September 2007 Archives
Encourage your staff to be alert to the marvels of nature that can be found in every office environment.
"Hark! Is that a tawny owl? Foraging in the photocopy area?"
"Hark! Is that a tawny owl? Foraging in the photocopy area?"
Hello! I am Martika and I am the songwriter and guitarist in Peapod Surprise! (The exclamation mark is part of the band's name. Please read the end of that sentence as you would normally.)
Do you like my crop top? As well as being sexy, it is an integral part of my guitar playing. I think of my songs as like my little musical babies, made out of notes, and I need to be able to feel the chords vibrating against my tummy as I play - like a baby's little kicks. Although the kicks come from the outside rather than the inside. So I suppose it's more like my songs are toddlers kicking me in the tummy - but nicely. I think that makes my brain the placenta. Yes.
Also, Peapod Surprise! isn't selling many records (yet!) and so I can't afford a shirt that goes all the way down.
The name Peapod Surprise! was inspired by a real-life incident that happened to me when I was five. It was a Sunday, and I was helping my mother prepare dinner by shelling peas. I was enjoying counting the cute little peas, and also estimating the yield from each pod as I went along. I remember I had a total of 3791 peas from 598 pods, giving an average yield of 6.34 peas per pod. But when I opened the 599th pod, I was astounded to find that inside, rather than the expected 5-7 peas, there was one embryo chicken. It was dead! I was horrified, as you can imagine. It wasn't until I studied matrices at high school that I worked out how to figure that strange proto-hen into my cumulative pea-shelling calculations.
Let me introduce you to the band.
Do you like my crop top? As well as being sexy, it is an integral part of my guitar playing. I think of my songs as like my little musical babies, made out of notes, and I need to be able to feel the chords vibrating against my tummy as I play - like a baby's little kicks. Although the kicks come from the outside rather than the inside. So I suppose it's more like my songs are toddlers kicking me in the tummy - but nicely. I think that makes my brain the placenta. Yes.
Also, Peapod Surprise! isn't selling many records (yet!) and so I can't afford a shirt that goes all the way down.
The name Peapod Surprise! was inspired by a real-life incident that happened to me when I was five. It was a Sunday, and I was helping my mother prepare dinner by shelling peas. I was enjoying counting the cute little peas, and also estimating the yield from each pod as I went along. I remember I had a total of 3791 peas from 598 pods, giving an average yield of 6.34 peas per pod. But when I opened the 599th pod, I was astounded to find that inside, rather than the expected 5-7 peas, there was one embryo chicken. It was dead! I was horrified, as you can imagine. It wasn't until I studied matrices at high school that I worked out how to figure that strange proto-hen into my cumulative pea-shelling calculations.
Let me introduce you to the band.
This is Sascha, our singer. She has the most celestial, beautiful voice I have ever heard. Almost terrible in its beauty - I liken it to a choir of angels trapped in a nuclear bomb, exploding inside a cathedral. On Easter Sunday. Unfortunately, few outside of Peapod Suprise! have ever heard her sing, since she insists on using a banana instead of a microphone. This is because Sascha - a very hairy baby, by all accounts - was adopted and raised by anthropology students who were under the impression that she was an orphaned chimpanzee. Apparently, it would be "culturally insensitive" to take away her banana and make her sing in to a microphone, so we're kind of stuck. Still, she's handy to have around when a gig goes badly, because she responds to booing by flinging her own shit into the audience.
Meet Gustav, our keyboard player. He's like the 'jester' of the band: he can't actually play, his keyboard doesn't have any insides or anything, but he's responsible for Peapod Surprise!'s visual style - a facet of Peapod Surprise! that is almost (but not quite) as important as our music (which I do).
Look at that make-up. It's like his right eye is so shocked at what it has seen in the world that it has actually cracked his face (by trembling in outrage and fear?). This is the theme of many Peapod Surprise! songs - that the state of the world is so crazy right now, it could almost overload your optic nerves.
I used to wonder why only one of Gustav's eyes was cracked at seeing the state of the world, but he explained that the state of the world is so crazy that he has kept the other eye completely closed to preserve his sanity, which makes a lot of sense when you think about it.
I think Gustav is probably a genius.
I don't know who this kid is. The record company said we needed either a child or a puppy to give us 'that cute factor' and so suddenly this boy started turning up at rehearsals. He never says anything, he just stands there looking a bit scared and drinking sachets of Capri Sun, which he keeps in his accordion. But when we play gigs, he arrives on stage riding a wonderful palamino horse, which is cool.
Eleanor is our soprano sax player. The sound of her soprano sax is eerie and mysterious, partly because of Eleanor's sensitivity and skill, and partly because her soprano sax is haunted. Haunted by quite a fat ghost, apparently, which is why she has to sit down when she plays.
Nobody in the band has ever seen Eleanor's face. We're not even sure if she has one, although presumably there's some kind of mouth.
Finally, we come to our percussionist, Fabio. Just look at the pleasure on his little face. Drumming is one of Fabio's two great passions in life - the other passion he has is being an adult baby. We are hoping to get Gwen Stefani to design his stage nappy.
I just realised: I didn't discover that embryo chicken in a peapod at all, it was in a boiled egg. I am disgusted at myself! Peapod Surprise! is based on a lie!
I am ripping up our Eurovision application form as I type.
Meet Gustav, our keyboard player. He's like the 'jester' of the band: he can't actually play, his keyboard doesn't have any insides or anything, but he's responsible for Peapod Surprise!'s visual style - a facet of Peapod Surprise! that is almost (but not quite) as important as our music (which I do).
Look at that make-up. It's like his right eye is so shocked at what it has seen in the world that it has actually cracked his face (by trembling in outrage and fear?). This is the theme of many Peapod Surprise! songs - that the state of the world is so crazy right now, it could almost overload your optic nerves.
I used to wonder why only one of Gustav's eyes was cracked at seeing the state of the world, but he explained that the state of the world is so crazy that he has kept the other eye completely closed to preserve his sanity, which makes a lot of sense when you think about it.
I think Gustav is probably a genius.
I don't know who this kid is. The record company said we needed either a child or a puppy to give us 'that cute factor' and so suddenly this boy started turning up at rehearsals. He never says anything, he just stands there looking a bit scared and drinking sachets of Capri Sun, which he keeps in his accordion. But when we play gigs, he arrives on stage riding a wonderful palamino horse, which is cool.
Eleanor is our soprano sax player. The sound of her soprano sax is eerie and mysterious, partly because of Eleanor's sensitivity and skill, and partly because her soprano sax is haunted. Haunted by quite a fat ghost, apparently, which is why she has to sit down when she plays.
Nobody in the band has ever seen Eleanor's face. We're not even sure if she has one, although presumably there's some kind of mouth.
Finally, we come to our percussionist, Fabio. Just look at the pleasure on his little face. Drumming is one of Fabio's two great passions in life - the other passion he has is being an adult baby. We are hoping to get Gwen Stefani to design his stage nappy.
I just realised: I didn't discover that embryo chicken in a peapod at all, it was in a boiled egg. I am disgusted at myself! Peapod Surprise! is based on a lie!
I am ripping up our Eurovision application form as I type.
Hello! It's me, top vet Andrew Mersh. Here I am with a poorly dog, Hamilton.
Now, Hamilton might look like a perfectly healthy specimen of a dog to you, what with his shiny nose, meaty tongue and 'can do' expression. But if you look at him through the clear, blue eyes of a vet, like I do, then you'll notice something wrong. Can't see it? Then look at my fingers. That's right, my fingers are actually going right in to Hamilton's body. Like carrot sticks into humous! The explanation is that Hamilton is a dog with the hysterical belief that he is a ghost.
Obviously, any idiot can see that this state of affairs is no good for a dog, but being a vet means I can do something about it, apart from just crying and fetching a shovel. Non-vets can get a clue as to what I am going to do about it by noting the colour of the backdrop against which Hamilton and I have been so carefully photographed. Yes, it is blue. Blue is not only a restful colour to a hysterical hound, it is also invisible to video cameras. If I videotape Hamilton against a blue background, the computer inside the video camera will not be able to 'see' the blue and will fill in the missing areas with whatever I tell it to. By clever editing, I can make it look like Hamilton, rather than being in a small blue cell 30 stories below my office is actually enjoying a day at the seaside, or a visit to the Berlin Katakombe club in 1931. By choosing the right scenario, I should be able to distract Hamilton long enough for him to forget that he believes he is a ghost. Thereby curing him!
I'm wasted on animals, really I am.
Now, Hamilton might look like a perfectly healthy specimen of a dog to you, what with his shiny nose, meaty tongue and 'can do' expression. But if you look at him through the clear, blue eyes of a vet, like I do, then you'll notice something wrong. Can't see it? Then look at my fingers. That's right, my fingers are actually going right in to Hamilton's body. Like carrot sticks into humous! The explanation is that Hamilton is a dog with the hysterical belief that he is a ghost.
Obviously, any idiot can see that this state of affairs is no good for a dog, but being a vet means I can do something about it, apart from just crying and fetching a shovel. Non-vets can get a clue as to what I am going to do about it by noting the colour of the backdrop against which Hamilton and I have been so carefully photographed. Yes, it is blue. Blue is not only a restful colour to a hysterical hound, it is also invisible to video cameras. If I videotape Hamilton against a blue background, the computer inside the video camera will not be able to 'see' the blue and will fill in the missing areas with whatever I tell it to. By clever editing, I can make it look like Hamilton, rather than being in a small blue cell 30 stories below my office is actually enjoying a day at the seaside, or a visit to the Berlin Katakombe club in 1931. By choosing the right scenario, I should be able to distract Hamilton long enough for him to forget that he believes he is a ghost. Thereby curing him!
I'm wasted on animals, really I am.
Oh Christ! The Information Submariner is menacing the ancient city of Chicago with the nuclear missiles on board his nuclear submarine!
This is a job for...
Team PowerPoint action a Team PowerPoint Project Hexaclasp!
Going forward, the Information Submariner is defeated!
Good work, Team PowerPoint!
But how did Team PowerPoint defeat the Information Submariner? Share Team PowerPoint's best practice.
This is a job for...
Team PowerPoint action a Team PowerPoint Project Hexaclasp!
Going forward, the Information Submariner is defeated!
Good work, Team PowerPoint!
But how did Team PowerPoint defeat the Information Submariner? Share Team PowerPoint's best practice.
Hello! I'm Dr Duncan Chambourcy, author of Doctors & Doctoring - the standard text book for doctors across the world.
That's me on the left. The strange ghostly piece of paper I'm studying is an X-ray. An X-ray of what I've no idea - it's a medical mystery that one day I hope to crack. I like to get it out and have a look in between winking at nurses.
Anyway! In a spirit of philanthropy, I'm making extracts of Doctors & Doctoring available here on the internet so that you too can be a top-notch GP like me. There's no exams or essays! Just practice a bit between lessons. On a sock puppet or pet.
Whether you're a long-established doctor with your own pill factory, or a keen amateur who likes writing prescriptions at weekends, you'll find plenty of medical hints and tips in Doctors & Doctoring.
Chapter One: Can anyone be a doctor?
Broadly speaking, yes, anyone can be a doctor - it's hardly brain surgery, except when you're dealing with the brain, of course. But remember that the brain makes up only about 8% of the body, so the chances of you having to even look at a brain are less than one in ten. (The likelihood drops even further when you think that the brain - unlike the liver, glands, or knees - has its own armoured coating to protect it from injury and germs i.e. the skull.) Anyway, if a patient of yours should happen to injure their brain, they're hardly likely to remember where your practice is, are they?
Let's forget about brains and get on with doctoring.
That's me on the left. The strange ghostly piece of paper I'm studying is an X-ray. An X-ray of what I've no idea - it's a medical mystery that one day I hope to crack. I like to get it out and have a look in between winking at nurses.
Anyway! In a spirit of philanthropy, I'm making extracts of Doctors & Doctoring available here on the internet so that you too can be a top-notch GP like me. There's no exams or essays! Just practice a bit between lessons. On a sock puppet or pet.
Whether you're a long-established doctor with your own pill factory, or a keen amateur who likes writing prescriptions at weekends, you'll find plenty of medical hints and tips in Doctors & Doctoring.
Chapter One: Can anyone be a doctor?
Broadly speaking, yes, anyone can be a doctor - it's hardly brain surgery, except when you're dealing with the brain, of course. But remember that the brain makes up only about 8% of the body, so the chances of you having to even look at a brain are less than one in ten. (The likelihood drops even further when you think that the brain - unlike the liver, glands, or knees - has its own armoured coating to protect it from injury and germs i.e. the skull.) Anyway, if a patient of yours should happen to injure their brain, they're hardly likely to remember where your practice is, are they?
Let's forget about brains and get on with doctoring.
Being a doctor is brilliant
Sometimes, when you stumble across a stock photo, its intended use isn't always obvious straight away. For example:
What illustrative need does he meet?
But after a moment's thought, it's clear. The beard. The lustrous wooly jumper. The low-cut vest just visible beneath the lustrous wooly jumper. It's a salty submariner! And what is he peeking through? A CD-Rom containing the important top secret nuclear missile access codes for the nuclear missiles on board his nuclear submarine.
Picture editors who need to illustate articles about the importance of security of CD-Roms containing the important top secret nuclear missule access codes for the nuclear missiles on board nuclear submarines account for almost a fifth of all stock photography purchases. If it wasn't for pictures like this, popular newstand magazines such as Amateur Nuclear Submariner, Nuclear Submarine Hobbyist, Undersea Antics, Your Periscope, Which Navy of Death?, Sea Bastard and The Torpedo Times would be mostly blank.
He's really taunting us with that CD-Rom containing the important top secret nuclear missile access codes for the nuclear missiles on board his nuclear submarine, isn't he? But he's not going to give it up! However much we want it. Ah ah-ah ah!
See the Dance of the Information Submariner.
What illustrative need does he meet?
But after a moment's thought, it's clear. The beard. The lustrous wooly jumper. The low-cut vest just visible beneath the lustrous wooly jumper. It's a salty submariner! And what is he peeking through? A CD-Rom containing the important top secret nuclear missile access codes for the nuclear missiles on board his nuclear submarine.
Picture editors who need to illustate articles about the importance of security of CD-Roms containing the important top secret nuclear missule access codes for the nuclear missiles on board nuclear submarines account for almost a fifth of all stock photography purchases. If it wasn't for pictures like this, popular newstand magazines such as Amateur Nuclear Submariner, Nuclear Submarine Hobbyist, Undersea Antics, Your Periscope, Which Navy of Death?, Sea Bastard and The Torpedo Times would be mostly blank.
He's really taunting us with that CD-Rom containing the important top secret nuclear missile access codes for the nuclear missiles on board his nuclear submarine, isn't he? But he's not going to give it up! However much we want it. Ah ah-ah ah!
See the Dance of the Information Submariner.
A good photograph can have numerous interpretations. For example, does this picture illustrate a unique method of combating repetitive strain injury in the workplace?
Or could it be a clever visual metaphor of some kind? Perhaps we can never know.
I'll give a small prize to the first person who can find this photo used in a genuine business communication...
Or could it be a clever visual metaphor of some kind? Perhaps we can never know.
I'll give a small prize to the first person who can find this photo used in a genuine business communication...
