoid licking sockets or power suppliers..

Chuck. This is me.
I didn’t decide yet about the better way of being what I should be: to become a movie star and print my dick on the famous Hollywood alley of stars, or to become a notorious scientist revealing to the universe some significant laws…? It would be nice if the universe should have a law like what would be The law of Chuck:
Temperature of universe is the sum of pressions of all farts in the history multiplyed by the number of farting species.
It is sad that there is no such a law, because, as you see, I already have the formula of it.

		Sometimes I heard in my head a high-pitched voice: Good boy! Now shit also on this garden of Miss Sigrid, she fully deserve it! Make me proud, Chuck!. And of course I do it, because I also hate Miss Sigrid. She is the one that likes to scream : Kill Chuck! Kill Chuck now!, he’s from the band of muslim terrorists! Look at his ass, all the time he’s destroying my flowers!. It doesn’t matter she is 90 years old, her garden is still pretty attractive.

However it would be better to be a movie star.
Of course, like a scientist you have a lot of satisfactions, you are the very first one writing a formula and you have good chances to be cursed by the next generations of kids because of your mighty math. On the other hand, as a movie star you don’t have to wait to become famous after your death. Just go shitting in any park you like and crowds of fans will be all around you, loving you, crying and sometimes even eating your shit.
I love also my fans. Especially in the spring, when I miss so much my beloved Cordelia. A nice pudel girl from Sweden who romantically shared her fleas with me. All the time. True love. She died some weeks ago because of falling down from a cable car, when our masters made a contest on which one dog can jump higher. Yep, I won.

Right now I am living with my master in a special area that the government built especially for special beings like us. We are forced to announce the guardians each time when we want to have a walk around. Most of the time, my master prefers to announce our lawyer.

But I am happy.
Excuse me, I’m feeling inspired right now, have you any leg available…?

 

(c) marius09.wordpress.com

		Paparazzi diary Pics above were shot in Haugaland area, on June 1st. It’s no one fault, just Norway.

		Chuck in media     More and more paparazzi are interested in Chuck’s work: http://phasing.org/2009/06/03/the-fabulous-life-of-chuck/

(c) 2009 marius09.wordpress.com