Debford Joseph Chelbs Obituary.

Last week saw the passing of the much loved former musician Debford Joseph Chelbs. As an singer it is undeniable that he sung and as an entertainer it is certain that he achieved at least as much. 'Chelbs the man' was the kind of man who only appears once in a generation, and for this generation that man was without question Debford Chelbs.

After a career as an abused and cleverly packaged child star, Chelbs met the record producer Quinston Schmaltz in 1978 and together they produced some of the best marketed albums of the decade. During his time with Schmaltz he also popularised 'the moonwalk', a dance move which involves walking backwards while simultaneously appearing to move one's feet.

In the mid 1990s Chelb's behaviour became increasingly eccentric, critics in the press accused him of paedophilia and self hatred. It is a testament to his strength of character that even in the face of such allegations, he absolutely would not stop.

Tragically Chelbs had been in a terminal coma since 1998 and finally died from a cardiac arrest following an medically supervised overdose of painkillers at his LA Home on the 25th of June 2009. He is survived by his Lawyers: Ziffren, Brittenham, Branca, Fischer, Gilbert-Lurie, Stiffelman, Cook, Johnson, Lande & Wolf LLP and a number of substantial debts.

Operation Flaccid Spear.

Evidence has recently emerged that the CIA built a secret stockpile of Lounge Jazz and Funky Beats which may have been active well into the 1980s. Documents obtained under the Freedom of Information Act suggest that the agency maintained an active arsenal of over 5000 12″ records and a large number of fashionably dressed DJs aged in their mid to late thirties. The DJs were sent to Johnston Atoll in 1989 to be decommissioned and buried in concrete, but the government has not revealed what became of the records themselves.

Lounge Jazz was originally developed by DARPA during the early 1960s, they had become interested in the potential of Ska and Two Step as tactical battlefield weapons but considered them too unpredictable for use in the highly populated areas of Austria and West Germany. Work began on a new kind of weapon that would be able to halt a Soviet armoured advance with minimal collateral damage. Repetitive funky bass-lines and saxophone samples and inane filtered vocals were identified as being particularly effective against mid-income single men whilst only producing slight irritation in the rest of the population. It was decided that these predictable funky grooves could be used to specifically target and disable Russian platoon officers.

Military commentators and conspiracy theorists had long speculated that such weapons existed, but this is the first official confirmation.

Uncomfortably for the government, these revelations come amid speculation that Lounge Jazz and a more recent derivatives, Progressive Funky House and Elevator Music, may have been deployed against Iraqi civilians during the battle of Fallujah with devastating effects.

Professor Litmus J. Flowchart of Harvard University commented that he regarded any modern use of these weapons as very ill advised. “The original tests did suggest that civilian casualties would be relatively low, but they were fundamentally flawed. They were conducted during the height of the Disco scene, so that any volunteers would likely have had a pre-existing tolerance to funky grooves; and compared with cities in the US, Fallujah had little established club culture, and particularly no trendy vodka bars, so the military basically had no idea what effect the weapons were going to have.”

The Pentagon refused to comment on the issue.

According to this book, the monorail goes over 150 miles an hour!

Phoenix, Arizona is a collection of buildings in the middle of a desert that, at some point in time became large enough to be called a city. Nobody planned this, the buildings were never destined for the dizzying heights of cityhood, but it happened anyway. This is evident for two reasons. Firstly, that no idiot would ever build a city in the desert, and secondly, that not even the most depraved town planner could have decided to forgo the whole idea of suburbs, instead electing to build an endless series of tire yards.

On arriving at the airport I noticed that none of the tannoy announcements were made by humans. The usual totalitarian sounding demands and warnings about security destroying our bags were lent a fresh air of menace by a metallic computer voice.

It was going to be a 12 hour stopover, too short to waste my limited funds on a hotel room but too long to spend sitting in the airport playing with my dick. So I went in search of the left luggage lockers, and being unable to find them I asked one of the ever present security staff; whereupon I was informed "They took them out after 9-11." he must have noticed my grimace because he added a smarmy "Oh, don't worry sir" and "It's for your protection." There was a strong temptation to reply "Well then, thank fuck for that!" but I didn't fancy the prospect of being labelled a troublemaker and subjected to further searches by fat, humourless Americans of indeterminate gender.

On leaving the airport I boarded one of the brand new (and at that point still free) Metro trains to downtown. The Metro system had the shiny awesome futuristic look of, well, something shiny awesome and futuristic. When I boarded it seemed that the entire population of the town were out riding the Metro, talking about the Metro and generally engaged in a flurry of Metro related activities.

The highlight of my 12 hours in the desert was an accidental stop at Steve's Green House Grill which I was impressed to find served Orval, a heavenly and quite unique Belgian trappist beer. After several bottles (I felt it was my obligation to make sure that he was cellaring them right).

Despite it being a bright and sunny Saturday there seemed to be relatively few people on the streets downtown, odd for a weekend but understandable since they were all out riding public transit. One of the few exceptions was a confused looking recruiting officer in Army desert fatigues.

It was then I started to put it all together, nobody on the streets, mechanical voices everywhere, endless tire yards. It could mean only one thing, that the city had been taken over by the machines.

It all made sense. The man in uniform wasn't a recruiting officer at all, but the confused survivor of an elite commando unit sent to shut down a military computer gone out of control. The dusty façade of the tire yards was merely a camouflage for sinister factories ready to churn out robotic simulacrum of the cities' inhabitants; and the packed Metro trains were carrying the cities inhabitants to their doom.

I had no reason to think that the machines had been paying me any special attention, so just had to blend in for long enough, not make a scene until I could get out of the city somehow. The most cunning plan I could muster was to finish my steak [shit, in all the excitement I forgot to mention that I was still in Steve's Grill], have another couple of beers, take a taxi to the airport and catch my plane.

The only hitch was a customs officer who suffered from a strange obsession with English Premier League football [possibly some kind of advanced prototype machine designed to root out imposters pretending to be Englishmen]. The only problem was that I'm not quite a typical brit, and even just saying "Ooooh... fucking Manchester United mate! Aaaaah! Yeeeah!" more or less exhausted my football knowledge.

Oh My God I was Wrong, It was Earth all Along!

Borel’s monkey theorem states that a monkey typing at random for an infinite amount of time will eventually type out the complete works of William Shakespeare, Hunter S. Thompson or any other collection of text.

Amazingly, a few researchers have actually carried out experiments studying the literary output of monkeys. In 2003 a group at the University of Plymouth left a computer keyboard in a Macaque enclosure at London Zoo. The monkeys only managed to produce five pages of text, consisting largely of the letter S, before they urinated and defecated on the keyboard and finally destroyed it with stones. Mike Phillips, the team leader [of the researchers, not the monkeys] described the results as being “stimulating and fascinating.” However, readers should note that he is actually a media studies 'lecturer' rather than a real academic, and that like everybody else working in media studies he craves the kind of television exposure which he is not really interesting enough to achieve.

But what about a real version of Borel’s hypothetical monkey experiment? The brave researcher would face many challenges in setting up such a study. Even assuming that one could actually persuade the monkey or monkeys to type, getting then to do so for an infinite period of time would be no easy task. If the group of monkeys is of a finite number, then, they must type for an infinite period of time for us to be certain that they will produce the desired text. Some form of longevity treatment using stem cells might be possible to extend the life of the creature indefinitely, but what of the computer hardware? Even the old IBM office machines don’t last forever, and spare parts and tech support could become problems. The worst possibility with this approach however is that the universe will probably end before the experiment is complete.

But what about many monkeys in parallel? Obviously to tackle an infinite problem in a finite time by conventional means one would need an infinite number of monkeys. But this approach is not without it’s difficulties. An infinite number of monkeys would be particularly tricky to house and feed. One would still need infinite numbers of spare parts, and though the population of India is quite large Microsoft probably don't have an infinite pool of support technicians.

But there is another worry here. Dealing with a small group of the creatures defecating on their keyboards is not a particularly serious problem, but what if an infinite number of monkeys turned bad? Clearly the prudent researcher would need to hold a large, possibly infinite number of Charlton Hestons’ in reserve to guard against their taking over the world. But preliminary work suggests that it would be difficult obtaining even one functioning Charlton Heston at this time.

More recently, researchers at Cornell university have suggested a novel take on the problem. They constructed 26 quantum monkeys from super cooled Bose-Einstein condensate [no easy task]. Somehow [I’m getting bored and can’t be bothered to work out how], the system produced an infinite amount of information that ipso facto contained the complete works of Shakespeare. Now either this information vanished in a puff of smoke, spiraled off into other universes, or something, but whatever it did there was no Shakespeare for the researchers.

Interestingly though, in an attempt to guard against their being ravaged by a group of 26 super cooled quantum monkeys, a second research team was working on a quantum Super Heston. Having managed to secure his participation, they forced the veteran actor into a small box containing a Siamese cat and a vial of poison. Rather than being granted quantum super powers, Heston was heard shouting “You maniacs! You blew it up! Ah, damn you! God damn you all to hell!” and something about his "Cold dead hands" before ironically dying of alzheimers, pneumonia or some such thing.

A Brief History of Lemons

Lulu Lemon was born Lulu Elizabeth Mosley in Harrow, North London to Oswald and Cynthia Mosley the founders of the British Union of Fascists.

Because of her prominent masculine features and facial hair she was initially educated as a boy, at West Downs in Winchester, Winchester College and then the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst. During her time at Sandhurst she was introduced to Baron Graf Manfred Himmel von Lemon, the son of a famously eccentric Prussian aristocrat. Thus began a two year clandestine relationship, culminating in their marriage two weeks after the passing out ceremony. Upon their union Lulu changed her name to 'Lulu Stavro von Lemon the third' and the new couple moved into the fortified family bunker on the Rhine.

At the outbreak of war her loyalties were divided, should she return to the UK and do her family duty [as a Nazi agitator] or remain in Germany. She eventually joined MCFTPOMHATGOP, the Munich committee for the preservation of moral hygiene. Eventually she rose to the rank of 'Uber-sturmgruppen-furher' and was responsible for the entire city's stocks of Zyklon B.

Though she had never seen combat duty, her husband's connections put her in a dangerous position and after the war she was forced to escape to Cuba. By 1963 Lulu had acquired enough money from a small time hustling operation to open the first Lululemon store in Havana. It consisted of a small sweat shop producing cheap imitations of western sporting goods which were not available due to various trade embargoes. Havana had long been known as the sex capital of the North Caribbean, Fidel Castro being one of the first men to have silicone breast implants. So it was a logical step for the company to start selling a range of bondage equipment. In fact their now iconic logo was originally designed to symbolise a butt plug.

Lulu had always considered herself a visionary and her main vision had always been one of her being extremely rich. To this end she hired Bub Smears, a former executive at American sportswear brand Felch. Smears advised her to sell most of the company 'to some rich middle eastern bastards' allowing it's expansion into the United States.

And as we can see, Lululemon today has moved a long way from it's humble Nazi Sweatshop origins, but with Smears in their pants division, Lulu insists that they will always remain true to the original ideals.

Well Fuck My Ass!

After years of [rightly] insisting that blogs were a 'flash in the pan' an exercise in narcissism and an excuse for idiots to share their opinions on world events, I finally decided to start one. Why? because I'm pretty opinionated, and if all of the other idiots are going to share their ill informed babble with the world then I will too. Also I have some music and comedy stuff I want to post, but too lazy to set up a real website.