Every Friday, the staff at Crazy Apple Rumors Site used to answer common help questions based on our vast experience with Apple products and our fervent belief that we know more than you do.
But not any more.
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[THE TOP-SECRET CARS HEADQUARTERS. THE OFFICE IS ALMOST EMPTY, THE DESKS ARE CLEARED AND A LONE FIGURE SITS PUTTING ITEMS INTO A CARDBOARD BOX.]
MOLTZ: Macworld media badge. Boba Fett action figure. Lock of Nancy Heinen’s hair. Unreleased CD of HyperCard for OS X. Copy of Schillerworld magazine. Hey, there’s my Apple iPad! Man, how did I not see that was just a Newton with a sticker on it that said “iPad”? Ha-ha! Ahhh, I was so young! Well, 37.
[TAKES A SWIG OUT OF A BOTTLE OF TRES GENERACIONES ANEJO TEQUILA THEN SHOUTS TO ABSOLUTELY NO ONE:] This isn’t a box of objects it’s a box of memories, dammit!
[LOOKING INTO THE BOX] And, um, something wrapped in aluminum foil that says “Rob Enderle’s liver”. I’m kind of afraid to open that. That’s from a weekend in Vegas I don’t remember anything of at all. Which is probably a good thing.
But…
Good times. And now… it’s all…
[SUDDENLY, A LOW HUM BEGINS TO FILL THE ROOM. IT CONTINUES TO GROW AS A WHIRLWIND BEGINS, SCATTERING PAPERS AND FLINGING THE BLINDS ABOUT. AS THE NOISE REACHES AN ALMOST DEAFENING LEVEL, A BRIGHT BALL OF WHITE LIGHT APPEARS, SENDING BOLTS OF ELECTRICITY SHOOTING TO THE NOW-EMPTY OUTLETS IN THE ROOM. A FIGURE EMERGES AS THE BOLTS OF ELECTRICITY CEASE AND THE HUM DIMINISHES. IT IS THE ENTITY, STILL IN THE FORM OF THE HOTNESS THAT IS JENNIFER FRICKING CONNELLY.]
MOLTZ: Hey! What are you doing here? You already left.
THE ENTITY: Re… appearing.
MOLTZ: Right. Well, it’s not that I’m not glad to see you, but we’re not really supposed to be in here. Our lease ran out today. I already gave the keys to the landlord. He just let me in here to clean out my desk.
THE ENTITY: Forgot… [WALKS OVER TO A TABLE AND PICKS UP A PEN] …my pen. Double booked in 4 billion years.
MOLTZ: Huh?
THE ENTITY: [THE ENTITY REGARDS THE PEN THOUGHTFULLY] Interesting. Future uncertain. Again.
MOLTZ: [RAISES THE BOTTLE OF TEQUILA] Well, you got that right. [TAKES A DRINK]
THE ENTITY: Unknown forces now in motion.
MOLTZ: Uh, is that something I should be concerned about?
THE ENTITY: No. Yes.
MOLTZ: Thanks. That’s helpful.
THE ENTITY: Well… goodbye! [TURNS TO THE LIGHT]
MOLTZ: Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of odd?
THE ENTITY: Jean-Louis Gassée.
MOLTZ: Yeah, well, he’s one to talk.
THE ENTITY: [NODS, THEN TURNS BACK TO THE LIGHT BUT DOES NOT ENTER, AS IF CONSIDERING SOMETHING FOR A MOMENT. THEN POINTS INTO THE LIGHT.] You?
MOLTZ: Uh, you want me to come with you? You want me to step into the light?
THE ENTITY: Yes.
MOLTZ: But, uh, wouldn’t that mean I’m dead?
THE ENTITY: No. Opposite. Alive. Everywhere. Everywhen.
MOLTZ: Oh. Hey, you mean just like Captain Sisko?!
THE ENTITY: No!
MOLTZ: Uh, OK.
THE ENTITY: Stupid!
MOLTZ: Well, it seems pretty much the same. How’s it different?
THE ENTITY: Booze! Wii bowling!
MOLTZ: Oh. Well, those are good differences.
THE ENTITY: Pudding!
MOLTZ: You’re three for three.
THE ENTITY: Baked Lays!
MOLTZ: That’s not terribly surprising.
THE ENTITY: Manual stick transmission!
MOLTZ: OK, now it seems like you’re just shouting random things.
THE ENTITY: Crab!
MOLTZ: Oh. Chesapeake or Dungeness?
THE ENTITY: Don.
MOLTZ: Oh. Two B’s.
THE ENTITY: Yes. Or… not.
MOLTZ: Aye! [NODDING] There’s the rub.
THE ENTITY: …
MOLTZ: …
THE ENTITY: Coming?
MOLTZ: You know… um… no. Thanks. As tempting as spending eternity in a parallel universe is, with all the booze and pudding I can consume, surrounded by Mac pundits of yore and energy beings who can turn themselves into Jennifer fricking Connelly at will… I’m gonna stay here. But… thanks, man. For everything.
THE ENTITY: Ah. Chicken.
MOLTZ: What? No! Hey, I did go to the center of the galaxy with you to fight Tentaculous, if you remember.
THE ENTITY: Cross-town bus!
MOLTZ: Oh, fine. Maybe it was to you, but humans aren’t used to interstellar travel. And the in-flight movie was “Catwoman”! Dear god, that made me sicker than zero G and all the radiation combined.
Anyway… you take care of yourself.
THE ENTITY: Affirmative.
[THE ENTITY TURNS AND STARTS TO ENTER THE LIGHT]
MOLTZ: Oh… hey.
THE ENTITY: Hmm?
MOLTZ: What’s your name?
THE ENTITY: Name?
MOLTZ: You never told me your name. After all these years. Do you have one?
THE ENTITY: Yes.
MOLTZ: What is it?
THE ENTITY: [PAUSES BEFORE ANSWERING] Moof.
MOLTZ: Moof? No. Really?
THE ENTITY: [NODS, THEN SHRUGS] Coincidence.
MOLTZ: [LAUGHS] OK. See you around?
THE ENTITY: [NODS] Round. Like… waffles.
MOLTZ: It always comes back to waffles, doesn’t it. Almost as if the universe were waffle-shaped or something.
THE ENTITY: Kumquat.
MOLTZ: Um… right. Well… you have a nice flight.
[THE ENTITY TURNS AND ENTERS THE LIGHT AS THE HUM RETURNS, BUT ONLY BRIEFLY. THE LIGHT SHINES BRIGHTLY AND THERE ARE SPARKS AND THE NOTHING.]
[MOLTZ LOOKS AROUND AT WHAT IS NOW ALMOST OFFICIALLY THE FORMER TOP-SECRET CARS HEADQUARTERS.]
MOLTZ: I guess this is it. Jeez. Everybody’s gone but me. Chet. Vinz. Albert (whoever that is). Masako. Howard. Ugluk. Thor. The angry Scotsman. The highly effeminate half-Orc. Gloria the Sexbot. Tentaculous. Apple’s friend Gary….
[SCOOTER THE MAILROOM BOY BURSTS INTO THE ROOM, LABORIOUSLY CARRYING A LARGE BOX.]
MOLTZ: … Scooter the mail room boy…
SCOOTER: Oh! Mr. Moltz! You’re still here!
MOLTZ: Scooter, don’t interrupt me. I’m not through reciting names. Gordy, Glaarku…
SCOOTER: Oh, well, it’s just that… there’s a package for you.
MOLTZ: Really?
SCOOTER: Yeah. It came earlier. From a Mr. Skiller?
MOLTZ: Huh? “Skiller”? I don’t know any… Wait. Schiller?
SCOOTER: It’s kind of big. Do you mind giving me a hand? I think maybe it’s a monitor or something.
MOLTZ: You’re kidding.
SCOOTER: [READING] “30-inch Cinema Display”.
MOLTZ: No. Frakking. Way.
SCOOTER: That’s what it says.
MOLTZ: Well, how do you like that?
SCOOTER: Uh, well, it’s OK, I guess. It’s a little big for me, though. I live in an efficiency.
MOLTZ: Uh-huh. Yeah, well, fortunately that was a rhetorical question. Let’s load it into my car, Scooter, my good man. Because my work here…
…is done.
[THEY EACH GRAB AN END OF THE BOX AND MOVE INTO THE HALL. MOLTZ SHUTS THE LIGHT OFF WITH HIS ELBOW AND SWINGS THE DOOR SHUT WITH HIS FOOT. IT CLOSES WITH AN AUDIBLE CLICK OF THE LOCK.]
[THERE IS A BRIEF SILENCE.]
MOLTZ: Ah, crap. I think I just locked my car keys in there.
And my box of stuff.
And my bottle of tequila.
[THERE IS THE SOUND OF THE MARIMBA RINGTONE.]
And my iPhone.
[FOLLOWED BY THE PLAINTIFF BLEATING OF A SMALL BOVIDAE.]
And, uh, apparently, the evil goat.
Darn it.
The precipice is calling me…”dive into the void”… but I can’t abandon this page now…I will glue myself to the deck! Yes, I will nail my boots down and stand firm…
I’ve got the glue, hammer and nails! Let’s get started.
YAY
No cats? No giant lemmings?
What a swizz.
I’ve got the duct tape.
Neck and neck with the Hiatus page.
(Though I’d rather neck with my wife.)
Ah, duct tape….
(Rumor has it that it was originally called “duck tape”, but I grew up calling it duct tape, so there….)
Whoa, I doze off for a little while and find myself in the fourth century! And it looks like a race between this Final-Post and the Hiatal-Post.
You’d think that because this post got a head start, it would be ‘way ahead — but no!
Gotta make my rounds. See you in the Peta-, Tera-, and Giga-Posts.
OK?
posts
stacking
Is
If 411 is information… what is 311?
The non-emergency telephone number 3-1-1 is a special N-1-1 telephone number in many communities in Canada and the United States that provides quick, easy-to-remember access to non-emergency municipal services or a Citizen Service Center. Dialing this number allows city residents (only in certain cities) to obtain important non-emergency services through a central, all-purpose phone number quickly and effectively.
All clear now?
Thanks for the 411 on 311. I was thinking it was for disinformation, or datinformation. Or maybe d’other.
pffft… Huh?, you’re still on Australia time. I’m going with Ace’s answer.
Seems logical to me, so what happens when I dial 211?
iMoo- Am not.
Nxxx- 2-1-1 is a special abbreviated telephone number reserved in Canada and the United States as an easy-to-remember three-digit telephone number meant to provide quick information and referrals to health and human service organizations.
Are too…
Am not.
You’re not done yet. You also have to explain the purpose of the phone number 111, and then of 011. And let’s have proper grammar and spelling, please.
Are TOO!
Am not.
oh, and….
The FCC recognizes 211, 311, 511, 711, 811 and 911 as nationally assigned, but has not disturbed other traditional uses. The list below summarizes N11 assignments, reservations, and traditional usage.
211 Community Information and Referral Services
311 Non-Emergency Police and Other Governmental Services
411 Local Directory Assistance
511 Traffic and Transportation Information (US); Provision of Weather and Traveller Information Services (Canada)
611 Repair Service
711 Telecommunications Relay Service (TRS)
811 Access to One Call Services to Protect Pipeline and Utilities from Excavation Damage (US); Non-Urgent Health Teletriage Services (Canada)
911 Emergency
*pouting and stomping foot* ARE TOO!
iMoo,
Shouldn’t that be RD2?
Nxxx, yeah, I caught that too.
and C3PO!
I once had to dial 411 to get the number for 911. Luckily it wasn’t an emergency.
Ok…. Who broke the site?
Wasn’t me. Shall I just add ditto for all of us?
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto etc., etc.
Include me out. Perhaps I shouldn’t have tried to include the entire contents of the unabridged Oxford English Dictionary in a post yesterday. It may have been too much to fit on one page.
Modest to the last, Ace.
First Post! (today)
Happy Birthday to me!!
Right everyone “Happy Birthday iMoo” in G concert starting in five minutes. whenever that is.
I can only play in the key of Bb, since I’m on cornet at the moment. This should sound pretty awful.
Whoa.
What’s with the self-promotional birthday salutations?
Oh… That’s right. It is your birthday.
Happy Birthday!
Huh?, hang around for 6 months and I’ll promote your birthday too. For a price. Um. Well… you did get me a gift… ok. 1/2 price!!
First post today!
That was then; this is now.
First post by a person with a leprechaun in his shirt pocket!
Just remember that St. Patrick was a Welshman that the Irish kidnapped.
We demand his return and you can have your bloody snakes back.
First St. Patrick’s Day post from this side of the pond!
(Nxxx, I recognize that yours was 3/17 your time.)
I’ll take the snakes.. I have an interesting idea for an experiment that requires a lot of snakes.
Surely not……..Planes on Snakes?
Surely not…snakes on crack?
Surely not… planes on snakes on crack?
Just don’t step on a snake’s back on crack!
Well I was sort of thinking or creating a giant centipede were all the legs were replaced by snakes.
I’m thinking the possibilities are endless.
It sounds a little unwieldy, like entering the Iditarod with a team of cats. How do you convince them to go in the same direction?
I’ve got my St. Patty shillelagh to help with that.
Create? There used to be some around. Probably eaten by the Dinosauruses. Is that the correct plural?