26 November 2012

Umberto Eco. How to Take Intelligent Vacations.


I fucking hate those fucking pseudo fucking intellectual fuckfaces, fucking fucking fucks.

  It has become a familiar custom, as summer vacation time approaches, for the political and literary weaklies to recommend at least ten "intelligent" books that will enable their readers to spend their "intelligent" vacations intelligently. But thanks to a persistent and unpleasant habit of considering the reader underprivileged and ill-read [It is because , in their minds, it is impossible that someone is more intelligent than them], some quite celebrated writers take great pains to suggest reading matter that any person of average culture should have read in high school, if not before. It seems to us, if not offensive, at least condescending to insult the reader by advising him to look into, say, the original German edition of the Elective Affinities, the Pléiade Proust, or Petrarch's Latin works. We must bear in mind that, ["]bombarded["] by so much advice over such a long time, the reader has become more and more demanding; and we must bear in mind those who, unable to afford luxury vacations, are game to venture into experiences as uncomfortable as they are thrilling.
  For vacationers who will be spending long hours on the beach I would recommend Ars magna lucis et umbrae of Athanasius Kircher, fascinating for anyone who, lying under the infrared solar rays, wants to reflect on the wonders of light and mirrors. The Roman edition of 1645 can still be acquired through antiquarians for sums undoubtedly inferior to those that our former political leaders exported into Switzerland. I do not advise trying to borrow this book from a library, because it is found only in ancient palaces where the attendants are so elderly that they tend to fall of the ladders leading to the rare-book shelves. Additional drawbacks are the size of the book and the friability of the paper: not to be read on days when the wind is blowing over beach umbrellas.
  A young person, on the other hand, one who is journeying around the continent on a Eurailpass, and who must therefore read in those overcrowded passages where you have to stand with one arm out of the window, could take with him at least three of the six Einaudi volumes of Ramusio's travels, to be read holding one volume in hand, another under an arm, the third clutched between the thighs. Reading about journeys while on a journey is an intensely stimulating experience.
  For young people who are recovering from (or disappointed by) political activity, but are still anxious to keep an eye on the problems of the Third World, I would suggest some little masterpiece of Muslim wisdom. Adelphi has recently published The Book of Advice by Kay Ka'us ibn Iskandar but unfortunately without the original Iranian; the translation does not convey the flavor of the text. I would suggest instead the delightful (Kitab) al-Sa'adah wa-al-is'ad by Abu-al-Hasan al-Amiri, available in Teheran in the critical edition of 1957.
  But not every reader is fluent in Middle Eastern languages, of course. For the patristically-oriented motorist, less burdened by constrains on bulk or weight of luggage, the complete collection of Migne's Patrologia is always an excellent choice. I would advise against the Greek Fathers before the Council of Florence of 1440, which would require packing both the 160 volumes of the Greco-Latin edition and the 81 of the Latin edition whereas the Latin Fathers prior to 1216 are squeezed into 218 volumes. I am well aware that not all of these are readily available on the market but the reader can always fall back on photocopies. For those with less specialised interests, I would suggest selected works (in the original, naturally) from the cabalistic tradition (essential today for anyone who wants to understand contemporary poetry). A few volumes are enough: a copy of the Sefer Yezirah, the Zohar, of course, and then Moses Cordovero and Isaac Luria. The cabalistic corpus is particularly suited to holidays because original editions of the oldest works can still be found in scroll editions, easily stowed in hitchhikers's backpacks. The cabalistic corpus is also perfectly suited to the Clubs Méditerranés, where the animators can organise a Cabala Competition, the prize to be awarded the team constructing the most attractive golem. Finally, for those whose Hebrew is rusty, there is always the Corpus Hermeticum and the gnostic writings (Valentinus is best; Basil is not infrequently prolix and irritating).
  All this (and much more) will make for an intelligent vacation. Or, if you want to make things simple, just take with you the Grundrisse, the apocryphal Gospels, and micro fiches of the unpublished works of Peirce. Or, if you resist intellectual stimulation, stick with Agatha.

1981

Umberto Eco. How to Replace a Driver's License.


They will do everything possible to delay the completion of transactions because they enjoy exercising petty tyranny, nurses, orderlies, doctors, and prison guards. ("We're going as fast as we can.", etc. Usual bullshit.) Bureaucratic cunts are some of the worst.

In May of 1981, as I was passing through Amsterdam, I lost my wallet (or it was stolen, there are thieves even in Holland). It contained only a small amount of money but a number of documents and cards. I didn't become aware of the loss until, at the airport, about to leave the country, I realised my credit card was missing. In the half an hour remaining before takeoff I conducted a desparate search for a place to report the loss (or theft). Within five minutes I was received by an airport police sergeant who, in good English, explained that the matter was not within the airport's jurisdiction, as the wallet had been lost in the city; nevetheless, he agreed to type out a report and assured me that, at nine, when the office opened, he would personally telephone American Express. And so, within ten minutes, the Dutch part of my case was dealt with.
  Back in Milan, I telephone American Express and ascertain that my card number has been circulated worldwide, and the following day a new card arrives. What a great thing civilisation is, I say to myself.
  Then I tally the other lost documents and I make a report at the police station. Another ten minutes. How wonderful, I say to myself: our police are just like the Dutch. Among the lost items is my press card; I am able to obtain a duplicate in three days. Better and better.
  Alas, I have also lost my driver's license. But this seems the least of my worries. We live in a capital of the automobile industry, there's a Ford in our future, our country's famous superhighways are the envy of the world. I call the Italian Automobile Club and am told that I have only to give them the number of the lost license. I realise I don't have it written it down anywhere, except, of course, on the lost license itself and I try to find out if they can look up my name in their files and find the number. Apparently this is impossible.
  I cannot live without driving: it's a life-or-death matter and I decide to what as a rule I don't do: find a shortcut, use connections. As a rule, I say, I don't do this because I dislike putting friends or acquaintances to any trouble and I hate it when people use such tactics with me. And besides, I live in Milan, where, if you need a certificate from a city office, you don't have to call the mayor; it's quicker to join the line at the window, where they're fairly efficient. But, the fact is, anything involving our car makes all of us a bit nervous, so I call Rome and speak with a Highly Placed Person at the Automobile Club there, who puts me in touch with a Highly Placed Person Automobile Club of Milan, who tells his secretary to do everything that can be done. Everything, in this case, unfortunately amounts to very little, despite the secretary's politeness.
  She teaches me a few tricks; she urges me to track down an old receipt from Avis or Hertz where the number of my license should appear on the carbon copy. In one day she helps me fill out the preliminary forms then she tells me where I have to go, namely the license office of the prefacture, an immense hall, teeming with a desparate and malodorous crowd, reminiscent of the station of New Delhi in the movies about the revolt of the sepoys; and here the postulants, telling horrible tales ("I've been here since the first invasion of Libay,"), are encamped with thermoses and sandwiches, and when you reach the head of the line, as I personally discover, the window is closing.
  In any case, I have to admit, it adds up to a few days of standing in line, during which every time you reach the window, you learn that you should have filled out a different form or should have brought a different denomination of tax stamp and you are sent back to the end of the line. But, as everyone knows, this is the way things are. All is in order, I'm finally told: come back in about two weeks. Meanwhile, I take taxis.
  Two weeks later, after climbing over some postulants who have by now now gone into irreversible coma, I discover at the window that the number I had copied from the Avis receipt, whether through an error at the source or through defective carbon paper or through deterioration of the ancient document, is not correct. Nothing can be done if you give them the wrong number. "Very well," I say, "you obviously can't look for a number that I'm unable to tell you but you can look under Eco and find the number."
  No. Maybe it's ill will, or stress, or maybe licenses are listed only by number. In any case, what I ask is beyond their capabilities. Try at the office where you first got the license, they say: the city of Alessandria, many years ago. There, they should be able to reveal your number to you.
  I don't have time to go to Alessandria especially now that I can't drive, so I fall back on a second shortcut: I telephone an old school friend, now a Highly Placed Person in local financial circles and ask him to telephone the city's Bureau of Motor Vehicles. He makes an equally dishonest decision and, instead, privately calls a Highly Placed Person at the Bureau of Motor Vehicles, who tells him that data of that sort cannot be given out except to the police. I'm sure the reader will realise the risks the State would run if my license number were to be given out right and left: Qaddafi and the KGB would desire nothing more. So it must remain Top Secret.
  Another stroll down memory lane and I come up with another schoolmate, who is now a Highly Placed Person in a division of the government, but I warn him immediately not to get in touch with any important officials of the Motor Vehicles Bureau because the matter is dangerous and he could end up being summoned before a parliamentary investigating committee. My suggestion, on the contrary, is to find a Lowly Placed Person, perhaps a night watchman, who can be bribed to take a peak at the files under cover of darkness. The Highly Placed Person in government is lucky enough to find a Medium Placed Person at the Bureau of Motor Vehicles, who doesn't even have to be bribed because he is a regular reader of L'Espresso and decides, out of his devotion to culture, to risk this dangerous favor for his favorite columnist (me). I don't know exactly what feats this daring figure performs but the fact is that, the following day, I have the number of the license. My readers will forgive me if I refuse to reveal it: I have a wife and children to consider.
  With this number (which I now copy down everywhere and conceal in secret drawers against the next theft or loss) I pass through other lines at the Milan license office. I wave it triumphantly before the suspicious eyes of the clerk, who, with a smile that has nothing human about it, tells me that I must also display the number of the document with which, in the far-off 1950s, the Alessandrian authorities communicated the number of my license to the authorities of Milan.
  More telephone calls to old schoolmates, and the hapless middle-rank figure, who had already run such risks, returns to the scene, commits several dozen additional crimes, purloins some information that, apparently, the police would give their lives for, and conveys to me the number of the document, which I also keep well hidden, because, as everyone is aware, even the walls have ears.
  I return to the Milan Bureau of Motor Vehicles, and with a few days of waiting in line, it's done, the fait is accompli: I am promised the magic document within about two weeks. By now it is late June and finally I get my hands on a preliminary document stating that I have presented an application for the issuing of a license. Obviously there exists no form contemplating loss or theft, and the document is the kind that is issued to learners before they are given a proper license. I show it to a traffic cop, asking him if it entitles me to drive and the cop's expression depresses me: the good officer makes it clear that, if he caught me behind the wheel with that piece of paper, he'd make me rue the day I was born.
  In fact, I rue it and I return to the license office, where, in a few day's time, I learn that the document issued me was, so to speak, only an apéritif: I am to wait for another document, one that will say that, having lost my license, I can drive until I receive the new one because the authorities have ascertained that I previously possessed the old one. Which is precisely what everybody knows, from the Dutch police to the Italian authorities, and the license office also knows it only they don't want to come right out and say so until they've given the matter some thought. Mind you, everything the office might wish to know is what it knows already and, no matter how much thought they give it, they'll never manage to know anything further. But that's life. Towards the end of June, I make repeated return visits to inquire about the vicissitudes of promised document number two but its preparation apparently demands a great deal of work. I am ready to believe this. They ask me for so many documents and photographs that I can only conclude that this paper will be something like a passport, complete with watermarked pages and seals and so on.
  At the end of June, having already spent mind-boggling amounts on taxis, I look for another shortcut. Look, I wrote for papers with national circulation; perhaps someone could help me, on the pretext that I have to travel for reasons connected with the public weal. Thanks to two Milan offices (of La Repubblica and L'Espresso), I manage to establish communication with the press office of the prefecture, where I find a kindly lady who expresses her willingness to look into my case. The kindly lady doesn't think for a moment of reaching for the phone: bravely, she goes in person to the license office and breaches the sanctum from which the profane are excluded, advancing amid labyrinthine rows of dossiers, lying there since time immemorial. What the lady does, I don't know (I hear stifled screams and cascades of papers; clouds of dust blow from beneath the door). Finally, the lady reappears, holding in her hand a yellow form, of tissue-like paper, the sort that parking attendants slip under your windshield paper, nineteen centimeters by thirteen. No photograph appears on it. It is written by hand, with some ink smears from nibs dipped into inkwells straight out of Dombey and Son (?), the sort filled with lees and mucilage, causing streaks on the porous sheet. There is my name, with the number of the vanished license, and some printed lines declaring that the present document replaces the "above-described" license, but that it expires on December 29 (date obviously chosen to catch the victim as he is manœuvering along the tortuous curves of some Alpine locality, if possible in a blizzard, far from home, so he can be arrested and tortured by the highway police).
  The paper authorises me to drive in Italy, but I suspect it would confuse a foreign policeman considerably if I were to display it outside the country. Oh, well, at least I'm driving again. To make this story shorter, I'll add that in December my license isn't ready, I encounter some resistance when I try to renew the temporary one, I fall back once more on the press office of the prefecture, I receive the temporary document back with, written in a crabbed hand, what I could have written myself, namely that it is renewed until the following June (another date chosen to catch me out while I'm winding my way along a coast road), and I am also informed that a further extension of the document's validity has been approved since the issuing of the actual license will tke a long time yet. The choked voices of my companions in misfortune, encountered in the course of my waiting in lines, have informed me that there are people who have been without a license for a year, or two, or even three.
  The day before yesterday I affixed the required annual tax stamp to the document; the tobacconist advised me not to cancel it because if my license were to arrive, I'd have to buy a second stamp. But in not canceling it, I believe, I would be guilty of a crime.
  At this point, three observations must be made. First, I received the temporary document in two months, but only because, through a series of privileges I enjoy thanks to my social position and my education, I was able to disturb a seires of Highly Placed Persons in three cities, six public and private institutions, plus a daily paper and a weekly magazine, both distributed and read nationally. If I were a grocer or a clerk, by now I would have had to buy a bicycle. To drive with a real license ,you have to be Luciano Pavarotti.
  The second observation is this: the document I preserve jealously in my wallet is of no value and is very easily forged and the country must therefore be full of drivers in circulation whose identity is difficult to establish. Mass illegality or mass pretended legality.
  The third observation requires the reader to concentrate and try to picture an Italian driver's license. Since it no longer arrives in its slipcase (which the drive has to purchase on his own), a license consists of two or three pages of cheap paper and a photograph. These little booklets are not produced at Fabriano, like the volumes of Franco Maria Ricci, they are not hand-bound by skilled craftsmen, they could be printed in any printing shop, of the humblest sort, and from the days of Gutenberg, Western civilisation has been able to turn out thousands and thousands of such things in a few hours (for that matter, the Chinese had already invented fairly rapid procedures with wood blocks).
  Would it be so hard to make thousands of these booklets, pass the innocent driver's photograph into them and distribute them even by coin-operated machine? What goes on in the maze of the Bureau of Motor Vehicles and the license office?
  All of us know that any ordinary terrorist is able to produce, in a few hours, dozens of fake licenses, and remember, it takes more time to produce a fake license than a genuine one. Now, if we don't want citizens who have lost their licenses to start frequenting murky taverns of ill fame in the hope of making contact with the Red Brigades, there is jsut one solution: employ all repentant terrorists in the license office. They have the know-how, they have plenty of free time, and work, as is well known, is good for the soul; thus with one fell swoopp we empty many prison cells, we make socially useful people out of former criminals for whom enforced idleness might cause relapses into dangerous fantasies of omnipotence and we do a service both for the motorised citizen and for the national petroleum industry.
  But this may all be too simple. If you ask me, in this driver's license business, there's the finger of a foreign power.

1982

18 November 2012

Books which I have read.

Prince of Thieves by Chuck Hogan
The Blood Artists by Churck Hogan
Dracula by Bram Stoker
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Masters of Doom by David Kushner

I will not read Online with Kevin Mitnick by Jonathan Littman because the author is blood-sucking journalist. He "squeezed" the story as long as he could and wrote the book. The rhetoric is nothing but a series of ridicules.

Thoughts on Full Frontal 2001.

Naturalistic portrayl of "people in movie business". LA is like other cosmopolitan city in this world. There is residential section, business section, white-trash suburb, ghetto, newly built houses with model design, i.e. simples and uniteds colors and simples lines, police station, law courts, streets which are crowded(s) on holidays and weekends, schools privates and publics, hotels expensives and cheaps. It's the first time I heard the voice of David Fincher. What is the face of Lem Dobbs, I wonder. It has reminded me that I fucking hate parties. Why should I spend any of my time, even for one minute, appeasing people who do not talk Math., Phys., or Lang.? It is great emotional comfort that I can extinguish the DVD of this movie at any time I want. So many people are obssessed with meeting the Right Person. The most important thing in a person's life is to find Happiness in Aristotelian sense (Ethics). "Every art and every inquiry, and similarly every action and choice, is thought to aim at some good; and for this reason the good has rightly been declared to be that at which all things aim." (Mnemotechnique required, verbatim) It is exhausting to contemplate on wearing clothes the most seductives availables, exhibit "right" facial expression, anticipate what she is thinking and will think, memorise jokes, not that I dislike memorising jokes, they are great exercise(s) and amusing(s). Look at David Hyde Pierce character. Why should I waste any part of my energy by wondering what my spouse or sexual partner is doing at any given moment? It is impossible to deduce who slept with whom unless I am authorised to torture someone. DVD commentary by Steven Soderbergh is informative as usual. He is the only honest one in US. I completely understand the ending. There is a thin line between Fiction and Reality. Kant wrote that the insane is those who dream while awake, quoted by Freud in Interpretation of Dream 18-99. I am insane to a small degree because I dream while awake. Who is more miserable, the insane or those who do not dream at all? (He who is insane) is (who is completely sane). Who said that? I can't remember where I heard it. I need to strengthen my memory. Who said that? Dream is caused by wound, mostly of which Love.
  This film is an experiment fruitful.
  Without doubt, there cannot be any progress. (?Only those who have abundance of experience have doubt?) This progress does not mean in the sense of Natural Science. This film is clearly superior to Ellie Parker 2004 starring Naomi Watts, which was also filmed with video-camera. The film is impossible to watch because, I realise it now!!, the director thought that he had to show someone say everything constantly. I remember the conversation between Naomi Watts and Chevy Chase. It is the most bad because camera moves constantly to show someone who is speaking.
  I will find reasons Physiological(s) why Doom-induced motion sickness is caused. I never experience it.
  I want to be at Chateau Marmont in person.
  I want to learn everything and remember everything. I want to be wise and content. is "I" necessarily a singular? What if I am connected with the perfect goddess? I is You. You am I. In inflected lang., the aforementioned sentence doesn't mean anything. Certainty is most important. Ambiguity results in rationalisation. I can eat a woman and become plural? Nihilist, Nietzsche? Nil, nihil, nihilist, annihiliate.
  I will pursue Philo., Math., Phys., Chem. for the rest of my life. I do not care anymore whether I live in constant financial restraint or poverty. I will be relentless and concentrated.

16 November 2012

List. Books never written.


1.     The Yellow River by I.P. Daily
2.     The Numbers Game by Cal Q. Later
3.     Under the Bleachers by Seymour Butts
4.     Rusty Bed Springs by I.P. Freeley
5.     Twenty Yards to the Outhouse by Willie Makit and illustrated by Betty Wont
6.     Spots on the Wall by Hugh Flung Poo
7.     Falling Off a Cliff by Eileen Dover
8.     The Complete Proctologist's Handbook by Ben Dover
9.     The Joys of Drinking by Al Coholic
10. My Life with Igor by Frank N. Stein
11. Supporting Athletes by Jacques Strappe
12. Things That Itch by Mike Rotch
13. I Was Prepared by Justin Case

14. Green Spots on the Wall by Picken and Flicken

15. Small Treasures in the Toilet Bowl by I.P. Nickels

16. What Makes a Good Thief by Ian Yerhous

17. Waiting in Line for the Bathroom by Ivana Tinkle

18. Practical proctology by Bea Hind

19. The future of robotics by Cy Borg and Anne Droid

20. What to do if you're in a car accident by Rhea Ender

21. How Things Work by Wyatt Dunne

22. Breathing Lessons by Hal E. Tosis

23. Why Should I Walk? by Iona Carr

24. Deep in Debt by Owen A. Lott

25. The Most and the Least by Maxi & Minnie Mum

26. Taking a Test by B.A. Wiseman

27. The Sun by Sol Ar

28. Pie by Don Cherry

29. Blazing! by Lotta Heat

30. Computer Memory by Meg A. Byte

31. Gotta Go by C. U. Later

32. How to Serve Your Fellow Man by The Cannibals

33. Can't Go There by Hans Off

34. Card Suits by Di A. Mond

35. Checking Your Homework by R.U. Wright

36. The Membership List by Ross Terr

37. Manwich by "Slop" E. Joe

38. The Giant Clock Tower by "Big" Ben

39. All About Flowers by Chris Anthymum

40. Short Shorts by Daisy Duke

41. Boy Scout Brigade by Pat Troll

42. The Lost Scout by Werram Eye

43. Al Gore: The Wild Years

44. Amelia Earhart's Guide to the Pacific Ocean

45. America's Most Popular Lawyers

46. Career Opportunities for History Majors

47. Detroit - A Travel Guide

48. Different Ways to Spell "Bob"

49. Dr. Kevorkian's Collection of Motivational Speeches

50. Easy UNIX

51. Ethiopian Tips on World Dominance

52. Everything Men Know About Women

53. Everything Women Know About Men

54. French Hospitality

55. George Foreman's Big Book of Baby Names

56. How to Sustain a Solo Musical Career by Art Garfunkel

57. Mike Tyson's Guide to Dating Etiquette

58. One Hundred and One Spotted Owl Recipes by the EPA

59. Staple Your Way to Success

60. The Amish Phone Book

61. The Engineer's Guide to Fashion

62. Things I Wouldn't Do for Money by Dennis Rodman

63. Human Rights Advances in China

64. The Differences Between Reality and Dilbert

65. The Book of Virtue by Bill Clinton

66. Famous Italian War Heroes

67. My Life's Memories by Ronald Reagan

68. Things I Can't Afford by Bill Gates

69. Things I Love About Bill by Hillary Clinton

70. How to Get to the Superbowl by Dan Marino

71. All the Satisfied Windows Users

72. Usages for Plutonium in the kitchen

73. Feminists Men Want to Marry

74. How to Choose the Best Lace Doily for Any Occasion by Arnold Schwarzenegger

75. Attractive Floral Arrangements by Sean Connery

76. How to Make Bush Smart by Uca Ant

77. The Day Hitler Ruined My Barmitsva by Ima Jew

78. Three Hundred And Twelve Ways To Die By Household Appliance by Sue I. Cide

79. The Day I Took Mr. Winky and Threw Him In A Sewer by L. Bobbit

80. Household Book of Tools by M.C. Hammer

81. How to Project Your Voice by Milli Vanilli

82. Fly Fishing by J.R. Hartley

83. Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, "Special People" are from ?

84. How to deal with bankruptcy by Bill Gates

85. How to Love Everyone by Adolf Hitler

86. How to be a Kamikaze Pilot by Osama Bin Laden

87. Late for Work by Dr. Wages

88. Kitty's Revenge by Claude Balls

89. Brown Streaks Across the Desert by Who Flung Dung

90. Ten Years in the Bathtub by Rink Lee Prune

91. Antlers in the Tree Top by Hugh Goostamooce

92. The Rolling Hills of Iowa

93. Tiger in the Bathroom by Heidi Ingthe Tub

94. How to Eat Cereal by Poor A. Bowl

95. Smelly Stuff by Anita Bath

96. Being Lonely by Shenita Mann.

97. Technology in the 21st century by Rob Ott

98. A Hitchiker's Guide To Not Getting Killed by Ren Tacar

99. Things Women Can't Do by B. A. Mann

100. Gotta Go To The Bathroom by Think L. Maket, Illustrated by Betty Went, Published by Doris Laukt

101. The Art of Being of Discreet by Anonymous

102. What Happens When You Light A Fart by Hugh Gexplo Zhun

103. Bubbles in the Bath by Ivor Windybottom

104. Can't Sit Still by Ivan Auflitch

105. Microsoft Business Practices by Eve Hill

106. I Must Go Again by D. I. Aria

107. Interesting Places Around The World by Ben There & Don That

108. Pop Goes the Hamster and Other Great Microwave Games

109. How to Win in the Stock Market by Martha Stewart

110. The Importance of Telling the Truth by Bill Clinton

111. The Incompetent Bullfighter

112. Paris Monuments by I. Phil Taurer

113. Text Editing by E. Max and Vi

114. The Sheets Are Wet by I.P. Nightly

115. The Bearded Chinaman by Harry Chin

116. How to Exercise by Eileen and Ben Dover

117. Magical Bed Wettings by Peter Pants

118. A Devoted Husband by Bill Clinton

119. 100 ways to Diet by I. M. Hungry

120. One Wife is Best by Henry VIII

121. 101 Things to do on a Sunny Day in England

122. Getting Fired by Anita Job

123. Great Resturants by Bo Leamick

124. How to Remember Your Lines by Charlie Chaplin

125. Idiot's Guide to Babysitting by Fruit Juice

126. Crossing a Man with a Duck by Willie Waddle

127. A Sailor's Adventure by Ron A. Ground

128. Green Vegetables by Brock Ali

129. Raise Your Arms by Harry Pitt

130. Long Walk Home by Miss. D. Bus

131. Sitting on the Beach by Sandy Cheeks

132. Window Coverings by Kurt and Rod

133. Wheels in China by Rick Shaw

134. How To Dance by Sheik Yerbouti

135. Something Smells by I. Ben Pharting

136. I.Q. Competitions by Samar T. Pants

137. The Secret of Touching Your Toes by Ben Dover

138. The View of the Skyline by Bill Ding

139. My Life as a Gas Station Attendant by Phil R. Awp

140. What Evita Left Behind by Oliver Shoes

141. Embarassing Missing Items by Bikin E. Bottoms

142. How to Manage Your Company's Finances by Enron

143. Your Private Life Makes National News by Holly Wood

144. Hot Wiring by Nick Carrs & Joy Ryder

145. Easy Money by Robyn Banks

146. The Sedan Chair by Carrie Walker

147. The Science of Optometry by Seymour Clearly

148. The last supper by M. T. Potts.

149. How to Destroy Buildings by Dyna Might

150. Beauty Secrets by Janet Reno

151. Things I Love About Bill by Hillary Clinton

152. My Life's Memories by Ronald Reagan

153. Things I Can't Afford by Bill Gates

154. The Wild Years by Al Gore

155. America's most Popular Lawyers

156. Detroit - A Travel Guide

157. Dr. Kevorkian's Collection of Motivational Speeches

158. Everything Men Know About Women

159. Everything Women Know About Men

160. All the Men I've Loved Before by Ellen Degeneres

161. Mike Tyson's Guide to Dating Etiquette

162. Spotted Owl Recipes by the Sierra Club

163. My Plan to Find the Real Killers by O. J. Simpson

164. My Book of Morals by Bill Clinton

165. Transportation in the Middle Ages Orson Cart

166. Growing up in the Balkans by Hugo Slavia

167. The Outboard Motor Died by Rhoda Shaw

168. Answering the Questions of the Universe by Howard I. Know

169. Our Son, Russell, the Chef by Mr. & Mrs. Upsumgrub

170. How to Write a Mystery Novel by Paige Turner

171. The Great English Breakfast by Chris P. Bacon

172. Vacation Spots in the Tropics by Sandy Beech

173. What Old Cars Have by Rust E. Paint

174. Drops on the Toilet Seat by I.P. Skew

175. Weak Bladder by I.P. Often

176. Torn Fingernails by I. Bightem

177. The Great Missile Barrage, by Lonch M. Awl

178. Tight Situation by Leah Tard

179. Crack in the Sidewalk by Bobby Tript

180. The Old Bell Tower by Rusty Bell

181. Tiger On the Loose By Claude Balls

182. Meeting in France by Ron DeVous

183. A Trip to the Dentist by Lord Howard Hurts

184. Dentist Appointment by Too Thurtee

185. So Thirsty by Phillip A. Jug

186. Carnival Rides by Ivana Herl

187. Trails in the Sand by Peter Dragon

188. Swimming in the Ocean by C. Lyons

189. Walking Tall by G. Raffe

190. Never Forget by L. E. Phunt

191. Uninteresting Tales by I. M. Yawning

192. All About Fences by Barb Wyer

193. In the Men's Room by R. U. Dunn

194. The Russian Butcher by Iva Katchalimoff

195. Farting Habits by L. Edder Wrip

196. What's That Smell? by Justice Phards

197. Hole in the Mattress by Mr. Completely

198. Big Waves by Sue Nami

List. Date refusal excuse.


Hopefully you've never had these used on you, but this is a list of excuses to use if that "special" someone asks you out and you don't know how to say no. If someone gives you one of these excuses, it is very likely that they have absolutely no interest in going out with you.
1. I have to floss my cat.

2. I've dedicated my life to linguini.

3. I want to spend more time with my blender.

4. The President said he might drop in.

5. The man on television told me to say tuned.

6. I've been scheduled for a karma transplant.

7. I'm staying home to work on my cottage cheese sculpture.

8. It's my parakeet's bowling night.

9. It wouldn't be fair to the other Beautiful People.

10. I'm building a pig from a kit.

11. I did my own thing and now I've got to undo it.

12. I'm enrolled in aerobic scream therapy.

13. There's a disturbance in the Force.

14. I'm doing door-to-door collecting for static cling.

15. I have to go to the post office to see if I'm still wanted.

16. I'm teaching my ferret to yodel.

17. I have to check the freshness dates on my dairy products.

18. I'm going through cherry cheesecake withdrawal.

19. I'm planning to go downtown to try on gloves.

20. My crayons all melted together.

21. I'm trying to see how long I can go without saying yes.

22. I'm in training to be a household pest.

23. I'm getting my overalls overhauled.

24. My patent is pending.

25. I'm attending the opening of my garage door.

26. I'm sandblasting my oven.

27. I'm worried about my vertical hold.

28. I'm going down to the bakery to watch the buns rise.

29. I'm being deported.

30. The grunion are running.

31. I'll be looking for a parking space.

32. My Millard Filmore Fan Club meets then.

33. The monsters haven't turned blue yet, and I have to eat more dots.

34. I'm taking punk totem pole carving.

35. I have to fluff my shower cap.

36. I'm converting my calendar watch from Julian to Gregorian.

37. I've come down with a really horrible case of something or other.

38. I made an appointment with a cuticle specialist.

39. My plot to take over the world is thickening.

40. I have to fulfill my potential.

41. I don't want to leave my comfort zone.

42. It's too close to the turn of the century.

43. I have some real hard words to look up in the dictionary.

44. My subconscious says no.

45. I'm giving nuisance lessons at a convenience store.

46. I left my body in my other clothes.

47. The last time I went out, I never came back.

48. I've got a Friends of Rutabaga meeting.

49. I have to answer all of my "occupant" letters.

50. None of my socks match.

51. I have to be on the next train to Bermuda.

52. I'm having all my plants neutered.

53. People are blaming me for the Spanish-American War.

54. I changed the lock on my door and now I can't get out.

55. I'm making a home movie called "The Thing That Grew in My Refrigerator."

56. I'm attending a perfume convention as guest sniffer.

57. My yucca plant is feeling yucky.

58. I'm touring China with a wok band.

59. My chocolate-appreciation class meets that night.

60. I never go out on days that end in "Y."

61. My mother would never let me hear the end of it.

62. I'm running off to Yugoslavia with a foreign-exchange student named Basil Metabolism.

63. I just picked up a book called "Glue in Many Lands" and I can't put it down.

64. I'm too old/young for that stuff.

65. I have to ash/condition/perm/curl/tease my hair.

66. I have too much guilt.

67. There are important world issues that need worrying about.

68. I have to draw "Cubby" for an art scholarship.

69. I'm uncomfortable when I'm alone or with others.

70. I promised to help a friend fold road maps.

71. I feel a song coming on.

72. I'm trying to be less popular.

73. My bathroom tiles need grouting.

74. I have to bleach my hare.

75. I'm waiting to see if I'm already a winner.

76. I'm writing a love letter to Richard Simmons.

77. You know how we psychos are.

78. My favorite commercial is on TV.

79. I have to study for a blood test.

80. I'm going to be old someday.

81. I've been traded to Cincinnati.

82. I'm observing National Apathy Week.

83. I have to rotate my crops.

84. My uncle escaped again.

85. I'm up to my elbows in waxy buildup.

86. I have to knit some dust bunnies for a charity bazaar.

87. I'm having my baby shoes bronzed.

88. I have to go to court for kitty littering.

89. I'm going to count the bristles in my toothbrush.

90. I have to thaw some karate chops for dinner.

91. Having fun gives me prickly heat.

92. I'm going to the Missing Persons Bureau to see if anyone is looking for me.

93. I have to jog my memory.

94. My palm reader advised against it.

95. My Dress For Obscurity class meets then.

96. I have to stay home and see if I snore.

97. I prefer to remain an enigma.

98. I think you want the OTHER [your name].

99. I have to sit up with a sick ant.

100. I'm trying to cut down.

101. My asthma is acting up again

102. That would interfere with my time to wait for the government to take me away.

103. You're ugly, I'm busy, have a nice day

104. Its my goldfish's birthday

105. Uh, I have stuff to do.

106. I have to make an air sandwich

107. I have to hide the bodies.

108. I don't have time to go on a date...with YOU!

109. I have to wash my hair.

110. I have to clean my toilet

111. I need to spend quality time with my weed wacker

112. I need to clean the air in my room

113. My hamster is having a heart transplant and I need to stay for moral support.

114. I caught a rare deadly African disease that's highly contagious.

115. My gerbil is getting married.

116. I have plans to clean the cracks in my floor

117. Sorry, when you came to my door I mistook you for a mormon and took cover.

118. I had to rob your house

119. That's the night I reorganize my rock collection.

120. Pinnochio is on tonight

121. I have to try out for the ice skating team at school.

122. I don't date outside my species

123. Sorry I think I'm gay

124. I have to go...........over..............there.

125. My butt is to big in this dress

126. I have to take out the trash

127. My dog had baby kittens.

128. I can't, I need to take my computer apart and put it back together.

129. I have to go shopping for my mother.

130. I'm sorry, I have to rotate the strings on all of my shoes.

131. No

132. I told my car I would tenderly rub wax into it's body

133. I have to go for my full body wax appointment

134. I can't I was asked to go to another party w/o you

135. I don't date goats!

136. Ally Mcbeal is on

137. I'm reading with my widower

138. I have to brush my teeth.

139. Alf comes on soon

140. I'm sick.

141. I've had a better offer, some bloke is coming round to set fire to my head

142. I'm busy cleaning the blood off my axe

143. My dad said I can't date till I am married

144. I'm shaving my dog.

145. It's against my religion to date people named (insert relevant name)

146. My grandma is on fire.

147. I'm getting married tonight.

148. I'm engaged.

149. I don't want to ruin our friendship.

150. I have family in town.

151. I just washed my hair.

152. It's that time of the month again.

153. My father's grandmother's aunt's mother died.

154. I have to take down the Christmas lights.

155. I have to go to a surprise party for my grandma's birthday.

156. I left my tolerance in another coat.

157. I just got back together with my ex

158. I don't like people.

159. I have to alphabetize my CDs. (Hey, is that supposed to be insulting to me? -- dan)

160. I might see someone who knows me.

161. My brother's sister's mum's son's dad died.

162. I would, but it would be a complete waste of make-up.

163. My pet snake is constipated again.

164. I have a phobia of people named (insert name here).

165. I have to teach my pig to sing.

166. I just got sick (right after you asked me out).

167. My dog is too tired.

168. I never said I'd go out with you, that was my evil twin.

169. I would go out with you but my waiting list is full.

170. There's a four hour TV special on trimming shrubbery.

171. I'm washing the sofa.

172. I have to milk my cow.

173. Everquest.

174. I don't want to miss Martha Stewart's premiere.

175. I have to teach my frog how to croak.

176. I'm too busy watching the paint dry.

177. The Rocky marathon is on that night.

178. I promised my mum I'd bathe the hamster.

179. I tripped over an ant and broke my leg.

180. I need to clip my nose hairs.

181. I have to read the labels on all of my food.

182. You are extremely unattractive. Sorry, someone had to tell you.

183. I'm gay.

184. I don't like you.

185. My goat broke a horn.

186. I have to go to the dentist.

187. I have to brush my dog's teeth.

188. I must go in search of my charms which were stolen by an angry leprechaun.

189. I'm going to the moon.

190. My water wings are flat.

191. I have to stay home and give my goldfish a bath.

192. I'm going to be playing with my mental blocks.

193. I have to wax the driveway.

194. I'm not into dating right now.

195. I'm teaching my goldfish how to play the electric guitar.

196. I'm teaching my dog to meow.

197. I have to watch Oprah.

198. I like you, but my friends said I can't go out with you.

199. I like your best friend.

200. I'm complicated to go out with.

201. I just found out we're related.

202. On my list of things to do, seeing you is at the bottom.

203. I'm teaching my goldfish how to swim.

204. My pet rock died.

205. I have to groom my toe hair.

206. I'm sorry, I lost my nail polish.

207. I have to organize my Mom's underwear.

208. My ear plugs got stuck in my ears.