Future Direction of Barrister's Keepe

Recent delays in posting new blog entries have resulted from a writer's block. I have a couple of new ideas for future direction for Barrister's Keepe. Tell me which you prefer:

All Lego, all the time. We continue our storylines in Danish, we use only pictures of our characters in the stories depicted in Lego mini-figures. We have to painstakingly build models of the things we want to depict. This will argue for a quantum physics Lego set delivered by the geniuses in Billund, Denmark.

Bad legal advice. We set up a random legal advice generator similar to General Rossoroni's ancient agitprop 2000 that he devised during the previous millenium. The device is advertised as 100% foolproof. When the unwitting person is through paying for information on childhood custody law and is given expensive information on say tax liens, or the magna carta, the joke will be on them and we will laugh all the way to our offshore bank. [According to our device this won't be fraud.]

Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Having never seen the show I think I am in an ideal position to critique the show. True tabla rasa.

Those were some ideas I had...let me know if you like them.

Barrister's Keepe Kidz Korner!!!!

Kids, have you considered the possibility that if Lady Marzipan and Johnny Sixguns were isolated from the rest of the universe, except for the gravitational pull exerted by the Earth and the Moon, both might evolve into a non-localized quantum state over the next 20 years?

Wowzers! That’s a whole heap of quantum uncertainty without even considering the eigenvectors!!!

See, boys and girls both Johnny Sixguns and Lady Marzipan, as they sit in their lifeboat, are being bombarded by photons and those zany photons have their own quantum states which get all tangled up with each other.

So, how do keep track of all those crazy states?? Here’s a hint: the Lyapunov exponent is about 10 days for the both of them and this system is dissipative.

The BK Kidz Korner Challenge:

Clever children please post a 10-15 page white paper which models the various system states (a system in this case being Johnny Sixguns, Lady Marzipan, the lifeboat, the aforementioned gravity & photons plus a few sharks) and proposes a solution to their quandary (avoiding the non-localized quantum state). The lucky winner shall receive a gift certificate for 5 Crowns, 3 shillings and a halfpenny (good at all Barrister’s Keepe Gift Shoppes!).

The Dowager Rossaroni is Funny

This is from a recent e-mail:

"I just finished a bag of 3 Musketeers which I bought early for Halloween visitors. They were delicious and apparently safe for the children to eat. Now I must get some more."

Adrift in the South China Sea

We’ve all been there. You know … stuck in a longboat, somewhere in the South China Sea, wedged uncomfortably between a psychopathic gunslinger and a the recently dethroned “duchess of destruction” herself, the erstwhile Lady Marzipan.

Heard it before? Sure. Thought so.

The weather was doing a kindness to the occupants of this tiny craft. It was overcast and about 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Thus was the porcelain skin of Lady M spared. As for Mr. Sixguns, it made him no difference as the cruel Sonoran sun had permanently toughened his leathery hide.

The dorsal fins of a few patrolling sharks were visible – they had gathered around the boat because Johnny Sixguns had been feeding the ravenous little terrors tidbits left over from the survival luncheon (this was a relatively well equipped rescue longboat).

“Got anymore of them petits four, Marzipan” Sixgun called over his shoulder, (mispronouncing Marzipan to make it rhyme with “pan.”), “my little friends here love ‘em!”

Obviously, the effects of being adrift at sea had seriously affected Mr. Sixguns cognitive abilities for at present he did not see sharks, rather he imagined them to be adorable baby pandas.

(editors note:I mean, that's not hard to understand, pandas are amazingly adorable)

For her part, Lady M, was not much better off – she imagined herself to be Charlotte Rampling in “Marat/Sade” and was presently scheming to stab the lead, as played by Monsieur Sixguns, in his bath. She just needed some inmates to complete the ensemble and it would be PERFECT!!!

She would make her escape to Havana and be crowned Queen of the May, the lord of Atlantis at her side.

And to think, it had only been a day and a half.

Matzohs of The D'Ubervilles

Brassy trumpets and a rapidly rotating camera pan (which came to an abrupt halt) announced the next scene -

Beneath the fold, the London Times carried the latest tale of tasty comestibles direct from the captain’s table of the Ammonite. Sadly, many have nevertheless insisted upon referring to this vessel as the “Nautilus” despite the threat of copyright infringement lawsuit by the Disney Corp.

The reader, an anonymous High Gate banker, glanced at the story, muttered something about petit fours under his breath and tossed the paper into a nearby rubbish bin whereupon it was quickly snatched up by an equally anonymous ragamuffin cum street urchin.

As you, the gentle reader might expect, this was no chance encounter. The cretin scanned the story from top to bottom evidently scouring the words for some clues or secret message. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he concentrated.

“Now let me see” he thought to himself, “’Is ‘ere paragraph might ‘ave somefin”

A single “heghh” escaped his lips as he read.

Indeed the the deeply encoded message began to leap from the two dimensional newspaper in blocky Neuropol script …. Shellfish, scallops, ginger, garlic, broth, antipasto, bruschetta, parmiginana di melanzane, turnips.

“Heghh, heghhh, heggghhhhhh” was all that boy could manage.

Then the letters re-arranged themselves into something more logical as follows:

“Johnny Sixguns and Lady Marzipan cast adrift in small boat seven nautical miles SSW Folou Northeast on Hainan Island encircled by ravenous sharks stop Lady Marzipan contemplating retirement in Havana as Lady Commandante Shokolateh stop Johnny 6G contemplating guzzlement of large quantities of Old Volcano whiskey stop Stuart Turnips in custody of General Tang’s most wicked henchman, Lt Fruitbat stop Turnips about to divulge most precious secret of Barrister’s Keepe – Ur Gin stop Turnips location is secret concrete prison in Eurasia corner of Shanghai and Main, three levels up above Woo’s Shop.”

Message translated, the boy was about to dash off to the “Have You Seen the Sunrise Club” in Croyden, a posh London nightspot frequented by malefactors of both high and low caste. At any rate, the boy knew he had to act quickly, for the Bellasario had only seven days left to complete the deal.

Making sure he wasn't being followed, the wretched creature turned and disappeared into the twilight never having noticed the flute-like qualities of the French Horn soundtrack.

An Ugly Morning

Donald P. Bellisario?

Captain Stuart Turnips kept thinking about that name. He had precious little else to think about in his tiny little world. It was a world comprised of concrete, shouting guards, humorless solo "re-education" sessions with an austere chain-smoking Eurasian officer known only as Lt. Fruitbat, and a thin gruel of rice and rat meat. It had been this way since the day he was captured by his Father's nemesis: General Tang, from the island of his friend the dread assassin Scaramanga.

Donald P. Bellisario

Why would that name be running through his head? He tried to remember what Scaramanga had told him about memes and collective unconsciousness. None of that made much sense in this place. He tried to will himself to standup to the daily sessions with British reserve and stiff upper lip. As his diet suffered, so did his willpower to resist the indoctrination. Particulary difficult to resist was Lt. Fruitbat's focus on the evils of the Imperialist system and its internal contradictions. For a while he remembered his time at the prestigious Tiny Finding's Dayschool. His memories of the Herndon Red Wings, his cricket team were another reserve of mental resistance to the glowering garlic-soaked Lt. Fruitbat.

Donald P. Bellisario?

He could only wonder what Lt. Fruitbat had meant when he told him during his last session: "Criminal Stuart, dis is just the beginning of your education. I am but the one who opens the door. Your real training will occur in a different location and will involve far more sophistocated methods."

Found Humor: The Glory of Honey Mustard!

While waiting for an original effort from Lord Woodpecker-Smythe, why don't we all feast our funny bones on this excerpted piece of goodness from my friend over at Being Dr. Doolittle: Stories and Idle Chatter? While she's generally a jovial, although jejune, thrice divorced,* young nerd-ette ex-Marine** with the best education Lancaster Pennsylvania can provide, her description of her love for honey mustard fulfils my love for needlessly long descriptions of food and fills my heart with joy. Bon Appetit!

The last and most awesome defining aspect of being at George Mason is the shocking availability of condiments at this school. Not just any condiment. I’m talking about the sweet and tangy goodness that is honey mustard. I’m not sure who sat on the George Mason University Dining Board and decided that there shall be honey mustard wherever there are students, but they should get the Nobel Peace Prize. Seriously.

I bought a plain ham and cheese sandwich from their little convenience store to stave off some I-missed-dinner hunger pains. Seeing that the sandwich was as dry as the Mojave on a Tuesday in August, I decided to hit up the condiment bar for some yellow mustard or some mayo, whatever was available. As I’m scoping out the selection, which I’m sure you’d agree is generally pretty poor wherever you go, my eyes fell upon a beautiful sight. It was as though the heavens opened up and rained sunshine into the room packed with oblivious students. I thought I heard angels sing as I feasted my eyes upon a never before seen phenomenon: there, in all of its glory, was a big, giant dispenser of honey mustard. I couldn’t believe my eyes! I rubbed my eyes to be sure it wasn’t a chemistry-induced mirage. I pinched myself to make sure I was awake. Then, after people around me started looking at me funny, I finally dispensed the inaugural tablespoon of golden yummy-ness onto my sandwich. That was the coolest thing ever!

Good stuff, Dr. Doolittle!

* She's actually only twice divorced

** She played flute for the Marines. The world's most deadly band camp.