3 – 3 + 1 = Change

February 17, 2012

Alright, let’s see … I had three blogs at one time. One (“A Link and a Smile”) expired a month or so ago. Then, the second one (“The Stupid Bet”) came to an end just a few days ago. (Sniff. Sniff.) The only one left was that old, bland, unused, blog on WordPress. Oh, wait, that’s where we are right now. Well, it isn’t expiring, since WordPress won’t delete a blog—short of a nuclear holocaust. However, I am abandoning it. (Poor little guy.)

So is that it for me? Am I to disappear, never to blog again? Well, yes and no. First the ‘yes’ part. My nom de plume, “Reputation@Stake”, will indeed fade from memory. (Cue melodramatic music.) But now the ‘no’ part. I will have a new home—but will just use my name—and will use my new home to simply let my creative energy out. My new (and soon-to-be only) location on the internet is: cre8ive-outlet.blogspot.com. I will simply post stuff there that my brain occasionally comes up with. There will be no regularity to the posting (though posts will be shorter and simpler), and no real boundaries or themes. It will still be PG-rated, however, and hopefully still fun.

I hope to see you there, because I like hearing what you people are thinking. But if I don’t see you over there, I want to say thanks for all the fun and support and comments you’ve shared with me this whole time. Thanks.

Sebastian Black


February 14, 2012

Well, it finally happened. My blog at thestupidbet.com was finally yanked from the internet today. (I wasn’t giving them money anymore, so I guess they got mad.) I’m going to write one more post, here, in a day or two, to explain what’s going on, so I’ll see you then.



Moving Day

May 9, 2010

Don’t be shocked, but I have officially moved this blog to thestupidbet.com. I’m sure this will be hard for some of you, as you have to type in a whole new address (just delete the “wordpress” part) but I’ve outlined the pros and cons, to help you with the change.

Upside of this:

  • You’ll feel cool, because everyone is doing it.
  • Easier to remember.
  • Will probably make me less grumpy. (Yeah, I know you didn’t want to say anything.) But no guarantees.
  • Feels better.
  • Tastes better.
  • Looks better (I think) because I can control it more.
  • I can now add cool new features for your blog-reading pleasure. (I’ll even take suggestions.)
  • And for everyone using Blogger/blogspot, you can now follow the new site by clicking that little Google button, like you’re used to.

Downside of this:

  • You have to move, and no one likes to move. But you have to admit, this place has been looking kind of dumpy. The dry-rot has gotten bad, and the rats and disease are rampant. Yeah, it’s time to move. Sorry.
  • The rent is a little more expensive at the new website, and the neighbors can get a little loud.
  • This site will no longer be updated, though it will still exist. (I have trouble letting go of things.)

As you can see, the pros clearly outweigh the cons. And, so, it’s time. The truck is pulling out, so I’ve got to go. Please come on over. I’ll leave the back door unlocked, and I’ll hopefully remember to deactivate the alarm.


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Day #72 – The Stupid Bet Award – 7th Recipient

May 7, 2010

Stupid (adj.) – Idiotic

Bet (n.) – A gamble

Stupid Bet (phrase) – A challenge, risk, or attempt, with the potential for very dumb consequences.

This week’s SB Award goes to:

Mr. Flat Face, for thinking, “I bet this helmet will protect my head.”

A wise man once said, “Helmets are perfect. Helmets are your friend. Helmets are invincible, and will protect you from all dangers.” That wise man died soon afterward, from head trauma, but I still believe him. And Mr. Flat Face appears to believe him as well. I admire his faith in the wise man’s words, even to the point of assuming that a helmet need not cover all parts of your head. I mean, as long as you think to wear a helmet, that should be enough, right? I guess that could be true. Maybe it is the thought that counts, but thoughts clearly aren’t one of Mr. Face’s strengths. And even less so now.

Things I’m assuming about Mr. Face:

– He feels no need to wear a seatbelt in his car, since it has airbags.

– He was playing a video game the day his instructor went over simple guarding techniques. (Like put your hand up rather than out, and maybe even turn your head to the side a little, if necessary.)

– He no longer has to worry about being able to smell people’s feet.

– He lost this fight. Quickly.

May you always resolve your differences with words, and always have a couple of Excedrin handy.


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Day #71 – Time for a quiz.

May 6, 2010

I figure seventy days is long enough for anyone to get to know me. (I’m not that complicated.) And so, since yesterday was my seventieth day of writing this awe-inspiring stupid blog, I should be able to quiz everyone. But not just any quiz. No, that would be dull. This quiz will be completely about me. (See? Much more exciting.) We’ll start off easy: What’s my favorite color? Nope. Try again. No, it’s gray. C’mon people! You’re not off to a very good start. How about my favorite letter? Nobody? (Hint: It’s the same as my favorite number, and favorite shape.) Circle, O, Zero? No one knew that one? Sheesh, I thought that’d be a gimme.

Maybe you’re just not good at favorites. That’s fine. So, what about this one: Three people have quit at my office over the last year. Question – was I one of them? Take your time. Alright, time’s up. Duh. I’m still working here. How could I have quit? Well … uh … actually, January had a little incident, that I forgot to mention. You see, Susan and I had planned on going on a ski trip—which I had announced weeks in advance (I’m very responsible)—and at the last minute my boss told me I needed to stay because of a big fat dumb project that had just come up. Well, that is what is classically known as an impasse. And impasses tend to get in my way, and I don’t like yielding to them, but that just creates another impasse. So before this snowballed into a monster impasse extraordinaire, I decided to try something. I quit, and said that I would reapply for my job when I got back. I even wrote up a letter of resignation. It went something like this: “To Irma, See ya beans! Affectionately, Reputation@Stake.” Or something close to that. And there were surprisingly few applicants for the position when I got back.

But that reminds me of the next quiz question. What is the first name of my boss? Oh, wait. Don’t read the above paragraph yet. Okay, now answer it. Oh, never mind, forget it. And, no, why she prefers for us to call her by her first name rather than “Your Highness”, is not a quiz question. (By the way, if I had her power I would totally make people do that.) But back to the quiz. And this one is multiple choice. What is my greatest fear? Snakes, spiders, or a blood-thirsty serial killer wandering through my house at night with an axe, after having just cut the power and phone lines? What?! Spiders? What is it with you people and spiders? No, it’s the murderer. Spiders are like the size of a nickel, and they can’t even pick up axes. What’s so scary about that?

You guys aren’t doing nearly as well as I assumed you would, so here’s the last question. Can “The Stupid Bet” be found anywhere other than “thestupidbet.wordpress.com”? Ah, tricky one huh? In fact yes. It can now be found at simply “thestupidbet.com”. It might even be moving there permanently pretty soon, too. Huh? No, don’t worry, I’ll let you know before I discontinue it here. What? You want one more? Okay. Bonus question: How many fingers am I holding up? (Hint: I’m not giving you one.) But I will give you five guesses.


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Day #70 – Requiem for the blue one.

May 5, 2010

I’m sorry I killed

you, but you needed to die.

The end had

come, and we both knew why.

You could have

objected, but why even try?

You knew it was

over, so you had to comply.

Sure, we had some

good times, I won’t try to lie.

But memories

like those bring no tear to my eye.

Yes, I remember

that day, when I decided to buy.

And I got some

help from that towel store guy.

But you know

the facts, so you can’t deny,

That you could no

longer make anyone dry.

And no one

knows that, better than I.

You were no longer

soft, and you’d lost all your dye.

So I had to kill

you, but don’t let that imply,

That your quality

wasn’t once very high.

But those days are

over, so it’s time for goodbye.


A sign that you had a really slow day:

You write a poem about throwing away an old towel.

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Day #69 – The Weekly Top 5

May 4, 2010


When my wife, Susan, and I go on vacation, we just assume that no place is off limits. We have either snuck into, or finagled our way into, dozens of places in multiple countries. It’s just what we do. Restrictions are for suckers.

In Pittsburgh we convinced a guard to let us into an exclusive men’s club and even got him to give us a personal tour, which was great since he had a key to all the locked doors. We snuck onto the roof of the National Cathedral in Washington DC—you wouldn’t believe how much they appear to not want people to do that. We had to go through the monks’ personal quarters (it was a round room with a red carpet, and looked eerily similar to the dorm room in Harry Potter) and through the little bell-ringing room, but we got up there. Then there is Venice, which had lots of places that were off limits—so that was a fun trip.

Every destination seems to have restricted areas. We don’t like that. And like I said, we assume that doesn’t apply to us. What they really mean is that it’s closed to stupid people—especially since most places’ big-time security systems involve a sign on a stick, or a little rope stretched across a doorway. Seems like an invitation to me.

So this week’s top five is a list of places that I don’t think even Susan and I could get into. That doesn’t mean we won’t someday try (especially now that we know about them). But these five places would be particularly challenging.

1. Disneyland is just taunting us with this one. A comedian once said that since there is no alcohol allowed in Disneyland, how can it possibly be “The happiest place on earth”? Good point. But there is in fact one place you can get snoggered in the park. It’s called Club 33.  And very appropriately it is in the New Orleans Square section. Duh. Where else would it be? It’s supposed to be a secret private club, but how secret can you be when your details are explained in Wikipedia? The problem for Susan and I is that it costs between 10 and 30 thousand dollars to join (but maybe we can find a coupon), and the waiting list is fourteen years long. You have to be buzzed in, and show a membership card, and probably give a DNA sample, so this might be beyond our abilities, and therefore belongs on this list.

2. The funny thing about this next one is that I might be invited there someday. But until the end of the world comes, it’s a big no-no. And that’s actually the point of the place: The end of the world. It’s called Mount Weather, so they’re not very creative, but they’re very super duper serious. Whatever goes on in there is wicked secretive, because it’s the place the US government has prepared for people to go when the world is about to be destroyed, or annihilated, or whatever. It’s the highly secure, last safe place on earth, impending doom, destination of choice. So unless Susan or I can find a way to send a comet toward earth, we’ll probably never get in.

3. The year 2013 is the key to this next one. That’s when Susan and I will make our move. Because otherwise, the Ise Grand Shrine is incredibly tough to crack into. We could probably fake being members of the Japanese imperial family to get in (that’s a requirement) because we’ve impersonated journalists and architecture students to get into places. So how hard can royalty be? However, the kicker is that being imperial isn’t enough. You also have to be a priest or priestess, and neither of us know anything about the Shinto religion. Ah, but there is a loophole. They demolish and rebuild the shrine every twenty years. (It’s a death/rebirth thing.) And guess when the next deconstruction is scheduled? 2013. Time to get fitted for a Japanese construction-worker’s uniform.

4. Now, this next place isn’t racist. Sexist, but not racist. I’m telling you this because it’s called White’s Gentlemen’s Club. But that’s just because the founder’s name was Francis White. (See, told you.) But no women are allowed. (See? I was right again.) So, obviously I have a slightly better chance of getting in than Susan, but the only way I can do it is if I’m invited in by a member who also has the support of two other members. And not that many people like me. At least not all in one place. And definitely not in England (the club’s location). Plus these guys are loaded. They make six-thousand-dollar bets on things like which of two raindrops will slide down a window first. Seriously. So you know they can afford the best security systems. But maybe we can get them to bet on whether Susan or I can get inside first. Ha! Another loophole.

5. If Club 33 sounded exclusive, how about Room 39? That’s both exclusive and annoyingly vague. But just because it’s in North Korea, and run by their government, that doesn’t mean we don’t want to go there. Of course we want to go there—you told us we couldn’t. Plus, since it is suspected (no one knows, because no one can get in) that inside they are making tons of counterfeit currency, maybe if we can get in, they’ll print us off some.

Reputation@ Stake

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