monster sarcasm rally: Everything's made up and the points don't matter

3.1.05

Everything's made up and the points don't matter

Twenty points apiece to Saint, CBK and Ian for all coming up with the correct answer to the Darmok reference. The basic idea being as follows: I understand all the words coming out of her mouth, and yet I still have no idea what she's talking about.

Twenty-five points to Martin for being a smart alec, which is always a welcome thing around here.

Six points to Rachel for not disagreeing with me this time.

One point to Anne for waxing sarcastic and just to get her name on the scoreboard.

Sixteen pity points to the Saint for no reason at all. Oh, because I can.

1,000,000 points to Beandog because he's the greatest dog ever.

Negative 25 points to the Stinky Monkey for puking so darned much lately.

Thus, the current tally is as follows:
Beandog: 1,000,000
Saint: 42 points
Martin: 25 points
CBK: 20 points
Ian: 18 points
Rachel: 4 points
Anne: 1 point
The rest of youse guys: nothin'
Stinky Monkey: -25 points
_______________________________________________

Today's questions:
Why 42? (3 points)
Is Death not the coolest of all the Endless? For that matter, is she not the coolest of all people everywhere? (17 points)
Wanna help me flesh out (figuratively, not literally, you big pervert!) the male lead characters in my novel? (134 points)

|| this is the word of the sarcastrix @ 14:30

everybody's 2¢ worth:

at 16:30

SJ said...
1. Ref: The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. 42 is the answer the super computer Deep Thought gives when asked the meaning of Life, The Universe & Everything. (Skip past lots of other stuff involving towels, The Earth-as-a-computer, mice and Slartibartfast to arrive later, in the series...) Arthur & Ford are on prehistoric Earth and use stones to discover that the actual question to go with the answer "42" is "What is six times nine?"

2. Don't know the death one

3. Sure, send me one and I'll flesh him out.

at 13:35

Martin Locock said...
Fleshing out characters always seems an arbitrary affair. Michael Frayn's piece "The Meteorological School" (reprinted in The Original Michael Frayn [buy it from here: it's great] ) explains how he starts off a novel happily describing the clouds, the fog, or rain but then gets to the point where a character must be described:

"Who are all these people anyway? I'm not sure that I'm terribly interested. If Van der Velde's not fat, he's thin, if he hasn't got good digestion he's got bad digestion. All right, let's say he's thin with good digestion. He hates his father, say; he marries a depressive heiress who deceives him with an art dealer; he's accused of suppressing the truth about conditions in a desiccated coconut factory. I don't know. Maybe he writes a novel about a fat man with good digestion who runs off with the wife of a schizoid bicycle designer... So what? How can I write fine prose about people's digestive problems and bicycle designer's wives? What I want to write about is the weather".

at 14:06

Anonymous said...
Saint: 12 points off for not knowing the answer

Saint: Add 12 points for being smart alec enough to answer anyways

Ian: I'd give you the point, because you got the source correct, but sadly the question and the answer are mutually exclusive. 6x9 is not the right answer. Um... I mean question. No points for you!

Martin: Characters are what make books worth reading.

sarcastrix