Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Supply and Demand: A detailed look at the Economic Workings and Business Model of the Jawa people.




Introduction and Background: The Jawas are a race of people that reside on the planet Tatooine. The Jawas mostly live together and work together with some exceptions of individuals that stray from their clan. For the purposes of this study, we will only be looking into the Jawas that live together as an extended community, in their large vehicles known as Sandcrawlers. It is necessary to look at the geography of Tatooine, as it uncovers the answers to many questions about Jawa culture, climate and business choices. Tatooine is a planet comprised solely of sweeping sand dunes and areas of rocky formations. There is no indication of any water sources or plant life. You could draw the conclusion from this, that Tatooine would be completely inhabitable due to lack of oxygen, since there are no plants, but you would be incorrect. The planet is, in fact, inhabited by many species, including the oxygen breathing human race. It is not known where the breathable oxygen comes from, but some theories suggest the whogivesashititsamovie molecule could be in the atmosphere.


This is seriously Tatooine. There is seriously no water. Gotta love nerds.

The Jawas primary mode of transportation is the Sandcrawler. It resembles a large brown turd tank and houses up to 300 Jawas and as many robots. It is possible that the Jawas live in this thing.



Business Model: The Jawa people have decided to enter the lucrative business field of vintage robot resale. Their business revolves around obtaining old robots at a very small cost, and then reselling these robots to local inhabitants of Tatooine. In the opinion of our experts, this plan seems a bit foolish. One can not imagine a large number of robots randomly wandering the desert landscape of a remote planet. In fact, you'd assume that the only robots that wander around are robots owned by locals that seem to have wandered off. This can only lead to conflict when selling the robots back. One would imagine the typical dinner time conversation between Jawa mates as such:



Jawa 1; Jawa that stayed at home and cooked dinner: "Hi honey, how was work today?"

Jawa 2; Jawa that surveyed the canyons looking for stray robots: "Oh not so good, we sat there in a crevice whispering to each other, waiting for a stray robot to pass by, but there was no luck. Ootini."

Jawa 1: "Oh that's terrible! What is this, the 10,257th straight day that a random robot hasn't been wandering through a canyon on a remote planet that's comprised entirely of desert yet still has oxygen and life forms?"

Jawa 2: "Yeah, something like that. I'm beginning to think that the Jawa's should go into a different field."

Jawa 1: "Well to cheer you up I knitted you a new brown cloak that looks exactly like the clothing every single other being in our species wear because it would be ridiculous for a science-fiction movie to have unique non-human characters."

Jawa 2: "Do you ever wonder why you can't see Chewbacca's penis? I mean he is 7 feet tall, that thing's gotta be huge."

Chewbacca: "HRRRUHHHGGGGHHHHHUUUUNNNGGGNNGG!"


Will fuck your Jawa shit up.


Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Havok's Magical Forest Hippie Journey of Fun Part 1

So as mentioned before, I visited the Portland, Oregon area this weekend, my first time in the state of Oregon. There was much anticipation about what the city of Portland would bring, what kind of people would be there. And it was just as I expected: a cross between the opening scene of Gummi Bears, the South Park homeless people episode, a grateful dead concert circa now and not the 60's, a hip hipster neighborhood, and a lumberjack haven.



Bouncing here AND there AND everywhere




Spare some change?



The following is a 100% true and in no way fabricated story from my trip in Oregon. Seriously, I couldn't make this up. It's true.

I stepped off of the plane into a place I had never been before: Portland, Oregon. It was an overcast, slightly rainy day, like every day that has ever existed in Portland. The sun never shines in Portland, but not because there is no happiness, it's from all the pot smoke that has clouded the atmosphere. My friends, Flava Dave and Idaho met me at the airport. I was surprised that Portland even had an airport, and did not instead have only bicycles, rickshaws, and people-kites for transportation.

Immediately, my friends knew where to take me: a bar. We had a great night of drinking microbrews and watching some guy in a brown sweater with horn rimmed glasses dance to hip music, but it was time to go eventually. As we exited a man approached me. He was in his mid-twenties and wearing a blue t-shirt. He had a scruffy haircut and I could immediately tell that he listened to artsy bands that no one gives a shit about. I tried side stepping him, but he was obviously trying to agitate me, obviously trying to talk to me. No matter where I went he followed, until finally, I made eye contact with him, and then it happened…

"Hi, can I talk to you about joining Greenpeace for a moment?"

Fuck my Douglas Fir! A damned Greenpeace hippie! I knew it! "No I don't want to join Greenpeace."


They are everywhere in Portland

"Don't you care about our Earth, and your children's Earth?"

"Dude…I'm DRUNK, leave me alone."

"You damn republican! The curse of the Sasquatch on you FOR ETERNITY!"

"OK dude I'm not even repub- AIGHHHHHHH WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT YOU'RE THROWING ON ME"

And with that he ran away. I was stunned. What did he throw on me? A local approached me and said: "Ohhhhhhh dude…that's like….uncool…dude…you know….oh uncool…lame…ohhhhhhhh…hey man he just cursed you, if you don't get a lock of bigfoot's hair before you leave, you'll totally turn into Bigfoot…hey can you spare some change man I'm trying to get some money to stay in a hostel…"

But before I could answer him, a local crack addict beat him up and stole his shoes.


Approximation of the Crackhead

The next morning I was a little shaken up but knew that I had to figure out what was going on. Flava Dave, Idaho and myself pondered. Who would know what to do in this situation? I mean, we don't even know what's going to happen to me. We have no sources to figure out what's gonna happen in the future. Now who knows a lot about Bigfoot? Who knows about the wilderness? Lumberjacks!


You knew where this was going

But Lumberjacks are tough and don't know anything about Greenpeace hippies, they mostly just stomp on Greenpeace hippies. Who in Portland has insider knowledge of hippies because they have been forced to assimilate with them? Hipsters!


Hipsters totally got weird shit sprayed on them by Hippies way before anyone else knew about it

Time was of the essence though. Where would we possibly find Lumberjacks anywhere near hipsters? Idaho and Flava had just the place.

Doug Fir's



Yes, there is a place in Portland that is a hipster log cabin. Sweet Nikki Sixx. We got into Flava's car to get there and AC/DC started blaring. At first I was thinking, BAD ASS, but then I got nautious and vomited...But wait...I love AC/DC...and then I knew what those hippie bastards had done to me...

TO BE CONTINUED...

Where's Waldo?

And now I present to you - the viewer - photographic evidence that Sasquatch, Bigfoot, Yeti, Sasquatch, whatever you refer to the beast as, does in fact exist. Here I have captured the Leviathan in three pictures and present them in Where's Waldo format. Of course you know Where's Waldo?.














Where is Waldo the Sasquatch?





Where is Waldo the Sasquatch?







Where is Waldo the Sasquatch?