A Kilometer Zero Production
Category Archives: Hahaha
Lab rats contemplating alternately Fermi’s Paradox and the Pauli Exclusion Principle (click images to enlarge)
Fermi’s Paradox: Given the vast size and age of the universe (the sheer number of stars, amount of matter, and how long it’s all been swooshing around), probabilistically you’d expect life to be cropping up all over the place. You’d also expect, unless the earth is very atypical, that some life would be much less advanced than us, and some much more. It follows that the more advanced life forms should really be out there, travelling around and colonising the galaxy. But — we haven’t seen anyone much. Hence the paradox.
The Pauli Exclusion Principle: This states that no two electrons can share the same space (or more precisely, the same quantum numbers). As a result of the exclusion principle, electrons are prevented from all bunching up in the lowest energy tier next to the nucleus, and as a result — the need for different energy tiers, the structure of the atom, the shape of the periodic table, all of chemistry, and the reasons for how almost everything in the universe looks, sounds, feels and behaves.
Rats drawings by Hannah Marcus
Concepts for the possible volume The Secret Life of the Lab Rat: C is for Cheese
Q: What did the up quark say to the down quark after the charm quark dumped her?
A: Awh honey, you just gotta muon!
Q: What did the strange quark say to the W boson?
A: Fishfish wibble — I am a teapot!
Bottom quark pulls the gag from his mouth and says to top quark, ‘Ok, but before we get into this whole BDSM collision, what’s the safeword?’ Continue reading
“Could I possibly trouble you for another cigarette?”
“Sure. You need all the elements?”
“Um … am I in my element? In my — hm, let me see …”
“Nono, do you need all the elements? Filters and papers and so on?”
“Oh — oh I see. Yes, thank you very much. Whoops! Ooh, don’t want to bump heads. Thanks. Am I in my element? Mm. D’you know, I’m not sure I really am in my element. Parties. Mm. Are you in your element?”
“No. I wouldn’t say so. But then, when are you in your element?”
“When am I in my element? When am I in my element? Mmm. Probably … probably in a ski resort. [Smiles] Probably at the top of a ski run, with some really good friends, tips pointing straight, and about to go down way too fast — heurghh heurgh-heugh! Haha. Mhmm. Yes.”
“How about you, eh? When are you in your element?”
“I don’t know. Maybe … maybe when I’m in the kitchen, alone, at about 4am, drunk out of my mind and gripping a big kitchen knife, and making ecstatic stabbing gestures into the dark, and giggling.”
A festive video for your holiday delight why not?
written and directed by Hannah Marie Marcus
performed by The Holiday Recording Party House Band (Hannah Marie Marcus, voice, keys; Meg Reichardt, guitar; Kurt Hoffman, clarinet; Paul Watson, trumpet; Ray Parker, upright bass; Michael Hearst, washboard; Rick Moody, voice)
special appearance by Raymond the dog
camera by Adrian Hornsby
This is a news story, but of the kind the world lets fall every now and then, that read like parables of indeterminable meaning. Here’s the story.
A bird — a parakeet — is found perching on the shoulder of a man in Tokyo. The man is a hotel guest. The bird is not. Or the bird perhaps is — ? The man doesn’t know. He pets the bird. It chirrups. Unsure what to do next, the man walks — bird on shoulder — to reception. Within a hotel, reception is like the government. They set the rules. They know how behaviour is supposed to happen. Within the context of a hotel. The bird is taken to reception, where Continue reading
Conversation between an artichoke farmer and a Cockney serial killer:
— Nah! I find it ’ard t’ let the liyul blighers breave.
Conversation between a Japanese soy bean farmer and a jilted Cockney bruiser:
— I wiwl. And I’ll ’ead ’er fakkin Daddy too. And ’er, the silly cow.
Conversation between an aloe vera farmer and a Cockney scrubber.
– Aloe vera?
— ’allo Duckie, I’d love a vera. Ta very much. Fancy a shag?*
* Cockney rhyming slang: vera = Vera Lynn = gin
written by Crow Jane
So Virgil and Justin Bieber walk into a bar. Virgil says Give us a couple of lagers. Bartender gives ’em some, there’s a monkey sitting at the end of the bar. Virgil says What’s that damn monkey doing at the end of the bar? Barkeep says Don’t say anything bad about that monkey. He’s my friend. Virge says Oh.
Then the bartender says Wanna see something cool? Virgil looks at Justin Bieber, they say Yes. Bartender walks down to the end of the bar, punches the monkey in the face, monkey jumps off his barstool and gives the barkeeper a blowjob.
Bartender comes back, says to Justin Bieber, You wanna try it? Bieber says Sure! Just don’t hit me so hard.
Crow Jane is an anonymous international all-girl poetry collective. We write and translate all our work together, but keep liaisons with The Secret Boat and Truck Club in New Orleans. Their watchword is “We are not just a boat and truck club, we are a SECRET boat and truck club!” Crow Jane has been published in Aufgabe, Boog City and Shampoo Poetry in the U.S. Adopting the sobriquet Societé Anonyme, proxies appeared for us live on stage at the Bridport Poetry Festival in Dorset, England.
For further Kilometer Zero Running Eye Blog bar jokes, click here.
Saturday afternoon at Borough Market, London. The marketplace is swarming with young good-looking people clutching oval loaves of stoneground bread, slabs of raw chocolate, violet cauliflower heads etc.. They are all rubbing up against each other as they press through the crowd. The camera is following a YOUNG MAN with dark curly hair in red jeans and a baseball t-shirt that reads “REVOLUTION TOMORROW / PARTY TODAY”. Approaching in the opposite direction are two HOT GIRLS with sunglasses on their heads. They have thin noses, glossy lips, and are both chewing gum. As they come toward the YOUNG MAN their conversation rises up out of the babble.
HOT GIRL 1: So basically he broke into my flat —
HOT GIRL 2: Oh my god!
HOT GIRL 1: While I was in the shower —
HOT GIRL 2: No!
HOT GIRL 1: And then basically …
The YOUNG MAN turns his head and makes eye contact with HOT GIRL 1. She pauses in her sentence, and the two gaze at each other as the crowd pushes them forward in opposite directions. Their bodies are crushed together, then slide past one another. HOT GIRL 1 closes her eyes and bites down on her gum while keeping her lips parted (close up slow mo on her mouth). The crowd presses them on in opposite directions, and they are carried apart.
I am in line waiting to collect my tickets from the box office. Ahead of me two blondes in their twenties with pony tails and jeans in boots are talking. I hear a piece of one half of their conversation —
“No, don’t get me wrong — I didn’t want it. I didn’t want it. I just wanted him to say it.”
“No he was a scuba diving instructor.”
“Yeah, at the place where we were staying.”
The girl reshoulders her bag and switches hips, and I miss the next thing. Then the queue advances and she is at the head. Standing behind her, repeating the words over to myself, I realise that with those three brief lines she has conjured up an entire imaginative universe, and the narrative that passes through it: No, don’t get me wrong – I didn’t want it. I didn’t want it. I just wanted him to say it … No he was a scuba diving instructor … Yeah, at the place where we were staying.
Reading in a book, I came across the following Zen koan:
Whenever Gutei Osho was asked about Zen, he simply raised a finger. Once a visitor asked Gutei’s boy attendant, “What does your master teach?” The boy too raised his finger. Hearing of this, Gutei cut off the boy’s finger with a knife. The boy, screaming with pain, began to run away. Gutei called to him, and when he turned around, Gutei raised his finger. The boy suddenly became enlightened.
Do you get it? I don’t know if I get it. How does the boy become enlightened? What does the visitor make of it all? What does the master do with the finger?
Zen koans are famous for simultaneously suggesting and resisting meaning. This one however I cracked. Through a process of ‘inductive leapfrog-thinking’ I realised there had been an error in the translation. The translator had consistently rendered “raised a finger” for what in the original Japanese had in fact been “gave the finger”. Thus the true koan reads:
Whenever Gutei Osho was asked about Zen, he simply gave people the finger. Once a visitor asked Gutei’s boy attendant, “What does your master teach?” The boy gave him the finger. Hearing of this, Gutei cut off the boy’s finger with a knife. The boy, screaming with pain, began to run away. Gutei called to him, and when he turned around, Gutei gave him the finger. The boy suddenly became enlightened.
Makes much better sense. Still, not very Zen.