BoloOfEarth

Overheard in class:  "When you buy gas, you're buying liquid exploding dinosaurs. It's pretty cheap if you think of it that way."

Soooo...  We have a new winter storm approaching.  Winter Storm Thor.
 
I was wondering how much Marvel paid to have that name inserted into the list, and pointed out to my daughter that this begs the need to have Hurricane Hulk.
 
She said, "No, we need Winter Storm Bucky.  'It'll be tough, but we'll have to Soldier on...'"

The knock was quiet, hesitant, as if the person outside wasn't sure this was the right door.  Reginald, majordomo for the Morpheum Club, opened the door to see a  young lady in a gingham dress with only a light cloth jacket to protect her from the cold outside.  Her long brown hair was tied back with a red ribbon.  "Good afternoon, miss.  Please, step inside.  You must be freezing out there."
 
The girl nodded, her teeth chattering, and stepped inside, being careful not to brush against Reginald.  "I...  I'm not sure if I should have come here.  He gave me this..."  She showed Reginald a small business card, frayed at the edges and a bit stained with blood, with the Morpheum Club's address still readable under a bloody thumbprint.  "... as he was dying.  That, and this."  She held up a brass pocket watch with a large bullet hole through it.
 
"Who was it that gave you that card, miss?  And that watch?" Reginald asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.
 
"He said his name was Nicky."
 
"Young Nicholas."  Reginald shook his head sadly,  "And you say he died?  A pity.  Sir Graham was rather fond of the lad."  As the girl's eyes began to tear up, Reginald went to take her arm and lead her into the study.  "There, there, mi..."  She tried to pull away, but wasn't able to before he touched her -- and then he disappeared.
 
The girl sat on the floor and began to cry in earnest.  "Why is this happening to me?  What is happening?  Where am I?" 
 
After a few minutes, Reginald reappeared, moving as he had been before he disappeared.  "... ss.  No need to..." He stopped, startled to find her now sitting on the floor a few feet away from him, and paused in thought.  "Temporal displacement of others.  Apparently involuntary.  How fascinating," he said quietly, then knelt across from the girl.  "Relax, child, you're safe here.  No need for tears."  He took out a handkerchief and let it drop onto her leg.  "Where are you from, miss?"  Taking a look at her clothing, and noting the way she jumped when a car horn sounded outside, he added, "And when -- what year was it before you arrived here?"
 
"I'm from Oak Junction.  Kansas Territory.  And it's 1843."
 
"Not at present," Reginald said kindly.  "There's no easy way to say this, miss.  You have been moved through time, to 2015.  Apparently because of that."  He nodded at the broken pocket watch.  "But perhaps one of the members of the Club can help return you to your home, and your time."
 
- - - - -
 
Unfortunately, that hasn't worked yet.  Every time Sarah Wilder was taken back to 1843, she immediately returned to 2015.  Now known to the other club members by the nickname SkipTime, she is trying to get used to a completely different world.  She has learned how to somewhat control her ability to make anybody touching her  (or anything she touches with her hands) skip forward anywhere from a few seconds to a few hours forward in time.  She can now keep from automatically "skipping" someone in time with minimal effort.  With concentration and a little luck, she can specify how far forward she sends somebody.  With extreme concentration and a lot of luck she's even been able to send someone else backwards in time (though not extremely far - the longest she's done is a few hours).

The Morpheum Club
 
on a quiet street in central London is a classic town house belonging to a singular club founded by Sir Graham Warming who suffers from a rare medical condition that causes him to lapse into periodic comas in which his body is seemingly kept in suspended animation the first time he fell into a coma  in 1810 he awoke 50 years later un-aged to find the world much different.
 
His wealth was much greater due to the powers of compound interest for the next several years he learnt all he could of the new world he met several other individuals who had similar experiences immortals time travelers and dimension hoppers.
 
 due to his fear of the next time he would go into stasis he established the Morpheum club a place to maintain his body during his suspensions and provided with an in house librarian and historians who would create a definitive history for him. the Morpheum club is now a home away from home for the temporally or reality displaced with several specialists who help people adjust to the current time line the library has the finest collection of current events, histories, futuries and otherries in the world maintained by specialist librarians and historians  the kitchen is superb and the chef is an expert at historical cuisine and the club has a very interestingly stocked wine cellar. the sleeping sir warmings is attended to in a bunker beneath the club and the upper floors contain a number of rooms for members without other accommodation.
 
membership is open to anyone from another time or reality weather traveler, accidentally displaced or immortal 
 
describe 6 current members of the club.

(May Seeker and Paul Hogan both have mercy on my soul.)
 
Finder is a full-blood Japanese man who traveled to the Australian outback and learned how to wrestle crocodiles and use aboriginal magic from a mystic master there.  In his floppy shark-tooth hat, khaki pants and vest, and boots, he's quite the striking figure, even if he's a bit short.  And his machete... now, that's a knife!

I'm thankful my daughter's high school was (and hopefully still is) an exception.  When she was in middle school, she was one of five students in her class tested early in the school year and moved ahead a grade in math.  Everyone in the group was female.  That group of students stayed a grade ahead in math throughout the rest of their schooling; they were joined by two boys in high school who were similarly skilled in math.   It was interesting watching how the group all supported and challenged each other to excel. 
 
FYI: my daughter is currently pursuing a degree in environmental engineering and considering a double major with mathematics.  Wish I could claim some credit, but she's the one with all the focus and drive.

I'm almost positive it was a no-knock warrant.  The guy they were going after was wanted for murder, for shooting and killing a teen two days before.  I know it was technically the wrong address -- it's a two-story house split into two separate apartments, with two separate exterior doors at opposite ends of the front porch - one door leading upstairs to the flat they were raiding, and the other opening into the ground floor where the girl was shot and killed.  The officers went in both doors during the raid.
 
What gets me about this is that they were filming the raid for a reality show (A&E's "The First 48").  A Special Response Team (basically SWAT) conducted the raid, using flashbangs and SMGs.  Unfortunately, the TV show cameras were outside and didn't get the shooting on film, so it comes down to he-said, she-said -- the officer (Joseph Weekley) said the girl's grandmother jumped up and smacked his gun, causing him to pull the trigger and shoot the girl.  The grandmother says she was on the floor when the gun went off.
 
Weekley is no green cop.  During the first trial, he said he's served 300 warrants during his seven years on the SRT at the time of the shooting, and has been first man through the door for about 100 of those.  So this is somebody quite experienced.  And has appeared multiple times on "The First 48."
 
The cynical side of me is wondering whether the raid being filmed had an effect on the mindset and conduct of officers conducting the raid.  Something like, "Gotta make this look good - it's gonna be on national TV." 

So, a divorced woman puts out a personal ad in the paper:
 
"WANTED:  a man who won't hit me, or leave me, and somebody who is a good lover."
 
A few days later, her doorbell rings.  When she answers the door, she sees a man in a wheelchair sitting there, without arms or legs.
 
"I'm here to answer your ad," he says.
 
"I think you must be mistaken," she says.  "I don't think you fit the ad."
 
"Of course I do," he replies.  "I have no arms, so I can't beat you.  And I have no legs, so I can't run away from you."
 
"But what about the 'good lover' part?" she asks.
 
"Lady," he says, "how do you think I rang the doorbell?"

The Detroit Lions win the Super Bowl.
 
 
 

The Detroit Lions win the Super Bowl.
 
 
 

The Detroit Lions win the Super Bowl.
 
 
 

Re: NGD Scenes from a Hat
 

Lady Elisabeth Frost was an aristocratic English woman who always had a nack for the occult, and the attitude of 'I am a aristocrat...I do whatever I want, whenever I want'. She studied magic of elemental darkness and ice and became the supervillianous sorceress Black Ice. She plans of joining Eurostar one day...
 
 
 

Paul Keller loved the sport of darts. True, people mock it but it always appeared that they missed the point to Paul. He studied hard certain that if he did he could get into aerodynamics and design his own darts and get into tournaments. While he was diligent and his test scores proved good enough, his tutors were openly critical of the idea of using the skills he was acquiring to design darts. They had a higher tolerance of paper planes.
Undeterred Paul continued and got into college studying aerodynamics. However the faculty was openly disdainful of darts playing and had it bannedon the grounds that drunken jocks and sharp missiles don't mix well. The local hostelries were also against the students coming in to play any sort of game as they feared ringers taking them for large amounts of cash. It had happened before with poker, pool and find the lady. So Paul had no outlet to show his designs and skills. He continued his work and what he considered his vocation. He even designed his own flights (what the professionals call darts). And companies expressed interest in marketing them.
Then came his big chance during an open tournament. He got through the preliminaries and was going to compete against professionals when another player accused him of being 'too healthy for a dart player' and using asbestos in his darts. While it was true he did not have the bulk (ie beer belly) of the usual darts player and was young and attractive, he certainly did not use asbestos in the darts. The authorities at the event paniced and persuaded him to pull out but the Grudge Report stated that the whole thing was true and Paul was banned from all events and treated as a pariah.
Paul was devastated and vowed revenge. If he could not compete legally, he would compete illegally. He designed new trick darts and became the Prismatic Flight.
 
 
 

The masked wrestler known as Excavador is known to be gallant to women, polite to everyone he robs, and capable of ripping a vault door off its hinges. He even insures a fair fight with any hero who tries to stop him. That's why he is Excavador, the valiant villain.
CES 

Discovering that somebody has stolen the hubcaps.  And the engine.

So, a divorced woman puts out a personal ad in the paper:
 
"WANTED:  a man who won't hit me, or leave me, and somebody who is a good lover."
 
A few days later, her doorbell rings.  When she answers the door, she sees a man in a wheelchair sitting there, without arms or legs.
 
"I'm here to answer your ad," he says.
 
"I think you must be mistaken," she says.  "I don't think you fit the ad."
 
"Of course I do," he replies.  "I have no arms, so I can't beat you.  And I have no legs, so I can't run away from you."
 
"But what about the 'good lover' part?" she asks.
 
"Lady," he says, "how do you think I rang the doorbell?"

"Kent. This is God. Have you been touching yourself again?"

An all-mime a cappella group.  (Though to be fair, their air guitar bit is pretty impressive.)
 
NT:  The worst possible advertisement to air during the Super Bowl.

Can't remember if I've told this one here, and with the Search disabled I can't check, so I'll assume not.
 
A man walks into a bar, walks up to the bartender, and says, "I'll bet you a beer I can bite my left eye."
 
It's a slow day and the bartender's bored, so he shrugs and says, "Sure, why not?" 
 
And the man takes his glass eye out and bites it, then wipes it and puts it back in.  The bartender laughs and pours him a beer.  The man takes a drink and says,  "Okay, now I'll bet you $50 I can bit my right eye."
 
The bartender pauses before answering.  The man walked in on his own, didn't seem blind, and looking close it certainly looks like a real eye.  Finally, he says, "Okay, fine.  Let's see you try."    And the guy takes out his false teeth and uses them to "bite" his right eye.
 
"Okay, fine, you tricked me," says the bartender as he hands the guy the money.  The man thanks him, takes his beer, and has a seat.  He uses some of the money to buy a round of drinks for the few people there, then strikes up a conversation with the four guys at the table next to his.
 
After about a half hour, the man walks back up to the bartender.  "How'd you like a chance to win back your money, and then some?"
 
The bartender cautiously asks, "How?"
 
"Well, I have incredible control of my ability to pee.  In fact, I'll bet you $100 I can stand on that end of the bar, and you could stand on the other end with a shot glass, and I can pee and get every drop in the glass." 
 
The bartender looks incredulous.  The bar is over 20 feet long, and he's sure nobody's ever pissed that far, let alone with any accuracy.  But he'd been burned by this guy before, so he figures there's some trick to it.  "No deal.  You've got some trick up your sleeve."
 
The guy chuckles.  "It's not my sleeve the trick's up, believe me.  Tell you what, we'll up it to $200 and you can move the glass any way you like to try keeping me from getting any in it."
 
The bartender thinks long and hard about it, but he can't see any way the guy can trick him.  So finally he says, "All right, you've got a bet."
 
So the man climbs onto the bar, and the bartender moves to the other end with a shot glass.  The man unzips his fly and begins to pee.  At first, the bartender starts moving the glass, but the guy isn't even coming close.  After a moment, the man say, "Okay, fine, you win," zips up his fly, and climbs down. 
 
He hands the bartender $200, which gets tucked into a pocket before the bartender grabs a towel and begins cleaning off the bar.  Chuckling and shaking his head, the bartender says, "You had to know you couldn't do it.  Why'd you make that bet?"
 
 
 

And when the people all got in... it seemed bigger on the inside. 
 
(Sorry, I couldn't resist.)

Roly - Poly thought that it was the worst thing ever to be picked on for being overweight.  Then he became a fat mutant and found that it could get worse.
 
But his new rock hard carapace on his back turned him into a dynamo or destruction.  Those who had made fun of him for being as wide as he was tall, and so slow he could barely keep up with stationary objects found that when Roly - Poly pulled in his arms and legs, he could roll along faster than a speeding car and could crash through concrete walls unharmed.  Roly - Poly joined Tons of Fun to teach the world that bigger really is better.

Sebastian Quan, Esq. started his professional career as a hero-hater.  He was convinced that these "masked hoodlums" were reckless lawbreakers that needed to be taken down, and used his considerable legal skills to that end.  He didn't notice, though his friends and family did, that he was becoming steadily more irrational on the subject.
 
Then came the night when he was kidnapped by a villainous group that wanted to gain access to the extensive database his office had created of dirt on superheroes.    When the Champions attacked the baddies, Mr. Quan disregarded his own safety and strode into the middle of the battle to harangue the heroes.  A mishap involving magical probability bolts, radioactive waste and an exploding Malvan hyperdrive component put the lawyer into the hospital.
 
When he awoke several days later, Sebastian found his mind clearer than it had been for years.  He now remembered meeting with a man who later became notorious as a mind-controlling supervillain, and being subjected to brainwashing.  This same villain had repeated the process several times to keep him enthralled.  That villain visited Mr. Quan in the hospital, but this time his powers had no effect, and the villain was captured.
 
Under the circumstances, Sebastian Quan felt obligated to undo some of the damage he had caused, and his law firm now aids superheroes with legal issues.  You accidentally blew up the mayor's car?  Your trademarked catchphrase is being used without payment?  You need zoning clearance for your hero base?  You don't understand the difference between a felony and a misdemeanor, and the other heroes laugh at you?  Angels' Advocate will help you out.

Can't remember if I've told this one here, and with the Search disabled I can't check, so I'll assume not.
 
A man walks into a bar, walks up to the bartender, and says, "I'll bet you a beer I can bite my left eye."
 
It's a slow day and the bartender's bored, so he shrugs and says, "Sure, why not?" 
 
And the man takes his glass eye out and bites it, then wipes it and puts it back in.  The bartender laughs and pours him a beer.  The man takes a drink and says,  "Okay, now I'll bet you $50 I can bit my right eye."
 
The bartender pauses before answering.  The man walked in on his own, didn't seem blind, and looking close it certainly looks like a real eye.  Finally, he says, "Okay, fine.  Let's see you try."    And the guy takes out his false teeth and uses them to "bite" his right eye.
 
"Okay, fine, you tricked me," says the bartender as he hands the guy the money.  The man thanks him, takes his beer, and has a seat.  He uses some of the money to buy a round of drinks for the few people there, then strikes up a conversation with the four guys at the table next to his.
 
After about a half hour, the man walks back up to the bartender.  "How'd you like a chance to win back your money, and then some?"
 
The bartender cautiously asks, "How?"
 
"Well, I have incredible control of my ability to pee.  In fact, I'll bet you $100 I can stand on that end of the bar, and you could stand on the other end with a shot glass, and I can pee and get every drop in the glass." 
 
The bartender looks incredulous.  The bar is over 20 feet long, and he's sure nobody's ever pissed that far, let alone with any accuracy.  But he'd been burned by this guy before, so he figures there's some trick to it.  "No deal.  You've got some trick up your sleeve."
 
The guy chuckles.  "It's not my sleeve the trick's up, believe me.  Tell you what, we'll up it to $200 and you can move the glass any way you like to try keeping me from getting any in it."
 
The bartender thinks long and hard about it, but he can't see any way the guy can trick him.  So finally he says, "All right, you've got a bet."
 
So the man climbs onto the bar, and the bartender moves to the other end with a shot glass.  The man unzips his fly and begins to pee.  At first, the bartender starts moving the glass, but the guy isn't even coming close.  After a moment, the man say, "Okay, fine, you win," zips up his fly, and climbs down. 
 
He hands the bartender $200, which gets tucked into a pocket before the bartender grabs a towel and begins cleaning off the bar.  Chuckling and shaking his head, the bartender says, "You had to know you couldn't do it.  Why'd you make that bet?"