The Deadly Ghost of Spellchecking

He's at your school. He's at your place of work. Heck, he's even probably in your home right now. No, it isn't Santa Claus drunk again, or even some coked-up door-to-door salesman... it's far more serious than that. It's the Deadly Ghost of Spellchecking.

And this ain't no regular, plate-chucking poltergeist we're talking about here. The worst part about it is that, unlike Bcbkye, the children's entertainer that escaped from the mutant circus, it's always there - an omnipresent (non?)entity that will harm your self esteem more than a 12-year-old YouTube troll on a sugar rush.

This bothersome phantom will pressure you into producing perfectly formed sentence structure and attempt to force upon you its sentiments. "Think of how much better the world would be if all this "Ow RU doin?" and "B bak l8r" nonsense were eradicated... no more illiteracy in society, more esteemed authors and article writers that don't rely on fatuous gimmicks to pull in readers." (Cough, don't for one moment think there's an ounce of hypocrisy in the previous statement...)

Agh, no! I have already been affected by its presence, for I find myself constantly correcting the spelling errors in this very post. Errors in speelling and gramour that would get me thrown out of Cambridge with but a pencil and a used condom to my name (well, you don't want to know what they really get up to there, do you? Thought not! Anyway, I digress). I have to remind myself that this post is hardly likely to be read by the Head of Languages at Oxbridge, and much more likely to entertain some kid with a chewing gum addiction.

But that's exactly the point, who cares about spelling when the readers themselves give not a snot about my inaccurate, sorry excuse for a dead pigeon that I call English? I could be illiterate, or worse, a tax collector using money as construction paper for all they care. As long as the general point is conveyed, job done and give me my five pounds. That is, if it isn't made into an origami swan first...

So this ghost should not be a burden upon my (granted, sesame seed sized) intellect, there are plenty of other pretentious dung beetles that will do that for me. That, and the fact I called the Ghostbusters and they rid my house of all such supernatural beings!

Oh yeah, and 'of' in the title should be capitalised. Or should it?!

Help, Mummy I'm scared...

This post has subsequently been serialised in, erm, one Illogicopedia article. Cool beans eh?

Oh my God!

Terminator just cut his arm open.
AWESOME!

From IMDB:

Revealing mistakes: When Sarah, John and the Terminator are in Dyson's house explaining the whole scenario, the Terminator cuts his arm open with a knife to prove he's a robot. The actor's real arm is clearly seen hiding under his shirt near his stomach.

Well, bet you didn't know that.

Muffins: Fact or Fiction?

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you are all seated comfortably in soft computer chairs (rather than computer chairs covered in razorwire and something else sharp).

I have come to you tonight to discuss a very serious matter with you all. It has come to my attention that the muffin, previously believed to be a delicious, soft, fluffy, delightful snack, might not exist at all.

Perhaps they are a government conspiracy. Perhaps they are suicidal aliens who want to be eaten (and killed) -- so they disguised themselves as food. But you should be aware that the muffins in your kitchen may not be real items of food.

Illusions. Whisps of myth. Shadow. Scientists are searching for the elusive muffin now in forests and other places we didn't build so are angry at them. I hope someone gets a picture of one and dissects it. Camera lens.

Thank you for attending tonight's seminar on the existence of Muffins. Tomorrow, I will swallow a laptop computer while being flogged, burned and otherwise abused for your entertainment. Enter what?

Brought to you by THE. Originally from an Illogicopedia article.

The Aliens

Billions of light years from Earth, there is yet another planet on which intelligent life has developed. The planet is called "The Other Planet that has Life." It isn't a very creative name.

The Other Planet that has Life was populated by a population of creatures far more technologically advanced than human beings. One night, Xvorg Smith, a researcher on the planet, was peering through a superpowered telescope at the stars, when he spotted something. A blue spec. He zoomed in on it, and gasped. He was looking at a city.

"COME HERE, QUICK!" he bellowed to his peers, "I've found life! LIFE!!"

The other scientists in the observatory ran over to the telescope to see for themselves. Sure enough, there was a city on this strange planet. They zoomed in closer, and saw weird pink beings wearing bright pink clothing.

"Those are some weird-ass aliens," said one scientist, "Look at the primitive vehicles they drive around in." He was looking at a car.

Read more...

Cake versus Gateau - Clash of the squidgy Titans

It was the third of Serpeniver, some years ago. A horse passed by. One chocolate cake and one gateau appeared in my brain. It was to be a fight with only one winner, but who? The cake had chocolatey goodness whilst the gateau was creamalicious... your guess was as good as mine: these were two fine specimens of cakeyness.

The cake dealt the first blow, smashing the cream from the gateau. The gateau retaliated by dealing a severe blow which knocked the very currants out of the cake! A fish broke wind whilst the audience (three cherries and a lettuce) roared wildly. Getting up from the canvas, cakey picked up a knife and sliced the gateau in half. However this just made it stronger, with twice the attacking power. With an almighty swipe, the gateau took a chunk out of the very heart of the cake.

In the end, it didn't matter. I ate them both.

Read more here