Oh, I got hot sause all over my bazito!

You know what this is? It's a brain sucker. You know what it's doing? Filing its tax return

If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent apple pie

The Adventures of Little Ed Brave

Tell airport security your name is McCannister because you can hide anything in a cannister.

You know what? Nobody notices when this changes anyway.

There are 10 types of people in the world: Those who understand binary, and STFU

What happens in a black hole stays in a black hole

The black hole draws you inexorably inward. Time slows. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.

I'd diddle little umdidlie... if she weren't my half-sister.

Abortion prevents pedophilia. In more ways than one!
Get Firefox!
I wrote a haiku

which I was about to share,

but then I thought, "screw it."
Level 1

Notice to all users of the Holodeck:

There are safety protocols in place that cannot be deactivated without the approval of two commanding officers or the captain to protect users of the Holodeck from potential harm. However, every time the Holodeck is ever used in a nontrivial manner, no matter what the safety protocols say, the Holodeck turns into a deathtrap.

Unless you believe yourself to be adept at constructing a forcefield from your communicator and 19th century Earth tools, or you're at the very least not wearing a red shirt, you are strongly advised not to attempt to use the Holodeck until a designer comes up with a safety protocol that doesn't kill you whenever somebody looks at it funny. Even when you're not on the holodeck. Or in the same quadrant. Or time period.

In fact, if you are wearing a red shirt, Starfleet may not be the job for you

« From the comments of EdDecode-a-song Volume 2 »

Decode-a-song Volume 3

Permalink 08/28/11 at 01:23:10 pm, by Ed, 137 words   English (US)
Categories: General

There is a place. This place is very real. When you're there, it is as surreal as sight to a blind man. It can be found past the source of wealth for dreamers, and far, far above just half of that which the meaning of cannot be ascertained by observers.

One is aware of this place only through song of the night. Only halfway between sleep and awake, can one even know of this place.

In this place, far far above, and beyond dreamers' gold, not only does the water reflect the sky. The sky, too, reflects the birds, and the music, and even the full moon, once in great while.

This place, real as it is, is a fairy tale. Stories told, thoughts remembered, nights left awake, or slept soundly; this, too, shall come to pass.

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