Phil Johnson of Roadside Attraction » aliens

Giant Penis Attacks Tokyo

Phil — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 20:35:52 +0000

Call it what you want. Texas just got tea-bagged.

I got a spam email for some penis enlargement pills the other day. And the subject line said “Don’t be alarmed when it doesn’t stop growing.”

I think it’s safe to say that I would be awfully damned alarmed if it didn’t stop growing. You CAN have too much of a good thing.

Ladies, if you thought guys were just one big dick before… Wait til they have one that never stops growing.

It’s like a bad episode of the Twilight Zone. “A man takes a pill to send him and his girl to the heights of pleasure. Instead it sends them to… The Twilight Zone.”

There’s a possibility of, while sleeping, getting tangled in it and suffocating. You’re supposed to strangle it. Not the other way around.

At first you could just throw it over your shoulder. But eventually you’d have to wheel it around on one of those things you roll a garden hose on. And I don’t know about you, but my garden always always has a kink in it even on the roll-y thing.

I really don’t want my penis to attack Tokyo.
“Giant wee wee attacking! It go ‘ppt ppt’ and cover Tokyo in white gooey!”

But the good part is when you die they’ll be able to cut it and count the rings to see how old you are.

NASA Finds A New Planet – Kepler 22b – For Earthlings To Lust After

Phil — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 17:25:09 +0000

A NASA scientist explains how she likes to hold the spoon when eating cereal. She was quickly reprimanded for straying from the topic.

In the toughest real estate search ever known, NASA has finally found a new planet that resembles Earth. It’s only 600 light years away, so you can pack light. Mostly because you’ll be dead before you get there. That really makes the trip seem shorter.

They say the temperature averages 72 degrees. Just like Southern California. Let’s just hope that whatever lives there hasn’t discovered Botox and fake boobs yet.

It’s also much bigger than Earth, 2.4 times larger in radius. That will give us so much more land to fight over when we get there!

Though, for some reason, its solar year is only 290 days instead of 365 due to its distance from its sun. Man, their holiday shopping season must start in like, June.

If there are actually intelligent beings on another planet, with technology at a similar state of advancement, it seems possible that they’ve already seen us too. They just don’t know how to get here yet. When we all figure that one out, I hope our ship passes theirs with neither noticing the other. When the aliens land on Earth we mistake them for our own astronauts returning and changed. And the whole thing becomes a comedy of mistaken identity like a bad episode of Three’s Company.

If I’m ever in a beauty pageant, I’ll use that as my ‘greatest wish’ in the question and answer segment.

Phil Johnson
http://www.RoadsideAttraction.com

A Plumber’s Job Is Never Finished

Phil — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 21:48:22 +0000

Every so often when I sit down to write, things pop out of my head that I was expecting. This is one of those. It’s a short story. Though long for a blog, I guess.

It was another routine call for Steve. Just another clogged drain. The disposal had stopped working. He was the man for the job of course. Best plumber in the area. He’d even won awards from the local press in those “Best of Springville” things.

Of course, nobody knew the real purpose of his job. And they never would. The government makes sure of that. But that doesn’t change his drive to do his job well. One doesn’t often think about a plumber enforcing a vendetta with his job, but it’s more common than you might think. Terrorized and deceased family members have driven more than one young man into service for vengeance and a goal to keep the rest of the world safe.

Steve pulls up to 1080 Lily Ave. Another quiet suburban house with a broken disposal and stopped up drain. This one doesn’t seem like it could turn deadly, but you never know. Steve had yet to lose anyone on one of his jobs and he aimed to keep it that way. Grabbing his toolbox he heads up to the door and rings the bell.

The door opens and another suburban housewife answers the door. She’s the same type of woman he always sees. Looking a little harried from her duties as head of the household. Still pretty, but life is starting to wear on her a little too. It’s an early evening call which means she’s been at work all day too. And her husband is either too busy to do his own plumbing or just doesn’t know how.

None of them really know what they’re dealing with anyway. Even if they think they do. Steve would rather they call him. Safer that way.

“Hi, Mrs, Thompson? I’m Steve from Clear Pipes.” He flashes her his biggest, warmest smile to put her at ease. People always distrust letting strangers in their house.

She welcomes him into the house and shows him to the kitchen sink. “I’m not sure what happened,” she tells him. “I turned the disposal on two days ago and it just made this grinding sound and stopped working altogether. We’ve been washing dishes in the bathroom since then.”

“I’m sure it’s something simple,” Steve tells her. “Probably some small object slipped down there and got caught.” It’s the same line he always uses in this scenario. He always tried to make it sound genuine though. The truth is that disposal technology has advanced greatly in the past few years. The newer ones can cut through darn near anything short of dropping diamonds in there. The reason for the recent innovations is because of the one thing they can’t cut. Cocoons.

Kartukian cocoons in particular. The Kartukians would wait in hiding in the disposal they’d infiltrated, just waiting for the right object to come through. Sometimes a chicken bone or an errant bottle cap that slipped off the counter. Once inside, the Kartukians would wrap the object in a silk-like cocoon, not unlike spider silk. But, unfortunately, many thousands of times stronger. The stuff was impenetrable. No American company had been able to design a blade to cut through it yet. Though Steve had heard from a couple of government sources that the Japanese were coming close. He wasn’t sure if it was for real of just hearsay.

Either way, it didn’t change his job right now. He opened up his toolbox and opened the doors under the sink. Fortunately Mrs. Thompson had left him to his work. Some of his techniques can’t be used around civilians and it always makes his job harder when they hang over his shoulder.

First he pulled out a small black light and shined it underneath. Yep, there they were, the tell-tale slime tracks of a Kartukian. Pretty decent sized one from the looks of it too. He got started pulling the disposal apart and soon enough found the object. It looked like a piece from a baby bottle or something. And it was covered in cocoon material of course. Amateurs doing their own plumbing always mistook the cocoon for either hair or just general drain gunk. Little did they know what danger they could be in.

The fortunate thing is that the Kartukians are rarely successful. The government had discovered years earlier that their big plan for dominating Earth was to clog the drains in an effort to drown the populace in water and waste. Nobody ever said they were real bright aliens.

But every so often, by a fluke, they’d hurt someone. Steve had read case studies of exploding septic tanks, flying disposal blades, and “accidental” bath tub drownings. Hell, he’s see it happen to his own parents when their septic tank exploded and killed them both. The officials quickly talked it up as purely an accident. They couldn’t let the public know that their neighborhood had a mass infection of Pinoodies.

‘Noodies, as those in the service called them, were closely related to Kartukians. Kartuk being the next door planet to Pinoo in their system. Pinoodies are much more difficult entities to deal with since they work underground. Harder to detect.

Steve pulled his thoughts back to the job at hand, pulling out the small, cocoon covered piece of debris and placing it in a sample bag. Everything goes back to headquarters for analysis.

After placing the plastic bag in the lower tray of his toolbox, he takes out a small item that looks like a pen light or one of those laser pointer things the kids play with in movie theaters. This is no pen light though. He dons his eye protection and a quick press of the button sends a very short flash of radiation into the disposal. That will take care of that batch of Kartukians. He’s never been sure why the radiation doesn’t work on their cocoon material too, but it doesn’t. And they can’t permanently install radiation devices in the drain to keep them out. It would take it’s toll on the people living in the house. Steve sometimes wondered what it does to him too. In the long run he decided that the job was more important than his own health.

Just as he finishes replacing the last part os the disposal, Mrs. Thompson comes and and says, “How’s it going? Did you find what it was?”

“Sure did,” says Steve. “Just a plastic piece of something. From a baby bottle maybe. It was pretty mangled, so I just threw it out.”

“Oh good”, she says. “Thank you so much.” Steve flips the switch and the disposal hums to life just like it was brand new. “Here’s your invoice Mrs. Thompson. The company will bill you.” The government, go figure. Saving the world and they still charge you an arm and a leg. It’s an expensive undertaking. People just don’t realize what they’re paying for.

Mrs. Thompson thanks Steve again as he walks out the door. He drops his toolbox in the back of his van and gets in the drivers seat. As he pulls away he sees that car again. And the driver is that lady from the mental hospital. She’d been by his house the night before trying to convince him that he’s sick in the head. She obviously didn’t have the high end government clearance he has, so he told her to beat it and got on the phone with his boss to get him to contact her. Obviously, he hadn’t. So now she’s following him. Intent on convincing him of his mental instability. How lame. He’s perfectly fine. Isn’t he?

Phil Johnson
www.RoadsideAttraction.com

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The Robots Will Kill Us All…

Phil — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 21:16:27 +0000

I just finished reading Confessions Of An Alien Hunter by Seth Shostak, the head of the SETI institute in Mountain View, CA.

If you don’t know, SETI stands for Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence. Fantastic book…

At one point in the book he describes how we might determine what aliens will look like by extrapolating what earthlings will look like a few centuries from now.

Basically, here’s what he brings it down to. According to Moore’s Law, computer processing power doubles every 18 months. Conversely the quality of the information on the internet halves every 18 months. In 40 years with billions of gigs full of nothing but pictures of cats with lightsabers and videos of dudes being whacked in the nuts.

As Moore’s law comes into effect, the artificial intelligence community figures that our computers and robots will be smarter than us in the next 40-60 years. And robots have an unlimited potential for improving themselves, which we don’t. Because we’re biological and they’re software.

So there’s a good chance that within the next century humans will be second class citizens to the robot class.

Now here’s the thing… The word “robot” is Czechoslovakian for “laborer”. But when they’re smarter than us, we won’t be able to call them that anymore. We’ll have to call the “Mechanical Americans”.

Sure, they’ll be able to call each other “robot”. Like “What’s up my robot?”

But if we use the word, they’ll beat us up.

And I’m sure we’ll have to deal with the subject of Human/Robot marriages.

Won’t be much change for guys. Being with someone infinitely smarter than you and who’s willing to kill you for the slightest infraction. Kind of normal.

The moral of the story is, do what you love. The robots will kill you anyway.

Phil Johnson

http://www.RoadsideAttraction.com

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