Saturday, May 31, 2008

Wacky Wooka and the Beatbox Kidz

Nothing to say from Planet Praha, except I'm sitting in my room with an affliction.
I'm not sure what it is. I seem to drink alot o' vodka. It's gotten so cute, my little afffliction, that I refer to the vodka as 'wooka.' Sort of a corruption of the Russian pronunciation of 'vodka' as 'woodka.' Hence the word 'wooka.' See how my my mind works? In Russian, vodka literally means 'little water.' In Czech, 'voda' means 'water', so I can EASILY make that leap into Russian, after all, since they are the forefathers of These Here Bastard Czechs. So in the midst of my 'wookification' as I call it, I re-assess my life, plan my escape, curse 'the Man', all the usual shit One does when One has an Affliction.
So I offer you, as proof of my problem, the following video. Please stay til the end. It gets WACKY.

5 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Kurtz: Did they say why, Willard, why they want to terminate my command?
Willard: I was sent on a classified mission, sir.
Kurtz: It's no longer classified, is it? Did they tell you?
Willard: They told me that you had gone totally insane, and that your methods were unsound.
Kurtz: Are my methods unsound?
Willard: I don't see any method at all, sir.

9:01 PM  
Anonymous DC said...

Kurtz: Did they say why, Willard, why they want to terminate my command?
Willard: I was sent on a classified mission, sir.
Kurtz: It's no longer classified, is it? Did they tell you?
Willard: They told me that you had gone totally insane, and that your methods were unsound.
Kurtz: Are my methods unsound?
Willard: I don't see any method at all, sir.

9:02 PM  
Anonymous DC said...

Or is this one better?

[voiceover] Saigon... shit; I'm still only in Saigon... Every time I think I'm gonna wake up back in the jungle. When I was home after my first tour, it was worse. I'd wake up and there'd be nothing. I hardly said a word to my wife, until I said "yes" to a divorce. When I was here, I wanted to be there; when I was there, all I could think of was getting back into the jungle. I'm here a week now... waiting for a mission... getting softer; every minute I stay in this room, I get weaker, and every minute Charlie squats in the bush, he gets stronger. Each time I looked around, the walls moved in a little tighter.

9:04 PM  
Blogger praguelodyte said...

CHARLIE DON'T SURF !!!!!

1:14 AM  
Anonymous DC said...

When I say it's safe to surf, it's safe to surf!

Send me an email ya wack job. Did I just think that or say that? Miss you

6:20 AM  

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