Friday, February 14, 2014

Schrodinger's Dog.

Not just a dog that can talk, but one that can really speak.

By the Evil Dr. Schmitt-Rottluff;

(Having knocked out the alleged Ian with a drop of something in his coffee.)

But it's been a while and I just wanted to do this.


“Arf! Arf!”


(Announcer: “And now for something completely different.”

(APPLAUSE) > cut to shot of fat old ladies in audience.


(Camera 1 ZOOM in on BILL and GUEST)

BILL: “Good evening ladies and gentleman. Yes, you. Thanks for being here, sir. I am distinctly outnumbered otherwise.”

(Dramatic Pause)

BILL: “According to Schrodinger’s Dog, the cat, the alleged Schrodinger’s Cat of fact and fancy, went into the box alive and therefore it must still be alive because we have no information, or ‘data,’ to the contrary. I would submit that the thing was alive when it went in and was alive when it came out, and therefore it must have been alive all along. Otherwise today we would all be talking about the Resurrection of Schrodinger’s Cat. Please give a big hand to our guest tonight, Schrodinger’s little-known dog, Brutus.”


(Brutus nods affably.)

BILL: “Besides, he can still smell it, practically even taste it according to his story. As for the existence of the dog itself, I invite the viewer or reader to consider the evidence of their own senses but also think of this: ‘I think, therefore I am.’ And that is one smart dog. So thusly, he must exist. I mean, here he is, right? “

DOG: “To hell with Schrodinger, fuck him, eh, no one cares what he thinks. The man’s a nut-case.”

BILL: “Lots of dogs can talk, but here’s one that can really speak, if you know what I mean.”

DOG: “I was recently speaking to Schrodinger’s Zebra.”

BILL: “Now that, ladies and gentleman, is one confused individual.”

DOG: “My question for the Zebra was a simple one: are you a white zebra with black stripes, or a black zebra with white stripes? His response was a telling one. I.E. he gave me a response-type rejoinder.”

BILL: “What did the big galoot say?”

DOG: “You may be thinking of Schrodinger’s Giraffe.”

BILL: “Oops. Sorry. So anyways,…?” <winks at camera ‘cause he got his joke in anyways.>

DOG: “Yo, yo, yo, motha-fuck, YOU IS WHAT YOU IS.”

BILL: "Ah, I am so glad he cleared that up for us."

DOG: “Back to the dog. If you spell my species backwards, what do you get?”

BILL: “G-O-D.”

DOG: “I rest my case.”

BILL: “Hmn. Interesting. You have a book out now.” (Holds up book, ‘Mein Poopf.)

DOG: “Ya. Das ist de story ovv mein poopf.”

BILL: ‘Nuff said, or in his case, ‘ruff said.

(APPLAUSE, dog fired from ejection seat.)

Whee! <sound effect>

BILL: “Ah, yes, now to the Mysterious Case of Schrodinger’s Goldfish:”

(Examines bowl of aforesaid goldfish.) {Which just happens to be sitting on Bill’s desk.}

BILL: “Hello, little gold-fish. Fishy, fishy, fish…are you alive you or are you dead?”

FISH: “I am alive.” <deep basso-profundo voice>

BILL: “If you are alive, then why are you floating belly-up? Or as Schrodinger’s Canadian would say, ‘tits-up,’ a bit of a rude colloquialism but illustrative of my point nevertheless.”

FISH: “I’m doing the backstroke, my good fellow.”

BILL: “A pretty excuse. I submit that it is because you are dead, sir.”

FISH: “No! I’m not dead yet.”

BILL: <CONK!!! With big stick. (Lots of Splashes.)> … (conk-conk-conk) <evil grin>

BILL: “You are dead now, sir.”

FISH: “I certainly am. And I thank you. Quite frankly, (and I know how you hate it when I say that,) the suspense would have killed me sooner or later anyway.” <Bits of shiny golden scales float in water>

BILL: “Don’t mention it. And now, ladies and gentlemen, we come to the close of another boredcast day. But before leaving, I beg you to consider if you will the case of Schrodinger’s ‘roids, which may or may not exist, depending upon whom you ask. We cannot see them and so therefore we can only speculate as to their existence. Science may never have all the answers, ladies and gentleman. But at least we will never run out of questions. Oh! Almost forgot. We are also still hot on the trail of Schrodinger’s Chicken, with the perennial question of why do you cross the road anyways, what up with that, eh? We hope to finally nail the lid in this coffin, let me tell you. Also, Shcrodinger’s Jack-in-the-Box, Schrodinger’s Pig-in-a-poke, and if we are lucky, Schrodinger’s Penis. That’s right—we want to know if you exist or not when…when…when you are not visible, I think that’s the best way to say it, right, ladies and gentleman? No need to get too graphic here. And we’ll have some other neat stuff for you too, perhaps even Bill Nye or at least his pickled head in a big glass jar. If he is not unfortunately still alive or something then that would be a problem. And there are many other questions of grave import and so I hope to see you next Friday when there may be a pop-quiz, not for marks but just for my own interest—I like tormenting people, among other things. Oh. There are some rumours going around that here at the Schrodinger Report we will be soon out in the field attempting to find and finally drag Sasquatches out of the closet, once and for all. That’s right, ladies and gentleman. Sasquatches are gay. They are also immortal, which may be a good thing or a bad thing depending upon whom you may ask. My point is that they don’t breed very quickly, and so there aren’t very many of them to begin with. What, do I got to draw you a picture? Well, you can hardly blame them, eh? Have you ever seen a lady Sasquatch? I’m surprised they don’t breed with the guys out in the woods trying to film them, for the most part they smell a bit nicer. Other than that, that is our report and we are out of here. Have a nice day.”


<I will read the credits for a poond. – ian>


<BILL on hands and knees behind desk trying to leave a couple of minutes early as usual…argh.>

<no, really, I need the money…and I'm not really all that unconscious... - ian>

(CONK.) – director’s cut.

<…oh…ow...oochie-wawa... - ian>