It's Our Only Solution: Firearms.

We're watching television when it suddenly gets really fuzzy.

Emeric: Go fiddle with the rabbit ears, would you?

Kieran doesn't move. The picture fades back in and becomes clearer.

Emeric: Good work.

Earlier, in a non-sequiter of epic proportions:

Kieran: You know, we really don't commit enough crimes.*

Emeric: You know, you really don't bake enough pies.

Kieran: I bought a pie. It's in the fridge.

Emeric: I'll be in the fridge. Hold my calls.

*Neither member of the conspiracy has committed or intends to commit any criminal activity nor does the conspiracy endorse criminal activity of any kind.

Another In A Line Of Our Fantastic Ideas

When late-night discussions run on a bit too long:

Kieran: We should start a funk band!

Emeric: That's a great idea! With your lack of rythm and my lack of musical talent, we'd be great!

Kieran: We could call it Big Poppa Emeric and the Funk-Tones!

Emeric: Our shows could be me eating a sandwich into a microphone while you wail on a drumset! The smacking noises would be funk!

Kieran: We need to get you a purple jumpsuit. Preferrably made of velvet.

From the first Sauna of a crisp fall:

Emeric: You know, Kieran, you don't date nearly enough hot, rich chicks.

Kieran: You just want to try to steal those chicks from me by pretending to be me.

Emeric: It'd work too! Right up until they left me for Brad Pitt. Which is fair. I'd leave me for Brad Pitt. I'd be all like: "Hey, Brad Pitt! Sorry, me, you suck! Let's go make out Brad Pitt!"

The Conspiracy Ages Both Gracefully and Well!

The absence from these hallowed pages is entirely explainable. Suffice it to say, the Conspiracy has been busy. Very busy.

2008 is moving along on schedule. One Conspirator graduated from Law School. The other celebrated a birthday today. This time next year, there will be another round of birthdays and graduations. I expect any number of hilarious conversations between now and then.

Keep reading for more internet hilarity.

I Will Undoubtably Be In Trouble For This

Michael and I were discussing future plans, and Michael made a sage comment about saving vacation time. The following damning conversation resulted:

Emeric: That makes sense to me .

Michael: Good. I have mastered logic. Now onto women.

Emeric: Ha! Then you'll have to forget everything you learned about logic.

I only speak the truth.

We Know Kung Fu

Coming out of The Forbidden Kingdom (a Kung Fu movie):

Emeric: Well, if there's anything I've learned from martial arts movies, its that any problem can be solved with Kung Fu.

Kieran: Your Drunken Panda style is no match for my Steel Tiger style.

Emeric: Yeah, that's why I learned the Two-Guns style.

Kieran: That still can't stand up to my "I Took Your Bullets" style.

Emeric: Damnit, I hate that style!

It's Funny And Sad At The Same Time, Because It's True

Over the same round of drinks that spawned our earlier conversation, the following was also heard:

Emeric: I'm on edge. It's partially some things that are going on, but most of it is that I feel like I'm in a state of flux, and I've got no idea where it's all going to end up.

Kieran: Could that be because you're in a state of flux and there's no way to know where it's all going to end up?

Emeric: Yeah. That's probably it.

Graduation is an odd time.

Legends Are Born Of Great Adventures

While at Old Chicago, enjoying a drink or two, the following conversations took place:

Kieran: Do you think it'd be too much to include in my will that, when I die, I want my coffin filled with melted mozzarella?

Emeric: See, the thing about that is ... [Long Pause] Yeaaaaah.

Not too much longer:

Emeric: She knows me well. She was commenting that I would be lounging around the apartment wearing a suit with a glass of port, discussing philosophy.

Kieran: The only thing is that's wrong with that is that you would probably be talking about history.

Emeric: Yeah, but I didn't feel the need to correct her.

Kieran: Yeah, it's probably best to hide your pretensiosity. I don't know if pretensiosity is a word, but it really should be.

When we control the world, it will be!

Fish in a Barrel

"Like shooting fish in a barrel." It's a common phrase used to express utter lack of a challenge in doing something that is probably unsportsmanlike. But as a metaphor, it seems like a rather strange one. I've never heard of anyone shooting fish in a barrel nor can I imagine a purpose in it. That being said, the scientist in me is extremely tempted to conduct an experiment to determine the result of such an undertaking so as to determine both (a) the ease with which it is accomplished and (b) the result and, hopefully, hence any reason for doing so. That being said, if you see me with a barrel, a net, and a gun, please stop me.

Astrology Gets it Right

I picked up a copy of The Onion the other day. I was so amused by my horoscope I had to call Emeric, who, having the same horoscope, had just read the same passage to his dinner party. Here it is:

Cancer: It's not so much your drinking that will drive loved ones away, but your tendency to operate chainsaws, nail-guns, and other industrial power tools while intoxicated.

While never having done that, it somehow captures a piece of the Dwyer spirit.

When you get the chance, pick up a copy of The Onion or read it online. The horoscopes are always funny, if only in a slightly inappropriate way.

Cookies

me: there was a make up class this morning

so I had to be here early

Emeric: I thought you left early

that sucksme: yep

Emeric: Well, I'll be here. Slowly plotting against you.

me: I figured

that's why I hid cookies around the apartment

Emeric: Oooh! Cookies!

me: Kieran returns to the apartment. The place is in shambles; ransacked. Emeric is standing there in his bathrobe, dirt from unpotted plants smeared over him

Emeric says quietly "There were no cookies"

Emeric: Oh, it's so much more frightening because it's true

It's What You Learned In Elementary School

While playing several games of Catan this evening, Kelly would keep rolling the dice and then announcing the results. The problem is, her results were often off by one. Six instead of seven, five instead of six, etc. etc. After multiple errors, Pat uttered the following:

Patrick: Honey, I love you, but you add like a retarted lemur.

That's evocative.

Kieran and I discovered the text-to-voice functions on our computers recently. Silliness resulted, most notably:

Kieran's Computer: Ooh, yeah! That's how I like it! Push my buttons!

This is probably the highlight of the experience. But right now, Kieran's computer is singing "Baby Got Back" and mine is doing the soliloquy from Hamlet.

A Failure In Advertising

While going through the Saturday mail, I'm often forced to sift through great piles of junk seeking out a few letters that are worth reading. The following occurred:

Emeric: [Pausing over an advertisement] Huh ... L.A. Fitness.

Because that's going to happen.

Happy Songs

Emeric(singing Radiohead's Creep as he cleans): Cause I'm aaa Creep!

Kieran(shouting from his room): Yeah you are!

Emeric(still singing but changing the lyrics) : And you're aaa weirdo!

Kieran(still shouting from his room): Yeah I am!

Sometimes Things Get A Bit Racy

Last night the Conspiracy was out to dinner. Emeric, Kieran, Andy and Rita were out at the California Pizza Kitchen when things got a bit dicey. The following conversation relies heavily upon the manner of delivery, so I'll try and give you some cues as to how things were said:

Andy: Rita discoverd Menards the other day for the first time.

Emeric: [Unsure of what was said, so latching onto something similar] Rita discovered your nards for the first time?

Andy: [Seeing a joke and running with it] It was awesome!

Emeric: This explains why Frank was up in Duluth this weekend.

We burst into howls of laughter that had the entire restaurant looking at us. Unfortunately, poor Rita didn't hear what was said earlier. I'm afraid that our explanation embarassed her and caused things to be worse.

Emeric: Ahem. Yes. So Rita discovered your nards.

Rita: Oh! That's what you said! That's dirty.

Andy: I said she discovered Menards the other day.

Rita: [Talking about what Andy said, but her delivery made it seem like she was addressing our misunderstanding] That's not fair! I've always known where that was!

We burst into laughter again and thought that an excellent line to end on.

We're Going A-Sportin'!

Don't let the snow fool you. Spring is coming to Minnesota, and the Conspiracy is ready for it.

We're ready for everything.*

*Especially zombies. We're always ready for zombies.

Channeling Douglas Adams

Over a night of games the following witty conversations occurred.

Harold: Emeric, I think you should get me gas-impact wrench.

Emeric: How does a wrench impact something?

Patrick: You throw it at someone.

Kieran: Long late-night conversations over cups of tea.

Some Monday Repartees

Monday can be a long day, and with an early start this morning, I was in need of some boosters. It helped to have some of the following converstations. To understand the first, you have to know I drove up to Pine County (near Hinckley) for some court work:

Emeric: It's north country. The people up there, they are my people.

Kieran: Dorks?

Emeric: No, North-Woodsers. The Dorks are my constituents. Or peasants. Or whatever it is Kings have these days.

The King still reigns. Afterwards, I was chatting with one of my co-workers. We were walking through the skyway and we saw a sign that advertised a "Philosophy of Dating." It was an amusing notion.

Emeric: I think I'll show up and begin discussing how Plato and Aristotle would disagree on the duality of dating.

Karin: Uh-huh.

Emeric: Sorry, that was a joke that was aimed more at philosophy majors.

Karin: Yeah, I was a philosophy major.

Emeric: Aha. Then it was a joke that was supposed to be aimed at philosophy majors.

Stating The Obvious

I've found a new way to both state the obvious and introduce Mr. Bernabo:

Emeric: This is Michael. He's scruffy-looking, but I don't think he's dangerous.

Good Night, Sweet DM, And A Flight Of Archons Sing Thee To Thy Rest ...

It's been well covered in the news, but Gary Gygax shuffled off this mortal coil today. The Conspiracy salutes and mourns this geeky pioneer, who with his vision has given nerds something to do for the past thirty years. Here is our tribute (with apologies to the Killers):

You sit there in your basement,
Waiting on some beautiful elf
To save you from your orc foes.
You play for hours,
Watching him go
There he goes.

He only looks a bit like Gandulf,
But he runs a game like Tolkien,
Like you remember from when
You were young.

Can you delve this dungeon, we don't know
High levels than ever before,
You know you can make it if you cast those spells
That's working hard, harder now, in the Nine Hells.

We're burning down the Keep on the Borderlands,
Back into the Abyss with Portals,
Like when you were young, when you were young.

Goodbye, Mr. Gygax.