October 18, 2008

The Photopuzzle Café.



Palladian said...

Joy Behar's crotch?

EDH said...

A prescription FloMax ad?

Here's an existential question:

Why does the sound of a trickling water feature or fountain sooth and relax us, yet a toilet that makes a similar dripping sound annoy and drive us crazy?


reader_iam said...

Please, I'm trying to keep my mind from making such weird connections, unbidden.

rhhardin said...

Undergraduate art project.

reader_iam said...

It's bad enough that the Worm of the Day appears to be the theme song from--of all things!--"Outdoor Wisconsin."

Meade said...

I hope that's not a corpse back there in the kitchen.

Bissage said...

That photo reminds me of my Great-uncle Joe. He was a retired plumber and a dirty old man.

Years ago, on his death bed, he told me a filthy limerick.

You will find it set out below, updated for our modern, intertube-connected world. (He'd have wanted it that way).

There once was a man from Peru,
He said it was both sad and true,
That when it comes to quiff,
He’d most like to sniff,
The crotch of Elisabeth Shue.

God rest you, Uncle Joe, wherever you are!

Windbag said...

lion's face.

chickenlittle said...

Elephant pile!

Meade said...

ha ha ha ha ha! Oh Bissage, you get me with that Elizabeth Shue subterfuge shenanigan thingy every time.

Original George said...

Ala 'The Picasso' at Daley Plaza that looks like a baboon?

Joe Hogan said...

Being woefully literalistic and repressed, let me propose for the record what the image actually is. It is a shot of some large rocks reflected in a body of water. The resulting image was then turned, by our crafty hostess, 90 degrees counter clockwise.

Please excuse the interruption. Let the stream, as it were, of consciousness resume apace.

Oh, what the hell, let me dive into Dr. Rorschach's pool too...it also looks like a head on shot of a small elephant humping a large tiger.

babuilder said...

Clearly it's a stone aardvark humping a stone Tony the Tiger. Next puzzle please!

bjm said...

A peaceful interlude recalls a parable from the Upanishads:

There was a mighty Leader, The One, who rose to power through guile and cleverness at a time when a great calamity had befallen The Markets of The West. The One, possessed a box of thunderbolts forged on the anvil of Chicago by his cohorts Ayers and Daley with which to smite his enemy and gain entry to the Chamber of Senatorus. When he did that, the accolades flowed, and The One said, "What a great man am I."

So, thinking, "What a great man am I," The One decides he will become President of all men and transmogrifies into a mainstream Democrat. Immediately upon hearing The Ones announcement speech, a great yelp of joy is heard from the Media Running Dogs and The One becomes The Leading Democrat Candidate, much to the chagrin of The Hilde beast and Amazon warriors of PUMA to whom much was owed.

The Head Flack Alexrod, goes to work, and in very quick order he dispatches the Hilde beast to the land of Bigots, from where no politician may be revived. Each time The One gives a speech, he has bigger ideas about how splendid and grandiose his rule should be. The unwashed Hordes of The Olden Countries clamor to hear The Ones golden phrases and lament greatly that they cannot mark a ballot to proclaim him President of Europe. The Ones ego know no bounds as the obedient Running Dogs render The Elder Warrior of The Right and The Northern Huntress of Moose asunder. Finally, after the Plumbers of Joe are mercilessly slain upon the Fields of Ohio and the mighty Army of ACORN dispatched to stuff ballot boxes far and wide, Alexrod The Flack says, "My god, there is no end to his desire for power. I am caught for the duration of the campaign." So he goes to The Clinton, self-anointed leader of Democrats, and complains.

The Clinton sits on the Harlem throne of the poor, a symbol of his grace and goodness. So Alexrod The Flack tells his story to The Clinton. The Clinton says, "Go home. I will fix this up." The Clinton casts aside his concubines and rushes to kneel before The Soros, from whom Liberal wisdom and Clinton's gold flows, seeking aid. The Soros makes a lordly gesture and says, "Listen, I shall send a message forth upon The Blackberry and something will happen."

Next morning, at the door of The One’s campaign headquarters, there appears one of The Nine Lesser Candidates of the Great Sorrow of 2004, known as Dean Sage of the Northeast, with a pack of Media Running Dogs swirling about him, lapping up his wisdom. Alexrod The Flack is mightily fearful and runs to The One, and The One says, "Not to fear, send in the sage, for I shall hear him out and persuade him of the righteousness of my Divine Coolness."

Dean Sage of the Northeast is brought in, and The One, who would be President of the World, says, "My good man, welcome. And what brings you here?" "Well," says Dean Sage of the Northeast, "I have been told that you are have a plan to rule the world such as no Leading Democrat Candidate, not even the August FDR, before you." And The One says, “Verily, and this is a problem how?"

Dean Sage of the Northeast says to the One, “Leading Democrat Candidates before you. I have seen them come and go, come and go. Many Candidates flowed from the navel of Liberalism, The Senatorium, or The Ivy Hall of Knowledge. Atop the Tower of Liberal Cant once sat the Carville, the creator of campaigns, now usurped by the Alexrod. The Alexrod opens his eyes, and a campaign comes into being, with a Leading Democrat Candidate. The Alexrod closes his eyes, and a race is lost. The life of a Leading Democrat Candidate is short. When he loses, Liberalism retreats back into the ivy halls and columns of marble, and another campaign is formed, and another Leading Democrat Candidate.

Think of the galaxies beyond galaxies in infinite space, each a tower, with an Alexrod sitting upon it, opening his eyes, closing his eyes. And Leading Democrat Candidates? There may be wise men in your employ such as Biden Loose Lips, who would volunteer to count the drops of water in the oceans or the grains of sand on the beaches, but no one could count those Leading Democrat Candidates."

While Dean Sage of the Northeast was speaking, a line of ants paraded across the floor. When Dean Sage of the Northeast sees the ants he laughs lustily "YeeeHaw!" The One shifts uneasily upon his chair at the sound, and says to the sage, "Why do you laugh?"

Dean Sage of the Northeast points to the ants and says, "Former Leading Democrat Candidates all.

~the end

(A hat tip to Joe Campbell's telling of “Indra’s Lesson”.)

cardeblu said...

Exoskeletan of some sort?

Totem pole? That almost looks like a buffalo head in the middle, it's probably just a shadow or the outline of the overlapping...whatever those are.

Chip Ahoy said...

bjm, that is the best story wot I ever bin told. It sounds so real !

Pumpkin, ask the waiter what are today's specials.

Hey Waiter! What are the specials today?

} } } schwing { { { He's a fast waiter.

We have all-beef hot dogs served on old-world hand-made slowly risen buns.

We also have chicken and vegetable soup. Broth from home-made aspic and carefully chosen vegetable medley. You're welcome back to the kitchen to observe these dishes prepared per order.

And finally, we have no-fat spaghetti pasta infused with chicken broth with garden parsley and Parmigiano Reggiano.

Chip Ahoy said...

The photo is one of gentle waterfall produced by a concealed pump and buried hose with the streamlet allowed to run down achingly carefully selected and placed rocks in a Zen garden all made to appear as if they occurred by natural forces.

Chip Ahoy said...

But then again, it looks like a pond-side photograph set on its side so that the reflection in the water appears as a vertical mirror reflection. The photo makes perfect sense on its side.

bleeper said...
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bleeper said...
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Assumpsit said...

It's obviously a hermaphrodite who has had a thoracotemy.

Palladian said...

It's The Mighty Favog!

Bissage said...

(1) Right you are, Meade!

Bissage traverses the globe, looking for photos of the Curiously Nifty® Ann Hathaway and the Strangely Appealing® Daniel Craig . . .



(Shhhhhhhhh! Don’t tell anyone . . . but I think I might be close to perfecting my Grand Unification Theory of Integral Intertubes Hummmaaaarrr!!1!!1!!®


(2) Palladian, that was way funny! Not only did I laugh, but I got that extra bonus thrill that comes from the unexpected realization that there are still some brain cells up there in the old noggin that are . . .


[ p i n g ]

WestVirginiaRebel said...

Isn't that one of the Droids from Star Wars? "Roger, Roger!"