Simon FitzKit...In The Field!

Makes mouths happy. MAKES MOUTHS HAPPY!!!

July 10, 2008
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I’ve been laid low by Jumanji Twizzlers.

It waits for some unsuspecting person to find it, play it, and release the evil jungle magic within.

But I’m not prone to opening mysterious board games that wash up on the beach. No, this time the evil jungle magic had to bend itself to my weak spot:

I couldn’t help it. It just popped in there.

Twizzlers. One of the new resealable two-pound pouches that locks freshness in. Like we used to eat at Camp Waconda.

Only this bag didn’t just lock in freshness. Oh no. Let’s turn back the clock to last fall when I came down with an annoyingly persistent flu-like virus that completely floored me. My sister bought me a bag of resealable Twizzlers to cheer me up. No, not healthy for me, but hey, I was sick, and I wanted to feel better in some quantifiable way.

So I had some, sealed the bag, went back to cowering under the covers and got better.

February came around, and, as I was straightening my landfill of a room, I found, buried under clothes, DVDs, PSP games and comic books…

The Jumanji Twizzlers.

Oh, at the time, I didn’t know it was they, but the effect was immediate: I ate a few, and a couple days later, I was going through boxes of tissue like… well, like Kleenex. And I was not in the mood for Twizzlers any more, so they got kneaded back into the bottom of the counter bread machine that is my room.

And then I was sifting through piles of stuff I had recently tossed around (to be able to sleep on my bed again), and there, innocent and sweet, sat…

THE JUMANJI TWIZZLERS.

I carried them downstairs, having only an hour before discovered I had nothing but frozen meals and Pop-Tarts as immediate dining options. I sat down in front of CSI: Miami Season 1, and I had several strawberry-flavored twists.

Now everything above my philtrum is pounding, my nose is gushing, and my throat constantly feels like I’ve gargled with salt. Not salt water; salt.

So, of course, I threw the bag away as soon as I realized where the evil jungle magic had come from.

But now I realize: I didn’t burn it. It’s sitting in a trash bag somewhere, on its way to a dump, in some homeless child’s hands… and the Freshness seal is intact. The Jumanji Twizzlers are pristine inside. And someone will find them… and eat them… and the horror will live again.

Oh, God, I can still hear the drums! The hideous beating of those unearthly bongos, their sheer intensity threatening to drag me into my own personal heart of darkness!…

…Oh, wait. Sorry. I was just playing Rock Band on Nyquil.

Never mind.

Thank you, Seattle. Are you ready to r–BEWARE THE JUMANJI TWIZZLERS!


J. Jonah Jingleheimer Schmidt…His Name Is My Name Too

April 30, 2008
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My friend Sketch has lately taken to using the Magic Words (i.e. “Oh, and Kit, I know I don’t have to challenge you on this one, but just in case: I challenge you!”) more and more often, thus necessitating that I post more often.

Boohoo, right?

In any case, this time he found an interesting meme, the kind where you fill in the empty speech bubbles in a classic comic book panel, to hilarious effect. Normally, I don’t get especially inspired by them. I might even have passed this one by if not for Sketch’s timely official challenge…and his posting the plug-and-play Photoshop file he used for mass production.

I felt this particular panel deserved a very narrow-focused attack, and so I present my efforts:


Alias Indeed

April 30, 2008
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I was watching the 5th season of Alias tonight and was struck by an annoyingly persistent truth:

Balthazar Getty is the poor man’s Liev Schreiber.

I stole appropriated the above image from another blogger who is one of many to write the words “Does anyone else get these two confused?” So I feel confident that I’m not the only one who feels this way.

PS: I find it mildly amusing that my Spell Check humbly suggests I mean Kiev Schrödinger but has no problem with Balthazar or Getty. Who’s the poor man’s whom now?

PPS: Balthazar Getty apparently played Jack Shephard Ralph in the 1990 version of ‘Lord of the Flies.’ Yes, NetFlix; in fact, I would like to view that in 2-3 days.


Hand The Beat Goes On

December 8, 2007
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Daft Punk.
Daft Punk.
Daft Punk.
Daft Punk.

Funny.
Funny.
Funny.
Funny.

Wait For.
Wait For.
Wait For.
Wait For.

Fifty.
Fifty.
Fifty.
Seconds.

I’d say the parody only stays funny through 1:18, but the Rule of 57 apparently applies; I laughed every time he did it.


I’ve Said It Before And I’ll Say It Again

December 1, 2007
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Last night, I went through a 2-3 hour case of deja vu. It lasted from the moment I walked up to the theater through about 20 minutes after the Mister Diplomat show was over. It included scenes from the show, random conversations before and after, and a very odd moment when I almost pulled lights but then thought, “No, I remember blacking-out this show on a different line.”

I mentioned this to one of my co-improvisers, and his theory ran as follows: “That’s what you get for being at the theater so long. ‘I remember Robin saying that exact thing before, only she was Olivia and we were in an ice cream shop.'”

I can’t agree with that though. Because, as many people have found out, I actually remember those kinds of things, and thus I don’t confuse them with deja vu. I have, in fact, seen improv scenes that are extremely reminiscent of improv scenes I’ve seen before (not surprising, considering I’m fairly sure I’ve reached the twenty-thousand mark by this point), and I’ve had conversations about the same things over and over, but neither of those compares to the very distinct feel of having lived a moment before.

I’ve never really wondered before what false memories must feel like; I’ve always left that particular angst to the professionals…


…but, man, glitches in the Matrix are disturbing when they last for longer than a couple minutes. I should go back and reread Kurt Vonnegut’s Timequake with this newfound understanding.

Hmm. Is it just me, or does it seem fundamentally wrong to reread a book about longterm deja vu?