The past wisdom of the Great Dashukta Master. Pg.2

From way back in the day.....


And now a bit of wisdom from the Great Dashukta Master: 3/13/05

Ok, so I, the Great Dashukta Master, have been in hibernation for a while now. Why, do you ask? Well, when I don't have enough questions to warrant a mass answering session, I tend to procrastinate and take long naps. Well, Paul came to me the other day and
said "Oh great Master whose Knowledge is so Vast it Causes Small Goldfish to Cringe in Fear, I don't think you're earning your keep. So that you can keep you big comfy chair for the next month, why don't you start writing the occasional blurb. You know, just to
prove that you haven't started to grow moss yet." So in a brave attempt to save my beloved comfy chair, here I am with the first of our new horrendously disorganized and highly unreliable serial: Word of Wisdom from me, the Great Dashukta Master, where I get
to bestow whatever knowledge I so desire on you mere mortals without constraint from your queries. Now before you get your lederhosen in a loop, I'll still be throwing out the odd answer or two to your questions if you decide to ask them. After all, that's what we gurus do. Today, for this inauguratory issue, I have chosen to illuminate the inilluminatable. That's right; I am going to tell you
the wonders of Simple Green All-Purpose Cleaner. This wonder-fluid can strip stripes off a warthog's butt at 30 paces while still maintaining low enough noxious levels to be safely handled without a HAZMAT suit. Now, the quicker ones of you may be saying to
yourselves, "but warthogs don't HAVE stripes on their butts." Exactly! That's how good Simple Green is. Now you're saying "you must be kidding." Well, yes I am. Simple Green has nothing to with the Warthog's lack of butt-stripes. Warthog backsides are
stripe-free because of another phenomenon, and no I'm not talking about natural selection or evolution. I'm talking about collective forgetfulness. See, way-back-when, warthogs did have stripey butts. Quite stylish stripes I might add, so stylish that all the
other African megafauna were quite green with envy. Warthogs were always the hit at Serengeti parties, where the hippos, antelope, giraffes, dik-diks, and flamingoes would all complement the warthogs on their stylish rumps. The warthogs quite enjoyed the
flattery, and some became quite, well, hogs for attention. Unfortunately for them, warthogs don't exactly have the best memory in the known universe, and in a tragic realtering of the multiversal sub-etha-flimflam, the warthogs all spontaneously and simultaneously forgot they had stripes on their butts. Well, you certainly can't have fashionable stripes on your heiney and not know about them, so the stripes
took the hint and left. Some say the warthog butt-stripes went to go hang out with the zebras, but this is just silly.

And now a bit of wisdom from the Great Dashukta Master: 3/26/05

Well you band of rabid mortals, I've been informed that my big comfy chair is still in danger, so here I am again to bestow more of my incredible wisdom upon you folks. Today's topic of illumination: I haven't decided yet. So I thought I would just ramble on for
a bit and see what comes to me. Mechanical pencils are such a magnificent invention. All the convenience of a pencil in a delightful plastic shell with no need to resharpen! If your lead (which is not lead at all, but a mixture of graphite and clay) breaks, then you
just click (or twist if you're one of those snooty twisting mechanical pencil elitists) and out comes more of the precious grey materiel. I myself prefer BIC brand pencils with #2, 0.7mm leads. Sure, I've heard my share of arguments against the 0.7mm's. Some claim the 0.6's are infinitely superior for their finer point control (a figment of their imaginations I say, I can control a 0.7 just as well as a 0.6). Others espouse the 0.8's for their elegant broad strokes (bah! Big and clumsy if you ask me). To these people, I just smile and reach for my pointy stick. Which leads me to another aspect of mechanical pencils, their use in warfare. Remember back when I answered someone's question of "what was the secret weapon of the Roman Empire?" Well, what most
historians don't know was that the clever and highly disruptive tactic they used (you remember don't you? The "Hey, isn't this your sister?" attack? You don't? Well, basically it consisted of a soldier pulling out a picture of a scantily clad non-descript woman and
asking his opponent "Hey, isn't this your sister?" The moment of confusion this attack caused to its victim was often fatal) was made possible by an early mechanical pencil. It's true. Without the fine, well controlled lines of a pencil the Romans would never
have been able to produce the intricacies needed in the drawings of the scantily clad women, but in the
midst of a violent military campaign, the time needed to stop and sharpen a conventional wooden pencil could mean the difference between life and death. Many Roman soldiers suggested to their superiors that they just take a slightly blurred photograph of a
non-descript girl and use that instead, especially since not all of them had great artistic ability (few could manage more than a stick figure with boobies). The superiors kindly pointed out to the soldiers that that method was impossible as photography would not be invented for over a millennia. The inadequacy of most soldiers' sketches to fulfill the requirements of then tactic did result in the official outsourcing of the actual drawing of the pictures to Macedonia.

From the RPP Message Board:

Motown Scrapper: I have a couple of nut cases that insist on attacking me with sporks and torsion bars and I have a difficult time getting them to leave me alone ...even a TigerSaw does not seem the disuade them.What should I do about them.

Great Dashukta: Well, well, that's certainly a dilima, isn't it?
I wouldn't worry about the sporks if I were you. Yes, they're sort of pointy and have the distinction of being ingrained on our fast-food pop-culture, but generally they are rather innocuous. The wielder generally has to work hard to break the skin, and any rashes or burns inflicted can be cleared up with a good ointment. Its the torsion bars to worry about, the blunt trauma from these can leave some nasty welts. If you are really concerned about further attacks, and smiling while asking the asailants to cease their attacks pretty pretty please with sugar on top doesn't dissuafe them, you might want to look into purchasing a full suit of good 16th century "gothic" plate armor with well-made articulated joints. Not that decorative krap, but a good authentic suit. Then, wear the armor at all times when a torsion bar attack seems remotely likely.

Now, go eat some cheese and be happy.

And now a bit of wisdom from the Great Dashukta Master: 4/17/05

Well, humans, today I actually do not have a lot of time (there's a sale at Spatula City), but my chair is
still in danger of being pried from my warm, live hands. Therefore, I apparently need to toss out some
more wisdom for you jackals before I fall asleep again. Today, I thought I'd share with you the recipe
for one of the greatest delicacies available in the known universe. You know it, you love it, it's the
peanut butter and honey sandwich. I see many of you are bewildered. How can such a food be considered a
delicacy, especially when the peanut butter and jelly sandwich is so much more common? Well, the idea of
honey on a peanut butter sandwich is a rather unintuitive idea for many, since the popular culture
has inexplicably defined jelly, and occasionally banana, as THE complement to bread and peanut butter.
Though these sandwiches are tasty in their own right, they cannot compare to the sheer ecstasy that is
peanut butter and honey. There are several ways to go about constructing one of these sandwiches which are
like manna sneezed out by the Great Galactic Snail himself. My personal favorite is to spread a layer of
peanut butter on one side of two slices of bread, then spread a layer of honey just thick enough to cover the
peanut butter on to one of the slices. Then, slap the two halves together (peanut putter side in, of course)
and savor. Feel free to experiment with different combinations of breads, peanut butters, and honeys in
various amounts and configurations. If one or more of the ingredients do not tickle you palate, then that's just too bad for you, and may the Snail ingest you with compassion.

From the RPP Message Board:

Quentil: Oh great Master...

Why do Aussies remind me of alcoholic surfers with southern-US accents?

Great Dashukta: ooh, this one almost slipped past entirely without my answering it. gee, wouldn't that have been... tragic...

Ausies remind you of alcoholic surfers because that is the image they wish to present to the outside world. Much like how Arkansas tries to present itself as the Redneck Capitol of the Known Universe. The difference is that while Arkansas is the Redneck Capitol of the Known Universe, Austrailians are not in actuallity all alcoholic surfers. In their personal lives, Austrailians are very calm, upstanding, cultured, and quite frankly dull individuals. Being a nation whose initial european settlers were convicted criminals and whose modern economy hinges heavily on foreign tourists, the Austrailians rightly thought that their international image should match what people form foreign lands think of when thay think of a nation whose initial european settelers were convicted criminals and whose modern economy hinges heavily on international tourism. As such, by unspoken law, every Austrailian is required to but forth the image of being an alcoholic surfer, regardless of how boring they are in actuality.

But "southern-US accents"? Not even. When an American attempts to imitate an Austrailian accent, it often sounds like a Californian attempting to speak like someone from Arkansas. Austrailian is much more refined.

And now a bit of wisdom from the Great Dashukta Master: 5/8/05

Wow, it has been two weeks already? Dang. Maybe I can nap through this one session and still keep my chair. What was that? No? Darn. Ah well, I'll think up something to toss to these hyenas. Let's see, what to ramble about? Sneakers? Nah, I'll save
that for later. Wash-and-wear socks? The highly stylish look of pith helmets? Or how about the wonders of the alligator clip? Oh, I know, I'll ramble about the little known properties and uses for rubbers. No, not those sorts of rubbers you sickos. I'm talking about rubber. You know, hardened tree sap, kinda bouncy, good for racquetballs. Yes, that sort of rubber. So why did I say "rubbers" at the beginning? Why did I use a plural when the vast majority of uncouth Americans only recognize "rubber"
singular and use the plural form as a slang term for a particular sort of contraceptive? Simple. There's more than one type of rubber. Really. The rubber in a bike tire (or tyre for you brits) and in a football helmet are not exactly the same. Now, before I get
carried away, let me clarify that there is a difference between natural rubber and synthetic rubber. Natural rubber is the elastic product of hardening the milky sap (or latex) of certain tropical plants (ever heard of a rubber tree?). This rubber is often treated, vulcanized (which contrary to popular conception has nothing to do with removing all emotion from the rubber), dyed and fashioned into useful everyday objects and dangerous sister-annoying ranged weaponry (also known as the infamous "rubber band"). Synthetic rubber is the term for man-made that is almost but not entirely unlike natural rubber. These synthetic materials often involve petroleum in their manufacture, just like plastics (even after all cars switch over to nuclear power, we will still have a
need to drill for oil, much to the chagrin of enviro-kooks everywhere). These synthetic materials can have drastically different chemical compositions, but they all have one thing in common, they superficially have physical properties somewhat like those of natural rubber. Often, the line between these synthetic rubbers and plastics is blurred. In any case, rubbers are amazing and useful materials that make life so much more comfy. My chair has padding in it made from a synthetic foamed rubber. I don't wanna lose my chair. I like my rubber padded piece of furniture, and something tells me I'll be back in a couple weeks to make sure my butt is always cradled in its rubbery cushion.

And now a bit of wisdom from the Great Dashukta Master: 5/24/05

Only time for a short session this time, humans, so hereís my words oí wisdom to tide you over for the next couple of weeks. Jeremiah was a bullfrog. He was a good friend of mine. I never understood a single word he said, though. Not because I donít speak bullfrogóthatís easyóbut because he had a terrible diction problem. Think dyslexia mixed with a habit of spoonerisms with a pinch of a lisp and a poor vocabulary when speaking Flemish as spoken by a Filipino in freshman Flemish class, and youíll have a general idea. The other bullfrogs didnít pay Jeremiah much mind, as they couldnít understand him either. This affected the poor frogís love life, as no female frogs would associate themselves with him. Thus, Jeremiah, in an attempt to drown his troubles in alcohol, began making wine. This is quite a feat for a bullfrog, as normally they do not possess the intuition, technology, or desire to make alcoholic beverages. He made a great quantity of wine, so much that if he would have consumed the entire quantity himself, it would have quickly killed him, so being the benevolent guru that I am, I aided him in the consumption of his wine. I thought the wine was mighty fine, though every wine-connoisseur in the world would disagree with me, as he in actuality never seemed to get past the grape juice stage. Strangely, Jeremiah didnít seem to take to kindly to my help, and pitched quite a fitónone of which I nor any other entity was able to fully comprehend due to his aforementioned verbal vice. Seeing that my help was making him quite irate, I stopped helping him and proceeded to go see if I could bring joy to the world (a task I abandoned as soon as I thought of it because my mind instantly saw the task as fundamentally impossible for multiple reasons, one example being that of the wildebeest and the lion; both cannot be fully joyful simultaneously for all time, as eventually the lion will want to eat the wildebeest). Observant readers will note Iíve been referring to Jeremiah in the past-tense. This is because shortly after I ceased in helping him to consume his sizable stockpile of non-alcoholic wine, he suffered a tragic accident when he was inadvertently swallowed by an alligator when the reptile made a snap at a large fish that was harassing Jeremiah about his communication inabilities.

And now a bit of wisdom from the Great Dashukta Master: 6/19/05

Wow, almost lost my chair there, didnít I? Yeah, Mr. Mann came to me today and really threatened me about my chair. Yeah, apparently, 12 hours after the deadline he wanted me to meet was too late for his tastes. Well, anyway, here are my words to ponder for you mortal beings of the planet Earth. Peduncle. Jeofail. Glottology. Musk Ox. Ha ha. Just kidding. Although, this does illustrate the value of certain resources available to the general carbon-based public. I am talking, of course, about two of the greatest quick-reference resources available at your local library: The Dictionary and the Encyclopedia. The dictionary is a wonderful book, which catalogues each word in common usage throughout the language for which it is written, a guide to its pronunciation, its etymology, and its definitions. Some even provide an example usage of the word. In fact, the words I wrote above can all be found in a dictionary of the English language. Some very good dictionaries can even be found on-line for those of you which are no longer capable of viewing the natural world except through the pixels of a computer monitor (hey, guys, the girls are real outsideóand theyíre better than anything your cathode-ray tubes can dish out). Now, the Encyclopedia is also a handy tool, but in this case it provides a small, heavily edited and occasionally useless anecdote about the object, action, event, or what-have-you the word describes. As a research tool, encyclopedias are all but useless, and most university professors worth their salt will laugh in your face if you use one as the main source of a research paper. However, encyclopedias do have their uses. As a general reference, they can be quite useful, also as a guide for a student researcher to get an idea of what sort of topics he or she should look up to properly research their topic. So thatís my comfy chair saving anecdote for this go-around. Enjoy it if you will. Hate it if you like. All scathing hate-mail should be directed to Mr. Paul Mann. Now if youíll excuse me, I have some serious comfy chair sitting to do.

And now a bit of wisdom from the Great Dashukta Master: 7/9/05

Ahh, its good to still have my big comfy chair. It keeps my mighty buns from getting mighty sore. Well, it has come to my attention that there has been a series of terrorist bombings in London. Iím certain that the media will be filled with rhetoric on this for a while now. It would be somewhat appropriate for this installment of my Words of Wisdom to comment on the attacks and make jokes about the idjits (idjit: noun. 1. An extreme idiot. 2. One who demonstrates a complete lack of awareness to the point of being a considerable annoyance. Word coined by myself quite some time ago) who launched this attack. But Iím not. That is not what this column is about. I would much rather poke things with a pointy stick and prod at peopleís sense of humor in more constructive and less inflammatory ways.
So here we go, my Wisdom to bestow on the mortal masses, you collection of Great Galactic Snail-snot. I have noticed that a number of gurus and guru wannabes have espoused the wonders of duct tape. Thatís all well and good, but Iím not going to follow suit. Why? Because I am the Great Dashukta Master, thatís why. I am a Master of Dashukta. I am an envoy of Dashuktaism. And they are not me (so far as I can tell). No, I will not devote this column to duct tape. I will instead devote what little remains of this column to something almost but not entirely unlike duct tape. Those sharper among you, or those more familiar with how my massive non-linear planet of a mind works may have already guessed what Iím going to write about. If you do not, then the answer will be upon you shortly. Yes I shall bestow upon you the topic of my column within a very short while. I am not stalling for time. I really will tell you what it is. No, I am not doing this to fill up space, Iím just being dramatic. I can be dramatic if I want to. Well fine, maybe I wonít tell you what it is. Maybe Iíll just keep this to myself. Oh, ok, you talked me into it. The topic of the remainder of this column is: plastic cups. Yes, plastic cups. Now you may be asking: ďbut how is a plastic cup almost but not entirely unlike duct tape?Ē Simple. They are both made of plastic. Duct tape is a plastic sheet reinforced with small bits of string and with adhesive applied to one side. A plastic cup is plastic throughout. Hence a plastic cup is almost but not entirely unlike duct tape. Plastic cups are great inventions: they are lightweight, inexpensive, reusable, recyclable, and durable. If you drop a cup made of glass, ceramic, or Venezuelan beaver cheese, it will almost certainly be rendered useless for it intended purpose of containing liquids within its confines. If you drop most plastic cups, they simply bounce and spill their contents all over your doily. Yes, it is true that some plastic cups will break if dropped or hit with a ten-pound hatchet swung by a major league ballplayer, but I will conveniently ignore these because I can. So there you are, my Words of Wisdom to keep you tied over until I write another column or the universe collapses, whichever comes first.