realsafetyczar-blog

[realsafetyczar-blog]

A Brief Update

I have been making oblation to the safety gods. I cannot say where I am right now, except to say that ISPs here charge by the minute. And I have to use a telephone to access the Internet. And I'm lucky to get 14.4 kilobits per second. And here are no pistachions. Anyway, I am well, wherever I am. No doubt my Safety Czardom in Danville has been taken over by that pistachion impostor. Do not heed any of his dictates, though he hold the Rubescent Octagonal Sceptre! I shall abide here until I receive word that the pistachion regime has been overthrown.

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The Pistachions Aren’t Looking

I have written two pairs of quatrains in the style of Nostradamus, explaining my current situation. At the time of writing "Nostramurphus #1", I was given another assignment by my pistachion captors to write another paean to King Pistachion. That is the "tummyrot" which the "nuts" bring me: propaganda to disseminate through this medium. I have to do it, or else I lose my bed. "Praise Be to the Pistachions" was my first such piece. (I also happen to have a minor allergy to pistachioes, so the "tummyrot" line has a double meaning.) I still cannot say the reasons I was "far, far away" without harming people important to me. As I wrote "Nostramurphus #1", I could not take too many risks. I have yet to atone for the many safety violations I committed in the course of this mystery. You all know that I am "the caution king, the safety czar", so I would not write such revealing text as this without knowing I was safe. But meanwhile, the pistachion which was made to impersonate and look like me has been given access to this account, which they gained from me by torture. This pistachion has already written three more hagiographies on the King, so be aware that he may post them in the near future. The reason I feel safe enough to write this is because I have a ready means of escape. By the time you read this, I shall be "über alle Berge", well out of the pistachions' reach. To them I say: Do your worst, you polyphyletic abominations! Oh yeah: and Happy New Year.

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Here’s Disney XD’s Schedule for Next Week, December 31, 2018-January 6, 2019.

There’s a Big Hero 6 Marathon for a whole day New Year’s Eve 12/31 with a Milo Murphy’s Law Marathon on New Year’s Day 1/1 from 6 AM-5 PM.

Thursday, 1/3 begins the Phineas and Ferb Marathon continuing until Saturday, 1/5 leading up to the 1-Hour Season 2 Premiere of Milo Murphy’s Law, “The Phineas and Ferb Effect” which will also simulcast on Disney Channel.

Finally, there’s two New Episodes of Avengers: Black Panther’s Quest airing Sunday 1/6.

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Nostramurphus #2

There is an evil Happening, Right now before my very eyes. I see that nuts are ripening, And trees with minds begin to rise. This tree can write, and it has done, Impersonating queens of risk. Perhaps I'd better quickly run, Or else endure a stop-and-frisk.

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Nostramurphus #1

Where nuts are found, there seek me not, For they do bring me tummyrot. I've spew'd it forth to keep my cot, And written nonsense quite a lot. Some time I've been far, far away, For reasons which I cannot say. But please forgive my long delay, for where I am I hold no sway.

[realsafetyczar-blog]

Reblog if you want a Dwampyverse convention.

[realsafetyczar-blog]

Praise Be to the Pistachions

Praise be to the pistachions, for they have delivered us wretched humans from ourselves. We all are evildoers in their sight, and they would be well within their rights to put us all to death. But how merciful are they! for, in exchange for granting us our lives (which, it must be repeated, we do not deserve,) all they ask of us is our eternal fealty and obeisance. A small price to pay, is it not? Woe unto him that has ever had an ill thought toward a pistachion, and not repented of it! You know that I once opposed the pistachions, and I devoted every waking hour to defeating them — this in spite of being a witness to the Divine King Pistachion (be he praised!) I was reprobate, and in that state it would be just for him to torment me eternally. But one day, a friendly pistachion took me aside and said, "Let us teach you the true history of the world." He, and several of his fellows, disabused me of the false notions which the degenerate educational system of mankind implanted in me. This is the true history of the world. Tens of millions of years ago, the apotheosis of terrestrial life appeared, than which nothing greater was, is, or can be: Pistacia vera. These plants had compassion on our contemporaneous primate ancestors and directed their evolution into Homo sapiens. As soon as man could understand gods, the pistachio trees revealed their true nature unto him. The sheer profundity thereof baffled man's weak mind twenty thousand ways, whence we have religions. Nevertheless, the pistachioes had mercy upon us, and subtly educated us in the ways of the world. Finally, man waxed smart enough to understand King Pistachion's true nature (be he praised!) He first revealed himself to the ancient king Balthazar, who had thitherto served him faithfully. But King Pistachion was wroth with Balthazar's page Ezra, whom Balthazar loved more than the King, and therefore King Pistachion smote Ezra. For that Balthazar turned his back on King Pistachion, and the King therefore saw fit to strip him of his blessings. He and Ezra thereafter plotted against King Pistachion (be he praised!) and became reprobate. I myself saw King Pistachion (be he praised!) at his second coming, the glory whereof I could not stand, and I turned aside. Nevertheless, I saw him, howbeit with a mere glance. But the humans received not their King: they fought against him, and they drove him away in their perfidy. Still King Pistachion's trunk is full of mercy towards us: (be he praised therefore!) he has sent us his Prophet and Son Derek, who is in one fully pistachion and fully man. Even this was not enough for me, for I was so reprobate that I rebelled against the truth when it was made manifest. The Prophet Derek has persuaded me of the true nature of things. King Pistachion created man. Man is the servant of King Pistachion. All man's faculties of reason flow out of the King (be he praised!), and it is therefore folly to presume to reason, and yet deny King Pistachion. Whatsoever King Pistachion does is right; therefore, man's morality flows out of King Pistachion, and it is therefore folly to presume to be moral, and yet deny him. The pistachions have only ever worked for man's weal, and he therefore owes them everything. Praise be to the Pistachions! I am but a minor witness. If you will not believe me, you will not believe Derek, and if you will not believe Derek, you will not believe the King that sent him (be they praised!) At the end of days, King Pistachion will return to Earth a third time to gather his own into his kingdom, and destroy them that rejected him. So let it be.

[realsafetyczar-blog]

Do you know when milo murphys law is airing its phineas and ferb cross over

Hopefully in September, maybe?? Your guess is as good as mine. 

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/* I can probably translate, if I can only get access to the German version. */

The event of the century is happening on Germany to Sept 10 ! on Disney Channel USA join the party

[realsafetyczar-blog]

Elliot Decker at the Imperial Academy

A Star Wars AU or Crossover, Which May or May Not Connect to That of "Phineas and Ferb Star Wars". The news of Alderaan's destruction stunned all of us at the Academy; some were appalled, but more were thrilled. It was such a deed as admits of no neutrality of opinion towards it. After the shock of the news wore off all of us, we began to chat among ourselves. One cadet said, "It's high time the Empire show its strength!" Said another, "I know, right? The government under the Republic was weak, letting itself be trampled by local interests. Governor Tarkin is just the sort of leader the Empire needs; he won't brook any rebellion." Said a third, "Tarkin's not afraid to show the galaxy he means business! Would that all governors were like him!" Such sentiments were shared by all my desk-neighbours. They sickened me with cognitive dissonance. I had wished to go into law enforcement to protect the galaxy from crime and disorder; to keep the citizenry safe. Joining the Empire seemed like a good way to do it at the time. But now that they had killed billions of civilians at a stroke, imposing on them the ultimate unsafety, I was not so sure. My unease must have shown on my face, because Nicholson, one of the junior cadets, said mockingly, "Decker, what's wrong? Have you been turning rebel?" Reflexively I answered, "No! Of course not!" Nevertheless, I tried to hide for the rest of class. After class, I went toward my dormitory, but found my way blocked by an anti-Imperial demonstration. A large crowd of many species — Humans, Twi'leks, even Gungans — was advancing toward me; I scurried away like a frightened womp rat. Having sequestered myself in a shelter, I heard blaster fire and turned round to look at it. A platoon of Stormtroopers had been deployed and was firing on the demonstrators. From what I could see, no one fired back. To my amazement, I saw a few cadets among the demonstrators. When I saw this, I said within myself, "I've no excuse anymore." That same day, I turned in my uniform and put as much distance as I could between myself and the Imperial City.

[realsafetyczar-blog]

Murphy’s Law and the Pistachions

I have spent a lot of time pondering how something as utterly ridiculous as sapient pistachio trees taking over the world could possibly happen. Nevertheless, it has happened, and because of it, I, Elliot Decker, am of late the Safety Czar in exile. They have found me and driven me far from my seat of power. If we are to combat anything, we must understand its origins and methods. I have devoted the past year to finding out the origins and methods of the pistachions, as they are called. As far as I can determine, the pistachions have come in two waves, the present one being the first chronologically, but the second causally, because of the involvement of time-travel. However, I have not put much study to the more general trend of calamities occurring in preposterous degree and number around Milo Murphy — until just yesterday, when I sought all publicly available information on him. This study has enlightened me so much that I wonder that I haven't done it before. Milo Murphy (born about 2003) is a descendant of Elias Murphy (1813-1900). I shall not duplicate his full genealogy here, but it is available on request. Suffice it to say that Murphy's law (as it is called) only affects sons of Murphy, and never daughters. The cause of Murphy's law is unknown; I suspect it is one or two trickster gods who inflict it upon us for their own amusement and that of their fellows, vexing me in particular. Nonetheless, it began about 1831 and affected Elias, the only son of his parents; he was then about eighteen. Eventually it grew so intolerable to them that they disowned him. He roved from people to people until at last the Navaho expelled him from among them, and he established a homestead in the desert, which grew by degrees due to the great stranding of time-travellers which occurred around him. From that stranding, I conclude that the effects of Murphy's law are free to propagate forward or backward in time, or even up and out of it, according to caprice. I have on the authority of Vinnie Dakota that time-travel is not conducted in space-time as such, but in a separate "time-stream". This seems to suggest that Murphy's law reaches right out of time itself, and is, in a sense, transchronological. I am already familiar with the nature of Murphy's law's effects, inasmuch as I have had to deal with them from Milo Murphy daily. They are barely-plausible chain reactions resulting in destruction and/or injury. At this point in my research, I supposed that Murphy's law might have something to do with the pistachions. One day, I was reclining and watching Doctor Zone on broadcast television (I am indeed incorrigibly old-fashioned). The commercial break advertised a documentary on the history of the "new order," as the pistachions sometimes call themselves, to air right after Doctor Zone. I stuck around to watch it. In expectedly hagiographical tones, it talked about the founder of the order, Derek: how he founded Doctor Zone in 1965, which he used to fund his "undoing of the slothful humans by the very thing they love the most: entertainment"; how his father, King Pistachion, arose fifty-odd years later and was destroyed shortly thereafter, but King Pistachion will, 150 years hence, gender Derek; and so forth. At that part of the documentary, I hoped for an explanation of the origin of King Pistachion, but I was disappointed herein. "Causes following their effects," I thought within myself. "This implies time-travel." I took out the device I had found in the sewers beneath Lard World and inspected it. There was a label on it: "PROPERTY OF BUREAU OF TIME TRAVEL / DO NOT TAMPER" — beneath it another, smudged label: "IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO", and in handwriting: "B. Cavendish & V. Dakota, 1220 S. Water St., apt. #201, Danville 15, USA". I went to that address and knocked at the door. Nothing happened, so I called into the apartment: "I have something you lost." I heard discussion within. Probably they thought I might be a pistachion myself going about capturing them. At length a tall, senior, British man in antique finery answered the door, wielding a crowbar. "How do we know you're not a pistachion?" said he. "Wait a minute. I know you!" said I. "You're one of the time-travellers that messed up the space-time continuum so that Milo Murphy disappeared!" "What?" He turned away and talked to his roommate, who said in a New England accent, "Yeah, don't you remember? The talking squirrels, the Milo balloons, that guy crying out for 'Milo' —" "Well, I don't remember you, but he does. Come in." I learned that the British man was Balthazar Cavendish, and his roommate was Vinnie Dakota. They were the owners of the device I found, but it short-circuited as they were looking for Professor Time, the inventor of time-travel. At Professor Time's address, they found Heinz Doofenshmirtz, who ensnared them, Milo, his dog, and Orton Mahlson. I asked them: "Where did the pistachions come from to begin with?" Dakota answered: "As far as we know, King Pistachion was the first of them, and he originated as a pistachio tree in the courtyard of Jefferson County Middle School. He took over the future, but Milo and his friends, including us, destroyed him and all his armies. All except one, of course, that being Derek. He was climbing on our time-vehicle, and I knocked him off it with a bag of clocks. He must have fallen out of the time-stream in 1955, and that's when he began his scheme to take over the world, which it seems he has successfully carried out." I asked: "Do you know how that tree became King Pistachion?" Cavendish answered: "We don't. All we know is that he grew and eventually took over the world." Dakota said: "But you accidentally crushed him before." "Oh yes, that's true," said Cavendish. "But what could right a tree like that?" said I. "Our futuristic pistachio fertilizer might," said Dakota. "Talking of pistachioes..." He went off into the kitchen. I learned from them that they had that futuristic pistachio fertilizer in Milo's science class, while hiding in a closet. It appears that someone grabbed it and poured it on a diaminohexane spill, creating a sentient and pugnacious green blob. Such an occurrence is well within the possibility of Murphy's law. I think some of the blob settled on that tree and made it King Pistachion. I am firmly certain that that too is the work of Murphy's law, because obviously sapient pistachioes can take over the world, and they have done. Importantly, all this occurred in Milo Murphy's vicinity. Thus I have completely solved the riddle of the pistachions' origin. The futuristic pistachio fertilizer must have created the polydihexylamine, and perhaps there is a futuristic herbicide that can break it up. Or possibly more easily, if Murphy's law created this dystopia, it can surely destroy it too. I forgot to ask them where Milo was, but perhaps he is presently at work with Danville's top inventors to devise a way to bring the pistachions down.

[realsafetyczar-blog]

A Continuation of My Previous Update

I left you last week when I found that giant, withered pistachion. With my pursuers effectively out of the way, I reached through the grating and pulled up on the chain which attached the pistachion to it, and then I let it drop. That pistachion moved only a very little, not more than 10 cm. I repeated this until these oscillations were so strong that they budged the grating. It budged several times, until it yanked me from its station and dropped me with it! "Son of a blimp!" I exclaimed. I cannonballed off the grating into the lard pool on the hither side of the sewers; it was too risky to try the water beyond it, because concrete separated them. Just before meeting the lard, I heard the giant pistachion's carcase impact the ground like so many planks of wood, followed immediately by the snapping wood and the ringing metal caused by the grating crushing it. I was fortunate that my bones did not become like that pistachion's boughs. When this is all over, I shall have to make much atonement for the many safety violations I have wantonly committed in this time. Desperate circumstances call for desperate measures. Being desperate to un-grease myself, I emptied a bottle of hand-sanitizer and washed myself with sewer-water. It worked remarkably well, considering that it was sewer-water. I looked in the overturned boat for clues, and I took the electronic device near it. Finding nothing in the boat, I proceeded. As I penetrated the sewers, I looked over the device. It superficially resembled a smartphone, but subtle elements of the design clued me in to its otherworldly origin — not least of which was the label on the back reading "PROPERTY OF BUREAU OF TIME TRAVEL / DO NOT TAMPER". I tried to power it on, but only the backlight activated. "Oh, this is no use to me!" I grumbled. I wandered more or less aimlessly until I found five sets of fungus-infested tracks: four human, one canine. I also noticed that one of the tracks was made by unmatched shoes. "How very odd," I thought. I followed the tracks to a manhole, from which I emerged to find a parking-garage. "Why would these people and that dog go to a parking-garage?" I wondered. Involuntarily, I remembered the Doctor Zone theme song: "He's got one foot in the future and one foot in the past!" A Doctor Zone cosplayer? in the sewers? I was of the impression that cosplayers were protective of their costumes and would not go through sewers in them. "This is straining plausibility," I said aloud. "Milo Murphy!" I added in my usual tone of annoyance. The tracks led me into the elevator and stopped there. If I had had my usual equipage on me, I would have dusted for fingerprints to discern which floor they went to. As it was, I could only stoop and peer very closely at the floor buttons. One seemed more smudged than the others, so I pressed it. It took me to a space decorated in purple and green. My mind leapt immediately to Heinz Doofenshmirtz, that giant of evil science. "Hello?" I called as I went further into Doofenshmirtz' quarters. "Dr. Doofenshmirtz? Anyone? Hello?" I received no answer. I trode carefully to avoid any traps he set, for I was well aware of his love of traps. I looked up and down the space, but found nothing. Why would these tracks lead me to Doofenshmirtz' quarters, where nothing was? Feeling a little cheated, I returned to my seat of power. As I went, I reflected. What had Doofenshmirtz done that would attract the interest of a Doctor Zone cosplayer? "Time-travel!" I said aloud. "Aha! Doofenshmirtz has done time-travel, and this device belongs to the Bureau of Time Travel — it's all coming together now!" I just need to enquire into the "Bureau of Time Travel". I did, but that is a story for later.

[realsafetyczar-blog]

It’s Been Quite a While

I have not updated much in quite some time, but only because I have been otherwise occupied. Since escaping the school, I resolved to study polydihexylamine further, but my equipment was inadequate for the task. I therefore snuck back into the pistachions' headquarters to look for appropriate apparatus. While thus occupied, I was caught and captured, and I saw with my own eyes a pistachion being made to pose as me. After he had been sent forth into the world, I was cast into one of the vine-prisons; there I abode for several weeks. Naturally, I was divested of all my tools. One day, two guards put more prisoners into my prison. I dashed with all my might against the guards. Each took the other's arm to stop me, as in a game of "Red rover", but I broke their grip. They gave chase. I ran into the lard disposal and barred the door behind me. As the pistachions banged against the door, I continued until I met the lard canal. I ran along the inner bank and over its end, so I plunged into the lard. Lard being less dense than water, I sank into it more quickly, and it took more effort to surface again for air. Nevertheless, having done so, I heard the pistachions' wooden footsteps behind me and dove again. The current was carrying me in a certain direction, but I endeavoured to expedite the process by swimming with it. By so doing, much lard got into my mouth, and now I think I loathe the taste of bacon. At length, I ran up against the giant grating and surfaced. I clambered as well as I could onto the bank, but it was hard, because I was covered in grease. The pistachions came to the end of the canal, over the lard-fall, and saw me. "End of the line, human!" said one. They plodded slowly and menacingly toward me, as villains in TV and movies are wont to do. I considered what to do. My first thought was to my Bird-Divertificator. I switched it off and hoped for a flock of predatory birds. When none was forthcoming, I looked around for another helpful article. I saw a bag of pistachioes lying amid its contents, a concertina half-covered by the lard, and an air-horn. I also saw that a steam-gauge had broken off a pipe. By this time, the pistachions were almost upon me. I took the air-horn and beat its bottom against the sharp, broken part of the pipe. Eventually, I succeeded in puncturing it, so I directed the hole towards the pistachions' faces. The forceful gust of bitter air disoriented and disconcerted them, just as I had hoped. As quickly as possible, I covered the head of one with the bag (which fit tightly) and kicked his hindquarters into the lard river. I found the steam-gauge which had broken off, and I stabbed the eyes of the other withal, so I had effectively blinded both. I looked through the grating and saw a giant, withered pistachion attached to it by a chain and a section of pipe. It seems that the pistachions care not for their own. Beyond that, I saw an overturned boat and a small electronic device near it. Someone had been here before! It should have occurred to me when I found all that other random junk down there. Because this is getting rather long, I shall finish this update next week at approximately the same time.

[realsafetyczar-blog]

REBLOG IF YOU THINK MARVEL IS FOR GIRLS TOO

trying to prove a point to my dad

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/* We could do with some firing-up, I think. My passion for the show has abated a little over the past month. I would like to participate in an art event as a writer, since I can't draw for a heap of dung. */

Milo Murphy’s Law

Alright, I know things have been pretty quiet in the fandom lately (because it’s been a pretty long time since anything new has happened). Is there a chance anyone would like to fire things up? We could have a countdown (of sorts, since we don’t really have a date) or maybe a week of art, and writing or something.. lemme know if your interested and I’ll set it up. I wanna kinda kick start things again so we can all get excited when season 2 finally comes around.

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I’m Not Just an Officious Busybody

The Safety Czarship requires a broad knowledge of a variety of disciplines, most especially chemistry and structural engineering, because Milo Murphy tends to cause things to collapse or combust. But he's been absent for several months now, so I have devoted some time (apart from my dabbling in evil science) to study these disciplines for their own sakes. I could get used to this. A few days ago, I went to an abandoned outpost of the pistachions and looked for any suspicious chemicals: scraping green stuff off the floors, walls, and ceilings, and pilfering strange substances from their stores. I returned to my laboratory at my seat of power and analyzed them. The green stuff astonished me, because spectroscopy seemed to reveal it to be polydiaminohexane, and diaminohexane is notoriously difficult to polymerize. Further tests revealed that it was actually polydihexylamine (PDHA), which is a much easier polymer. Even so, PDHA has not been studied very much. I should look into it further. Maybe it allows pistachions to remain largely as nimble as humans while being much larger. I have had firsthand experience with this; let an anecdote illustrate. For old times' sake, I went down to my old crosswalk at the usual school starting time. It was deserted, as it has been for a long time now. I imagined Milo coming toward me; accordingly, I held up my stop sign and turned it, saying, "Stop! Milo." (It was just my misfortune to say "Stop" as the "STOP" side faced me, and to say "Milo" as the "MILO" side faced me, so the imaginary Milo read, "Milo! Stop.") Methought I heard Milo's voice, coming from elsewhere than my own head, say, "Hey, Elliot! How has your day been progressing?" Has Milo become a pistachion? I thought. I looked over him suspiciously, and wielded my STOP sign in self-defence. "Why don't you join us in this dark, windowless van?" he said. "Not gonna happen, Murphy," I said. "Very well," he answered. He snapped his fingers and summoned four others. I dashed thence with all my might, and Milo and the others gave chase. The van overtook them and received them again; it began to speed toward me. I broke a window of the school and leaped in, so the van could not overtake me. Milo the pistachion and his company crashed the van and abandoned it; they continued to chase me. "Please let there be some herbicide somewhere," I said as I was running away. I ran up some stairs, but Milo scrambled up the bannister and blocked my way, and the others came up behind me. As it were, time slowed down so I could ponder what to do, as tends to happen in deadly situations. If I could destroy their PDHA constitution… no, I barely know anything about it. Perhaps I could… no. So I went, until I ran out of ideas. "I give up," I said, throwing my hands up. But as I did, I accidentaly flung my pipe-wrench into pistachion Milo's head, momentarily disorienting him. "Never mind," I said, and I took my pipe-wrench, dashed the window, and leapt out it. I made it to the greenhouse without their notice and masked myself with pistachio plant matter to be extra-safe. Thus I evaded them and returned to my seat of power. That was perhaps the most harrowing experience I have ever had with these plant monsters.

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I think this is a photograph. Would you believe that I've been in this exact situation twice?

Water/Flying types don’t like Elliot. Based loosely off something I read here on Tumblr.

  Also, I know that Pelipper is also I water/flying type, but I didn’t feel like drawing it, because I don’t like it and by the time I was getting around to it, I was out of patience and wanted to finish it.