<

______________________________________________ What becomes of the ideas that don't make everyone happy:

Poonhair Harpoon
Ahem! Ahem! Hack! Cough! Sproing! Whirr! Beep! Ahh, that's better.
(+3, -7)

We've all had a similar experience at some time, thought Roland, as he hacked and coughed, trying to hawk up the nasty little hair stuck in the back of his throat. He rolled out of the bed and planted his feet on the floor, still worrying at the offending coil.

Once in the bathroom he clipped the Poonhair Hairpoon to his lower lip and switched it on. He felt the warmth of the lights, as the Poonhair Hairpoon illuminated the battleground, to acquire its target.

A high-pitched whistle flooded his senses then he felt the faint jolt of the launch and the slight scrape as the grapple snagged the target. It dragged across his tongue, then beeped to signal the job was finished.

Roland detached the Poonhair Hairpoon from his lip and examined the catch... It was an absolute beauty... at least three inches long. He dropped it into a bottle and labelled it "MONICA".

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UnaBubba, Oct 10 2005

Urban Dictionary: poon http://www.urbandic...efine.php?term=poon 1) A female's genital organ (vagina). Oh. [jutta, flag, delete, Oct 22 2005]

Poon?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- wagster, Oct 10 2005 [delete]

Oh, [Unabubba]...

Monica may regret going out with a guy who saves souvenirs in that manner.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- normzone, Oct 10 2005 [delete]

Roland has no regrets.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UnaBubba, Oct 10 2005 [edit, delete]

May we call you Ahab, again?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shz, Oct 10 2005 [delete]

This invention smells fishy...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- AfroAssault, Oct 10 2005 [delete]

Although Larry and Moe couldn't attend...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 2 fries shy of a happy meal, Oct 10 2005 [delete]

Gonna have to agree with [jutta] on this one UB. Although I won't vote against it simply because the summary reminded me of the classic Batman TV show.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- hidden truths, Oct 10 2005 [delete]

There are some advantages to the current shaven styles (grinning)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- normzone, Oct 10 2005 [delete]

OK, it's for the chop, if [jutta] insists. I must admit that I figured [benfrost]'s idea would be this very thing.

Not normally one to argue with [jutta], but this could well be a real contraption, for the relief of a very real problem. Anything that helps with speedy removal would be a GOOD THING.

Of course, those with no experience of the problem may be a little lost as to the need for such a thing.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UnaBubba, Oct 10 2005 [edit, delete]

unabubba you strange man. +

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- benfrost, Oct 10 2005 [delete]

mmmmmmm.. tangy..

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ConsulFlaminicus, Oct 10 2005 [delete]

//unabubba you strange man. +//

Praise indeed, coming from the master.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UnaBubba, Oct 10 2005 [edit, delete]

And I still can't believe there is a Food: Genital section.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- PollyNo9, Oct 11 2005 [delete]

ha

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- benfrost, Oct 11 2005 [delete]

It's there because [benfrost] caused it to be brought into existence.

I'm struggling to find an appropriate category. It's not really health:grooming, nor is it fashion:hair. It's a difficult one to really get hold of, I find.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UnaBubba, Oct 11 2005 [edit, delete]

I'd have been inclined to categorize it as Health: Surgery.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- jurist, Oct 11 2005 [delete]

OK. Done. There didn't seem to one about hair: removal or hair: depilation

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UnaBubba, Oct 11 2005 [edit, delete]

I vote to remove the mfd. Relatively speaking, the invention described isn't too bad an idea. Sketchy on the details, sure, but better than many entries that were spared the mfd.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Texticle, Oct 13 2005 [delete]

It's a proper invention.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- DenholmRicshaw, Oct 13 2005 [delete]

I bet if Roland were to tell Monica of the utensile and its' uses, the problem would no longer arise.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- jellydoughnut, Oct 13 2005 [delete]

just use a fork

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- sophocles, Oct 13 2005 [delete]

Hairspray?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- reensure, Oct 13 2005 [delete]

I'm sure this invention would make Edison envious, were he with us.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- jellydoughnut, Oct 13 2005 [delete]

UB, kudos for the deft use of inference, causing numerous halfbakers to read between the lines and insert their own interpretations. I must admit I went from sitting here shaking my head at the depths to which you appeared to have stooped to a full out-loud laugh as I, too, began to imagine the possibilities.

Dare we suggest that fair Monica also keeps one of these inventions in her boudoir as well? Beside a bottle labelled "ROLAND"?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Canuck, Oct 14 2005 [delete]

I wasn't prepared to spell it out in short, sharp, shiny words for the unimaginative. Thanks for the compliment.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UnaBubba, Oct 14 2005 [edit, delete]

Unimaginative? I just wasn't aware of "poon" being slang for vagina. So, thanks for the hint, Canuck.

[marked-for-deletion] It's still a pun, and, while it's certainly remarkable, I don't want the halfbakery to be the repository for your particularly remarkable puns (in addition to, uh, some inventions). Save it somewhere else? Thanks.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- jutta, Oct 22 2005 [delete]

Enigmatic Ninja Pirate Mimes Of The Caribbean [edit, delete] HELLO... Hello ... hello... 'llo... 'o (+8, -8) [change vote to neutral, against]

We hove to, in a tiny bay. The crystal clear water around us was nothing short of idyllic. Fish seen against the bottom could have been 3 centimetres long, or 3 metres long. It was impossible to tell. Just before dusk we saw a ghostly ship, all canvas flying, rounding the headland. It appeared to have a giant skull&bones-shaped tumbleweed, painstakingly made from thousands of bleached fishbones, fastened on the mainsail. Their flag was a black towel, with 42 croissants on it, flying at half mast.

The first shot was incredibly loud and the fall of shot even louder. We were suddenly drenched with thick, yellow ooze, as the bombs fell on and about us.

One of the bombs did not explode. We realised it was a perfect sphericon clock, whittled from someone's wooden leg. It was filled with delicious, sweet custard, redolent of almonds and Amaretto.

When the pirates boarded they were like nothing we had ever imagined. They swung beneath balloons, drifting over our boat on the gentle zephyr of the breeze.

They were thin, impossibly tall (around ten feet) and had four arms apiece, with striped blue and white shirts, perfectly matched socks, ponytail fasteners and funny little hats, each adorned with a single red flower.

They moved like ghosts, silent and violent, flipping and tumbling faster than the eye could properly comprehend. Each one had a prominent, blue tooth, that flashed every few seconds.

Apart from that they were grimly, sadly silent and communicated with us in exaggerated hand movements and actions. Each was armed with a piezoelectric LED blunderbuss in the shape of a guitar. Each piezoelectric LED blunderbuss guitar fired balls of custard, hard enough to disable a man for several minutes.

We were captured and taken aboard their ship, which hovered just above the surface of the water. I think that had something to do with the multitude of cats (dead, alive and in stasis) aboard their vessel, each of which was wearing a tiny saddle that appeared to be made from stale, greasy toast; each slice bore the logo "ERWIN" in large friendly letters.

They were heartless, cruel and mocking, these Enigmatic Ninja Pirate Mimes of the Caribbean.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UnaBubba, Feb 15 2005

damn newbies

At least it's not in other:general.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Worldgineer, Feb 15 2005 [delete]

Narr. Damn you, I broke a nail typing that.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Machiavelli, Feb 15 2005 [delete]

This wasn't titled "Tumbleweed Pirate Mimes" a few minutes ago, was it? I thought there was something about custard in there.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Machiavelli, Feb 15 2005 [delete]

Come on, [ub], you can do better than this. Get some ninjas in there. Then, maybe, I'll bun this.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- david_scothern, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

piezoelectric anything and balloons

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- dentworth, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

A specific volume control that only applies to a popular hit by Susanne Vega?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ian Tindale, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

I keep looking, but I don't get it. If whatever it is relies on a cultural reference that I don't have I will be both disappointed and relieved.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- moomintroll, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

Luka gain.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ian Tindale, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

(the "culture" is this website, the reference is to idea themes that come up enough to be annoying)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Worldgineer, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

Try entering 'custard' 'tumbleweed' 'ninja' or 'pirate' into the hb search box and see how many ideas turn up.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- wagster, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

How'd you make the options change to arr/narr?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Madai, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

I suspect it'll do it automatically if "pirate" appears in the title but I haven't tested it, not having thought of a good Pirate Themed Idea yet.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- wagster, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

Yeah? How did you do that?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- DesertFox, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

Reminds me of my deleted idea from awhile ago, the "Ninja Custard Clock".

And the arr/narr is auto-changed when "pirate" is in the title. So..... that means that jutta must like the pirate ideas, so no knocking them as echos just yet...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- sophocles, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

I thought everyone liked Pirate Ideas? Have we not found the great unifying formula after all?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- wagster, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

Custardweed Ninja Pirates of Punzance... Was there ever an idea based on bluetooth enabled, genetically modified fishbones?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jinbish, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

what, no guitar?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- theircompetitor, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

Please, don't ever delete this. :)

At least, before you do, email me a copy of it! (Including annos)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- DesertFox, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

And how socks really are galactic overlords and use washing machines as interdimensional-FTL travel.

Which was your idea, by the way. :) (One of my favorites)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- DesertFox, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

OK. I've managed to get HHTG and Schrodinger in there, too.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UnaBubba, Feb 16 2005 [edit, delete]

"We are the pirates who don't say anything... we just sit home, and lay around..."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- RayfordSteele, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

It's been fascinating to read the successive edits.....I'm sure there is some technical reason to mfd this, but I hope we can't figure out what it is.

I like this version [021605 7:14P PST] best.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- normzone, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

YEAH!

Custard's Last Stand.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- DesertFox, Feb 16 2005 [delete]

[marked-for-deletion] Not an invention.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- jutta, Feb 17 2005 [delete]

Nice category.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- calum, Feb 17 2005 [delete]

"Nice category."

I wonder if jutta used [Ian Tinssdale]'s "Absolute drivel scale"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- robinism, Feb 17 2005 [delete]

"Tindale", if you don't mind. Tango India November Delta Alpha Lima Echo.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ian Tindale, Feb 17 2005 [delete]

Praise [jutta]! a drivel category

look [etherman] your day has come! halfbakery: drivel: bollocks

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- dentworth, Feb 17 2005 [delete]

So, I came back. Don't look so surprised. Everyone takes a holiday occasionally... just ask Alberto Cassella.

A special message to the autoboner who, I am informed, does not exist:
Develop a life-threatening disease: Don't seek treatment.

Ce compte n'est plus en activité

Ceci n'est pas une page de profil

m+r+p+s+l+o+t+h+@+y+a+h+o+o+.+c+o+m

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

In the beginning, the world was cast with darkness. Then the Lord said, "Let there be light", and you could see for fucking miles!

The Lord said unto Daniel, "Come forth", but Daniel, being an uncoordinated, geeky dipshit, tripped and came fifth thus losing his beer money for the week, on a bet with his mates.

The Lord was displeased with Daniel and cast him into the desert, where he wandered for forty days and forty nights. He was still wandering about in the desert when a villainous band of Bedouin bandits, known as the Bagmeshagme Bunch found him.

True to their name, they bagged him and shagged him, so he was without trousers and bleeding from the arse when he stumbled across a well known Phoenician city.

He was taken in by a kindly princess, and one thing led to another, though her father never found out, thinking he was just an odd jobs man. One morning she said to him, "Daniel, I'm pregnant, what steps should we take?"

"Fuckin' big ones!" , said Daniel, as he climbed over the city walls, and bolted into the desert again.

He was finally captured by an Egyptian slave trader, who sold him to a gladiator school.

After some rudimentary training he was thrown in with some lions, by a Roman Emperor who didn't think much of Christians. Daniel promptly shit himself, dropping a turd 30 cubits long, 15 cubits wide and 10 cubits high. (A cubit being a unit of measurement roughly equivalent to the length of a camel's penis, erect. Tape measures were pretty scarce in those times.)

The Emperor was impressed that any man could evacuate his bowels in such fashion, and spared Daniel. He escaped into the desert, again, that night.

Daniel wandered for another forty days and forty nights, living on grass seeds, nuts and berries, and the occasional cat curry.

He was surprised to find a well known Babylonian city in the middle of nowhere, on the fortieth day. He scaled the walls and found himself in the middle of a parade where people were throwing flowers and food and all kinds of things. Daniel picked up a lump of camel dung (bullshit being non-existent in those days, like mobile 'phones), and threw it at random. Random ducked and it hit the King.

"Shit", said the King. The King's word being law in those parts all 5,000 Babylonians present dropped their duds and squatted. Which explains why the Queen looked up to see 10,000 bronzed, Babylonian buttocks, straining in the morning sunlight.

"Fuck me dead", said the Queen. Her word also being law, 5,000 Babylonians rushed eagerly to comply...

***TO BE CONTINUED***

=============================================== Sometimes I get all lyrical, and write song parodies. These are the results:

Bubbahemian Rhapsody (In dough)

There is no real world
Only this fantasy
Caught in the 1/2B
My excuse for reality
Open your eyes
Check in on the pies and see
I'm just a poor baker, I need some sympathy
Because I'm trapped in here, I can't let go
Don't log out, can't let go
Whether it's night or day now, doesn't really matter
To me

jutta, I just baked an idea
For a gun made out of bread
Linked on egnor, now I'm dead
jutta, voting had just begun
But now I've gone and thrown it all away.
jutta oo-oo,
Didn't mean to be so wry
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow-
Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters-

Too late,my time has come,
Sends a fishbone down my spine-
Annotating all the time,
Goodbye everybody-I've got to go-
Gotta leave you all behind and face the world-
jutta oo-oo-(any way the crumbs blow)
I don't want to fry,
I sometimes wish I'd never come here at all-

I see a little glimmer of an unbaked idea
PeterSealy, PeterSealy will you bake a Rubber Mango
Susen and Mephista fighting-very very frightening me
mihali, oh mihali,
mihali, oh mihali,
mihali, waugsqueke and beauxeault
But I'm just a poor baker and nobody loves me,
He's just a poor baker from a faroff country
Spare him his life from this monstrosity
Easy come easy go-,will you let me go-
Halfcroissant! No-,we will not let you go-let him go-
Halfcroissant! We will not let you go-let him go
Halfcroissant! We will not let you go-let him go
Will not let you go-let me go
Will not let you go let me go
No,no,no,no,no,no,no-
Dog Ed, gt, Dog Ed, gt, Dog Ed, gt, let me go-
AfroAssault has a devil unleashed just for me,for me,for me

So you think you can link me and spit in my eye
So you think you can BAKED! me and leave me to die
Oh bakery-Can't do this to me bakery
Just gotta get out-just gotta get right outta here

Nothing really matters
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters, except halfbakery

Any way the crumbs blow... ±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± A Halfbakin' Man

Some people can't stay away from the screen
They've gotta know if the 'bakery's changed
They refresh every minute or so
In the hope that there'll be somethin' new

Some people live with the fear of the 'bones
Some the anger of having been being a troll
They will not listen to anyone
So nobody gives them a chance

I know I'm only deluding myself
I know I'm pretending to be somebody else
Someone who ain't me
But I guess I'm not here
'Less I'm posting some idea
You could never see yourself willing to wear
I'm not above posting anything
To pull a few croissants if I can
Some people see through the eyes of the old
Before they ever give a thought to the newbs
I'm only willing to read your idea
Because I am a halfbakin' man
I am an halfbakin' man
Oh yes I am

Some people say they will never believe
That light can be faster than dark
Because they only remember too well
They heard someone here tell them it's true

Some people bake all alone every night
Instead of taking a lover to bed
Some people find that it's easier to bake
Than to work anymore

I know you don't want to hear what I say
But I'm gonna annotate your crap idea, anyway
But I've been there and if you can survive
And keep your idea alive
While I'm tearing through it over again
I've not above being cruel for a while
If you're cruel to me I'll understand

Some people come in to look for a fight
Some people arguments they can never win
But they often post pisspoor ideas that are baked
Then accuse that we're out to get them

I am a halfbakin' man
Oh yes I am
A halfbakin' man

You know you only post your crap out of spite
I guess you'd rather be a martyr tonight
That's your decision
And I'm not above
Givin' the odd newbie a shove
If there's a chance of keeping Baker Street clean
I often wish I'd been around at the start
In the days when the 'bakery began

Some people hope for a miracle cure
For an addiction that they can't admit
But I'm too willing to log in again and again
Because I am a halfbakin' man

I am a halfbakin' man
Oh yes I am
A halfbakin' man

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± The world lost something special last week: Johnny Cash went the way of all flesh. Of lesser note, unless you're in Australia, Slim Dusty passed on, too. Anyway, here's a little tribute I wrote for one of the great Country/Blues/Poular singers of the last 50 years. I hope you like it. I called it Fishbone Prison Blues...

I see the fishbone comin'
It's drivin' me 'round the bend,
And I ain't seen a croissant,
Since, I don't know when,
I'm stuck in Fishbone Prison,
And time keeps draggin' on,
But that Squirrel Cage Train's a-rollin',
On down to San Antone.

When I was just a newbie,
[StarChaser] told me, "Son,
Always show a little whimsy,
And you should see some buns,"
But I posted ideas about GM,
And magic cars that fly,
When I see the fishbone votes hit,
I hang my head and cry.

I bet that [FarmerJohn] is postin',
Another two point five,
About Spray-on Java Coffee,
Or Inflatable Freightcars,
But I know I had it comin',
I know I can't be he,
And those fishbones keep a-landin',
And that's what tortures me.

Well, if they freed me from this prison,
If those Dodgy Wind Chimes were mine,
I bet I'd do better, just a little,
Turn some water into wine,
Far from Fishbone Prison,
That's where I want to be,
Hey guys, just one tiny, lonesome croissant,
Would blow my blues away ±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± Baker you're a boy make a big noise
Playin' on the 'net gonna be a big man some day
You got dough on yo' face
You big disgrace
Bakin' ideas all over the place
Singin'

We will we will bake you
We will we will bake you

Baker you're a young man hard man
Your halfbaked ideas are gonna change the world some day
You got dough on yo' face
You big disgrace
Rubbin' out banner ads all over the place
Singin'

We will we will bake you
We will we will bake you

Baker you're an old man poor man
With halfbaked ideas to bring world peace some day
You got dough on your face
You big disgrace
Somebody better put you back in your place

We will we will bake you
We will we will bake you ±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± Half A Soliloquy

To bake, or not to bake: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and fisbones of outrag’d ‘bakers,
Or to search Google and post a link to trouble,
And by opposing end them? To fry two sheep;
Or more; and by two sheep to say we light
The barbecue of a thousand natural shocks
That flesh is air, too, 'tis a consumption
Devoutly to be wish'd. To try! To see!
To sleep… perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of sleeps what dreams may come
Afore we have shuffled off this flaky roll,
That might chance bring applause: there's the respect
That makes for brevity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of them,
The cries of “Baked”, of proud mens' opposition,
The pangs of fishboned thoughts, the day's delay,
The insolence of trolls, as the world again turns
That patient merit of the unworthy bakes,
When he himself might his animus forsake
For an odd bodkin? Who would fishbones bear,
To jape and jest under a monitor’s weary light,
But no escape from that dreadful place of mirth,
The little discover'd ‘bakery from whose bourn
So few whom visit return, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
In hidden longing for approbation we know not oft
Yet conscience doth make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of revolution
Is sicklied o'er with a strange rectitude of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their croissants torn away,
And lose the name of action.-- Soft you now!
The fair Moderator! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins forgot. ±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± Halfbakery Song

It would've been being 2am on a Saturday
The regular crowd would've been logging in
There'd have been a Cocktail Sippy Cup sitting next to me
Full of Mountain Dew, tonic and gin

Someone's posted an annotation to an idea of mine
And I'm not really sure what it means
It's some bizarre rant about a Church of No Pants
And recycled, invisible jeans.

La la la, de de da
La la, de de da da da

<Chorus>
Bake us an idea, you're a halfbaker
Bake us something funky tonight,
Well, we're all in the mood for some Mud Farm
And you've got us feelin' alright
</Chorus>

Now Jutta seems like an old friend of mine
She provides us this website for free
And she can take most of our jokes but can turn you to smoke
If there's something she'd rather not see

She says, "Guys, I believe this is killing me."
As the smile runs away from her face
"Well I'm sure that I could move more of these Tshirts
If more people promoted this place"

Oh, la la la, de de da
La la, de de da da da

Now PeterSealy's missus is in real estate
She must be a tolerant wife
'Cause he's always online, proclaiming "Baked" all the time
Perhaps we could get him a life?

The verb egnor is arguing with Peter
While the rest of us look on in awe
We'd like to step in, but we'd best not begin
While this pair have control of the floor.

<Chorus>
With Absterge and Beauxeault and Aristotle
Waugsqueke, Dog Ed and Zip
Thumbwax, StarChaser and Monkfish
And Rods Tiger on some kinda trip
</Chorus>

Well, it's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday
And Susen's soliloquies make me smile
'Cause the halfbakery is where she'd rather be
To forget about life for a while

Then Iuvare and Salmon and DrBob
Globaltourniquet and Nutsy appear
I glance at my clock, and get quite a shock
And think, "Man! what am I doin' here?"

Oh, la la la, de de da
La la, de de da da da ±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± Hotel Halfbakery

On a dark moonlit midnight
Cold coffee mug by my chair
Stale smell of old croissants
Rising up through the air
All I see is my monitor
And its shimmering light
My head grows heavy, and my sight grows dim
I'll have to stop for the night
Then she posted an idea
I heard the Spider Bells
And I was thinking to myself
I can't give this a fishbone, here's a pastry... what the hell,
Then came another idea
About some Nipit Niplet Bra
There were annotations coming thick and fast
From 'bakers both near and far

Welcome to the Hotel Halfbakery
Such a lovely pair
Of such lovely legs
And such lovely hair
Plenty of room at the Hotel Halfbakery
Any time of year, any time of year
You can find us here, you can find us here.

Her mind is 'bakery twisted
She's got the Blue Heron bends
She's got a lot of nutty, smutty boys
That she calls friends
How they dance in The Animal
Where the walls run with sweat
Some bake to remember
Some bake to forget
So I emailed the bakesperson
"Please send me my Tshirt"
She said, "We haven't had that size here since September '99"
And still those ideas are calling from far away
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to watch them at play

Welcome to the Hotel Halfbakery
Such a lovely pair
Of such lovely legs
And such lovely hair
They're livin' it up at the Hotel Halfbakery
What a nice surprise
What a nice surprise
Bring your glaze'd eyes

Mirrors catching moonbeams
Black Oilbergs float like ice
And she said
"We are all just prisoners here
Of our own device"
And in the bakers' chambers
They gather for the feast
They stab it with their Sealy knives
But they just can't bake the beast
Last thing I remember
I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
"Relax", said Rods Tiger,
"We are programmed to receive
Delete your account any time you like
But you can never leave."
(fading):
Plenty of room at the Hotel Halfbakery
Any time of year, any time of year
You can find us here, you can find us here.
'Baking ideas day and night at the Halfbakery... ±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± The Rime Of The Ancient Halfbaker

He is an ancient Halfbaker,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy acerbic tongue and glittering pate,
Thou must be name'd Curry?'

The Bakery's doors are opened wide,
And I am just logged in;
The guests are met, the categories set:
May'st the baking day begin.'

One types him with his skinny hands,
'That idea's baked', quoth he.
'Hold off! post links, chrome-dom'ed loon!'
Eftsoons the "Baked" dropt he.

He spears him with his sharpen'd tongue--
The Trolling-Pest stood still,
Then rants just like a three years' child:
The 'baker holds his steel.

The Trolling-pest chokes on 'bones:
He cannot take the strain;
And thus "Baked" on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Halfbaker.

'The ship was cheered, then cows appeared,
A-lowing at the rail,
Towards the fall, the public thrall,
E'er close the thunderous drop.

Bones rain'd down, right and left,
Out of the sea came they!
A single croissant, lone and bright
The idea-posters say?

Higher and higher pile the 'bones,
Till over the mast at noon--'
The Trolling-pest here beat his breast,
And he becom'st a loud buffoon.

The bride will soon pace into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The 'baking cit'zenry.

The Trolling-pest he beat his breast,
And he chooseth not to hear;
And then spake twenty reasoned men,
All longtime halfbakers.

And now the storm-blast came, but he
Was tyrannous and strong:
Though struck about the head with things,
He complain'st about a song.

Then [thumbwax], [ravenswood] and [po],
Removal pursued with yell and blow
[StarChaser] calls a Troll a Troll,
[quarterbaker] shows his hand,
Trolling-pest held fast, chained to the mast,
An unrepentant man.

And now there came [waugsqueke], [T_E_A],
And it grew wondrous cold:
[-alx], mast-high, came floating by,
And [ravenswood], again.

And through the drifts of snowy bones,
There came a dismal wail,
Not care for men nor beasts I ken--
If thou read'st the lines between.

There was [mihali] here, and [CoolerKing],
And [goff] and [NeverDie]:
Then [angel] called out "Loser",
And [thumbwax] reason tried,
,

At length did write our own [Guy Fox],
In accents clear and still,
As if it had been a Christian soul,
Who bore no-one ill will.

It seem'd the effort was in vain,
[TeaTotal] had a go,
[Rods Tiger] couldn't make a dent
The air did spit with acid tones;
Then [lummox] steered right through!

And good [calum] lent his calming voice;
Then [pottedstu] did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
We came to the Troll-pest's hollo!

In mist or cloud, on recent page,
We perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, without respite,
The blithe Troll-pest opines.'

'God save thee, Trolling-pest!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!
Why look'st thou so?'
With my cross-bow
I'd gladly shoot the cuss! ±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± The Defence Of Fort McBakery

Oh, say can you see, by your screen's feeble light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose fishbones and croissants, through the perilous night,
While the recent page watched, other halfbakers dreaming?
Can you guess who’s been here, there are bombs everywhere,
Take heart through the night that Utah is still there.
O say, does that half-bake’d webpage yet call
To more than just me, and of course, each of y'all?

On the roll, dimly seen through the rings of cream cheese,
Where the belle of the ‘bakery in Redmond reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, a hullaballoon, now discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines on the screen:
'Tis the halfbakers’ homepage! O long may it reign
As the best thing that ever came, out of Silicon Valley.

And where is that man who so waxfully dreamed
Of a pager to tell you your clothes have been cleaned?
Do the Hollywood Hills, the digit simply beckon no more?
Thine hand has wiped out many foul footpad's pollution.
No refuge could save as the feeding trolls gorge
On the burgeoning works, of the master troll George:
Yet the halfbakers’ homepage in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Oh! thus be it ever, where the blue herons stand
In the forested swamps of the Kon-rek-ikuts’ lands!
Blest with victory and peace, at Sorta Claus’s right hand,
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a Bozo.
Then conquer we must, for our cause it is lost,
And this be our motto: "Viva los Semi-panaderos."
'Tis the halfbakers’ homepage! O long may it reign
It’s the best on the ‘net, bless’d be Jutta’s brain. ±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± The Modern British Halfbaker

‘Baker:
I am the very model of a modern British Halfbaker,
I've information quite obscure on DrBob the pisstaker,
I saw the fall of sealybot, and I can quote the Monty Python boys
From Parrot Sketch to Hollywood, with effects of music, sound and noise;
I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters astronomical,
I remember two thousand and one, and Red Dwarf Oh! so comical,
About newbies real identities I'm teeming with a lot o' news,
Is 8th of 7 really the full length of the hypotenuse?

ALL:
Is 8th of 7 really the full length of the hypotenuse?
Is 8th of 7 really the full length of the hypotenuse?
Is 8th of 7 really the full length of the hypotenuse?

‘Baker:
I'm very good at coming up with ideas like the wind chime thing,
I call up blissmiss late at night, just to set her ‘phone a-ring,
In short, in matters pointless, dull and really quite obscure,
I am the very model of a modern British halfbaker.

ALL:
In short, in matters pointless, dull and really quite obscure,
She is the very model of a modern British halfbaker.

‘Baker:
I know 1/2bakery history, ‘bout Buxton/Cornish, MrT;
I can hold my own on pretty things, like crenellated cleavages
I quote in Elizabethan prose, the works of Will the Serious,
In comic moments I can keep the bloody place delirious,
I can pick a dodgy Google search from knowledge known previous,
I can even understand some jokes in Latin, for the devious
Then I can strum a fugue of which I've heard the music's din afore,
And strike up with the Geordie band a tune or two from Pinafore.

ALL:
And strike up with the Geordie band a tune or two from Pinafore.
And strike up with the Geordie band a tune or two from Pinafore.
And strike up with the Geordie band a tune or two from Pinafore.

‘Baker:
I can even set a washing machine for transgalactic travel,
Provided (Relativically) the left socks don’t unravel:
In short, in matters pointless, dull and really quite obscure,
I am the very model of a modern British halfbaker.

ALL:
In short, in matters pointless, dull and really quite obscure,
He is the very model of a modern British halfbaker.

‘Baker:
In fact, I know the difference ‘twixt "Pannikin" and "Piccaninn",
I can even quote the episode where MacGyver made a rubber javelin,
In such affairs as mobile ‘phones and inflatables I know a lot,
I’m not afraid to let my nuclear physics background show a lot,
I know enough of battleships to quote stats on their gunnery,
I can pull lines out of Hamlet, such as “Get thee to a nunnery!”
In short, though I’ve a talent for surrealistic punnery,
I’ll sometimes stay, for weeks, away from Jutta’s lovely bunnery.

ALL:
He’ll sometimes stay, for weeks, away from Jutta’s lovely bunnery.
He’ll sometimes stay, for weeks, away from Jutta’s lovely bunnery.
He’ll sometimes stay, for weeks, away from Jutta’s lovely bunnery.

‘Baker:
Despite my breadth of knowledge, charm and wit and pedantry,
I’ll sometimes stoop to stir the pot and rile the Yankee peasantry
In short, in matters pointless, dull and really quite obscure,
I am the very model of a modern British halfbaker.

ALL:
In short, in matters pointless, dull and really quite obscure,
They are the very models of the modern British halfbakers. ±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± The Taliban Can

Who can take bin Laden,
Hide him away from view,
Cover him with glory,
and an accolade or two?
The Taliban,
Oh the Taliban can,
The Taliban can
'Cause they mix their words with rhetoric,
and make the world upset.

Who can take Islam,
Wrap it in a fatwa,
Sprinkle it with sharia, and
Proclaim Americans must die?
The Taliban,
Oh the Taliban can,
The Taliban can
'Cause they've proclaimed a new Jihad,
To make the whole world pay.

The Taliban can,
Make everything okay,
All the Afghan,
Mujahidin obey,
'Cause their Mullah says they're Shaheed,
and they pretend the world will go away.

Oh, who can take the Qur'an,
The whole thing, Bismillah,
Bend it to their own ends,
And cook up a good fatwa?
The Taliban,
Oh the Taliban can,
The Taliban can
'Cause they tell us how thay want,
to make the whole world Islamic.

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± We Didn't Bake The Idea

Panic Pin, Cheese Rings, Spravy, Nerd Gyms
Chocolate turds, Shag my bird, Glow in the dark beer

Joe Cornish, Adam Buxton, Blood Drink causes ructions
AM Toothpaste, PM Toothpaste, Self cleaning floor suction

Crude oil icebergs, Town Bombs, Last Words
Pedanto, The Tick And I, and A camera in an eye,

Harley Krishnas, Fluorescene, great big Babbage Drum Machine
SarcasMo, Coloured tyres, Cure for the “Ring of Fire”

We didn't bake the idea
It was always baking
Now the news is breaking
We didn't bake the idea
But as we try to bake it
More new faces make it

Team Rocket, Mr T, Mel Practice and braineddy
Mephista’s is the latest post on Poetic Legalese

Anti-Grav Man, Vernon, This is where we’re learnin’
Of Showers made of waterfalls and Intergalactic socks

1percent has a dream, waugsqueke’s lyrics are a scream
PeterSealy, Havenman, nick-n-uit, RastaMan

Self–Heating Donuts in a can, Series Seven: Running Man
Buxton/Cornish. blown away, what else do I have to say?
±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± The Maven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious idea left on the cutting room floor,
'Ere I nodded, eyes a-rolling, suddenly there came a tolling,
As of someone foolish trolling, trolling at the 'bakers' door.
"Surely 'tis some cretin," I muttered, "trolling at the 'bakers' door
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate trolling idea scattered fishbones 'pon the floor.
Eagerly time sought the morrow; -- vainly time I sought to borrow
From these ideas surcease of sorrow -- sorrow for the lost rapport
For the rare and radiant feeling, of the 'bakers arms wide open to all comers, one and all
Foolish hope here, evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain talk of mobile 'phones and merkins
Thrilled me -- filled me with fantastic knowledge I had never seen before; So that now, to still the eating at my mind, I type, repeating
"Piss off, newbie trollster bleating, about the other 'bakers treating you with such harsh comment"
"Remember it was you came beating, up the foment, you're now meeting.
Like some scabrous, pox'ed whore. "

Presently their growls grow stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," say they, "or Madam, truly your boorishness we abhor,";
But this place has secret polling, and so rudely you came trolling,
And blowhardly you came trolling, trolling this halfbakers' floor,
You seemed quite nice when we first met you" -- when we opened wide the door;
Dumbness there and nothing more.

Deep into that dumbness peering, long we tried, but you weren't hearing,
Doubtless dreaming dreams no sane man ever dared to dream before;
But the spell was now a-broken, and your dumbness gave no token,
And the only word there was spoken...Fishbone !... Fishbone, more and more!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back "Fishbone number 34!"
Merely this, and nothing more.

Backs of all the 'bakers turning, indignation within burning,
Soon we heard again a trolling slightly quieter than before.
"Surely," thought I, "surely there is something sensible he has posted now?
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this new idea explore
Let my heart be still a moment and this new idea explore;
'Tis Real Donkey Kong, and nothing more!"

Upon there I flung a fishbone, and hope to break this trollster's wishbone,
Just to stop this spiteful no-one, with ideas which breach our laws;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a shred of consciene shewed he;
But, with mien of gargoyle shady, perched upon the 'bakery floor
Perched and spewed forth crap so callous, when we thought there surely can't be more?
Perched, and shat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony turd bewailing his idea's sad fate, for failing,
Other's grave and stern decorum, befitting of this learn'ed forum,
"Though thy wings be clipt and shaven, thou," I said, "art surely still too craven,
Ghastly little 'net-troll, raving, o'er and o'er, thine same refrain,
Tell me how The Cheating Game will make the world a better place,
Quoth the trollster, "Shutcha face."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fool to here discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning -- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with being such a crushing, crashing bore,
Falling foul of all and sundry here upon the 'baking floor,
With ideas like "Free Sedatives For Poor."

But the trollster, sitting lonely with his 13 ideas 'bonely,
And one with double croissant, as if his soul in that one idea he did outpour.
Nothing other had he uttered, not a charitable idea he muttered,
That the 'bakers proclaimed, "Another nutter, such as others gone before,
On the morrow he may leave me, less experience deceive us, as others here have flown before."
Still the troll complained of treatment poor.

Startled at the still unbroken string of fishbones in lieu of words unspoken,
"Doubtless," said we, "what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster 'til all his thoughts its burden bore
Till the dregs of crap that "Mandatory Reason To Vote No" bore
Oh, please ! Don't post no bloody more" !

But the trollster still reviling all advice and quiet cajoling,
Straight away posts another trolling about a change to 'bakery unwritten law;
Then, with feeling finally sinking, I betook myself to linking
To the Help File, thinking what this ignoramus troll, this geezer
That this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous trolling miser
Meant in croaking "Breathalyzer"

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, with no inkling yet expressing
Of the foolishness depressing I might find behind that door;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the 'bakery's velvet lining whilst I typed this little poem,
'Ere I idly wandered over... And of a sudden things came clearer, reasons seeming ever nearer,
Having read that confessing tome!

Then, methought, he grows but denser, there must be some way to censor,
All this crap that winds us in?
Surely there must be a limit, can we put his light out, or at least dim it?
"Wretch," I cried, "what God hath sent thee -- by what mistake hath he lent thee
Shit for brains, and cruelly bent thee, into this thickskinn'ed shape?
Scoff at [goff], for pointing out thy short points, thou drunken jape",
Quoth the trollster, "You're all wrong."

"Baphomet!" said I, "thing of evil! -- trollster still, if fool or devil!
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this pleasant land enchanted
On this home by Horror haunted -- tell me truly, I implore
Is there... is there anything in your head? -- tell me -- tell me, I implore!"
But the trollster said no more.

"Moron!" said I, "trolling moron... prophet of the land of Sodoml!
By that Heaven that bends above us... by that God who ought to love us
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
Comes a day when thou unbidden render up some talent hidden and join us in this idea midden
Post a rare and funny concept other 'bakers might adore."
The trollster simply yelled and swore.

"Be that word our sign of parting, fool or fiend!" I grow tired of your endless farting
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no annotation as a token of that lie thou fool hath spoken!
Leave my peacefulness unbroken!...please sir, quit the 'baker's floor,
Take thy head from out thy arse, and darken not the 'bakery door!"
We're sick of you, we want no more.

And the trollster, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
With his poorly written pile of fishboned crap scattered 'neath him,
And his ideas have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
Soullessly in endless scheming, and occasionally screaming when his ideas are called poor
I took my mind from out that shadow that obscures his uncaring face,
GeorgeTheTroll, please quit this place ! ±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± The Seven Ages Of Halfbakers

All this bakery’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players,
They have their exits and entrances,
And one ‘baker in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.

At first the newbie,
Mewling and puking at other ‘bakers’ slings.

Then, the whining schoolboy with inactive account
And trolling, wailing friends,
Gathering like snails on a succulent lettuce

And then the addict ,
’Baking in the oven, writing woeful ballads
In it up to his eyebrows

Then an oldtimer,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the Bubba-ish reputation
Even in the circus cannon's mouth.

And then, the moderator
In fair, round prose, with good intention lin'd,
With eyes severe, and tongue of formal cut,
Full of wise saws, and modern instances,
And so he plays his part.

The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and season'd buffoon,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
His youthful vinegar well spent, too worldly wise,
For his shrunk outlook, and his big manly ideas,
Turning again towards childish rabble,
Gripes and whistles in his teeth.

Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is unkempt and static account, near oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans care, sans croissants.

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

In days of old, when knights were bold, And bikes weren't yet invented, Men climbed on horses, on jousting courses, In armour, scratched and dented.

Each did their best, to win the test, By staying astride their steeds, While the other guy, with lance held high, Tried to knock you into the weeds.

Now those days of glory, old and hoary, Are gone and 'most forgotten, But the time is come, to revive this fun, And knock each other rotten.

So, on your bikes and grab your pikes, And pedal like you're late for dinner, A sudden dash, a mighty crash, And one comes out the winner

You hear the crowd, a-baying loud, They're chanting for your blood, It's on your shirt, and soaks the dirt, Turning it to mud.

In days of old, when knights were bold, And I was just a kid, I had some fun, beneath the sun, Oh, the stupid things we did.

___________________________________ The Buns

Read the bakers with ideas going well- Croissant smells! What a world of tasty pastry their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, on their keyboards late at night! While the buns that oversprinkle All the ideas, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the olfactory adulation that so musically wells To the smells, smells, smells, smells, Smells, smells, smells,- From the baking and the rich and yeasty smells.

Hear the yellow trolling bells, Troling bells! A whole world of disharmony their harmony foretells! Through the balmy air of night In discomfort they delight! From the molten-golden notes, How asinine, Their ideas shitty; gloat To the trolling-doves that chortle at the utter shit they float Oh full moon! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of cacophony voluminously wells! How it smells! How it dwells 'Neath the bridge! how it tells Of the fishbones that compel The endless whining and the wailing Of the trolls, trolls, trolls, Of the trolls, trolls, trolls,trolls, Trolls, trolls, trolls- To the rank and rotting fishbones of the trolls!

Apologies to Poe, for The Bells.

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±± WAUGSGETYSBURG ADDRESS
Four score hours and seven ago a 'baker brought forth on this forum a new notion, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men and women of the 'bakery are interested in meeting each other.

Now we are engaged in a great festival of pointless idea conception, testing whether that notion or any notion so conceived and so dedicated can long endure.

We are met on one of the great web fora of the world. We have come to dedicate a portion of our time as a final testing-place for those who here gave their working lives that that notion might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave 'bakers, living and deleted, who struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract, by croissant or fishbone. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.

It is for us the living rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from these honoured ideas we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion--that we here highly resolve that these ideas shall not have been in vain, that this notion under a stale half-a-croissant shall have a new birth of freedom, and that amusement of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.

===============================================

Ode to El Pedanto (Apostrophica)

It's a language's catastrophe, When its apostrophes are let atrophy, For an apostrophe's place is sacred, In El Pedanto's narrow view, When the apostrophers' society, Sworn to apostolical sobriety, Meets at St. Paul the Sacred's, Each Tuesday sharp at two,

They'll abjure the habit rural, Of misplaced third persons plural, Any time when he the subject, May not know (their) place in things, They'll declare (its) sheer apostasy, To omit just one apostrophe, For they meet in Jesus's community hall, To forge arrows barbed and slings,

It often causes quite a ripple, To misplace a participle, "The woman was killed by a mountain lion, Out jogging yesterday." They all ensure that they're there with their, High horses and thesauruses, Correcting metaphors and archaisms, With abandon, left, right and gay.