Friday, March 31, 2006

Starbucker: Typho's Challenge!

hmmmmm... I pondered what to do... I didn't know much about this man... this Captain who was now the only person left standing between me and winning this, uh... well, this kinda wrecked-up house... and some other stuff...

What were his strengths?!? What were his weaknesses?!?

Where was his comfort zone?!? Where did he feel in his element?!?

Was he the one who would emerge the victor?!? Was he the one who would take second place?!? Was he the one who took my holy sock?!?

How could I feel good about the last challenge if I didn't know what to challenge him with?!? How could I win?!? How could Parcells possibly have allowed Jones to sign Owens?!?

These thoughts tormented me.

I knew I must pick the perfect challenge - for the fate of the ENTIRE BB:Naboo blog DEPENDED on it!!!!

I paced... I ate... I drank... but the idea for the challenge would not come to me.

At night I tossed... I turned... I clenched my toes into tight little fists until my feet cramped... but the idea for the challenge would not come...

I thought... and thought... and thought - until my thinker had thunked it's last. Or so I thought.

*nervously glances back and forth*

That's when I realized I was gripped with fear... yes FEAR!

Ah-HA! *forehead slap*



I hereby banish the good Captain Typho to face his fears. Fears from the past, present and future, as I had to, in the 11th challenge of Survivor: Tattooine, with JJ's three rings of fear!

Then, maybe I'll know what he's afraid of so I can then levy the most challenging challenge imaginable!

uh, no! wai- Oh, poo!
I meant to do that! Yeah! Three fears, Teyepho!

You have until next Friday to complete the challenge!

Starbucker Out

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Typho: Fluke's Challenge

I gave a lot of thought to coming up with a challenge for Fluke. I didn't want to pick something too hard. That wouldn't be sporting. Besides, he was a cool roommate throughout our stay in this house.

But a challenge that was too easy would be... well, too easy.

I gave it a couple days and came up with the following. His task would be to act out a pivotal scene in any movie of his choice -- to put on a "one man show," if you will.

This should be fun. :D

Monday, March 27, 2006

Challengen #11

Wesa aresa here.
Der final round.
Oursa contestants havesa builden droids, designen shrubberies, hagglen over antiques, craften sculptures, battlen pirates, written poetry, hidden household objects, harvesten lemonses, renovaten theirsa rooms, and cooken delicious meals to getten to thissen point. Wesa starten with twelve, now theresa aresa two.

Captain Typho, Fluke Starbucker, are yousa ready? Well, too bad, wesa starten now. Thissen will be a challenge like noah other...

Yousa mussen both setten challenges for each other, den completen der challenge yoursa opponent sets for yousa.

Der winner will be deciden purely by audience vote: if yousa maken yoursa challenge too hard, der audience mebbe tink yousa cheaten and noah voten for yousa. If yousa tryen hard and worken well, mebbe theysa will voten for yousa even if yousa noah completen der challenge.

Okeyday... lessen getten to it! Begin!

Jon: Time for me to fly

I guess that's it. I competed as best as I could and I am very surprised that I got this far. Doubly so because I never received immunity for any of the challenges.

Thinking about it, I could probably have steered the votes my way. I am, after all, from Chicago, the place where cats and dogs vote and the dead get to vote twice. I am sure that I could have rigged the voting. It would have been easier than a magnet in a roulette wheel, but as that goes against my sense of fair play, it's off I go.

"I made it this far," I said whistfully while packing my bag. "So close..."

"Not bad for 'just an Earthman,'" Typho chuckled and offered me his hand. I shook his hand heartily and gave him one of those semi-macho half-hugs on the shoulder. "It was cool to see you here."

"Yeah, well, it was good seeing you again, too," I answered. "But I do miss my wife and kid. Have you seen Fluke?"

"No, not in the past hour or so," Typho answered. "He's around here, somewhere."

I looked around, up and down the halls, in the living room and kitchen, I walked through the dining room and poked my head into the other bedrooms. I didn't see him anywhere until I got to JJ's room. He was sitting on the simulated sand looking out at a simulated sunset.

"Whatcha doin' Flukester?" I asked.

"Aw, nuthin," he shrugged. I saw that he had a half-full bottle dangling from his hand.

"Is that a beer?"

"Nah," he replied absently. "It's a grape Nee'Hi. I sometimes drink these when I'm a little blue."

"Got another?"

"Nope," he shrugged.

"You know Fluke, it was great to visit here and I had a lot of fun seeing you again and all, but it really is time that I get going."


"This place isn't for me," I continued, pointing vaguely out at the ersatz sunset. "I really must be traveling on, now, 'Cause there's too many places I've got to see."

"Hmm," Fluke shrugged again.

"But, if I stayed here with you, Fluke, things just couldn't be the same. 'Cause I'm as free as a bird now, and this bird you can not change."

"Yeah, you're right," Fluke conceeded.

"Lord knows, I can't change," I grinned.

"Aw gimme a hug, ya old goobersmoocher," Fluke laughed and wrapped his arms around me.

I got up and walked out of the room. The hardest part was now upon me.

"Sniffy," I called. "Come here, girl."

Sniffy walked up to me slowly, her head hung really low.

"I'm sorry, girl," I gave Sniffy a big hug. "I just can't bring you back home. It would take, like, 8 years to get you through intergalactic customs."

The dog sniffed my ear sadly.

"Yeah, I know, I have to go, but I love you a lot, doggy. I'll stay here on Naboo until I can find a good home for you."

At that point, the doorbell rang. I reached to the knob, pulled it open, and saw two little dirty-faced tinkers.

"Please kind sir," said one. "Could you 'elp us out?"

"I am afraid that I don't have any shillings," I answered.

"No that's not it," said the other. "We've been watching you on the holovision."

"Ah," I chuckled. "And you want my autograph before I go, right?"

"No, sir," the first one replied. "Perhaps we could tell you our story."


"I'm Shroomer Twirl and this is my friend Savvy Swerver. We're orphans, sir."

"Orphans?" I replied, a bit surprised.

"Yes sir," said Savvy. "And Fine Ss'aik'ss, the headmaster of the Naboo Orphanage, would 'ave our 'eads if we don't get your dog."

"That doesn't seem reasonable at all," I answer. "He doesn't make you labor in a workhouse does he?"

"No no, he is a fine guardian," replied Shroomer. "'E sent us 'ere to get 'er as a pet, sir."

"What d'ya think, Sniffy?" I asked her. "You want to go with these boys?"

Sniffy woofed and leapt out the door at them. The two kids giggled an started chasing her around. That's really nice, I get to leave Sniffy here and they'll take good care of each other down at the orphanage.

Orphanage? Wait a minute.

"Say, boys," I called out. "You're not, er, planning on eating Sniffy or anything, are you?"

"Oh no sir," answered Savvy. "We're just gonna use 'er to fleece easy marks out of their 'ard-earned duckets, is all."

Der Final Two...

Viewers, guests, tomorrow oursa final challenge will beginnen. Issen time to decide whosa will be goin into der last round. Captain Typho hassen earned hissen place in der finals by droid-building prowess, but whosa shall accompany himsa, and whosa will be voten off?

Der tenth person to be voten out of der Big Brother House issen...

Jon der Intergalactic Gladiator: Yousa aresa der weakest link. Goodbye!

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Voten-Offen 10

Okeyday, thissen issen itsa. In a few days, wesa will be down to oursa final twosa. Captain Typho hassen won himsaself a place in der finals with hissen bombad D.E.E.J.A.Y. unit, but Fluke Starbucker and Jon der Intergalactic Gladiator aresa noah so lucky - theysa gonna have to relyen on oursa viewers' approval. Only one of theesen contestants can go on to der final round... whosa itsa gonna be?

Who should leave this week?
Free polls from

P.S. Will someone pleasy tellen Mister Vader mesa gonna fulfill mesa end of der bargain as soon as der show issen finished, so if hesa could noah kill mesa for a couple of weeks, thassen wouldsa be really great.

Friday, March 24, 2006

Challenge #10: Vader's Judgement

One of the irritating things about being dead is that I do not have the kind of control I would ideally like to have for controlling my corporeal manifestations. At one moment I am all pimped out in my black armour, and the next moment I am helplessly alternating between a twisted and scarred old man and my boyish good looks.

Let me assure you: nothing can ruin a pleasant chat over cocktails like spontaneously flitting from twenty to forty, pretty to burned. I was once interrupted right in the middle of what I thought was a very moving speech about sensible galactic governance by this buzzing little Toydarian bitch who kept asking, "Where did your eyebrows go?"

Nevertheless, to business: I have called from oneness with the Force in order to judge this contest, at the behest of my partner in evil, Jar Jar Binks. Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Binks. I know we have had our differences over my compensation package, but I think you will agree that we have now struck an equitable bargain. I suggest you pray that I do not alter the deal further.

To begin I had all three robots join me on the back terrace.

The first to arrive was Captain Tycho's DEEJAY unit, whose mode of locomotion is a mix between a slow shuffle and a non-traditional mambo. The unit did not stop its frenetic jigging even when it stood before me, so I froze all of its limbs with a twitch of the Force.

"Stay," I commanded.

I had to admire the classic styling of the helmet, as well as the conservative white colour scheme of the track suit, which stood in stark contrast to the mishmash of competing design motifs demonstrated by Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator's UTEP-1 protocol unit, which was next to arrive. UTEP-1 shuddered to a halt and proceeded to make an irregular buzzing noise as it stood in place.

"Stop making that noise," I instructed, to which the droid cryptically replied:

"My hovercraft is full of eels."

Finally we were joined by Fluke Starbucker's untitled chess-playing femmebot (UCPF) unit, which spun in and screeched to a halt, the vapour of burning rubber casting off her four wheels in a languid plume. "I am ready to serve you, Lord Vader," said the UCPF with excellent voice modulation and a flick of her purple tresses.

I started the evaluation with a simple interview.

"What is your function?"

"I lay down the tracks to bring funkiness to the max," reported DEEJAY.

"I am fluent in over six forms of communication," claimed UTEP-1.

"I run fast and hot," said the UCPF.

Next, for the purposes of benchmarking I had each of the droids run through a battery of standardized tests, including stacking heavy stones into a neat pile, solving a Hardy Boys mystery without reading the last chapter, and applying a sixty-four pixel Gaussian blur to a high-resolution image in Adobe Photoshop.

To explore their capacity for understanding the nuances of personality and behaviour I ordered the droids to each do an impression for me. DEEJAY did a reasonably credible if less than creative interpretation of a turntable, UTEP-1 imitated one of the statues outside of the Coruscant Legislature, and the UCPF did a more than fair portrayal of an X-34 Landspeeder complete with whining engines and sporty decals.

In the drama section of my testing the droids opted to recreate a historic scene in galactic politics together. After a few moments of consultation they trotted out and re-enacted the call for a no confidence vote in Valorum's leadership, with the UCPF playing the role of Queen Amidala, UTEP-1 playing Senator Palpatine, and DEEJAY lurching about with the two of them balanced on his back as he acted like a hovering podium.

"I have come befo you to resolve this attack on our sovereignty nouw," quoth UCPF, holding her head in an artificially static pose.

"Maintenant ils eliront un nouveau chancelier. Un chancelier fort. Un qui ne laissera pas cette tragedie continuer," promised UTEP-1 darkly.

"Ooooo-ooooo-ooooooo," hummed DEEJAY, bobbing up and down.

I had the droids fight each other, gladiator-style, as a test of their combat muscle, but we encountered an unexpected delay when UTEP-1 fell apart into about three dozen pieces upon first being struck by DEEJAY's funky hip-check. There was no one to view this except as a sign of sloppy construction. Upon further examination of the wreckage I was able to determine that an inferior brand of solder had been used on some of the components.

"Can we get a Wookiee in here to put this trash-heap back together?" I called.

"Buenos dias!" chimed the head of UTEP-1, rolling down the terrace steps.

When UTEP-1 was reassembled we began to final test: who had the best screen refresh rates for processor-intensive first-person-shooter gaming? DEEJAY scored very high on this test because of the integrated TFT screen behind his chest-plate, designed for displaying iTunes-style trippy graphics during performances. UTEP-1 lacked any kind of display mechanism but demonstrated a willingness (if not any great ability) to "act out" the first-person-shooter scenario. I am slightly abashed to report that the UCPF unit housed her display in an unmentionable place.

I then retired to my hyperbaric chamber to tabulate the scores and smoke a death-stick.

Afterward I recorporated in the livingroom and handed out my judgements, pleased to find myself appearing once again my black armour (though for some annoying reason my left leg remained fleshy, naked and youthful in undignified contrast). I limped awkwardly before the assembled droids, my hands clasped behind my back.

"I will now deliver my final judgement, and you will report back to your makers," I said.

"Cool, man," said DEEJAY.

"Ja," nodded UTEP-1.

"Anything you say, my Lord," replied the UCPF. "And I do mean anything."

Briefly I turned into a withered old man and then back again. I cleared my throat, my breathing natural and then electronic with alternate breaths. "The second place winner is Fluke Starbucker's Untitled Chess-Playing Femmebot."

The UCPF unit squealed and then drove around in excited circles until I stopped her using the Force. UTEP-1 and DEEJAY exchanged anxious glances.

"The first place winner is -- Captain Typho's DEEJAY. Better luck next time, Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator. Thank you for playing."

DEEJAY hugged UCPF and both hooted for joy. UTEP-1's shoulders sagged. "Oh God I'm so depressed," he said. "Here I am brain the size of a planet and I couldn't even win the challenge."

"That is the first intelligible thing you have said," I pointed out.

"Who cares?" grumbled UTEP-1, shuffling slowly away.

"It almost breaks your heart, doesn't it?" commented DEEJAY sadly.

"No," I said.

The droids left me, and I dissolved into the non-substance that fills time between the seconds. My covenent with you is fulfilled, Jar Jar -- I am released to the void, to commune with the Force, and to drink cheap wine and shoot my television when it offends me.

May the Force be will you all.

Starbucker: uh, so... do we get to keep 'em?

Oh, man! A droid building contest! I can handle this!

I knew just the thing to build, I immediately cut a piece of 2x4 wall stud out of the hallway with my lightsabre and began working...

Lightsabres are awesome tools for almost any kind of work imaginable...

... within just a few minutes, I was done!

I immediately ran over to Jon, giddy as a schoolgirl.

Uh, he was - not me.

Anyhoo, I proudly displayed my toil...


Free Image Hosting -

Jon looked at me quizzically, "what is that?..."

FLUKE: "Well, DUH! It's a racing droid!"

JON: "really."

FLUKE: "yeah, check it..."

I then ran up the stairs, set it down on the bannister, gave it a little nudge, and darted down the steps... sure enough, it beat me down...

FLUKE: "See? beat that!"

JON: "Well, that's pretty nifty, but I don't think that can be considered a droid. I mean, it didn't power itself, or compute anything, or served much purpose... it just relied on you and gravity for propulsion. I mean, heck - my Offical Jr. Intergalactic Gladiator buttons can do that."


Oh! What a crushing blow! Dismayed, but not defeated, and having plenty of time left, I began piecing circuitry together, while thinking of what I had seen around the house that could be used for an adequate host/case, but then I realized - I had not even considered what I wanted my droid to do.

Then it hit me... 'chess'! I could build a droid to play chess that would even rival JJ's magnificent game! I still don't know how he pulled off that win the other day...*grumble grumble*


Ok, once the chess playing circuitry was complete, I had to find something adequate to not only hold it, but be able to move and function as a chess player should.

While searching, I kinda wandered off to a room I had not been before when I came across a big box, with "real" something stamped across it. I opened it up and, WOW! It was a weird thing, but it should do nicely... I started hauling the box back to my work area.

JACK: "Hey, Mr. Starbucker, sir. That's Dave's."

FLUKE: "Huh?... Who?"

JACK: "Dave. The cameraman that yo.. he, uh... had that accident."

FLUKE: "Well, I'll buy him a new one later, right now I need it for this challenge."

JACK: "But, you can't just assume, er, you can't just take..."

FLUKE: "Listen, Jar Jar said I could use anything I found in the house."

JACK: "But, I ...uh"

FLUKE: "Will you be the one stopping me?"

JACK: "Well... no, sir."

FLUKE: "Then, outta the way, peck! Time's a wasting!"


Oh, man, as I began installing the circuitry, I realized I could tweak a few things, and add some wheels, and stil have a racer... and could give her some serious dexterity, so she could go make a sammich, or fetch a beer, or mix a complex drink... all while I sit and contemplate my next move over the chess board...
...she could even pole dance!
While adding this host of enhancements...

...I began to realize...

... I never before had seen...

a droid so...

correct before!

I finished her up and tested her out some, and had some time left, so I tricked her out a tad - headlights, running lights, chrome tailpipe... the works!

Man, I hope that judge with the funky blast helmet likes her...

...and I really hope I get to keep her afterwards!

Free Image Hosting -

Hmmm... What should I call her?

Starbucker Out

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Typho: That's Entertainment

A droid making competition? Well, that's not weird like some of the other tasks we've done lately...

I came up with an idea for my droid pretty quickly and I raided some other people's stuff to get the components I needed.

A warm up suit from JJ's room:

A pair of sneakers from Yoda's room:

A storm trooper helmet from the girls' room. Hey, what was that doing there anyway?

And some 12" singles from one of my roommates. I'm not sure if these belong to Fluke or Jon:

The guts of my droid came from various appliances and wiring around the house. I couldn't help be notice how we've been systematically tearing this place apart with each passing week. Let's just say that whoever finally wins this game will need to shell out some serious bucks for renovation.

This is my droid. I call him D.E.E.J.AY. -- Digital Electronic Entertainer Juiced for Active Youths:

It's not the most useful thing, but I might actually keep it.

Jon: Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto

Well, I have to admit building robots just isn’t my expertise. I sometimes get flack for being “just an Earthman” and it really chaps my hide. I know I don’t know how to make a warp bubble or build a transflux gentrifier, and I am definitely more comfortable fighting pirates or killer androids or something. But answer me this? How many engineers are there in this galaxy who could actually build a droid themselves? Very few, I’m certain.

So I am definitely not a rocket surgeon, but I do have an ace up my sleeve – or strapped to my sleeve as it were.

Using my Wristcomm (and you wouldn’t believe how happy I am that I brought this. It seems like it’s come in handy on almost every challenge), I called my ship and activated the ERD-21 Emergency Repair Droid. Of course, it would never pass off as a scratch-built robot, but he can help me make one.

The droid floated through the window and beeped to announce its arrival.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” I said. “I need your help to build a droid.”

[beep beep beep beep]

“Well, I know that’s not part of your programming. You’re not doing anything right now, so you might as well help.”

[beep beep beep beep be-beep]

“What do you mean you don’t want to?”

[beep du beep beep beep]

“You know what? Just give me a hand, OK? It’s not a big deal.”


“I’m a what?”


“Oh really?”

[beep beep]

“You know, I understand that the ERD-52’s are great machines. From all of those sales brochures that I’ve seen, they don’t sass-talk their owners or anything.”


“See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”

And with that, ERD-21 and I began pulling stuff that we though we could use for the robot. Though JJ got most of the good stuff for his I-SUC, I figured we could pull some of the computer equipment from the room and maybe raid the jawa’s room for anything left over.

Hours later, we got something put together, utilizing an old robot shell, a lot of spare parts and a pair of High-Tec boots. I figured my best chance would be to make a protocol droid and dubbed him Universal Translator Etiquette and Protocol 1, or UTEP 1, for short. I switched him on and he hummed to life. Time to test him out.

“UTEP 1, Ich will Sie lieben,” I said.

“I want to kiss your cat,” it answered.

“Hmmm, close, but not quite. I’ll try another. Votre diode semble jolie ce soir.”

“The bass is exquisite tonight, garcon,” UTEP answered.

This thing just isn’t getting the translations right, I thought. I’ll try one more.

“Ouldcay ouyay easeplay anslatetray isthay ithoutway ewingscray
itway upway?” I asked.

“Could you please punch me in the nose, jerky?” UTEP translated.

Man, this thing is way off. It looks OK for a robot, though. The judge may be an evil Sith Lord, but I don’t think that he’s a linguist, so I hope this thing’ll work.

At that point, Sniffy the Dog walked up to the new droid, gave a few sniffs and woofed.

“Hey, buckethead,” UTEP said. “Pet me.”

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Challengen #10

Jar Jar: Okeyday, contestants, thissen issen oursa penumul- pentamul- oursa second-to-last challenge. Three of yousa will comen in, only two will comen out again... Yoursa challenge issen: to builden a fully-functioning droid.
Yousa can maken a droid for any purpose - a protocol droid, an astromech, a kitchen wizard, whatsaeversa. However, yousa can only usen items yousa can finden inside der Big Brother House. Yousa haven six hours.
Der producers tellen mesa dat oursa final guest judge issen someone with loads of talent for builden droids. Yoursa judge issen... *Jar Jar takes an envelope out of his robes and opens it* Ani?

*Heavy breathing from offstage* Not quite...

Jon: Sniffy watched Ranae pack

She hung her head just a bit. People always say that animals can tell when something's going on. Ranae packed her bags, carefully placing some of the items just right.

If a dog could remember, right now Sniffy would be thinking about all the times Ranae scratched her in just the right spot behind the ear, the times she rubbed Sniffy's belly, the time she tossed a little bit of that scurrierburger from the barbecue and Sniffy leapt up and caught it.

Ranae walked up and gave Jon a quick hug, then another one to Fluke. She gave a third, lingering hug to Typho.

With a heavy sigh, she walked out the front door.

Sniffy watched from the window.

Monday, March 20, 2006

And den theresa were three...

Okeyday, der results for oursa shrubbery challenge aresa in, and der ninth person to be voten off of Big Brother: Naboo issen...

Lieutenant-Commander Oneida. Mesa sorry, but yousa aresa noah getten further dan thissen.

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Okeyday, mesa sorry for der delay, but one of der Jedi Knights Whosa Say "Ni!" slipped Lt. Cmdr. Oneida a hallucinogenic drug during der challenge and... yeah. Theysa were forced to leave without theirsa shrubberies, though, so theysa payen der price. Useless little... mesa hired themsa to *judge* the contest... *grumble*

Anyway, hersa issen der poll for yousa to vote whosa gonna leaven der Big Brother House thissen week.

Who should go this week?
Free polls from

Qui-Gon : Ni!

Oh... Huh huh, I have to judge this thing or we can't, like, go on, can we, man?
Well, all right, here we go.
Oh, man, I don't feel right doing this. You all worked really hard and, like, I want to be fair and, like, nice.
But, like, nice doesn't win you the bread in this gig, does it?
On to the judging.
Jon, man, you're cool. But, like, I want you to know that... I don't really like the Banana Phone song. The soundtrack that plays while I'm having a bad trip is the repeating rings and that one bloody goober saying Banana Phone like he's really into the song. So, your Banana Phone Shrub (which is more of a miniaturised tree or bonsai style presentation as opposed to a standard shrubbery), is impressive, but not not terrifying enough.
Typho, wow. You just, wow... With the bear and the hand... That hand was really far out. It looked something out of one of M.C. Escher's works, though no giant pen in hand. The Gungan head looked a bit like a K'lfornja Raasen though.
Oneida, dear. I wanted to give you time to show your work, as like, I totally understand losing time due to poppies, man.
Uh... Thing is, Typho and Oneida... As a Knight of Ni (Ni Wally!), *sigh* um, I have a bit of an issue... With, um, rabbits. I was a spy for the Ni (Ni Fatoomch!) and I happened upon the silly Arthur King and his silly silly men, like, in the den of Fwuffers, the Rabbit Guardian of the Sith and of Evil and Bad Times and Not Good Moments of Your Day.
Those cute bunny topiary pieces... They uh, make me think of Gawain... Like, dear, sweet, nice, over-make-up-ed, naive, Gawain. Beheaded by the fluffy daemon! ...Big pointy teeth... Lunging and... The blood, oh Graham, the horror! All five, uh, three that were killed that day...
But Fluke! You have captured my love of whipping stuff in a single shrubbery garden! Proving we are not men... We are um, pioneers who got scalped... But, uh, wow, really nice scalps. But, uh, did I really have to pay for parking and the admission fee to get in?
So, right, Fluke wins...
Now I need to go change my armour.
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Saturday, March 18, 2006

Oneida: Oh My, Look At The Time

Ok, so I totally have a good reason I’m late, really late, holy crap why-bother-posting late. I pondered this challenge, gave it deep and profound thought. While I sat outside in thought, I heard a rustling coming from one of the slightly more untamed areas of the yard. Thinking it a bird, I paid no heed to it. But then it giggled, so I went to go investigate. I peered through a break in the bushes, then walked into the pleasant little wilderness. I let my hand pass lightly over the smooth exterior of the trees that grew in the copse. Suddenly I felt like I was experiencing vertigo, everything began to spin. I shut my eyes tightly, and when I opened them again, I was no longer in the garden.

I was in the land of the shrubbery people. No kidding, seriously, part human, part shrub. See, I have pictures of said folk They were very friendly, and showed me all around their realm. After a day in their land, I bid them farewell and returned the same way I came. And then realized it was midnight Saturday in my land. D’oh.

well, Blogger let me post one more picture, so now you know I'm not making this up.

Yeah, so I’ll go pack, but I did bring you back something, Master Qui-Gon. Hope you like it.

Qui-Gon : Salad Days

Wow. Totally wow. This brings me back to something I'd forgotten a long time ago.
Those zany wacky Knights and me.
Right. Well, after my stint as Quiggy Starlust, I needed to lose myself. And for good reason. Did you ever actually see me as Quiggy? I mean, yes, I was one of three Jedi who could spar not only blindfolded, but in 3 inch stilettos (and I still have blackmail on the other two). But, like, seriously, what good does that skill do you when you are supposed to be living the boring chaste life of a Jedi?
But yeah, I think that... Um... Yes, right, train of thought derailed. No survivors.
Like, yeah. So, I was knighted, going on all these solo missions, trying to wean myself off the steady diet of ridiculous decadence that I was sustaining myself on. 200 green EMpire-M's in a shoe. What a nutritious dinner. Wow. Jurberry muffins with gold flecks in them. For some reason, I wanted to eat gold. And ate gold I did, man. Irrational exuberance.
I digress at, like, great length.
What was I trying to say? Something about Knights? Of Ni! Right!
I had toured in their part of the galaxy, In'Glend. I'd hit everywhere around there. Wembley, Brixton, Gummy Simon's Fish'n'Chips. Then came Die Landen wik Ni Peng Icky Icky Fatang Zoom Boingen, or simply, the Land of Ni. Totally surreal, man. The landscape was all these large 2-D pictures that looked to be cropped from magazines and adverts. At the time, they were a sight to be seen, but the likes of today, the effects are, like, seriously dated. There were flying hand birds and hand trees. I was lucky to have missed the Killer Cars.
Long story long still, I had toured there and when I needed to lose Quiggy but quick, man, I went there.
They were eclectic to say the least. More like stake raving mad, but...
Right, so, They didn't make me denounce my Jedi ways, I just had to, like, adapt to their culture. Steady diet of Spam. Exercise regiment with the Silly Walks training. Lack of outside contact as the radio had exploded. A dead parrot in every birdhouse and a Lumberjack headlining every cross-dressing karaoke night at the pub. Every man and his brother had a tape recorder up his nose. Half-a-bees called Eric were all from the same menagerie. There were loads of socials and Fish-Slapping Dances. Like, the lands were safe, as the holy hand-grenades had killed off all of the bunnies.
All was good...
Some fool Arthur King came through. He was all right, but he was known for insulting peasants and leaving the local Black Knight with flesh wounds.
He denied us our second shrubbery!
He denied us our tree chopped down with a herring!
But mostly he said the word that we Knights Who So Formerly Said Ni could say, let alone hear.
He bested us with but a word.
And, like, I got to thinking. A bloody word. These renowned Knights falling because of a little word. I was, like, a Jedi, man. Jedi don't get trumped by a word, unless that word is followed by a double-bladed lightsabre.
So, right. I handed over my horns and my smelly cloak of stench and got off the mailing list.
And, like, that is how I learned that new Krelm Toothpaste, with the Miracle Ingredient, Fraudulin, was better than the not white car.
I, um... I was going somewhere with this, man.
Judging! Right! I'm ready to judge this thing. I am stoked to see that everyone has taken interest into the keeping and manipulation of topiary gardens. Plants are, like, seriously good, man.
I'm just wondering why everyone is looking at me, like, I'm a jerk or something.
Well, like, let's get on with it!
ACK! I've said it! Nooo! I've said it again! The word that I cannot hear! Aaagh!

Thursday, March 16, 2006

Starbucker: Shrubber for hire

Why do they say 'Ni', anyway? There are far better words... like kumquat... why aren't they the Jedi Knights who say,'Kumquat'? That's what I would be.

JON: "Hey, Fluke, this is kind of a silly challenge... what are you gonna do?"

FLUKE: "Kumquat!"

JON: "Oooooo-kay."

While I wasn't actually certain just what I was gonna do, Jon happened to catch me at just the right time.

Immediately, I began pacing back and forth... wondering what to do... then, as if the FGotFotNJOw herself heard my mental pleas, I slipped on a banana peel and bonked my noggin on the corner of the coffee table. As I lay there on the floor, maybe bleeding to death, I had a vision... Five men... possibly soldiers from the future were concentrating on something on the ceiling - staring off into the corner over there... but then, the one closest to me looked me in the eye, and without speaking a word, told me what I had to do...

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I had to make an area of cone shrubs!... but where?

I immediately hopped up and ran outside. I chose the area out back.

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And brought in a dozen (or so) shrubs that I quickly shaped into cones, but durn it! It turns out they were unionized, and my shaping them infringed up upon their 'rights', so they began picketing me and chanting things like
"Say NO to Poodle Do!", and "We want Pruners, not a buncha Groomers!"

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Knowing what restless shrubberies like... I quickly calmed them down and was able to ease them into submission with a trusty FotNJOw hooka peace pipe.

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At that point, the shrubs began dancing around in a circle... and I had an epiphany - and it didn't even hurt! I thought... 'there must be some way to take advantage of these shrubs beyond simply entering them into a contest!' Quickly I channeled JJ's supreme entrepreneurial skillz, and decided to sell tickets to...

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Flukizmo's Magical Shrub Ride!

Now to sit back, and let the bank account swell up! Cha-ching!

Starbucker Out

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Typho: Topiary Madness

I've gotten so used to the wacky nature of Jar Jar's challenges that I didn't waste any time contemplating why a bunch of Jedi would say "Ni" or why they felt they needed plant sculptures.

You want it, you got it!

I decided to keep it simple and craft some regular bushes into (hopefully) interesting shapes.

I started by trimming some hedges into what was supposed to be reminiscent of a Gungan monument, but it was a little off:

Next I tried for something cutesy -- a teddy bear. Aww!

A bunny:

A giant hand:

I finished up with a trio of musicians. I think I saw something like this on one of Qui-Gon's old albums.

Or maybe not.

Jon: Shrubs R Us

The challenge was to put together a nice shrubbery, and in an hour. I wasn't sure what to do. Sitting and relaxing isn't normally my style, but maybe if I take a moment to think about it, I might be able to come up with something. This couch is comfortable, I can just sit... for... a.... Zzzzzz....

(cue wavy lines)

“Hey buddy boy-o-rino,” came a voice. “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake uuuuuuuup!”

“Huh? What?”

“I said ‘hey buddy boy-o-rino,’” said the voice. “‘Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake uuuuuuuup!’”

“Oh my—” I rubbed my eyes, looked at what was in front of me, then rubbed my eyes again. “Jo Jo… Is that you?”

“In the flesh,” the ghost of Jo Jo the Monkeyboy materialized in front of me. “Or, at least the ghostly equivalent of flesh, ha ha! Howya doin’ be-wauuuuuuuuuu-thhhhhh?”

I’ve seen those movies where ghosts terrify people. They hurl objects, they cause walls to bleed, they haunt TV’s, possess victims, and all other sorts of scary things. Seeing Jo Jo was more horrifying by far.

“What… are you doing here?”

“Oh that’s easy,” answered the (alleged) comedy relief specter. “Qui-Gon’s judging this challenge, and who knows Quiggy more than I-iggy?”

“Uh, his best chum JJ? His former padawan Obi Wan? His former master Yoda?”

“Gone, gone, gone, daddy, gone,” Jo Jo's ghostly mouth cranked up into a ghastly grin. “That leaves me, chummmmmm.”

“OK,” I answered. “So what’s the plan?”

“Oh, that’s easy, Chester. What do you think my main mucho mystic mango likes most of all?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “A bonsai tree?”


“A tree that grows brownies?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Something with five-sided leaves that grows under black lights?”

“No, no, no,” Jo Jo shook his head spastically. “See, you need my help-ully-elp, and I’m gonna give it to you but good, daddy-O.”

“So what is it, then?” I asked exasperatedly.



“Come on.”

“Argh, I said no,” I howled. “I already guessed. Just tell me.”

“Don’t be such a sourpuss, stick-in-the-mud, fussbudget, fusspot, old farrrr-fig-nougat,” he chortled maniacally. “I said that I was here to help, Chuckles.”

I rubbed my face and sighed heavily.

“OK,” I said. “Just lemme have it. Give it to me.”

“Oh this is no fun,” the spook pouted. “Come on, Chumbawumba, make it fun.”

“Alright, alright,” I rolled my eyes. “What is it, buddy boy joy goy troy, uh, rocco taco Morocco?”

“There you go,” he hopped up and down. “Was that so tough?”

“Jo Jo.”

“OK, OK, OK. Qui-Gonny loves bananaphones! Make him a bananaphone tree!”

(Cue wavy lines)

Wow, what an unusual dream.

Or was it?

Monday, March 13, 2006

Challengen #9

Jar Jar: Mesa issen proud to introducen… der Jedi Knights whosa say “Ni!”

Jedi Knights Who Say Ni: Ni!
Typho: You have *got* to be joking…
Jar Jar: Der Jedi Knights whosa say “Ni!” will be helpen to administraten yoursa challenge with theirsa formidible botanical skills.
Oneida: So, what is our challenge?

One of the Knights steps forward.

Master Mical P’lin: You must design for us… a shrubbery!

The contestants all gasp.

Fluke: Wait… why are we gasping?

Another of the Knights steps forward.

Master Jo’n Clees: And then, we want you to cut down the tallest tree in the forest with an Opee Sea Killer!

A third Knight interjects from behind.

Master Eirik Iddel: How can they cut down the tree if they can’t leave the house?
Master Jo’n Clees: Good point… okay, forget the tree. But you’d better make bloody good shrubberies.
Typho: So, will you six be judging the challenge?

The Jedi Knights Who Say “Ni!” huddle and confer.

Master Mical P’lin: We, the Jedi Knights Who Say “Ni!” have decided *not* to grant your request. But we will take your shrubberies when they are finished.
Jar Jar: Holden itsa, holden itsa-
Jedi Knights Who Say Ni: ARGH!!!
Jar Jar: Er... okeyday... whackos... issen lucky mesa haven a backup judge, then. Yoursa judge for thissen round of Big Brother: Naboo will be Qui-Gon Jinn.

Der terms of yoursa challenge: yousa can collecten some plants from der Jedi Knights Whosa Say “Ni!”. Theysa will noah chargen yousa for der plants, and theysa haven a wide selection to choosen from. Yousa can usen items from around der house in yoursa shrubbery, but yousa mussen includen plants as yoursa centrepiece. Yousa haven one hour. Begin!

Sunday, March 12, 2006

J.J.: Adios Amigos!

J.J. packs the last of his robes in a suitcase, and then carefully places the picture that Noel took of all the Big Brother contestants on top before closing it up. He closes his eyes and takes a big breath, savoring the holo-smell of sea salt and ocean breezes. He opens his little glowing eyes and scans the horizon: the waving palm trees, the bright sand, the crystal blue ocean, even the makeshift tiki-bar. He nods his head and smiles.

J.J.’s I-SUC droid wheels his way up to him, carrying one lone wooden crate.

I-SUC: Is that everything, sir?

For a brief moment, J.J. is lost in his thoughts, going over the last two months of his stay in this house. The lemon tree challenge…the drinking…the poetry…the drinking…the pirate attack…the drinking…

J.J.: Hmmm? Oh, yeah. We’re ready. I was just thinking of all the good times I had here.

J.J. then pulls out a cigar and lights it up.

J.J.: Ya know, SUC-man, I really enjoyed myself. I didn’t think I would when I signed on but I did. I enjoyed hanging out with everyone. Even Jaba…even though he used to beat me up after school for my lunch money way back on Tatooine.

I-SUC: But you didn’t win, sir. You didn’t even make it to the final four?

J.J.: oh, that’s all right. I came one short. And being a jawa, we always come up one short. …get it?

I-SUC: Unfortunately yes. Can I just stay here and hope the pirates return to destroy my circuits?

J.J.: Aww, come on I-SUC, We’re going home now. I’m taking you to a grand high rise apartment in Coruscant. You’ll love it there. You’ll love my roomie too. He’s a force ghost Jedi Knight. Knowing him, he’s been having the time of his life while I’ve been away.

I-SUC: So…he’s dead?

J.J.: In a way.

I-SUC: Do you think he can give me pointers?

J.J. sighs and shakes his head ever so slightly. He grabs his suitcase and opens the door to his holo-room.

J.J.: We’ll see. Come on, SUCy, I need you to deliver that crate in front of their room before they wake up.

I-SUC: Aren’t you going to say goodbye to them, sir?

J.J.: Naw. I ain’t good with goodbyes. That’s why I'm giving them this crate and note and stepping out before they all wake up.

I-SUC: What’s in the crate?

J.J.: It’s the last of the booze in my room. I figure the four of them could use it better then me. The note simply says “Congratulations, Jon, Typho, Oneida and Fluke for reaching the final four. I'm very glad it came down to you guys. You four are awesome in every respect. You’re all winners in my book. Here’s the last of my alcohol. I’m sure you guys will know how to polish it off. Have a drink on me. If any of you ever find yourselves in Coruscant after this game, you know you always have a place to stay with me and Qui.
Have fun. That’s what it’s all about. -J.J.”

The jawa then turns to his I-SUC droid carefully setting the crate next to the other contestant’s bedroom.

J.J.: Come on. We got to go now.

I-SUC: Are you sure you got everything?

J.J. pauses a moment and thinks. He finally shrugs his shoulders and walks out the Big Brother House with I-SUC right beside him.

J.J.: I think so. Anyway, If I did forget anything, I’m sure the others can take care of it. Come on, SUC-man, Our adventures have just begun.


Deep inside the tropical holo-room, the sound of an occasional ocean wave lapping on shore is the only noise to break the calming silence. The artificial heat radiating sun blazes low on the horizon casting cooling shadows underneath the palm trees.

A few monkeys suddenly scurry down the trees. The monkeys left over when Obi-Wan still resided in this very room. After a few moments, even more monkeys hop their way across the hot sand or down other palm trees to gather in a cool spot in the center of the holo-room.

One of the monkeys steps into the center of the crowd, lighting a cigarette and surveying his brethren. He nods with satisfaction at what he sees.

“Good. Very good. We are finally alone now. I thought that damn jawa would never leave. Now it is time to put our plans into action. Guido! Are your troops ready?

Guido cocks his gun. “Yes sir. All my men are armed and ready!”

“Good….good. Have everyone assembled at the door and prepared to move on my command. When the time is right…we strike! Not just this house…not just this planet…but the whole system will fall to our demands!!! Very soon…the universe will be ours!!!”

The gun totting simians raise their arms in undulating cries.


(the end…?)

Voten-Offen Number Eight

Yousa five hassen holden out well, but issen time for another "guest" to be voten out of der Big Brother House. Today, oursa loser issen...

Jawajuice. Mesa sorry, JJ, but yousa are outta heresa.

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Dooku: My, my, what have we here...?

Let's see what you've got, chaps...

(1) Lt. Commander Oneida

Dooku: So, what have we here, dearie?
*Onedia presents the Sith holocron*
Dooku: dear, do you know what you have here?
Onedia: ...well...
Dooku: This...this is a holocron!
Onedia: ...yes...
Dooku: Marvellous! I haven't seen one of these in years...let's take a look, shall we...?
Onedia: ...uh...
*Dooku concentrates, and a robed figure appears above the examination bench*
Holocron: I am Darth Bane, Sith Master.
Dooku: Darth Bane! A truly spiffing Sith Lord, if there ever was one.
Holocron: Use this to....*static*
*Oneida cringes*
Holocron: Check it, this is Ping Zorda, and I’m going to spare you some messed up [beep] from Darth Spanky Mc[beep]weasel there.
Dooku: ...
Oneida: Uh...
Dooku: ...
Oneida: ...look, I can explain -
*Dooku pockets the holocron, and stands*
Dooku: I've always wanted to be able to sing in Togarian.
*he moves to the next bench*
Oneida: ...well...that was odd.

(2) Jawajuice

*Dooku arrives at J.Js bench and sits down, picking up the shining gold jewellery*
Dooku: So...what have we here, old boy?
J.J: They' Yeah. Definately gold. Not an obscure human body part. Nope.
Dooku: I see.
*he raises the necklace to his monocle, examining it under the light*
Dooku:, my.
J.J: What?
Dooku: My dear chap...this is pure 8 carot human gallstone!
J.J: ...oh, is it?
Dooky: It is! Don't you know what this means?
Dooku: Gallstones are considered to have magical properties amongst many of the Geonosian tribes...absolute tripe, of course, but worth a sizeable amount none the less...
*he pockets the jewellery, then stands and leaves*
J.J: ....phew.

(3) Jon

*Dooku sits, then picks up the 'space combat simulator'*
Jon: Do ya like it? Do ya?
Dooku: My word...I haven't seen one of these in years...
*He picks up a few battleship markers, and places them on the board*
Dooku: B7. Miss!
*He laughs*
Jon: .....riiiighht.
Dooku: Now, what's this...?
*He picks up the tea set*
Jon: Well, it's a tea set from -
Dooku: Tea! How delightful! How about we share some tea right now, with this fine set of antiquitated goods...
*he bustles off to fetch his ever-ready supply of tea ingrediants, before being intercepted by Jar Jar and herded to the next table*
Jon: But you didn't even look at my...

(4) Captain Typho

*Dooku sits down, and turns to Typho*
Dooku: So, what do you have for me, old boy?
*Typho sets the 3 McDookus Happy Meal toys on the tabletop*
Dooku: ...I say! An absolutley spiffing display, eh what?
Typho: ...yeah.
*Dooku gazes at the figurines for some minutes, before standing and moving to the next table*
Typho: Hmm.

(5) Fluke Starbucker

*Dooku sits, only to be confronted with many a pile old buttons, keys, spoons, and an accordian.
Dooku: ...well, it's certainly old.
Fluke: Yeah, they're antiques, right! Y'know, old stuff.
Dooku: *picks up the accordian* What is this delightful object?
Fluke: It's...ummmm...a toaster.
Dooku: I see.
*he stands, pocketing the spoons*
Fluke (under his breath): Goobersmoocher.

I make my way to the lecturn where Jar Jar stands, microphone in hand, awaiting my announcement. I stop, and look around the compeditors for a minute.

Oneida, with that delightful holocron.
Jawajuice, tribal pendant and all.
Jon, tea set laid out.
Typho, toys at the ready.
Fluke, with...who knows what?

I smile, and make my decision.

And the winner is....

Captain Typho!

Now, chaps, you must vote for the next one to leave. A tough decision, to be sure....

Who should go, chaps?
Free polls from

Friday, March 10, 2006

Jon: Zzzzzzzzz



"Heee hee hee hee hee!"


"Heh heh haw haw! Ha ha ha!"

"Zzzzzz....nxx... Huh...?"

"Ha ha ha ha ha!"

"Fluke! Are you reading that comic again?"

"Heh heh heh heh heh... uh, what comic, Jon?"

"That Hammerhead comic. You've barely put that thing down since I bought it."

"I can't help it, it's soooo funny. Did you read the story where Hammerhead has too many scurrierburgers and bluemilkshakes and his belly is cartoonishly distended?"

"Uh, yeah, Fluke, I have. I think they do that bit every issue."

"Well, they should. It's comedy gold!"

"Yeah, well can you keep it down? It's late."

"Sure, Jon. No probleminissimonito."

"OK, thanks."

"Ha ha ha ha ha!"

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Starbucker: What a load of crap *ahem* wonderful stuff!

Anti-quing. hm. Impressing Dooku with anti-quing. Maybe this show doesn't have that much of a budget after all...

As I walked through all the setup displays... I'm reminded of that dude that I bought all the room decorations from... his little traveling set-up had a look similar to many of these, uh... these, things here... but at least his stuff seemed to have use... this stuff just looked so... lame.

So, what are these things? I asked a dealer... trying to look interested...

As the dealer spoke some gibberish to me, my mind began to wander... I though back over the days I'd been spending in the BB:N house...

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yack, yack, yack

I thought of the time I had spent in the Tattooiney heat on Survivor...

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blah, blah, blah

I thought to myself "my back is kinda hurtin..."

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I thought of the daring-do's I'd done...

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...and the not-so-daring don't's that I did anyhoo...

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will he ever shut up?

Then, I remembered what I was supposed to be doing, and the Iorthian was still yammering... am I supposed to understand these creatures? Oh, hey look over there... Jon's found a cool simulator...

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I don't think he's even taken a breath yet

...and there's Jardena - wow... she is one cutie! If only I wasn't just a lowly wannabe... *sigh*

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Does anybody ever even read these?

Good gosh, how long can an Irthorian gab?

WHAT!!!! What did Jar Jar just say? Only two minutes left!? Holy Crap!

Uh, How much for that box over there? Yeah, That one... I don't care if you haven't unboxed any ofit... Just how much? 50? Cool, gimme.

Lessee what we got here...



What kind of crap is this?

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Man, lookit this crap... Oh, well, a goobersmoocher like Dooku will prolly luv it.

Starbucker Out