Comments on: Jack Mangan’s Deadpan #106: Three Stories

By: The Questors From Effpiem, Episode 2 (Part 1): The House of the Sophia Pulchra « Journey to Podiobook Authorship

Fri, 09 Jan 2009 03:27:46 +0000

[...] (17:36) that it had to be split up over two episodes of the Deadpan Podcast. The first part is in Jack Mangan’s Deadpan #106: Three Stories. Look for the conclusion of Episode 2 in an upcoming episode of the Deadpan.Â Jack cut it at the [...]

By: Ed from Texas

Ed from Texas — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 03:19:51 +0000

Three more episodes of Charlie Jade remain. After all the hype from Slice of Scifi, I must confess I was kinda put off after the first several episodes. But, I kept the subscription and every week it shows up on the DVR. Now, the story has gotten interesting, but I do think the presentation suffers from an amatuerish over use of camera tricks – kinda like writing a letter in Word and using a different font for each sentence because you’ve got 10,000 fonts available.

Anyway, I read up on the Wikipedia entry that the writing staff completely changed after the eight episode. I definitely agree it was a change for the better.

Sadly, after the final three, it looks like there will be no more Charlie.

By: justa J0e

justa J0e — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 02:42:54 +0000

Man.
I’m reading about tomorrow nights V.P. debate.
Expectations for Palin are so low, she could come away the perceived “winner” by simply being able to remember her name and by not drooling on herself … much.

I think I remember this scenario from a “West WIng” episode but I can’t remember how it turned out.

By: JohnBoze

JohnBoze — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 01:28:32 +0000

Spitting and/or “rearranging the furniture…”

Yeah, I’d rather the White Sox weren’t in, personally.

By: justa J0e

justa J0e — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 01:20:11 +0000

Tell it like it is sista!

Ed – re: Falkirk Wheel – now that IS sexy!

By: The Smarty HottiesÂ®

The Smarty HottiesÂ® — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 00:59:44 +0000

Hi pan, how is everyone???

I was happy that our 2 Chicago baseball teams made it into the playoffs (or whatever they are called) because I hadn’t realized at the time that now Hugh has to watch EVERY fucking game.

Now I’m not so happy about it :)

and there isnt even any good eye candy cuz you see this really hot guy and then next thing you know he is spitting every 5 seconds.

whats with the spitting? So NOT sexy

By: JohnBoze

JohnBoze — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:46:48 +0000

Hmm, just missed the van…

By: JohnBoze

JohnBoze — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:45:49 +0000

I did content for the Deadpan last week…

But this week I put my production skillz toward a Musically Challenged for Coverville…

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:20:46 +0000

Time for bed, night pan.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:19:41 +0000

499

hahahahahahahahahahahahaha

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:19:05 +0000

rattling casket wails
patient shining burnt eunuchs
escaping mermaids

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:18:48 +0000

childhood unshackles
bear retreating sweltering
charitable sad

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:17:36 +0000

faintly fitful mean
deaf melodies forget, pigs
pause, melodies shine

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:17:01 +0000

chameleon plucks
blazing clean jackknifes fret, dark
horseflies fly sadly

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:16:39 +0000

shadows flow quickly
hissing necromancers fry
faintly, lustily

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:14:42 +0000

I was drowned harshly
By the shame of the morning
Streaking quietly on the thin bones
On thoughts of horses
Where farmhands lie loudly
And all the barge-booted cobblestreets walk and live

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:14:10 +0000

The lazy rodgered bird
Falling by the saucebottle,
With the savagely warm leaves

Kissing while the barge-booted washerwoman
On the blind goosefield rarely
Goes to speak against the moonless night.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:11:16 +0000

And quickly he goes dying
Into the jolly girls,
Raving while they cover
Impatiently in the beef-red street

And proudly the horses of the kings
Blaze hazily in praise of the bottle
Waiting while they rave
Mildly into the crowblack leaves

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:09:32 +0000

Still better than going to work.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:07:38 +0000

Dada:

the idea instead to And
being of monkey we instead
sceptical we a efficient so
And monkey poem we amuse
the Dylan born. And monkey
amuse random ourselves. was Dylan

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:04:17 +0000

I was shamed heartily
By the nannygoats of the fishwife
Scrubbing solemnly on the moonless goosefield
On thoughts of cobblestreets
Where birds lie lazily
And all the dogdayed farmhands live and hang

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:03:40 +0000

One for the list Ed:

The scrubbing street of the fisherman
The rusty-shuttered horses in flesh,
Trotting by the savagely playful saucebottle
For dreamt fishwives cover
With no more goosefield than the starfall

Which is supposed to be like Dylan Thomas.

By: Ed from Texas

Ed from Texas — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:01:13 +0000

Here’s something cool:

http://www.undiscoveredscotland.co.uk/falkirk/falkirkwheel/

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:00:28 +0000

This might also be a good time to admit that having a holiday without a plan is almost always a bad idea.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:58:09 +0000

Read carefully marlodiane, you will be tested later…

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:57:17 +0000

fiercely adoring
ghosts embrace, dolphins howling
face roams, lithe barren

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:55:09 +0000

sobbing numbly, short
white masquerade vanishes
masquerade grumbling

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:54:34 +0000

loose idiotic
pygmies wailing, sadly, leaf
hovering, cackling

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:53:11 +0000

immoral sour hive
flailing, hungrily, unborn
joyless dumbfounded

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:52:34 +0000

Back to haiku:

rich mask scrambles, tame
boulders resonate, aching
diamondcutter flies

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:51:25 +0000

That last line shows why computers are very bad at certain things.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:50:45 +0000

Boats break but winds fall.
Softly blue, small green mud walks.
Wonder carouses.

Water admits poetry.
Heaven fairly bites asses.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:50:07 +0000

For some variation, a tanka:

A lemon sets leaves.
Burned girls admit huge shadows.
Fluttering ice plays.

Small water works for boats melt.
The children splash happiness.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:49:09 +0000

A poison loiters.
A star works yet frogs break.
Leaden apples melt.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:48:36 +0000

Huge, hard asses clash.
Men wisely turn apathy.
Earth moves the short cats.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:46:24 +0000

Jungles catch children.
Greenly, lakes talk but breasts work.
A flower returns.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:45:42 +0000

A smooth apple wakes.
Boats sometimes stop the papers.
Autumn startles truth.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:44:05 +0000

That was one crap joke too many. Some Haiku:

Burned poetry runs.
The green stanzas fall then the birds set a shadow.
Poetry clashes.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:40:52 +0000

Knock Knock!
Who’s there?
Yo momma.
Yo momma, who?
Seriously, it’s yo momma, open the damned door!

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:40:13 +0000

Knock Knock!
Who’s there?
Tank!
Tank who?
You’re welcome!

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:39:12 +0000

Knock Knock!
Who’s there?
I love.
I love who?
I don’t know, you tell me!

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:38:45 +0000

Knock Knock!
Doris.
Doris, who?
Doris locked, that’s why I had to knock!

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:38:11 +0000

Okay, time to dredge the bottom of the barrel, the true horror that is the knock knock joke:

Knock Knock!
Who’s there?
Police.
Police who?
Police let us in; it’s cold out here.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:30:24 +0000

‘She looked again at her drawings. The image of a mite that humanity hadn’t noticed for millennia. And the image of her own planet.

An image that Boeykens hadn’t noticed for days.’

Invasion of the Pattern Snatchers by David W Goldman.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:27:02 +0000

‘Eight seconds.

Still me memory did linger, bright and vivid as a rose petal, as a drop of blood, as even the fire to come. Held tight so the intoxicating sweetness of what had been could in some way still endure.

Somewhere.

Seven seconds.’

The Fourth Thing by Stephen L. Burns

By: marlodianne

marlodianne — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:25:10 +0000

*wonders if we’re going to have to write literary essays*

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:22:13 +0000

‘As the horizon slowly brightened, a cold misty rain began to fall. It splattered against tow lonely figures standing far apart on a rusty plain no longer home to anything merely human. Both had survived to gaze at another wondrous, mystical Martian dawn.

But the eyes that looked out over the dawn were no longer innocent.’

The Last Temptation of Katerina Savitskaya by Stanley Schmidt

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:17:42 +0000

‘But then he muttered, “It’s just that … if at the end of the day, if I can save just one child….”

There was a long pause.

Then that sick young man dropped his gun, and screaming softly to himself, he ran up path and out of sight.’

If We Can Just Save Just One Child… by Robert Reed.

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:08:38 +0000

‘Nothing erases the past. There is repentance, there is atonement and there is forgiveness. That is all, but that is enough.

-The Merchant and Alchemist’s Gate by Ted Chiang

By: Vanamonde

Vanamonde — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 22:06:13 +0000

‘A young woman in a little black dress-accent on little-sashayed upto Richard. “I’m bored by lawyers and executives and our hostess tells me you’re a hotshot physicist. Can you dumb it down to weather girl level? I’m Ellie.”‘

GoingBack [in] Time by Laurel Winter