assistance please



A

Anthony Campbell

Guest
On 2006-06-20, Mark Hickey <[email protected]> wrote:
> Ted Bennett <[email protected]> wrote:
>
>>
>>Can someone tell me where my 9mm wrench got to?
>>
>>I just set it down, and now it has apparently vanished into some
>>alternate reality. My garage isn't THAT messy, is it?

>
> According to George Carlin, it went to the Hozone. That's where all
> your missing socks end up, but you get it all back when you go to
> heaven. So not to worry...


Years ago I was making a wooden cabinet for a loudspeaker, in an almost
empty room with no carpet. I was alone in the house. I put a wrench down
on the floor behind me; when I turned to pick it up a few minutes later
it wasn't there.

There was no conceivable place it could have gone to. We lived in the
house for about 2 years after that and it never did turn up. This
happened in Ireland so I assume it was taken away by the fairies.

Anthony


--
Anthony Campbell - [email protected]
Microsoft-free zone - Using Linux Gnu-Debian
http://www.acampbell.org.uk (blog, book reviews,
on-line books and sceptical articles)
 
M

Mark Hickey

Guest
Anthony Campbell <[email protected]> wrote:

>On 2006-06-20, Mark Hickey <[email protected]> wrote:
>> Ted Bennett <[email protected]> wrote:
>>
>>>Can someone tell me where my 9mm wrench got to?
>>>
>>>I just set it down, and now it has apparently vanished into some
>>>alternate reality. My garage isn't THAT messy, is it?

>>
>> According to George Carlin, it went to the Hozone. That's where all
>> your missing socks end up, but you get it all back when you go to
>> heaven. So not to worry...

>
>Years ago I was making a wooden cabinet for a loudspeaker, in an almost
>empty room with no carpet. I was alone in the house. I put a wrench down
>on the floor behind me; when I turned to pick it up a few minutes later
>it wasn't there.
>
>There was no conceivable place it could have gone to. We lived in the
>house for about 2 years after that and it never did turn up. This
>happened in Ireland so I assume it was taken away by the fairies.


Did the speaker have any odd rattles in it when you were done building
it? ;-)

Mark Hickey
Habanero Cycles
http://www.habcycles.com
Home of the $795 ti frame
 
H

H M Leary

Guest
In article <[email protected]>,
"Leo Lichtman" <[email protected]> wrote:

> That wrench is gone. Really. Out of existence. No amount of looking will
> turn it up. The only way to bring it back is go out and buy a replacement.


Have you been living in my house?

Some archeologist a 100 years from now is gonna wonder at all the
Phillips #2 screwdrivers in the remnants of my home.

HAND
 
A

Anthony Campbell

Guest
On 2006-06-20, Mark Hickey <[email protected]> wrote:
> Anthony Campbell <[email protected]> wrote:
>
>>On 2006-06-20, Mark Hickey <[email protected]> wrote:
>>> Ted Bennett <[email protected]> wrote:
>>>
>>>>Can someone tell me where my 9mm wrench got to?
>>>>
>>>>I just set it down, and now it has apparently vanished into some
>>>>alternate reality. My garage isn't THAT messy, is it?
>>>
>>> According to George Carlin, it went to the Hozone. That's where all
>>> your missing socks end up, but you get it all back when you go to
>>> heaven. So not to worry...

>>
>>Years ago I was making a wooden cabinet for a loudspeaker, in an almost
>>empty room with no carpet. I was alone in the house. I put a wrench down
>>on the floor behind me; when I turned to pick it up a few minutes later
>>it wasn't there.
>>
>>There was no conceivable place it could have gone to. We lived in the
>>house for about 2 years after that and it never did turn up. This
>>happened in Ireland so I assume it was taken away by the fairies.

>
> Did the speaker have any odd rattles in it when you were done building
> it? ;-)
>


I dismantled the cabinet some time later and there was nothing inside.

Anthony

--
Anthony Campbell - [email protected]
Microsoft-free zone - Using Linux Gnu-Debian
http://www.acampbell.org.uk (blog, book reviews,
on-line books and sceptical articles)
 
On 20 Jun 2006 08:54:08 GMT, Anthony Campbell <[email protected]>
wrote:

>On 2006-06-20, Mark Hickey <[email protected]> wrote:
>> Ted Bennett <[email protected]> wrote:
>>
>>>
>>>Can someone tell me where my 9mm wrench got to?
>>>
>>>I just set it down, and now it has apparently vanished into some
>>>alternate reality. My garage isn't THAT messy, is it?

>>
>> According to George Carlin, it went to the Hozone. That's where all
>> your missing socks end up, but you get it all back when you go to
>> heaven. So not to worry...

>
>Years ago I was making a wooden cabinet for a loudspeaker, in an almost
>empty room with no carpet. I was alone in the house. I put a wrench down
>on the floor behind me; when I turned to pick it up a few minutes later
>it wasn't there.
>
>There was no conceivable place it could have gone to. We lived in the
>house for about 2 years after that and it never did turn up. This
>happened in Ireland so I assume it was taken away by the fairies.
>
>Anthony


Dear Anthony and Ted,

Missing wrenches, bah!

I once lost a fourteen-pound snapping turtle, two feet long from nose
to tip of dragon-tail, for ten minutes in a sparsely furnished
four-room, locked-door, linoleum-floor, no-pets efficiency apartment.

See third picture from the top. The head is the size of a fist.

http://www.chelydra.org/common_alligator_snapping_turtle.html

I set him and his colleague out to wander about my third-floor
university apartment while I drained and cleaned their tub.

I had no trouble finding his friend, who was contemplating the oven in
the kitchen nook--his natural mottled brown camouflage was intended
for streams and ponds, so he failed to blend in with white linoleum.

But my other snapper was nowhere to be found.

He was obviously not in the bathroom where I'd been working.

Nor was he in the kitchen nook. I looked in the spaces between the
wall and the refrigerator and the oven. I even looked inside the oven,
which was silly.

I looked in the living room, under the arm chair, the card table, and
the sofa that unfolded into a bed. I unfolded the sofa-bed, but my
turtle had not crept into its complicated innards.

I checked the small closet.

I opened the door to the unused bedroom, where I stored a few things.
No, the turtle hadn't pushed the door open and then accidentally
pushed it shut.

I looked in the large rubber tub, wondering if he could have climbed
back into it while I was looking for him. It was two feet high and
almost four feet wide, the liner from an industrial clothes washer.

But a careful count revealed only one turtle in the tub.

Then I looked again at the rubber tub with his friend in it, thinking
that I might have been absent-minded enough to set the tub down on top
of him and fill it while he was trapped under it.

No, there was no suspicious bulge in the floor of the rubber tub.

I was beginning to get worried. Small-minded people in the English
department might make snide comments about someone who could lose an
animated brown rock the size of a bowling ball in an efficiency
apartment.

I gave the security chain on the apartment door a casual glance. Yes,
it was still in place.

Very calmly and carefully, I searched the apartment again, staring at
every square foot of linoleum, looking under every piece of furniture,
examining every nook and cranny.

I even opened the refrigerator, since no one was watching me.

No snapping turtle.

Finally, I admitted defeat after bending over to look under the arm
chair. As I straightened up, there was the turtle, looking me right in
the eye.

No, not in the arm chair.

He was on top of the card table, behind my typewriter and a pile of
books, having climbed up onto the seat of the arm chair and then from
the arm rest to the card table, and thence to a comfortable spot
behind the typewriter, from where he could gaze out the window.

It was spring, when snappers feel an urge to head toward the open sky,
which often indicates a nearby pond. Luckily, the window was closed,
so he had been forced to settle for admiring the view instead of
testing his flying ability from the third floor.

Being a dumb brute, he had no idea what his owner was doing, wandering
around the apartment, staring at the floor and muttering strange
words. (Or if he did, he never said anything.)

Cheers,

Carl Fogel
 
Z

Zog The Undeniable

Guest
Ted Bennett wrote:

> Can someone tell me where my 9mm wrench got to?
>
> I just set it down, and now it has apparently vanished into some
> alternate reality. My garage isn't THAT messy, is it?


Mine is on the other end of the 8mm.
 
N

Neil Brooks

Guest
On Tue, 20 Jun 2006 10:21:20 -0600, [email protected] wrote:

>On 20 Jun 2006 08:54:08 GMT, Anthony Campbell <[email protected]>
>wrote:
>
>>On 2006-06-20, Mark Hickey <[email protected]> wrote:
>>> Ted Bennett <[email protected]> wrote:
>>>
>>>>
>>>>Can someone tell me where my 9mm wrench got to?
>>>>
>>>>I just set it down, and now it has apparently vanished into some
>>>>alternate reality. My garage isn't THAT messy, is it?
>>>
>>> According to George Carlin, it went to the Hozone. That's where all
>>> your missing socks end up, but you get it all back when you go to
>>> heaven. So not to worry...

>>
>>Years ago I was making a wooden cabinet for a loudspeaker, in an almost
>>empty room with no carpet. I was alone in the house. I put a wrench down
>>on the floor behind me; when I turned to pick it up a few minutes later
>>it wasn't there.
>>
>>There was no conceivable place it could have gone to. We lived in the
>>house for about 2 years after that and it never did turn up. This
>>happened in Ireland so I assume it was taken away by the fairies.
>>
>>Anthony

>
>Dear Anthony and Ted,
>
>Missing wrenches, bah!
>
>I once lost a fourteen-pound snapping turtle, two feet long from nose
>to tip of dragon-tail, for ten minutes in a sparsely furnished
>four-room, locked-door, linoleum-floor, no-pets efficiency apartment.
>
>See third picture from the top. The head is the size of a fist.
>
>http://www.chelydra.org/common_alligator_snapping_turtle.html
>
>I set him and his colleague out to wander about my third-floor
>university apartment while I drained and cleaned their tub.
>
>I had no trouble finding his friend, who was contemplating the oven in
>the kitchen nook--his natural mottled brown camouflage was intended
>for streams and ponds, so he failed to blend in with white linoleum.
>
>But my other snapper was nowhere to be found.
>
>He was obviously not in the bathroom where I'd been working.
>
>Nor was he in the kitchen nook. I looked in the spaces between the
>wall and the refrigerator and the oven. I even looked inside the oven,
>which was silly.
>
>I looked in the living room, under the arm chair, the card table, and
>the sofa that unfolded into a bed. I unfolded the sofa-bed, but my
>turtle had not crept into its complicated innards.
>
>I checked the small closet.
>
>I opened the door to the unused bedroom, where I stored a few things.
>No, the turtle hadn't pushed the door open and then accidentally
>pushed it shut.
>
>I looked in the large rubber tub, wondering if he could have climbed
>back into it while I was looking for him. It was two feet high and
>almost four feet wide, the liner from an industrial clothes washer.
>
>But a careful count revealed only one turtle in the tub.
>
>Then I looked again at the rubber tub with his friend in it, thinking
>that I might have been absent-minded enough to set the tub down on top
>of him and fill it while he was trapped under it.
>
>No, there was no suspicious bulge in the floor of the rubber tub.
>
>I was beginning to get worried. Small-minded people in the English
>department might make snide comments about someone who could lose an
>animated brown rock the size of a bowling ball in an efficiency
>apartment.
>
>I gave the security chain on the apartment door a casual glance. Yes,
>it was still in place.
>
>Very calmly and carefully, I searched the apartment again, staring at
>every square foot of linoleum, looking under every piece of furniture,
>examining every nook and cranny.
>
>I even opened the refrigerator, since no one was watching me.
>
>No snapping turtle.
>
>Finally, I admitted defeat after bending over to look under the arm
>chair. As I straightened up, there was the turtle, looking me right in
>the eye.
>
>No, not in the arm chair.
>
>He was on top of the card table, behind my typewriter and a pile of
>books, having climbed up onto the seat of the arm chair and then from
>the arm rest to the card table, and thence to a comfortable spot
>behind the typewriter, from where he could gaze out the window.
>
>It was spring, when snappers feel an urge to head toward the open sky,
>which often indicates a nearby pond. Luckily, the window was closed,
>so he had been forced to settle for admiring the view instead of
>testing his flying ability from the third floor.
>
>Being a dumb brute, he had no idea what his owner was doing, wandering
>around the apartment, staring at the floor and muttering strange
>words. (Or if he did, he never said anything.)
>
>Cheers,
>
>Carl Fogel


1) Nice to have you back, Carl ;-)

2) Is there something like a misplaced modifier, or an unclear
antecedent, or the like ... in that last paragraph -- right at the
beginning -- about which I should offer snide comments ... or no?

.... :)

TIA,

Neil
 
M

Mr. Huffy

Guest
Werehatrack wrote:
> On Mon, 19 Jun 2006 20:10:13 GMT, Ted Bennett
> <[email protected]> wrote:
>
> >
> >Can someone tell me where my 9mm wrench got to?

>
> Probably. They may be waiting to hear your offer.
>
> >I just set it down, and now it has apparently vanished into some
> >alternate reality.


I think a passing microscopic black hole got it.

>
> There are no alternate realities. All of the other realities are but
> shadows of this one; if the wrench has fallen into shadow, you must
> walk the pattern to retrieve it.


Would that be the pattern in Amber, Chaos, Rebma, Tira No'gth, or
perhaps the primal Pattern? You're real name wouldn't be Dworkin by
any chance, now would it?

>
> >My garage isn't THAT messy, is it?

>
> It's a garage. Therefore, the answer is probably "Yes."
>
> You didn't wash the wrench, did you? Some wrenches can shrink if you
> wash them incorrectly.
>
>
> --
> Typoes are a feature, not a bug.
> Some gardening required to reply via email.
> Words processed in a facility that contains nuts.
 
M

Michael Press

Guest
In article <[email protected]>,
Anthony Campbell <[email protected]> wrote:

> On 2006-06-20, Mark Hickey <[email protected]> wrote:
> > Ted Bennett <tedben[email protected]> wrote:
> >
> >>
> >>Can someone tell me where my 9mm wrench got to?
> >>
> >>I just set it down, and now it has apparently vanished into some
> >>alternate reality. My garage isn't THAT messy, is it?

> >
> > According to George Carlin, it went to the Hozone. That's where all
> > your missing socks end up, but you get it all back when you go to
> > heaven. So not to worry...

>
> Years ago I was making a wooden cabinet for a loudspeaker, in an almost
> empty room with no carpet. I was alone in the house. I put a wrench down
> on the floor behind me; when I turned to pick it up a few minutes later
> it wasn't there.
>
> There was no conceivable place it could have gone to. We lived in the
> house for about 2 years after that and it never did turn up. This
> happened in Ireland so I assume it was taken away by the fairies.


It's in the speaker cabinet.

--
Michael Press
 
D

dvt

Guest
Anthony Campbell wrote:
> On 2006-06-20, Mark Hickey <[email protected]> wrote:
>> Anthony Campbell <[email protected]> wrote:


>>> Years ago I was making a wooden cabinet for a loudspeaker, in an almost
>>> empty room with no carpet. I was alone in the house. I put a wrench down
>>> on the floor behind me; when I turned to pick it up a few minutes later
>>> it wasn't there.
>>>
>>> There was no conceivable place it could have gone to. We lived in the
>>> house for about 2 years after that and it never did turn up. This
>>> happened in Ireland so I assume it was taken away by the fairies.


>> Did the speaker have any odd rattles in it when you were done building
>> it? ;-)


> I dismantled the cabinet some time later and there was nothing inside.


Those magnets can be pretty strong...

--
Dave
dvt at psu dot edu

Everyone confesses that exertion which brings out all the powers of body
and mind is the best thing for us; but most people do all they can to
get rid of it, and as a general rule nobody does much more than
circumstances drive them to do. -Harriet Beecher Stowe, abolitionist and
novelist (1811-1896)