I've been so busy setting things straight in Owenia that I've been remiss in other aspects of my life. Not only have I been failing you, my dear, patient readers, but I also found out, just the other day, that my Flatulonian friend, Windy Pop, has had a baby. In case you've forgotten, Windy Pop is from the planet Flatulon-Nine, the occupants of which have heads located where their bottoms should be, and bottoms located where their heads should be. The main form of communication among the Flatulonians is via flatulence. However, contrary to what many people may think, this is not why they are called Flatulonians. In fact, the word flatulence is derived from the word Flatulonian, rather than the other way round - look it up if you don't believe me. The time it takes for a non-preganant Flatulonian to become a pregnant Flatulonian isn't necessarily very long. In fact, it can be so quick that it can come as quite a surprise to many Flatulonians. Windy Pop was one of those pregnant Flatulonians who was surprised to discover he was pregnant. He wasn't all that keen on having a baby. He always said they were like little turds (actually, this is an accurate description of baby Flatulonians). He wouldn't have minded if it was the woman who carried the baby, but on the planet Flatulon-Nine, a law had recently been passed which stated that it is the men who must gestate the baby - and it felt very much like being constipated, times 1,000. The standard Flatulonian pregnancy usually lasts 60 Flatulonian years (each of which only equates to a single Earth day) and Windy Pop's baby was premature by two months. Sometimes, if the baby is late in coming, they have to induce labour by means of an enema.
Before I get caught up in all the gushy baby stuff I should recount to you the story of how Windy Pop met the mother of his child. The girl's name was Stinky Toot Toot Drive Slowly Keep To Left, or just Tooty for short. The first time Windy Pop saw Tooty was on the train travelling to the Werribee Sewage Farm, where Windy Pop had the job of looking after the farm animals (singing them to sleep at night, among other things). Tooty was fast asleep on the seat opposite to Windy Pop. Windy Pop couldn't take his eye off her. He had never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life. He thought she was so beautiful that it hurt him inside, as if an evil cupid had stuck a knife into his stomach and was twisting it. On the planet Flatulon-Nine, the popular symbol for representing love is a picture of a bladder with an arrow through it. The symbol for lost love is a bladder bursting (angsty Flatulonian artists would often express how deeply they felt about things by drawing graphic pictures of bladders bursting, with the contents dripping into a puddle on the ground). When Flatulonian parents are explaining to teenage Flatulonians the difference between teenage lust and true love, they say true love feels very much like needing to go to the toilet, times 1,000. Windy Pop thought everything about Tooty was perfect, even the imperfections! He could easily get lost in her gorgeous brown eye, which he thought to himself was like a window to her soul (via her bowel). He even loved the hair fuzz, stretch marks and cellulite on her cheeks. Simply put, Windy Pop felt like he really, really, really needed to go to the toilet.
Windy Pop had sat there staring at Tooty whilst she was sleeping, thinking wonderful things about the life they could lead together. He was staring for such a long time that he began to worry that it might be wrong to stare at her whilst thinking things like that. Windy Pop was prone to thinking about things a little too much, and worrying needlessly. Windy Pop might have been even more worried if he'd known that Tooty was returning home after her self defence class. In the self defence classes Flatulonian women learned about the various horrific things they could do to any would-be attackers. Not content simply with the old kicking of the balls routine, the women learnt about other, more permanent, methods of damaging a male Flatulonian's testicles with the types of items found in your common female Flatulonian's purse, such as, makeup, soft toys and anything coloured pink. Windy Pop got so worried that staring at her was a bad thing that he made a concerted effort not to look at Tooty. Instead he shut his eye and tried to remember all of her features so that he could continue to stare at her in his imagination. But then he started to feel guilty about that as well, so he opened his eye and discovered that Tooty was staring at him...
So anyway, Windy Pop and Tooty started talking and it turned out that Tooty was pretty keen on Windy Pop as well. Windy Pop talked about his adventures with me on the planet Owenia, his love for the sewage farm animals and anger at space taxi air fresheners. They talked about affecting the world, about global warming and greenhouse gases and what your average Flatulonian could do to make a difference. They talked right through the night and into the morning. As the sun rose, casting a greenish hue over the city, which was caused by all the methane produced by all the Flatulonian lovers up talking all night, Tooty rubbed her cheek against Windy Pop's hairy cheek and they kissed. When Flatulonians kiss it looks like this ))<>((. They went home together and spent the rest of the day in bed listening to Tooty's record collection, which included records by Barry White, Al Green and Marvin Gaye. Now, Windy Pop isn't the type of Flatulonian to kiss and tell, but it's obvious, considering the subsequent pregnancy, that some 69 rimming action must have occurred.
Windy Pop never wanted to get pregnant. He always imagined that he'd live the free life travelling the universe, visiting exotic locales, and dropping in on friends whenever their partners were having particularly gassy nights. Windy Pop didn't know how to feel when the pregnancy test returned the colour green. He didn't know what it was going to mean to his life. He knew that it was something special to bring a child into the world, but he didn't know if he could cope with the responsibility. He just wanted to run away - but he knew he couldn't do that. He knew that it didn't matter how he felt about the baby, he was going to look after it all the same and make sure that it had a good home. On the day the baby was born, Tooty there holding his hand. Windy Pop later recalled to me first seeing the baby. It was a girl. He remembers his feeling of relief when he saw that baby had it's head and it's bottom in the right places. Then he took the baby girl into his arms and named her Sibley Raj Pea and suddenly something changed. It didn't feel like needing to wee or being constipated. Right then, Windy Pop decided that there wasn't yet a Flatulonian sound conceived that could describe how he felt about Sibley Raj Pea. It simply felt like he was floating on a green cloud of methane.
Showing posts with label Windy Pop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Windy Pop. Show all posts
Friday, March 09, 2007
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Setting Things Straight in Owenia
I recently received feedback on one of my PhD papers I'd submitted to a journal. The paper was about my simulation environment, which I discussed in an earlier post. One of the problems that the reviewer had identified with my model was a rule in my simulation which implied cannibalism. Basically, when an agent in my simulation dies it's health is recycled back into the local ecosystem to be reused as an energy source. My thinking was that this implies cannibalism in the same way that eating food fertilised with manure implies eating shit.
Anyway, I was thinking about this problem in my simulation late into the night. Long after Jodi and Gypsy had gone to sleep I saw strange lights shining though the window from outside the house. I went to investigate and there was Windy Pop, my friend from the planet Flatulon-Nine, whom I'd thought I'd only dreamt. Windy Pop told me of this place he visited called Owenia. I have no way of accounting for it, but it would seem that by some strange cosmic phenomena the world which I created in my simulation had become actualised as a real world, some twenty thousand light years on the far side of galactic central point. The occupants of Owenia, the Owenians, celebrated effigies of me, referring to me as the Designer. Now, I'd be inclined to say that this type of thing is an inevitable consequence of living in an infinite universe, something we all just have to accept and deal with, but the stories Windy Pop told demanded affirmative action. I had designed the inhabitants of Owenia to be capable of competition and reproduction, thereby evolve-ability. Although they were capable of evolving certain forms of biological altruism, such as aging, they weren't able to act in a cohesively social manner - apparently they just weren't made of the right type of stuff. The horrors Windy Pop recounted to me included the sins of necrophilia and cannibalism. Clearly it was my duty to visit this world I was responsible for creating, so that I may provide some higher order moral guidance.
Initially, Windy Pop's main method of transportation around the universe was via space taxi, but this proved problematic as it is very hard to find a space taxi without an air-freshener hanging from the rearview mirror, which, as any Flatulonian will tell you, is the root of all evil. But thanks to invaluable advice from a wise sage about the magical properties of Santa's reindeer wee, Windy Pop devised a method of interstellar astral travel between planets by consuming copious quantities of reindeer wee. Unfortunately this had an unpleasant side effect of dizziness, so I only vaguely remember the trip. I do remember first seeing the torus shape of Owenia in the distance. (A torus is a ringed doughnut shape. This seemed like a convenient shape for my simulation world, which is essentially a square grid with the edges wrapped around and connected. Try it yourself with a piece of paper).
Once I got to Owenia I refrained from revealing myself to the Owenians. Instead I selected a special group of people, who were currently enslaved by a selfish group of Owenians, to be holy agents. I also selected, from among them, a special one, named Mooses, who I spoke to in the form of a burning bush and told to lead the holy agents into an empty cell patch called the promised land. I gave Mooses special powers allowing him to part the seas, which defined the borders of the cell patches, permitting the holy agents to pass. After the holy agents were freed of their captors, I called Mooses up to a nice grassy knoll where we had a nice picnic of baguette and dessert wine, and I gave him the rules by which to live in the promised land - the Ten Commandments:
Anyway, I was thinking about this problem in my simulation late into the night. Long after Jodi and Gypsy had gone to sleep I saw strange lights shining though the window from outside the house. I went to investigate and there was Windy Pop, my friend from the planet Flatulon-Nine, whom I'd thought I'd only dreamt. Windy Pop told me of this place he visited called Owenia. I have no way of accounting for it, but it would seem that by some strange cosmic phenomena the world which I created in my simulation had become actualised as a real world, some twenty thousand light years on the far side of galactic central point. The occupants of Owenia, the Owenians, celebrated effigies of me, referring to me as the Designer. Now, I'd be inclined to say that this type of thing is an inevitable consequence of living in an infinite universe, something we all just have to accept and deal with, but the stories Windy Pop told demanded affirmative action. I had designed the inhabitants of Owenia to be capable of competition and reproduction, thereby evolve-ability. Although they were capable of evolving certain forms of biological altruism, such as aging, they weren't able to act in a cohesively social manner - apparently they just weren't made of the right type of stuff. The horrors Windy Pop recounted to me included the sins of necrophilia and cannibalism. Clearly it was my duty to visit this world I was responsible for creating, so that I may provide some higher order moral guidance.
Initially, Windy Pop's main method of transportation around the universe was via space taxi, but this proved problematic as it is very hard to find a space taxi without an air-freshener hanging from the rearview mirror, which, as any Flatulonian will tell you, is the root of all evil. But thanks to invaluable advice from a wise sage about the magical properties of Santa's reindeer wee, Windy Pop devised a method of interstellar astral travel between planets by consuming copious quantities of reindeer wee. Unfortunately this had an unpleasant side effect of dizziness, so I only vaguely remember the trip. I do remember first seeing the torus shape of Owenia in the distance. (A torus is a ringed doughnut shape. This seemed like a convenient shape for my simulation world, which is essentially a square grid with the edges wrapped around and connected. Try it yourself with a piece of paper).
Once I got to Owenia I refrained from revealing myself to the Owenians. Instead I selected a special group of people, who were currently enslaved by a selfish group of Owenians, to be holy agents. I also selected, from among them, a special one, named Mooses, who I spoke to in the form of a burning bush and told to lead the holy agents into an empty cell patch called the promised land. I gave Mooses special powers allowing him to part the seas, which defined the borders of the cell patches, permitting the holy agents to pass. After the holy agents were freed of their captors, I called Mooses up to a nice grassy knoll where we had a nice picnic of baguette and dessert wine, and I gave him the rules by which to live in the promised land - the Ten Commandments:
Monday, November 20, 2006
My Recent Adventures on Flatulon-Nine
I've recently returned from a wondrous journey though the blogosphere. I have just updated to the new blogger in beta. As some of you may have noticed, things have changed around a little bit here. I've tried to keep things similar to the way they were before. Most of the big changes have occurred where you can't see them, with the provision of tools, making the whole blogging thing a bit easier (although, totally screwing up all my little HTML hacks). So, this is probably a good time for all you lazy MySpacers to do the transition into the more serious (i.e. more snobbish) blog world. I'd be happy to help anybody get started on blog spot (which is free), to get over the slight HTML hurdle (although, I'm no expert). Maybe a pot of tea and a chat at my place to get you on your merry way.
I thought I might tell you a story about one of my many adventures during my journey though the blogosphere, about this place I visited, called Flatulon-Nine. I told Jodi about it this morning, and she said that it was surely a dream. This might make sense considering that Jodi has been very gassy of late. Although, she insists that it's actually Gypsy who is the gassy one, but she's been really good since we got her off the canned food (no such luck with Jodi). Anyway, it's a special type of gas which helps me to sleep and induces interesting dreams...
The occupants of Flatulon-Nine are the Flatulonians. The Flatulonians are very similar the people of Earth, except their heads are located where their bottoms should be, and their bottoms are located where their heads should be. They also walk around on their hands, so nobody bothers washing their hands after they've been to the toilet. The Flatulonians communicate by farting at each other. It is considered rude if you fart whilst you are facing someone, because that would mean you're talking in the opposite direction. Sometimes the Flatulonians get confused about who is talking to who, because they often can't see who they are talking to. Sometimes, conversations simply tail off, if they get distracted by marauding air fresheners, and forget about the Flatulonian they are talking to behind them. This is mostly OK, because the Flatulonians are a very understanding people. In fact, one of their favourite things to do is to say "I love you" to each other. Flatulonians say "I love you" by farting (the louder the better) directly in the recipient's face (small cute pop farts translate as a small cute "I wuv you"). This requires a certain amount of co-ordination if they want to surprise each other during marriage proposals (in fact, many Flatulonians accidentally propose to the wrong person, but are happy regardless). When Mummy and Daddy Flatulonians love each other very much, they sometimes make fart love, which looks a bit like 69 rimming, and this is how baby Flatulonians are created.
Whilst I was staying at Flatulon-Nine I made a friend called Windy Pop. Windy Pop was considered very attractive to the Flatulonian girls (who thought his fart smells were very rock n' roll). In spite of this, he was very lonely. The problem was that he thought about things too much. He'd met a girl that he liked very much, but every time he tried to say that he loved the girl, he'd hesitate, worrying that he might be too hasty, or not able to perform, or that a bit of pooh might accidentally come out. As it was, by the time he'd farted out his declaration of love and turned around to see if it would be reciprocated, the girl Flatulonian had already left.
I thought I might tell you a story about one of my many adventures during my journey though the blogosphere, about this place I visited, called Flatulon-Nine. I told Jodi about it this morning, and she said that it was surely a dream. This might make sense considering that Jodi has been very gassy of late. Although, she insists that it's actually Gypsy who is the gassy one, but she's been really good since we got her off the canned food (no such luck with Jodi). Anyway, it's a special type of gas which helps me to sleep and induces interesting dreams...
The occupants of Flatulon-Nine are the Flatulonians. The Flatulonians are very similar the people of Earth, except their heads are located where their bottoms should be, and their bottoms are located where their heads should be. They also walk around on their hands, so nobody bothers washing their hands after they've been to the toilet. The Flatulonians communicate by farting at each other. It is considered rude if you fart whilst you are facing someone, because that would mean you're talking in the opposite direction. Sometimes the Flatulonians get confused about who is talking to who, because they often can't see who they are talking to. Sometimes, conversations simply tail off, if they get distracted by marauding air fresheners, and forget about the Flatulonian they are talking to behind them. This is mostly OK, because the Flatulonians are a very understanding people. In fact, one of their favourite things to do is to say "I love you" to each other. Flatulonians say "I love you" by farting (the louder the better) directly in the recipient's face (small cute pop farts translate as a small cute "I wuv you"). This requires a certain amount of co-ordination if they want to surprise each other during marriage proposals (in fact, many Flatulonians accidentally propose to the wrong person, but are happy regardless). When Mummy and Daddy Flatulonians love each other very much, they sometimes make fart love, which looks a bit like 69 rimming, and this is how baby Flatulonians are created.
Whilst I was staying at Flatulon-Nine I made a friend called Windy Pop. Windy Pop was considered very attractive to the Flatulonian girls (who thought his fart smells were very rock n' roll). In spite of this, he was very lonely. The problem was that he thought about things too much. He'd met a girl that he liked very much, but every time he tried to say that he loved the girl, he'd hesitate, worrying that he might be too hasty, or not able to perform, or that a bit of pooh might accidentally come out. As it was, by the time he'd farted out his declaration of love and turned around to see if it would be reciprocated, the girl Flatulonian had already left.
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