The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘where’s waldo’

Oh, THERE’S Waldo

This past weekend I went to a minor league hockey game, with the Houston Aeros playing the Binghamton Senators for the Calder’s Cup (let’s go Aeros!).

Not too long after I sat down, none other than Waldo walked by.

That’s fun, right? Dressing up like Waldo at a crowded event? Pretty funny and clever I think.

What really cracked me up though was a little phone conversation Waldo had. He pulled out his phone, called someone, and,

“Hey! … Yeah look up … Look behind you …” That’s when Waldo stood up, waving his cane a bit, “Can you see me?”

Are you serious!? Waldo was, without a trace of humor, and without telling his friend, starting a real-life Where’s Waldo! And no one around was cracking up at this!

(Not the Wizard, not the girl version of Waldo, not Odlaw, not the dog … not even Waldo’s old nemesis Odlaw. I couldn’t resist this joke, sorry.)

The guy probably came as Waldo to reach one goal – the jumbotron …

I have a new goal in life, and it is to get a few friends together, dress up in the various Waldo character costumes, and go hang out together. Head to a bar, maybe a sporting event. For any geek who spent too much time looking at Where’s Waldo books it’d be like a dream come true – they will have finally found all of them, and they won’t have to deal with the feeling of having just wasted time for no reason.

[I’ll also add that Waldo drank a lot, and got pretty aggressive with his yelling … which also makes me laugh, to think that maybe Waldo was hiding not from you, but from the police. He had probably just committed aggravated assault.]

Not Entirely Fruitless

I just read an interesting unfinished autobiography of “Dr.” Gorg Homkins.

The unfinished autobiography ended with this, “And so, with my last breath I bid the Earth farewell and thus ends my book”

Note the lack of punctuation that renders the autobiography unfinished. Scholars have debated for minutes at a time whether it was to be a period or exclamation point.

Obviously I am with the small, but tall, group of scholars that insist it was a pound sign. This we believe must be the case because “Dr.” Gorg had never once been slightly interesting or funny and so we figure he was due.

But why bring up “Dr.” Gorg to you? Ah yes, because I’m feeling morbid and whimsical. A classic combination of feelings made popular by the creepy man sitting by me at the bus stop.

You see, “Dr.” Gorg was a grave-digger who would cut open dead bodies to look for words inside them. The good “Doctor” believed every person had a last important message that they had to get out – some people managed to get this out before dying, but for others death came too soon. These people contained inside them a written copy of their last important message. And so, after what he described as an epiphany but I would describe as an addiction to smoking crushed up kitty litter, the good “Doctor” began digging up bodies for his research.

The research was fairly fruitless, except for two peculiar cases.

The first was Joanne Thompson, who was buried with a pineapple.

The second was Jeremy Privo, who choked while trying to eat a book, and died. The book was a Where’s Waldo, and fragments of the book were obtained by “Dr.” Gorg. These fragments listed things to look for, which the good “Doctor” set out to do. Perhaps in death he has found Wizard Whitebeard.

Reading this book, and about the case of young Mr. Privo has led me to a bold decision. I will not read anything that I cannot successfully eat! People meet me and think I love Kit Kat’s, this is simply not true. It’s just hard to find good reading material.

However you should be glad to know that my intellectual qualities have not been hurt by my lack of intellect. I often quote famous works of literature. I would dare to guess I use the word “the” at least five times a day. Someone you may be familiar with, one William Shakespeare, was also known to have used that word to some success.

Therefore, although the nearly finished autobiography of “Dr.” Gorg Homkins was incredibly boring, full of idiocy, painful, and led me to never again read a book – I would say the endeavor was not entirely fruitless. After all, the publisher had a sense of humor, and each book comes with a pineapple.