In a way, bad spelling makes any code phrase that much harder to crack. Imagine how hard it would have been to break the enigma code in WW2 if, on top of the cutting edge encryption technology, the Nazis had been bad spellers.
“The computer says that the message says “Sync teh Amiracan destoyer.”
“Hmm. Guess it’s back to the drawing board.”
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I’ve tried to come up with an ending for the French fry analogy, but the best I’ve come up with is “Hunger is like a French fry. If you eat, you won’t have it anymore,” which doesn’t really work.
Note from Missy: I don’t know how it started, but poking really is my go-to move. BOOP!
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I hate running. I use a rowing machine several times a week, and used to use an elliptical. Way back in the mists of time I put quite a few miles on a stair stepper, but put me on a treadmill and I tap out after 5 minutes.
I think it’s because all of the machines I do use have a certain element of being like a ride. On an elliptical you’re up in the air, swinging around. On a rowing machine you’re sliding back and forth. On a treadmill there’s no disguising that you’re working hard to literally go nowhere.
I did take up jogging once, way back when I lived in farm country. Nothing puts you off a sport like limping back home after rolling your ankle while having the asparagus crews openly mock you.
Note from Missy: Rick-shaw. Heh.
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Mullet Boss is a terrible boss, and Angry Customer is a terrible customer, but in fairness, Comic Scott is a terrible employee. It’d be interesting to know who was awful first, but to show them all meeting I’d have to do a Basic Instructions prequel, or maybe Basic Instructions Babies, and that ain’t happening.
I never noticed it before, but in a way these three characters form a sort of rock-paper-scissors. When any two of them are together, there’s a clear winner, but between the three there’s a stalemate. Mullet Boss threatens to fire Comic Scott. Comic Scott refuses to do what Angry Client wants. Angry Client threatens to stop bringing Mullet Boss his business.
Sometimes, these things I think up are a little too close to the way real life works.
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I worked at the Tower of Terror at Walt Disney World, which was a surprisingly flashlight-intensive job. We were supplied flashlights, but many of us bought our own because the communal flashlights got broken or stolen often. It struck me funny that I’d drive to work in the blinding Florida sun, walk from the parking lot through a spotlessly clean, sun-drenched theme park, then spend eight hours in a simulation of a dark, dilapidated hotel on a rainy evening.
Still, it’s better than working at Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster, the ride next door, which is a simulation of a parking garage and the alley behind said parking garage.
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I worked at the Tower of Terror at Walt Disney World, which was a surprisingly flashlight-intensive job. We were supplied flashlights, but many of us bought our own because the communal flashlights got broken or stolen often. It struck me funny that I’d drive to work in the blinding Florida sun, walk from the parking lot through a spotlessly clean, sun-drenched theme park, then spend eight hours in a simulation of a dark, dilapidated hotel on a rainy evening.
Still, it’s better than working at Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster, the ride next door, which is a simulation of a parking garage and the alley behind said parking garage.
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I LOVED Lost. I saw the pilot and immediately wanted answers to the questions it brought up. As I say in this comic, for every question the show answered it brought up at least two more, and the mysteries and solutions grew stranger and stranger over time until you had people coming back from the dead and big wooden wheels that, when turned, made the whole island teleport. Eventually I was watching to get the answer to the essential meta-mystery of the show, “How will they explain all of this?”
Spoiler alert, the answer was, “Unsatisfyingly.”
Note from Missy: That first panel about Voyager just made me LOL. So lame, so true.
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I LOVED Lost. I saw the pilot and immediately wanted answers to the questions it brought up. As I say in this comic, for every question the show answered it brought up at least two more, and the mysteries and solutions grew stranger and stranger over time until you had people coming back from the dead and big wooden wheels that, when turned, made the whole island teleport. Eventually I was watching to get the answer to the essential meta-mystery of the show, “How will they explain all of this?”
Spoiler alert, the answer was, “Unsatisfyingly.”
Note from Missy: That first panel about Voyager just made me LOL. So lame, so true.
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I once had a friend declare, loudly, “What do I want with dignity! What good does dignity do me? Dignity doesn’t pay my rent.” I wasn’t sure at the time whether he was trying to convince me that dignity wasn’t worth the effort to maintain, or himself.
Later I decided that it was a bad thing either way.
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I once had a friend declare, loudly, “What do I want with dignity! What good does dignity do me? Dignity doesn’t pay my rent.” I wasn’t sure at the time whether he was trying to convince me that dignity wasn’t worth the effort to maintain, or himself.
Later I decided that it was a bad thing either way.
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