2013-12-14
Original: 2013-12-14 on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Transcript
Title: THE ADVENTURES OF PHILOSOPHICALLY INCLINED MAILMAN
Mailman: Your fingers touched plastic objects, that transmitted pulses of electrons which order signalized into light patterns on a machine.
Mailman: Those patterns were turned back into electron pulses and sent far away.
Mailman: They reached a machine that translated them into light patterns once more. There, an organic machine understood the light patterns as symbols which indicate sounds.
Mailman: Those sounds were understood to have certain referents. The referents were placed in a container on which signs were written.
Mailman: Those signs were read by a machine which told an organic machine to take the referents to a geospatial point.
Mailman: I am that organic machine.
Mailman: And I have brought your buttplug, Mr. Atkins.
Mr. Atkins (off-panel): Next time just put it in the damn mailbox!
Votey:
Man (Mr. Atkins): Don't tell me how to do my job, Atkins.
Mailman: Your fingers touched plastic objects, that transmitted pulses of electrons which order signalized into light patterns on a machine.
Mailman: Those patterns were turned back into electron pulses and sent far away.
Mailman: They reached a machine that translated them into light patterns once more. There, an organic machine understood the light patterns as symbols which indicate sounds.
Mailman: Those sounds were understood to have certain referents. The referents were placed in a container on which signs were written.
Mailman: Those signs were read by a machine which told an organic machine to take the referents to a geospatial point.
Mailman: I am that organic machine.
Mailman: And I have brought your buttplug, Mr. Atkins.
Mr. Atkins (off-panel): Next time just put it in the damn mailbox!
Votey:
Man (Mr. Atkins): Don't tell me how to do my job, Atkins.
Alt text
An eight-panel SMBC comic titled "The Adventures of Philosophically Inclined Mailman." A bespectacled mailman in a blue uniform speaks at length, delivering an elaborate philosophical chain describing communication and delivery: fingers touching plastic keys send ordered electron pulses translated into light patterns on a machine; those patterns become electron pulses sent far away; they reach another machine that turns them back into light patterns, understood by an organic machine as symbols indicating sounds; those sounds have referents; the referents are placed in a container marked with signs; the signs are read by a machine telling an organic machine to carry the referents to a geospatial point. He concludes, "I am that organic machine," then deadpans, "And I have brought your buttplug, Mr. Atkins." An unseen Mr. Atkins snaps back, "Next time just put it in the damn mailbox!" Votey: a hand-drawn close-up of an annoyed man's face saying, "Don't tell me how to do my job, Atkins."
Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.