Chapter 11 of a Thankfully Unfinished Saga

Chapter 11: An Unseemly Transmission

Wherein Aaron and Ptolemy-Boy discover
Farmer Latham beaten to unconsciousness.
Also wherein later that day Aaron and
Ptolemy-Boy intercept an unruly transmission
that yields suprising information….

“Look, Ptolemy-boy!” Aaron shouted. “Over there, in the tall grass!”

Ptolemy-boy saw it, too. There was a patch of blue showing through the weeds that matched Farmer Latham’s patented shade of overall.

They rushed to the spot and knelt down. Farmer Latham wasn’t moving.

“Let’s wake him up, Ptolemy-Boy!”

Ptolemy-Boy poured water from his trusty canteen on to Farmer Latham’s face.

“Someone’s beaten him to unconsciousness!” said Aaron.

“You fools,” Farmer Latham said, stirring slightly and spitting up water. “The chapter description already said that.”

Later that day, Aaron and Ptolemy-boy found themselves en route to Carstone 7-9er, when a high-priority transmission broke through their thoughtful silence.

“This is fuck niner fuck. How the fuck fuck are you fucks?”

“Ah,” Aaron said, “it’s Rogers.”

He flipped a switch and answered Rogers’ call. “We’re fine, Rogers. What’s up?”

Ptolemy-Boy whispered, “Get ready to be surprised.”

“No no-” Aaron said, “-that would be the wrong thing to do. If we’re prepared to be surprised, then we won’t fulfill the chapter description, because you can’t be surprised if you’re prepared to be. No, we’ll just have to expect nothing.”

Then Aaron said, “Could you repeat that, Rogers? The reader didn’t get to hear what you said while I was talking to Ptolemy-Boy.”

“I for fuck fuck’s sake said, ‘Fuck, I’m going to fuck fuck the fuck fuck out of a fucking fuckmaster alien weirdo who fuck waits fuck tables at the fucking fuck fuck barn’.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Aaron said. “But why are you sharing this with us in a priority message, Rogers?”

“This alien weirdo fucking claims the fuck fuck to be your fuck fuck wife, you fuck fuck fuck!”

Ptolemy-Boy was surprised. “Aaron, you never told me you were married.”

Aaron was surprised also. “I didn’t know I was.”

Rogers said, “And your kids are butt-ugly, no fucks about it!”

Men, do you REALLY care about the environment?

If you do, stop using kleenex and paper towels to wank off into. You are killing trees everytime you dump your jollies!

Just grab the waste can when you're ready and drop it directly in, effectively cutting out the middle man (middle tree, in this case). Or, simply move over to the window.

Got Cavities? Blame the Civil Engineers!

I discovered their Cavity Generator! You heard it here first!

The Good Thing About Corporations

Corporations are sometimes evil. Sometimes they are not evil but they still do evil things. Today, I’m going to tell you why corporations are good, especially when compared to, say, politicians.

And here is why: corporations have to pay attention to their constituents.

And their constituents are you, the consumer!

If you are not buying their product, corporations have to change in order to give you what you want (otherwise, they will not make any money). If they are out there being evil, shoving processed food out on the market, hiring slave labor, etcetera, then you have only yourself to blame (collectively, as a population of consumers, that is - I’m sure YOU, personally, never support such corporations). Ultimately, if all consumers purchased responsibly, corporations would behave responsibly (with a few exceptions - see below).

Politicians, however, only need to pay attention to you during election time. And even then, they know that having money for TV commercials will be much more important than any stand they can take on any particular issue. So, essentially, their constituents are wealthy lobby groups and…corporations. Hmmm. But the corporations are supported by US! That means we could take over this damned country! We only need to purchase responsibly and our attitudes toward commerce will “trickle up.”

Exception to the rule: In cases where corporations only sell to politicians (I’m thinking of defense contracts, here), the “trickle up” theory breaks down. Too bad. We almost had them.

Failed Book Titles

I'm pretty confident I've figured out the title of my first book of blogs, so I'm going to list the best of the titles I discarded:

I Am Better Than You

I Wish I Was Humble

Jumbotronic

Woman has religious experience in shopping center

Seattle, WA - An unidentified woman was seen outside a clothing store having uncontrollable fits of hysteria.

Witnesses say she exited the popular store, at approximately 4:25pm saying, "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God."

She then rushed to her friends and said, "You have to see this."

She held her bag open while her friends gazed at the recent purchase.

"Isn't it the most amazing thing you've ever seen?" the woman asked.

"Oh my God," said one of her friends, reaching in the bag to touch it.

A Personals Ad for Thor

Norse god seeks woman who doesn't get jealous

What Thor means when he says thou must not get jealous is that thou must not get jealous of Thor's mighty hair! But it matters not, for once thou hast ridden the mighty Thor, thou will return to Thor as if by magic, just like mine magic hammer, Mjolnir. Mine Mjolner is capable of many things, one of them thou will experience as "awesome superhero hammer juice." No, Thor will not explain! Thor seeks a woman who will accompany Thor on moonlight flying, long walks in Asgard, and movie watching (but no horror movies with scary children in them - they are too scary because Thor cannot bring himself to smash kids' faces in with Mjolnir, so what can Thor do against such a menace?).

Adventures of Dogboy: Dogboy Visits Shrink!

Hello, everyone. After much deliberation*, I have decided to begin putting regular exclusive content on my pointlessbanter.net blog. The exclusive content will be posted every Monday and will be all about Dogboy and his amazing adventures! Just to give you a taste of the action, here is today's blog. Further Dogboy adventures will be posted only on pointlessbanter.net (on Mondays).

And now: the Adventures of Dogboy: Dogboy Visits Shrink!

Dogboy stares at wall.

Shrink say -Dogboy, how does it make you feel?

-I feel like taffy. You like taffy?

-It pulls at my fillings, so...no.

-How much this cost?

Dogboy gets bill and thinks of time when Hulk go crazy but didnt even go to Shrink and never had to pay Shrink bill. Dogboy thinks, Hulk is awesome, because he cures himself.

In Dogboys head, world revolves around pencil while pencil writes answer to life on back of Dogboy ear.

Dogboy pays Shrink bill.




* Four large men put me in the trunk of their car until I decided this.

You Win, C.I.A. Agent Jones

Do you remember when C.I.A. Agent Jones made my life miserable by forcing me to go to extreme measures just to get my favorite breath-freshening, potentially cancer-causing chewing gum?

Do you remember when I finally found a source in Seattle where I could buy Everest, only to find that C.I.A. Agent Jones had tricked me into buying the wrong flavor?

Well, I found yet another source and I went there the other day to buy more, only to find that C.I.A. Agent Jones had finally won the game.



Do you see that empty spot where nothing is stocked? That's where the Everest was supposed to be. I asked a sales person if they were getting any more in and he practically laughed in my face.

"I dont think so," he said.

You see, I'm afraid that C.I.A. Agent Jones has gone and shut down the whole company, just to keep me from buying my favorite gum. I can't even get it from candydirect.com anymore, and Everest's official Web site (everestgum.com), is now unavailable.

I give up, C.I.A. Agent Jones. You win.

About the Author

Quite a while ago, when I was asking people for ideas on what to write about, Kat suggested I write an "About the Author" as an exercise. I loved the idea, but it took me a while to get to it. So now, finally, here we go....

Take 1

Aaaaaaron suggests that everyone write at least one book, even if it is never published. No matter how bad it is, it will still be treasured by your offspring and if you have no offspring, you can donate it to your nearest library archive project. Sooner or later, someone will happen upon your work and believe it to be the most spectacularly wonderful thing in the world. It's true. I've seen it happen. So do it. Oh crap, this was supposed to be about me, wasn't it?

Take 2

Aaaaaaron currently resides in Seattle. Wait a minute. How come authors are always currently residing everywhere?* What's wrong with just plain ol' living? And what's with this "currently" stuff? People can pretty much assume that it's current unless they're reading something that was published five years ago, in which case, it might not be accurate information anymore. A more appropriate beginning might be this: "Aaaaaaron lives. Unless of course, by the time you read this, he does not, which would be sad if you knew him, because he was a great guy." Crap. I'm messing this up again.

Okay, Take 3

Aaaaaaron lives in a haze of random infatuation and misguided, self-invented jurisprudence. On a cloudy day, you might imagine his face in the sky, especially if you don't know what he looks like, because then just about any cloud will do. He has a friend that always wants him to play House of the Rising Sun on guitar every time he visits, but Aaaaaaron, thus far, has never learned the song.

* not actually my joke - I stole that one and added to it.

A Promotional Break

First of all, let me promote a few excellent writers who have books out. If you have a little money and want to support innovative literature, please check them out. Downloading their books is really rather cheap (just a few bucks) and you can also order the physical artifact if you like (make sure you pay attention to which shipping method you use – the UPS shipping can be costly)

Gary R Smith II’s Dog Person



Alex Vermitsky’s Some Semblance of Spring



Vincent Truman’s Ugly Bungalow



See, if I promote some friends books now, it will seem less sleazy when I promote my own first book of blogs, coming out within one month. But don't worry - I also have some free stuff to promote: writings by me!

First of all, for those of you who don’t know, I am posting my blogs on pointlessbanter.net. Many of your favorite bloggers are there and they even have cool stuff like an Internet TV show on Sunday nights! Yes, I’ll still be posting blogs here and usually they will be the same ones that are on Pointless Banter, but just like all my blogging sites, I like to throw in something unique to a site once in a while, just to keep the hardcore stalkers busy.

I am continuing to write for Needles for Teeth, an excellent literary and arts journal with distribution in Denver and, most recently, Japan. Here are a few of my pieces from their web version:

I was a blade of grass

Pedestrian Luck

A Smoke

And even though I haven’t had time to write for Punch Panda recently, I wanted to share these pieces with you, available on PunchPanda.com:

Evolution: Can It Be True?

My ASS Will Save America

There. I hope I’ve given you too much to read. Go now, and conquer the world instead.

Scotch: An Incomplete Primer

This is an incomplete Scotch primer for those wishing to know more about such a thing. Saunter down to your local Irish pub and try a few. Order it "neat" (without ice) and sip. Grow hair.

Lagavulin: Simply the best. It is harsh, manly and vibrant. It is also like sucking down a camp fire (very smoky). The bottle is distinctively attractive, just like the box it comes in. For a poetic description of what Lagavulin does to a person, see this poem I wrote about it.

Dalwhinnie: The closest thing you can get to the quality of Lagavulin for $30 a bottle less than Lagavulin. Plenty of peat, a little smoky.

Talisker: This is a manly Scotch, and quite excellent, but it's no Lagavulin.

Glenlivet: A lot of people drink this because they can actually swallow it without feeling puke run up their throat. This is an easy starter Scotch, but you will never understand how far it is from true excellence (Lagavulin) unless you move up. For some, Glenlivet is the end-all be-all. For me, it is the beginning of "adequate."

Macallan 12 and 18: So very smooth and palatable - a quite tasty Scotch. However, I've noticed that, in America, it's primarily assholes that order this drink. Seriously. Even in movies, characters that are assholes will order Macallan. I'm an asshole, too - I just don't like to readily advertise that fact. Still don't believe me? Ask your nearest lawyer what Scotch he drinks. Now, if you're ordering this anywhere in Europe, things change. Nice people order Macallan there, so if you're in Europe, have at it! Within the United States, in order to be cool, you must stay away from the smooth, easy Scotches and try to get closer to Lagavulin.

Have I mentioned Lagavulin, yet?

Ladies, I Am Issuing My Demands

Attention, females:

If these prophylactics cannot be used properly by this deadline:



...then I will be forced to destroy them.

You have eight and a half months to comply.

Roadnotes: Eugene to Seattle

I'm getting old. This whole trip was a struggle because I'm so overconscious of two things:

1. When will I get the next protein-filled vegetarian meal?
2. When will I next be able to get on the Internet?

The trip was great, but these things weighed on the back of my mind the whole time. I was away from the Internet for pretty much the whole weekend and it felt awful (I posted these latest roadnotes from home, after the trip, straight out of my journal). I just can't bear to be away from you all.

But anyway, Trapper gave me a ride to Portland and from there I caught the bus to Seattle. I'm home now. Another good trip. Sorry, to both of the people who invited me to Vancouver recently...I am not able to make it....

Die Hard and Die Hard 2: Movies for Sensitive Men

Die Hard raised the bar for what an action film could be by giving audiences a new level of realism other films were quick to pick up on. Here was our hero getting hurt - not just getting bloody, but getting hurt in a more human way than audiences were used to. He's a regular cop and a regular dad and husband with regular problems-not a "Rambo" type that measures on the scale of a superhuman entity.

But Die Hard didn't stop there. It showed audiences a manly, regular guy that could also be sensitive. In one scene, John McClain (played by Bruce Willis) picks glass out of his feet (a manly moment), while telling his new friend over the radio about how much he loves his wife and how badly he screwed things up in their relationship. Aw, how sensitive! In that scene, Die Hard demonstrates that masculinity does not have to exclude emotion and sensitivity.

Die Hard 2 also pushed the envelope in deconstructing the traditional male stereotype. In one of the first scenes of the film, John McClain enters the airport and takes one quick glance around before asking for information.

"Where are the telephones?" he says.

If the hero of the Die Hard series can ask for directions, then it should be okay for other men to do so without their masculine nature feeling threatened.

Hacking the Marvel Universe

The Redhead recently requested the following: "I would like a blog about how to hack into alternate universes. (You can write it in 4@xx0r if you like.)" So, in the style of Touching the Paperboy's Melnet posts, I have answered the call of the hero.

run C:..4@xx0r.exe
loading
4@xx0r: whackjob//
4@xx0r-->whackjob//^dud@34s: ******
4@xx0r-->d!d: 200605280318d^@s)dkd
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: !6dfd@er4(4@xx0r,engusa)
4@xx0r-->Rput: USA English loaded
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: load(comicHacks,'C:..support4xx0r..')
4@xx0r-->Rput: loading...
4@xx0r-->Rput: comicHacks loaded
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: hackUverse(Marvel)
4@xx0r-->Rput: Err(13)|Missing parameter(1,universeNo)|
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: selUverse(Marvel,0)
4@xx0r-->Rput: Universe=Marvel.0
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: selCharacter(Magneto)
4@xx0r-->Rput: Character=Marvel.0.Magneto
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: displayGenitalia
4@xx0r-->Rput: Magneto
version=0
testicles=2
penis=1
vagina=0
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: hackGenitalia('Marvel.0.Magneto',testicles )
4@xx0r-->Rput: Marvel.0.Magneto updated
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: displayGenitalia
4@xx0r-->Rput: Magneto
version=0
testicles=3
penis=1
vagina=0
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: Ha ha ha! Ive changed the Marvel universe!
4@xx0r-->Rput: Err(2)|Misspelled command()|
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: Yer stupid!!!
4@xx0r-->Rput: Err(2)|Misspelled command()|
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: deSelCharacter(Magneto)
4@xx0r-->Rput: Magneto deselected
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: deSelUverse(Marvel,0)
4@xx0r-->Rput: Marvel.0 deselected
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: saveUverse(Marvel,0)
4@xx0r-->Rput: Marvel.0 updated
4@xx0r-->whackjob//: logout
4@xx0r-->d!d: 200605280327d^@s(dkd
End

Roadnotes: Eugene 2

Trapper shows me around some more, to places that are sacred because of the company he held. I also get a chance to catch up with two friends from way back, though only for a brief time.

However, I do make visiting the Eugene Public Library a priority because of their famous "sorter" machine. It's a machine with treadmills and levers and arms (sort of) that returns library items and sorts them onto carts. A staffmember willingly takes me through the area without too much coercion on my part.

I'm standing there, looking at this thing in awe, when the staffmember says, "Very Goldberg, isn't it?"

"Yes," I answer.

She seems somewhat suspicious of me as I have openly admitted that I am no longer working for libraries.

"So," I say, "what does it use to sort the items? Is it a media code?"

She answers affirmatively and explains further, no longer suspicious.

The Da Vinci Code: A Striking Portrait of Misogyny

For a movie based on a book that was all about popularizing the concept of the sacred feminine, the Da Vinci Code left too much to the men.

Admittedly, the book itself is somewhat sexist. It's written by a man who described the resurgence of the "sacred feminine" as being led by men, controlled by men and even only understood by men. But at least there was a female character who knew a little about cryptology.

The movie makes one mention of the heroine's occupation, then lets the men figure out every single puzzle while Audrey Tatou (who plays the heroine) focuses on her specialty: looking overwhelmed and befuddled.

Don't get me wrong, she's cute when she does this, but it would be nice if they'd have let her do something that furthered the plot somehow.

Oh well. Also, the movie was boring.

Roadnotes: Eugene 1

It's good to hang out with Trapper again. I meet several friends of his, among them a reknowned bibliographer of Neal Cassady.

I get an excellent Animal House walking tour of the campus. Yes, the movie was filmed here and many of the environments are quite recognizable.

We hang out on a couple campus benches to talk and watch trees. Trapper and I finish slices of Sys Pizza. It is at this moment that I get a call from Victoria - she tells me she may have concocted a plan to get me my bottle of Scotch (thanks, Adam, and all those involved, in case I should ever see this bottle).

Update: The plan failed. I still do not have the gift from the Englishman.

Roadnotes: Portland

I'm headed to Eugene.

Fortunately, I get a free ride as far as Portland from the two Tauruses (well, not REALLY free I now owe them a reading of In Me Own Words, an autobiography of Bigfoot, in character and everything).

That gave me time to eat Thai food with a Portlandian friend before I caught a bus to Eugene.

While taking me to the Greyhound station, my friend and I start talking about my blogs and also (it logically follows) about kaka.

"You should use kaka in a blog," she says.

"Oh, the poop joke thing is played out. I should know."

"No, just use the word, kaka, somehow."

I get indignant. "Oh, so you think thats how it works? You can just tell me what to write and Ill put it in a blog?"

But that is totally how it works.

Yes, U.S. Citizens, Your Freedom is at Stake

I have no good news. Communications companies are spending millions lobbying Congress to turn the Internet into a private enterprise.

Our civil liberties are already in dubious standing without this heinous nuisance. The Internet is the only venue that we can count on for sharing vital civil rights information. Without Internet neutrality, companies will be able to decide what Web sites you can visit just like they decide which cable channels you can buy.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, watch the video on this page.

If you want to sign the petition that will help put a stop to this nonsense, go here.

A Blogger's resource list is here, where you can get links for your own blog (on the right) and register your blog once you've written about it.

If you don't know your history....

If you don't know your history, you are doomed to repeat it.

But that's okay, because you'll never know you're repeating it, since you don't know it in the first place.

So it's all good.

A blog for Randy....

I agreed to write a blog for Randy, one of my favorite readers. He gave me 25 subjects (in five categorical groupings) to choose from, and rather than pick one, I molded all of them into one story. The topics that Randy listed are in red, so you can follow along to see what they were. I've even preserved their original order.

Group 1 (General) 1) My big toe and how it dances.

Fred reclined in the recliner, watching his big toe and how his big toe danced in the air.

"See my big toe! See how it dances!" he said.

"It dances like a cheeseburger," said George.

"You're just hungry."

2) Where to eat a cheeseburger.

"Even so, where's the best place to eat a cheeseburger around here?"

"Nowhere. I'm vegetarian."

"Vegetarians suck," George said. He looked down. "This carpet sucks."

3) Cool facts about carpet and other flooring.

"A dog's ass supposedly leaves no bacteria behind on the carpet."

"I don't believe that for a second."

"I suppose it would be true about other flooring, as well," Fred said. He picked up a book called Technical Manual for Random Things, then dropped it suddenly.

"Ow," he said. "Paper cuts suck."

"I'll tell you what sucks: paper. It should be outlawed."

4) Why I still use paper.

"Still, at least it doesn't radiate you, like computers," said Fred. "That's why I still use paper."

"Damn. Your finger's bleeding, dude."

5) Does it hurt when you type?

"Yeah. That's going to hurt when I type."

He put his finger in his mouth and picked up the book again with his other hand. Leafing through it, he paused to read a random entry.

Group 2 (technical/science) 1) Everything a MySpacer needs to know about HTML, cake, and binder clips.

"A MySpacer need know nothing of HTML, though some rudimentary knowledge of how to post images will expand their 'witty repertoire' when they want to comment on people's profiles. As for cake, any good MySpacer knows that the best knowledge of cake comes from Psmith-Wainscotting's This Week In Cake. MySpacers AND real human beings would be well-served to know that binder clips, especially of the large variety, are quite useful for keeping an open bag of chips as fresh as possible. Simply fold over the top of the bag, and clip the top with the binder clip."

"I hate that book," said George.

Flipping to a new page, Fred continued to read.

2) When time slows down and where.

"Time slows down approximately when and where matter and space begin divorce proceedings. Attorneys are usually brought in to help with negotiations, but in this case, attorneys are not called by that name. In these matters, they are usually referred to as drugs."

Fred turned another page.

3) A brief lesson on septic systems and the Puget Sound.

"How about this, George? Says here that poorly maintained septic systems can actually be responsible for polluting the Puget Sound."

"Bloody environmentalists. They'll get us all killed one of these days. Read about something else, will ya'?"

4) Where does the bread go when you make toast?

"Here's something: Bread undergoes transportation to the toasting realm through the use of toastporters, the red strips of heat residing in all true toasters. While the bread is in the toasting realm, it begins its physical transformation into toast. Sometimes, the toaster doesn't quite have time to-"

"Good grief. Who cares about freakin' toast?!"

5) How to jump.

"Would you rather I read about how to jump?"

"No. Just shut up."

"It sounds quite simple. You might learn something. It'd be like a first kiss, maybe."

Group 3 (nature) 1) The first evergreen tree I ever kissed.

"My first kiss was with a tree."

"Oh. What kind of tree?"

"An evergreen."

"Wow. How was it?"

"Awful. I accidentally ate a lady bug."

2) Lady bugs, aren't they neat?

"Wow. That's pretty neat. Aren't lady bugs neat?"

"Not when you swallow them and they fly back up out of your mouth."

Fred sighed. "Then what happened?"

3) Rows and rows of corn.

"I freaked out. I thought that kissing produced lady bugs and I freaked out, ran out of the forest, through rows and rows of corn, and I wound up tripping over the cat and smashing my face on a rock."

4) How to run over a cat.

"You never can run over a cat when you want to. The trick is to not want to."

"It's a nice day to go for a walk and get something to eat, don't you think?"

"You're just changing the subject because we have to move on to the next topic that Randy suggested."

5) Puffy clouds and their shapes.

"No, it's really a nice day. Look: there are all these nice puffy clouds everywhere. Some of them even have nice shapes. Like those-they look like boobs. And those over there...they look like...boobs."

Fred looked out the window. "Yeah, I'll give you that. Boobs. Everywhere."

"And besides, I'm hungry. I could eat a plastic trash bag."

Group 4 (plastic) 1) Plastic trash bags and why not to eat them.

"Oh, I wouldn't recommend that. If you don't suffocate first, you'll probably die of cancer-which, I guess would not be much different than how most of us will die, anyway. But you shouldn't rush these things."

2) Forks spoons and knives... yea plasticwear!

George eyed a box of plasticwear. "I bet I could eat those."

"Now see here, those are for the picnic."

"Oh yeah. We're late for the picnic!"

3) Bristle blocks!!!!!!!!

"Quite right! How could I have forgotten! Quick, grab the Bristle Blocks for little Timmy!"

"And the music, don't forget the music!"

4) Journey to polycarbonate.

"Journey it is."

"Not that crap! Pick out something better. I'll get the polycarbonate picnic windows!"

"From Journey to polycarbonate. Hmm. Why are we taking polycarbonate windows?"

"Because it's the only way we could work polycarbonate into the story!"

"Oh yeah."

5) Broken CD of terror.

Fred looked through the CD rack. His fingers paused on one labelled: Nonstop Journey Hits. He pulled it out and looked at a post-it note on the outside of the plastic case. The post-it read: "Broken CD of Terror! Only plays the first song, then skips back to the beginning!"

"Perfect," Fred said.

Group 5 (science fiction) 1) Attack of My Favorite Martian.

George and Fred nearly had everything in the car before a Martian appeared before them!

"What's up?" said the Martian.

George wondered that himself, but Fred told him, "It's cool, George. It's my favorite Martian, XvYpRtLq! He likes to attack people, but only with dull stories."

"Oh. Cool," George said dishonestly.

2) Knowing that the center of the solar eclipse ate my sister's car, and how I slept through it.

"Greetings, Earthlings! I just got back from the center of the solar eclipse that ate my sister's car."

"A solar eclipse! How was it?" Fred asked.

"I don't know. I slept through it. It had been a long night previously; I was hanging out where time was slowing down and everything."

3) Only in my dream can I fly (except on Pluto).

George said, "You are not making any sense at all, Martian, but...can you fly? Because that would be cool."

"In my dreams I can fly! Except on Pluto."

"You mean there's something weird about when you dream about being on Pluto?"

"No, I just never sleep on Pluto-it's a total party planet-so I never dream there."

"So, what brings you to Earth, today?" Fred asked.

4) The Blob is coming! The holiest of blobs, and careful swamp monsters!

"If you don't mind my telling you, I am here to announce that the Blob is coming!"

"That great big monster from the movies?!" George asked.

"No, the reincarnation of the Buddha. Humans, he has gained some weight, let me tell you. And look out, swamp monsters, because he is HUNGRY!"

"Shit. So am I," said George. "We gotta' get to this picnic."

5) The dragons lair.

"I'm sorry, George," said the Martian. "You will never get to eat."

"Why?"

"Because you don't have time. There is only one Randy topic left and once it is said-"

"Don't say it!" George screamed.

"Once it is said, the story will be over."

"Quick, to the picnic! I need food!"

Fred and George hopped in the car, sped to the picnic, met their friends there, and ran to the grill, where there was a stack of burgers on a plate.

"Too hot!" George said, trying to pick one up. "I need buns!"

"You need what?" Alice asked. She walked toward them, her hips waving from side to side like the ocean's tide. Or something.

"Uh...I need...buns?"

"Oh baby, you always did flirt well. Remember our first time hanging out together?"

"No. Shut up!"

"We met at Video Palace Harbor Kingdom Mania and stayed until closing, playing that one game, over and over."

"That was a long time ago. And besides, they are open 24 hours."

"Not on Christmas! But don't tell me you don't remember - the name of the game became our mating cry!"

"Who are you again?" George said.

"I still can't make love without crying out, DRAGON'S LAIR! DRAGON'S LAIR!!!!"

Roadnotes: Vancouver, B.C.

Yay! The cute girl with the French accent still works at the coffee shop I went to four months ago!

Yeah.

The Vancouver Art Gallery is pretty sweet. And I got to see the rest of Stanley Park that I didn't get to when I visited before. Though the hollow tree is pretty cool, there's no way I could have experienced it like it was in this picture:

THE THE

THE THE THE


THE THE THE THE THE THE


THE THE THE

THE

THE

THE

THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE THE

The Writing Twilight Zone: The One Word Language

I consider all of my writings works-in-progress. I don't believe it's possible to write something that is perfect, something that cannot be improved upon in some way. However, there are varying degrees away from perfection that one can achieve. If you are very good (better than me), you can be very much relatively close to perfection, whatever that means.

However, what if we simplified the language somewhat.... Would perfection be any easier?

Consider: a language with only one word. Perhaps it is written like this:

THE

Perhaps, given this limitation, we might express the most perfect work of art that can be expressed in that language like this:

THE

It is as perfect as the language allows. Could the work be improved by adapting it to other languages or using images? Probably. But given the limitation of that language, it has the highest percentage of perfection possible.

...though, this could be argued. The work is the most concise way to say the one word that the language makes available, but some would prefer a longer story. Brevity is not always the most masterful technique with which to get a point across (much to my frequent chagrin). Some would prefer the following:

THE THE THE THE THE

Or even:

THE THE THE THE THE THE THE

Which one is more perfect? Is it brevity or style that counts? Oh, the wily whims and subtleties of perfection!

The Best Laid Plans of The Redhead

The Redhead's Plan For Me To Get a Girlfriend:

1. Be friendly around girl I have crush on.
2. Notice when she is having a bad day.
3. Say, "Are you okay?"

Result: She realizes Im a sensitive, kind man and decides she wants me. She gives me anal sex and we live happily ever after.

My Enactment of The Redheads Plan:

1. I am friendly around the girl I have a crush on.
2. I notice she is having a bad day.
3. I say, "Are you okay?"

Result: She says, "What? Yeah. Why?" and has no idea what I am talking about. I find out that she is a lesbian and try to ignore the fact that I get warmer whenever she says my name.

The Good Thing About Starbucks

They've created a consistent coffee drink. If you like the taste, you might be comforted by knowing that you can get that same taste in any Starbucks all over the world. I'll admit: that's pretty tough to do.

Also, their employees get benefits for working 20 hours or more. In Denver, I lost my favorite barista to Starbucks because he simply needed health insurance. I couldn't blame him for signing up.

Sounds great, doesn't it?! A coffee shop where the workers get benefits? Awesome! You might be wondering: how do they do it?! Here's how:

[I was going to insert an image here of a poor, young coffee grower with a cartoon bubble saying, "Welcome to Starbucks! Can I pick your coffee beans today?" but I decided that, ultimately, that's a little cheap - while it may be effective, it is not informative, so I guess I'll have to type some more....]

Starbucks buys coffee from growers that pay workers such minimal wages that the workers can be considered slaves. There was a lot of stink made about how Starbucks was getting more into Fair Trade coffee (a standard set up to make sure that workers got paid a certain amount), but I've found they've only done what was minimally required in order to put out a decent press release here and there. The vast majority of the coffee sold at Starbucks is not at all "Fair Trade coffee," even though spokespeople for Starbucks have claimed that Fair Trade coffee is in line with the "values" of the company.

Now...you can do even worse than going to Starbucks (by buying a can of Folger's coffee, for example), but you can do a whole lot better. Many local coffee retailers do carry Fair Trade coffee. If you are a regular coffee drinker, it is a moral imperative to find out which ones do. If you're stuck on Starbucks, call them and complain: 1.800.235.2883 or send the CEO a fax. If you have any interest in Folger's, all hope may be lost for you, but they have a number as well: 1.800.937.9745.

And now, for my final reason to hate Starbucks - your browser must accept cookies to use their web site (starbucks.com). In other words, just for you to look at their press releases and read information from their own mouth, you have to allow your computer to be less secure. If you don't know how to enable cookies, they'll help you with that! - but only if you're using the world's most unsafe browser.

How To Tell If You Are In A Bad Coffee Shop

1. They have a bunch of mugs, t-shirts and other crap that you can buy.

2. They pipe in corporate music. Evil! Make sure your coffee shop plays actual CDs or mixes from someones mp3 player.

3. It closes before 9pm. Even closing as early as nine is suspect, but places that close at nine can on occasion still be awesome (mind you - just barely). If they close at 4:30pm, that is a dead giveaway that they suck.

4. The employees wear uniforms. This means that their baristas all make the drinks the same exact way which also means that there is no art being put into the beverage. A seriously awesome barista should not have to wear a uniform - they are artists!

5. You have to tell them when you want it in a mug. Some evil places dont even have a mug as an option and others will still put it in a paper cup even if you tell them its for here. They would rather destroy the environment than wash a few dishes. No, a good place will take pride in allowing you to drink your coffee the right way: in a mug.

Coming soon: The good thing about Starbucks (yes, it is about time I got around to trashing them)!

Kirby Puckett: 1960-2006

Update: I just wanted to add this link to a good story about Kirby.

Some of you may know that Kirby Puckett died a couple weeks ago. I was going to have a whole blog series, lasting two weeks or more detailing every good Kirby Puckett story I knew, but I've decided to tone it down a bit and just try to sum it up. This is a pretty self-indulgent blog, so my recommendation is to just skip it, unless you love baseball or you like Kirby Puckett. I already covered how he won his batting title, so that's one story I won't have to torture you with....

I started following Kirby Puckett purely because of these statistics:

YR		AB		HR
1984		557		0
1985		691		4
1986		680		31

How weird is it for a guy to only hit four homeruns in his first two seasons and then suddenly start hitting enough to be among the league leaders? It's plenty weird. He was the first player ever to have a zero AND a thirty homerun season.

That statistical anomaly was what got my attention, but his style of play and his positive attitude was what made me a fan. Minnesota Twins fans have known about him since his Major League debut: he won the fans over with his enthusiastic style of play (and his record-tying four hits in his first game).

Puckett was an exciting player to watch because he liked to swing. He didn't take very many pitches. BaseballLibrary.com describes him as "an unrepentant free swinger who hacked at anything in the same area code as the strike zone." In perhaps his best season, during which he was second in RBI, second in AVG and led the league in hits and doubles, he walked only 23 times. Beat THAT, Barry Bonds!

Unfortunately, Kirby Puckett's career was cut short. In 1995, in the middle of one of his finest seasons, Denny Martinez threw a pitch that broke Puckett's jaw and put him on the disabled list for the rest of that season. During spring training the next year, he discovered that he had glaucoma and was losing vision in one eye. That was why he retired - he could no longer see the ball well. At his retirement announcement he made sure Denny Martinez was there, so that he could tell the world that he was retiring because of glaucoma and not because of the pitch Martinez had thrown last season. Puckett even hugged the pitcher and told him he loved him. Then he told everyone not to be sad. "Kirby Puckett's going to be all right," he said. "Don't worry about me. I'll show up, and I'll have a smile on my face. The only thing I won't have is this uniform on." He did his best to put a positive spin on things.

Even though his career totals were incredibly low for a Hall-of-Famer, he was inducted into the Hall on his first ballot. The voters took into account his positive attitude and his incredible love for the game. When he played, he had fun, smiled a lot and made the fans smile, too. Cleveland Indians manager Charlie Manuel, who coached Puckett in the minors years ago, even says he uses stories about Puckett's "play and attitude" in order to motivate his team (thebaseballpage.com).

And of course, there is Game Six. I can't leave that out. There is a nice synopsis of Kirby Puckett's game here, but the short version is this: the Twins needed to win or else their season was over. The World Series was on the line. Kirby Puckett gathered the team together before the game and told them not to worry. He said, "You guys should jump on my back tonight. I'm going to carry us." And he did. He had a hand in every run the Twins scored and even made a leaping catch in center field that kept the Braves from scoring more. With the score tied at 3, in the bottom of the eleventh inning, he hit a homerun to win the game.

The press made a huge deal out of the fact that he told his teammates he was going to carry them and that he actually did it, but if you knew Kirby Puckett, you knew that he was always doing this sort of thing - not necessarily carrying the team, but saying things that were unabashedly optimistic. And maybe he didn't come through each and every time, but it always seemed like it to me.

Kirby Puckett knew better than anyone that luck could change at any moment, so it was useless to get upset about your circumstances. In 1990, the Twins finished in last place, but one year later they were the first team ever to win the World Series after a last place season. That kind of thing doesn't happen unless you have a lot of optimism on your side.

Now...I wanted to talk about the bad stuff. Well, no, I didn't want to talk about it - just mention that it existed. Since his retirement, there was a messy divorce, nasty allegations, women with very serious accusations against Puckett. Some of his friends have said that not being able to play baseball really hurt him. He gained weight (even MORE weight, that is). I was going to write a little statement about all this, but someone beat me to it and I can't really improve on what they wrote (ottumwacourier.com):

When Kirby the athlete was in a slump, he always seemed to know that things would start to go his way sooner or later.

"I'm zero for my last 14," he'd say. "You know what that means? That means someone's gonna pay."

Kirby the athlete knew that soon, he'd get the opportunity to light up a weak pitching staff with a five-for-five, four-RBI night. Kirby the person hadn't yet gotten that chance.

The press has been fair in talking about these aspects of his life, but in all their summations of the life of Kirby Puckett, they've dropped the best thing about the man. If you would have heard from HIM how he was doing, he would have done his best to tell you that things were going to turn around.

The following facts I couldn't track down quickly, so this is from my memory and bound to be inexact in some way, but who really cares - it's a baseball story and therefore not much different than the "biggest catch" tales that fishermen tell.... Kirby Puckett, some time in 1986 or 1987, was among the leaders in homeruns and batting average until a slump hit him. A MISERABLE slump. Something like 3 for 36 or 4 for 41, maybe. And throughout this slump, Puckett maintained that he was all right, that he would break out any time and some poor pitcher would pay the price. And he was right. He slammed out ten hits in two games, including four homeruns and four doubles, instantly putting him back among the leaders in AVG and HR. Kpow! Just like that, he was back.

At his hall of fame induction ceremony, in 2001, he was blind in one eye but he was still positive:

"Don't feel sorry for yourself if obstacles get in your way. Our great Twins' World Series teams faced odds and we beat 'em. Jackie Robinson faced odds and made this game truly the national game. And I faced odds when glaucoma took the bat out of my hands, but I didn't give in or feel sorry for myself. I've said it before and I'll say it again: It may be cloudy in my right eye, but the sun is shining very brightly in my left eye."

Puckett knew about the ups and the downs and didn't let the downs get to him. And that's what I've gotten from knowing him as a fan.

Me vs. The Da Vinci Code

When I was reading The Da Vinci Code on the plane a week or two ago, a young woman next to me said, "Oh! Is that the first time you've read that?" And I thought, people read this more than once?

But I was nice to her. You see, I cannot be honest about what I think about the book without insulting those that like it. I apologize in advance to the readers who enjoyed The Da Vinci Code - it does have some merit. What I'm attacking in this blog is the writing style of typical bestsellers, not the book on the whole.

I'm going to re-print one paragraph of The Da Vinci Code as the author, Dan Brown, wrote it. Then I will give you MY version of how I would write the same paragraph.

Mr. Dan Brown's version:

*****

Langdon was braced for the words, and yet they still sounded utterly ridiculous. According to Sophie, Langdon had been called to the Louvre tonight not as a symbologist but rather as a suspect and was currently the unwitting target of one of DCPJ's favorite interrogation methods - surveillance cachée - a deft deception in which the police calmly invited a suspect to a crime scene and interviewed him in hopes he would get nervous and mistakenly incriminate himself.

*****

Now, here is what I would write, if I were the author of this story:

*****

*****

That's right. I would not even use that paragraph. Why? Because Sophie already explains this in dialogue preceding it. It really doesn't contribute to the story by having it repeated. It is also unnecessary to know that Langdon "was braced for the words" and that he was still in a state of disbelief. I get that. I would trust my reader to get that.

It is this kind of nonsense that takes a nice novella highlighting the primary points of an old religion that honors the sacred feminine and turns it into an insulting, 400-some page bestseller.

A Review of NCAA Final Four 2001, A Crappy Video Game

The game is a piece of shit. Seriously, it should never have been made.

You can be ranked fourth and beat the third-ranked team and not even move up in the rankings. Also, there are times when you are fouled but you make the shot after the ball bounces around a little and you don't even get credit for the basket.

There is one positive to the game, though it is not any different for any other college basketball game: you can beat Duke. In fact, you can play as an ACC team and you'll get to beat Duke twice in one season. If you run into them in the conference tournament, you get to beat them a third time. If you run into them in the NCAA tournament, you can even beat them a fourth time.

BOO Duke.

My dirty phone conversation with BiBi Cambridge

Remember that blog I wrote about calling Bill Dawes all the time? Well, on that blog, BiBi Cambridge posted her phone number as a comment and it would have been an insult to the fine lady if I didn't call her! Naturally, things got dirty quickly and I've decided to share the details here:

BiBi Cambridge: Uptown Laundry.

Aaaaaaron: BiBi, hey! What's up?!

Cambridge: This is Uptown Laundry.

Aaaaaaron: Yeah, baby! I got some dirty laundry for ya'!

Cambridge: Sir, no one works here named–

Aaaaaaron: Ooo! Sir, huh? That must make me a knight! Sir Aaron to the rescue!

Cambridge: Sir, you've dialed th-

Aaaaaaron: That's right. You BETTER call me 'sir.' I'm a knight, after all. You knighted me. Don't make me use my sword.

Cambridge: Sir, you've got the wrong-

Aaaaaaron: Oh, so you WANT me to use my sword? You want me to get my sword out? I'll be honest - it's more like a small dagger or a pocket knife.

Cambridge: Sir, you've-

Aaaaaaron: I've learned it's better to be straightforward about the length of the blade - less disappointment later, you see.

Cambridge: Sir-

Aaaaaaron: But it's still sharp, made of steel and all that. Are you naked yet?

Cambridge: Sir, this is Uptown Laundry.

Aaaaaaron: Yeah, baby! You're taking me to Uptown, all right! It's up and ready, baby! Are you excited?

Cambridge: I said this is Uptown Laundry.

Aaaaaaron: Yeah, baby! We're gonna' make dirty laundry together! I'm gonna' make dirty laundry with BiBi Cambridge!

Cambridge: Sir, there is no BiBi Cambridge at this number.

Aaaaaaron: I know there isn't, darling. You're so beside yourself with passion for my steel that you don't know who you are anymore!

Cambridge: Bloody hell.

Aaaaaaron: Oh my, that's REALLY dirty! Don't worry, baby - I know who you are. You're BiBi, baby - a hot female ready for a sexual telecommunication with Sir Aaron!

Cambridge: Sir, I'm not even a woman.

Aaaaaaron: BiBi, baby, you can't fool me. Your low voice might have turned away knights of lesser courage but I can recognize a damsel in desperation when I hear one.

Cambridge: [CLICK]

Aaaaaaron: Let's go, baby! Are you ready to taste my steel? Can you taste my steel over the phone? Here, let me taste it for you.

[PAUSE]

Aaaaaaron: BiBi? BiBi, baby - I think I hurt myself. BiBi, could you call me an ambulance please? I can't move my fingers now. BiBi? Can you hear me, baby?

Roadnotes: L.A. 3

I wasted most of my last day in L.A. recovering from the drunken night. By the time the haze of the hangover had lifted, we were hanging out with Victoria, whose stories are always entirely unbelievable, yet always 100 per cent true.

After food and drinks at two different places, we wind up at Birds, where I got to meet Jeremy, the man who started my whole "commission a work" project by writing this to me: "If I pay you a dollar, will you write about how great I am?"

Well, I thought Jeremy was great before, but after he drove all the way from pretty much San Diego, just to hang out with us for a few hours, his greatness increased considerably (I have a picture, Slax, of the two of us together - just to make you jealous, I'll post it when I get a chance).

Last to arrive on the scene was The Redhead - a Seattle compatriot who was coincidentally spending time in the area. She contributed to the spirit of the occasion by creating a mandala out of sweetener.

Somehow, the lot of us avoided getting arrested and I even got five hours of sleep before heading to the airport.

I'm flat out exhausted. My friend's death and all the heartache and all the travel have caught up with me. So, physically, I'm beat but my spirits have been lifted by meeting up with so many friends (thank you). And now I'm writing this in my journal while sitting next to the only empty seat on my flight home.

Maybe my luck has turned.

Roadnotes: L.A. 2

Oh jeez. I haven't been drunk like this in a LONG time.

It's comforting to know that even in the L.A. area, you can hang out in places like Tujunga (to be spoken like the AAOOOGAH horn), where seedy bars punctuate the landscape and bartenders say things like, "Don't yell at me; I get homesick."

Oh jeez. That is all.

Roadnotes: L.A. 1

Friday I finally got around to looking for tickets to L.A. (I'd planned to visit over the quarter break, despite not really having the money). I discovered that leaving the very next day, I could get tickets that were pretty much half the price.

Now I'm on the plane, sucking it up and reading the Da Vinci Code and feeling completely embarrassed about it.

It's not bad, if you like that sort of thing. Best sellers are typically filled with useless phrases like, "heart pounding," and meaningless descriptions of characters' surroundings, characters' possessions or characters' chins. And ultimately I feel a little manipulated when I read this sort of thing. I also feel insulted - if I wasn't told the main character was in peril, there apparently would be no way for stupid little ol' me to figure it out.

Yeah, but at least it's a refresher course on some of this history. THAT part I enjoy and I didn't mind the excessive description of the Grand Gallery at the Louvre, as I've never been there and would like to see it.

The flight goes well (as you can see, I'm still alive). I eat dinner with sis and then we go off to Scott "Freaking" Baio's Pointless Banter release party. I meet Kevin, of course, as it's his party, and he is entirely a genuinely nice guy. As an extra bonus, I meet the man behind Dick Stanke, a genius writer and a nice guy as well.

Then, Bill Dawes gives us a call and we rush down to his midnight show at the Laugh Factory, where we get to meet Bethany and her brother, David. They are just as sweet as their online personalities! And Bill Dawes - I guess he can be my best friend again because he didn't once stare at my sister's breasts. Plus, he's pretty damned funny, even when they make him talk in a Russian accent.

Roadnotes: Denver 3

It's been one long day ever since S----- died, but everything has gone as well as possible. I guess.

Thanks to Quinn and Penelope and Geekdork, I didn't have to worry about where to stay or about rides to and from the airport. And Trapper will make it. It will suck, but he'll make it.

There is beauty, you know, still. The service was amazing and Trapper kept saying that during it, he could feel so much love....

There is comedy, too. During an intense conversation with S-----'s family this afternoon, cell phones kept going off and they all had the most inappropriate ring tones. When one rang the tune of "The Entertainer," it was all I could do to keep from cracking up.

I'm at the airport now, starved. And I'm temporarily stymied when I get to Concourse A because Panda Express is closed for remodeling. I've been in a non-vegetarian house for days so I wanted some fried rice with egg in it. Now I don't know what to do.

So, I pee. Does anyone know how those automatic flushing urinals always seem to know exactly when I'm done? It's eerie. I shake off the last drops and before I can put it away, it starts flushing. It's like they have someone watching, that's how dead-on it is.

At some place called Jimmy's, my drink costs more than my dinner. I'm there because as much as I lamented the choices at SEATAC, there are even fewer options in DIA's Concourse A.

I can hear some floozy saying things like, "I'm legal. I mean I'm not barely legal or anything but I'm young." I want to tell her to just hump the married guy's leg - maybe then he'd get the hint faster.

The "pasta rustica" is actually so good it surprises me. The silverware surprises me, too - it's about as light as air and made of plastic, but it LOOKS like silverware.

I'm finishing up some homework while I finish off my drink when I happen to look at the TV for a moment. I see Kirby Puckett's face and I get excited for news about my boyhood hero until I see the caption underneath: 1961-2006.

Motherfucking shit.

I pay the bill. I find my gate. I sit down and I get a phone call from my sister.

"Have you heard?" she asks.

"Yeah. I just found out. He was about the same age as S-----."

Growing up, my sister used to tease me by calling him "Kirby Spitbucket." Now, after all these years, she suddenly feels a little bad about that.

I tell her it's okay (and it is). If I believed in last straws, I'd have collapsed by now. And Kirby is no straw - he's much bigger than that.

I can take this, too. You may not know this, but you're helping me get through this. All of you. So I can take it.

I love you S-----. I love you Trapper.

I love you Kirby Spitbucket.

I love you, sis.

I'm back in Seattle, now. And I will sleep well tonight.

Roadnotes: Denver 2

My favorite story: Four days before she died, she decided she wanted a drumstick - one of those ice cream cones with the fudge coating and peanuts, etc. So her husband, Trapper, goes to get her one but he doesn't know what kind. So he just buys a box of every kind they have. It is beautiful logic.

Roadnotes: Denver 1

Two days ago at my writer's group there was surprise expressed, by several, that I, at age 31, had been to 15 or 20 funerals. I didn't think it was that many. So now I wonder how many is normal?

The subject came up, of course, when I told them of my upcoming trip. The one I'm on now. I'm going to a funeral in Denver. I'm not there, yet - I'm on a bus headed to SEATAC, wishing my suit and dress shoes didn't require me to take a full-sized carry-on. Much easier to get around with just a backpack.

I'm at the airport. A quick tour of food options made me think that vegetarians don't travel much. I had to walk what seemed like half the length of the airport just to find something that wasn't a veggie burger.

Now, I'm watching a woman eat, one table over. She stares at the cover of a fashion magazine and finishes her food. Then she flips through the magazine, quicky and efficiently taking out all the postcard size ads that would ineveitably fall out if she didn't do this.

I caught you, lady! See, we all do these little things but we usually don't consider that we are doing them for an audience. Enough, though. I'll leave her with her stack of postcard ads and quit writing. I'm not even there, yet....



No, there's one last thing. (I'm wordy today.) Is anyone else a regular Frontier flyer? If you're over, say, 5'10", you have to stoop down to see underneath the overhead compartments in order to see the row numbers for your seat assignment.

My first time on a Frontier plane freaked me out - I couldn't see any row numbers, yet everyone else seemed to know exactly where to go. It was Twilight Zone-esque. I almost turned around and counted the rows behind me. I did figure it out, somehow, without asking, and for a while afterward it annoyed me whenever I flew Frontier. Now it makes me laugh. Just a little. Deep down inside, where no one can see.



Okay. One last thing again. And this time I mean it. I'm too embarrassed to bring a book out of my bag to read. I'm on the plane and I have a copy of the DaVinci Code, but I feel like it'd be too cliche or just too stupid to show people that I, too, have stooped to that level. Incidentally, Dabi touched on this subject not long ago....

Of course, I haven't REALLY stooped that low - I have to read it for a class I'm taking next quarter. The class is called, "The DaVinci Code." Honest. I'm not keen on the book, but I am keen on the history that the book is based on, which is what the class is about. Baigent and Leigh have done some great work and I couldn't pass up the chance to study it in an academic setting. Thus, I must read the book - it's homework I've been given before the quarter has even started. Don't ask me why, but I do actually love this school.

Anyway, I have other, more dignifying, options: The Elements of Style and Ouisconsin, a book of poems by one of my professors. I'm shutting up now. Who knows - I may not have anything to say for the rest of the trip.

C-Dawg be sayin: "How come you not be puttin' me in your blogs, yo?!"

And I'm like, "Now, C-Dawg, I totally mentioned you in that one blog...and there was maybe another blog...maybe."

And C-Dawg be sayin, "Thats not enough, yo!"

And I'm all, like, "Uh...the blogs are fiction. I just make them up. Any similarity to actual events is purely a figment of your imagination."

And then C-Dawg gets all upset, yo! No time to finish - I'm busy installing a third deadlock on my door!

Bill Dawes is not my best friend anymore....

Actual message left by Bill Dawes on my cell phone:

"Hey Aaron, it's your best friend, Bill Dawes. You should've told me your little sister had such nice breasts. I had NO CLUE! HA HA HA HA HA!"

The good thing about cancer

I have a good friend who has been told she has months to live. You never know about these things, for sure, but that's what she's been told.

Her husband is also a good friend and we've been in communication. I call often, though it is rare that we connect. The few times we've talked were hasty exchanges, basic updates of the situation - it's not easy to do these things over the phone and we are 1332.7 miles apart.

But the last time we spoke, we told each other that we loved each other. That's difficult for two heterosexual males to do without it being some kind of struggle. But it wasn't. Not now. The impact of the situation has raised our awarenesses beyond the need to worry about ridiculous social constraints.

If one case of cancer can do that to two people, raise their awareness to that extent, then the world should become increasingly more aware as more people get cancer. In fact, I feel it is inevitable.

My best friend, Bill Dawes!

Recently my best friend, Bill Dawes, gave me his cell phone number! I was so excited because we've never met in real life or anything. I could finally hear his voice and interact with him outside of the Internet! Recently, I've been institutionalized, so I haven't been able to call him, but they did let me use the Internet today, so I wanted to share with you all what a fabulous friend I have in Bill!



----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Aaaaaaron
Date: Jan 23, 2006 1:09 PM

Hey Bill,

It was nice talking to you, today. I hope I get out to NYC sometime soon so we can hang out.

aaron



----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Bill Dawes
Date: Jan 23, 2006 8:14 PM

Aaron, you're kind of creeping me out. Please stop calling me. Bill.



----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Aaaaaaron
Date: Jan 24, 2006 3:22 AM

Hey Bill,

I'm glad you were up when I called. It sure was nice of you to give me your cell phone number. It's great that I can call you whenever I want. And you can call me.

But I'm sure you're busy.

That's okay, because I don't mind being the one that calls. I think I'll call right now and see what you're up to.

aaron



----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Bill Dawes
Date: Jan 24, 2006 3:45 PM

Seriously, Aaron, you've got to stop calling me. I'm sure you're just lonely or something but I don't appreciate it. I only gave you my number because I thought you were sane. Don't ever call me again. Bill.



----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Aaaaaaron
Date: Jan 25, 2006 4:37 AM

So, what's up with your cell phone? Did you forget to pay the bill? Ha ha. Did "Bill" forget to pay the "bill?" Ha ha. I bet you get that all the time when you don't pay your cell phone bill.

I haven't tried calling you for an hour or so - maybe you've paid it by now. I'm going to try.



----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Bill Dawes
Date: Jan 25, 2006 9:27 AM

Don't ever send me a message again. I've already had to change my cell number because of you. Just leave me alone. Bill.



----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Aaaaaaron
Date: Jan 25, 2006 9:36 AM

I'm lucky to have a friend like you - you respond to my messages as if you really KNOW me, you know? I'm sure you're incredibly busy with your "comedy" and everything and yet you still take time to write me now and then. I appreciate that.

So, I came up with a funny skit you should do in your standup. What made me think of it is that it's called "standup," get it? You should come out on stage with a chair and do "sit-down" comedy, get it? That would be pretty funny, huh? You can do your show that way when I come to visit!



----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Bill Dawes
Date: Jan 26, 2006 8:58 AM

I don't know how you got my new cell number but DO NOT EVER CALL IT AGAIN.

Seriously, I will hurt you. Bill.



----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Aaaaaaron
Date: Jan 26, 2006 9:12 AM

You're so funny, Bill. It must be nice being funny. Plus, you've got those boyish good looks. I bet it's no problem getting laid, huh? When I come out to New York, we will totally hang out and you can get me laid, right? I mean, I don't care if we have to share, you know?

So, your mom was pretty surprised to hear you were trapped in a mine shaft and I needed to call your cell phone to track your precise location, since that's what I told her. She seemed to take the news well, but I tried to be as understanding as possible, considering.

I like your mom. She seems nice. I'll be honest, though, she's not really my type.

I keep calling you and getting your voice mail for some reason. You must be extra busy. Did you get a part in a movie again? That would be nice. Maybe I'll come out for the premiere! Wouldn't that be cool, two cool guys stepping out of the limo with all the cameras flashing and everything - there I'd be, right by your side!



----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Bill Dawes
Date: Jan 26, 2006 11:23 AM

Fuck you. Now you've done it.



----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Aaaaaaron
Date: Feb 6, 2006 8:34 AM

Hey Bill,

I know it's been a while, but I've been institutionalized. And before that, someone jumped me in a dark alley and beat the crap out of me. I know it was Jennifer Aniston. Tell someone they have the perkiest nipples once and they think you're cute, but tell her 296 times and she freaks out. What a world... So anyway, strangely enough the van pulled up and put the white jacket on me right after I was beaten up. It's almost like they new exactly where to find me.

So, it took me a while to convince them that if I didn't email you your medication schedule, you would die painfully. Of course, this was a compromise, since I was TRYING to get them to let me use the phone, but they don't allow me to do that. I miss calling you every ten minutes.

It's going to be difficult not being able to stay in touch, but fortunately I printed up all 406 images for your name that Google turned up. Of course, some of them weren't you but I still THINK of you when I see them and that's what counts, right?

Don't get too lonely! I'll think of you often,

aaron

A Treatise on the "long hair guy" Phenomenon

Failure asserts that "99 percent of guys who grow their hair out long are insecure" and that they do it because "girls [dig] it." He goes on to say, "Only a very small rockstar minority of longhaired-guys don't get pussywhipped within 2 seconds of a relationship" (personal communication, January 6, 2006). Not all of these statements are relevant to this treatise.

Failure asks, "Do some people actually thing [sic] a guy with long hair is macho?" (personal communication, January 6, 2006).

In a thorough study of this topic, James states, "From my experience id [sic] say [girls] dont [sic] like long hair" (James, 2001, para. 3), but he does uncover several examples that refute his own experience.

Erin says, "I personally find long haired guys very attractive (that's an understatement..)" (qtd. in James, 2001, para. 15).

Tarnisha adds, "Personally, long hair is high on my cuteness checklist. If its [sic] long enough to all fit in a pony tail -Sweet!" (qtd. in James, 2001, para. 28).

Tarnisha also claims that, "one of the cutest guys I know has waist long straight brown hair. I think he is personally responcible [sic] for at least 50 girls sticking with our LARP of the the [sic] last few years" (qtd. in James, 2001, para. 29). Though she does not offer information on what a "LARP" is, if long hair on a male can make 50 girls do anything, it must in some cases be a good thing, whether it is macho or not.

Works Cited

Failure (2006). Even if I don't win. Retrieved January 6, 2006, from personal communication.

James (2001). Do girls like long hair guys?. Retrieved February 2, 2006, from http://the-light.com/archive/mens/threads/20773.html

Pics of Gay Johnsons!

A trusted spy sent me these pics of a REAL place: it is in Colorado and it's called Gay Johnsons.



Can you imagine the hilarity of the conversations that mention this place? Well, keep on imagining because I'm not even going to do it justice:

"Honey, could you go fill up the tank at Gay Johnsons?"

"Sure, baby. Gay Johnsons has great hot dogs."

This one's for you, Joey Polanski!

Because no one else reads my blog on blogspot. Well, Shoun does once in a while but he HAS to read my stuff now and then because he publishes it. And that creepy anonymous stalker reads it occasionally, but he or she doesn’t even post on anything recent – they always “hide” their post way down on some old blog. – Hey anonymous commenter – I get an email when you comment! That’s right, I am notified! I know what you're doing!

But anyway, thanks Joey Polanski. You make me feel like a star and that’s pretty tough to do. You’re the best.

Public Service Announcements: I Am Not A Map

Maps. They were invented long ago, no matter what continent you are talking about. They are usually graphic representations of geographic locations - pretty handy if you want to know how to get from Point A to Point B. I suggest you pick one up if you are unfamiliar with where you are going. These days, you can even look one up on the Internet. Try mapquest.com. Or if you are in Seattle, I think lostinseattle.com is cool. Anyway, maps can help you.

Here is what a map isn't, just in case you are confused. A map is not a six foot tall, short haired, skinny, neurotic, geeky weirdo who walks all over the place because he has no car.

Thanks for listening. I was noticing that a lot of you were confused about this. Maybe now you can get where you're going without pestering me.

One last thing: if you are an unquestioningly attractive, available female, please disregard the above notice. In that one particular instance, I am most certainly a map.

Let's do to old people what we do to old elephants! It makes plain sense!

The lovely Cassandra suggested the topic, "Elephants," and even though she did not win any of the choose-my-blog-topic contests, she tried. And sometimes that's all that matters (if you're cute).

So this is where old elephants go: The Elephant Sanctuary.

Can you imagine how much easier it would be to get Gramma and Grampa to go to a home if we called it a sanctuary? And we could describe the place better, too (I'm stealing from the Elephant Sanctuary site, replacing the word "elephant" with "old people"):

The Old People Sanctuary in Hohenwald, Tennessee, is the nation's largest natural-habitat refuge developed specifically to meet the needs of old people. It is a non-profit organization, licensed by the U.S. Department of Agriculture and the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency, designed specifically for old, sick or needy people who have been retired from zoos and circuses. Utilizing more than 2700 acres, it provides two separate and protected, natural habitat environments for Asian and African old people. Our residents are not required to perform or entertain for the public; instead, they are encouraged to live like old people.

Phil Snyder, regional director of the Humane Society of the United States has stated, "The Old People Sanctuary represents the future of enlightened captive old people management."

Sounds much better, doesn't it, Gramps?

The Innocence of Iowans

In parts of the midwest, there is a chain of gas station convenience stores that goes by the name of Kum And Go. It is pretty hilarious. But Iowans seem to not understand the joke. Somehow, they are unable to associate the name with any kind of sexual act.

There is a library in the heart of Iowa that raised funds by bricking a pathway with the names of families and companies that donated money. Kum And Go donated a good sum and the result, hilariously, was that somewhere in Iowa there is a brick outside a library that implies you should wank off onto it and get out of there. See for yourself:

If Hitler had designed LEGO sets.... an MLK Day extravaganza!

"If black people were in Germany during World War II, the Holocaust would have never happened.... At least, not to Jews." - Sarah Silverman

Mr. Sassy Pants was one of two contest winners (the contest was to see who could name the date of my first blog ever posted on MySpace). He argued that the blog where I recycled an old letter was technically the first blog I ever wrote that appeared on MySpace - I just hadn't posted it first. For that I had to agree that he did win.

Here was his topic, in a nutshell: "The Lego Universe is not the utopia that it tries to present itself as in the brochures and colorful box sets. There's a dark underbelly in Lego Land."

Intrigued, I did some research. I love LEGO, but there is always something to find when you look, right? So I looked and after a long eight minutes, I thought I had found it: the dark underbelly of LEGO, the tiger in the black dotted eye, the monkey in the plastic wrench. Take a look:


LEGO Gas Chamber

LEGO Concentration Camp

LEGO Gleeful Soldier

Notice the LEGO baton smack-down!

Looks pretty scary, doesn't it? Yeah. But if you read this article, you'll find that, though LEGO did willingly participate in the making of these sets, they did so for some very intelligent reasons.

LEGO agreed to work with the artist, Zbigniew Libera, in producing this limited edition series for retail because of the profound social statement Libera was trying to make. I won't go into it - read the article if you're interested. But I did find this idea very provoking: that the LEGO pieces in the box could be used to build just about anything - it is only the stark image on the front that sets the tone of the set.

So you see, I went looking for the dark underbelly and found only more respect for the company. I am actually proud of them for taking part in this very controversial artistic endeavor. I didn't find the dark underbelly of LEGO. I failed Mr. Sassy Pants and all of you. But that is the way of things. Everytime I try to find fault with LEGO, they appease me. When I pointed out that they didn't have a black LEGO figurine, they made many. When I pointed out that they didn't have a Lando Calrissian Star Wars LEGO figurine, they made him and his whole Cloud City.

"Martin Luther King... I had a fuckin' dream, too!" - Sarah Silverman

You might think that only black people have a good reason to celebrate the life of Martin Luther King, Jr. But the man was cut down just when he was broadening the scope of his message, when he was no longer talking about race so much as class. And class affects us all, whether you're black, Jewish, or a no good white man, like me.

CIA Agent Jones Tricked Me!

I should not have underestimated him.

Remember how I found a source for my Everest gum, despite an evil CIA plot to make my life miserable?

Well, I finished my last tin of Everest and broke open one from the new source and what do you know? It is not the Peppermint kind. It is the Wintergreen flavor. CIA Agent Jones tricked me!

I wasted no time in buying out my source of Everest gum and apparently I was so excited at finding it that I didn't see that it was the wrong flavor! I mean, Wintergreen is okay, but only the Peppermint freshens my breath well enough.

I'll get you for this, CIA Agent Jones!

A Transcript: President Bush's first meeting with advisors after 9-11...

September 11, 2001. This is the transcript of the first official meeting of Bush and his advisors, upon hearing the news of the attacks on the World Trade Center. I have pieced this together from a well-researched source. If you truly want to know what Bush was talking about in his first meeting that day, read on:

PRESIDENT GEORGE BUSH: I'm sure we've all got questions. I've got questions. Let's start with some questions. Anyone want to start?

SALLY MATHESON: Why don't you start, Mr. President?

BUSH: Okay. Well, the first thing that comes to my mind is, how come the caterpillar was so hungry? That darned caterpillar ate up all that stuff. How'd he get so hungry?

BILLY JORGENSEN: My older brother says that when he smokes pot he gets all starving.

BUSH: Yeah, I've uh…I've heard that. Not like cocaine, is it?

JORGENSEN: What’s coke-ane?

BUSH: It's a…it's a special kinda' coke.

MILLIE PETERS: Do you like it?

BUSH: I've uh…I actually don't know what you're talkin' about.

PETERS: About the coke-ane, silly!

BUSH: Yeah, uh…so any more questions about the book? I'd love to talkinate with you all about this here litera-…liter…this here book.

JIMMY DOBBINS: Why are your nose hairs gray?

BUSH: Well, that's a…that's a condition. Er, not a condition except in that it's a condition of bein'. Like bein' a condition. Of age. It's an age thing, you see, when a duck gets old, the gander…uh…when a duck gets old he takes a gander at a goose.

DOBBINS: Is that why hairs grow out of grown-ups' moles?

[SILENCE]

BUSH: Andrew?

CHIEF OF STAFF ANDREW CARD: [UNINTELLIGIBLE WHISPERS]

BUSH: Uh…yes.

RACHEL SMITH: Why do you think the caterpillar was so hungry?

BUSH: Well, I uh…I think he was just concerned, you know. He was thinking of all those other countries out there that might get his food and well…he just…well see, if you count all your chickens and they're hatched, well then shame on you. And if uh…if you count all your chickens and they try to bite you, well then, uh…I can count, if that's what you're asking. If you're asking me, as the president, if I can count, well yes, ma'am, I'll tell you in three words that I can count good.

I have beaten you, CIA Agent Jones!

Or Johnson or whatever your name is.

I admit. It was kind of funny when you got assigned to me and had nothing better to do than eliminate all sources of my favorite gum, Everest.

And it took me a while to figure out what had happened, too. I was living in Denver at the time and even contacted the company. When they responded, listing several places that I knew USED to carry Everest, I realized something was up. Obviously, you were intercepting the shipments that were supposed to go to Target and the 7-Eleven. And everywhere else in Denver, too.

But then I found that little convenience store in the new Webb Building. You didn't think about that place, did you?! Or maybe you thought it was just hilarious watching me go through security there just to buy a tin of Everest gum.

Ha. Real funny, Agent Jones. I got wise to you in the end, though - I bought online. Yes, you made sure Everest's direct purchase web form was not working but you couldn't stop candydirect.com, could you? Of course, I had to buy a case, but if you refrigerate them they stay pretty fresh.

Now I've moved to Seattle. At first, I saw Everest everywhere. I thought, "Did Agent Jones get reassigned?"

I soon realized - you knew I still had half of that case of Everest left. So you were biding your time, making me feel secure about my ability to buy Everest in all of the places that Everest's customer service representative told me I should be able to buy it.

But as soon as the case of Everest was down to its last tin of gum I realized: Everest was nowhere. I checked Target, 7-Eleven and all those other corporate chains and could not find it!

You are a wily one, you!

But you see, I found a source. I found a place in Seattle where I can buy Everest and I don't even have to go through a metal detector! And I'm not telling you where it is, Agent Jones!

A State of the Aaron Address

Many people have asked, whether out of concern or just curiosity: why haven't I been evicted yet? Months ago, I walked out on a job at The Corporation determined to become a paid writer or be evicted trying. Well, neither has happened. Yet.

However, I've come up with a solution for now: I'm going back to school (with Rodney Dangerfield!).

Yes, I know. I'm disappointed, too. I was actually looking forward to the eviction. It would have been fun to couch surf for a while, just me and my laptop and a long list of friends I've wanted to visit and mooch off of.

But liquidating the rest of my possessions just felt like it would be a big chore. It seemed easier NOT to get evicted, to just put rent on the card and not have to try to sell the 1969 Contessa acoustic guitar my mom gave me. Or the 1974 Fender Precision bass my aunt gave me. I kept those. I also have kept a few books and the master tapes of many recording sessions. Oh yes, and the LEGO bricks are still safe and sound in their five Rubbermaid tubs.

Rest assured - I have not come back to my senses. I'm going back to school, which is normally a smart thing to do, but I'm doing it the wrong way. I'm paying twenty grand a year for tuition to finish up a Bachelor's Degree. And get this: my degree will be useless. Yes, that's right. It will not help me get a job.

So again, I assure you, the absolutely insane writer wanna-be is still quite insane and is still putting writing at the forefront of all priorities.

My degree may end up being called "Creative Writing, Contemporary Fiction and the Future of Book Design" or something like that. You see, I get to decide what my degree will be in and what I want to study. This is what you can have if you're willing to go twenty grand into debt per year, not counting living expenses. So, my degree, you see, will be tailored to the writing that I want to do anyway. Genius! (That is, it's "genius" if one doesn't care about fucking one's self financially.)

So that's it. I got the maximum Stafford Loans, a small sum from a Pell Grant (thank goodness, whoever Pell was). And I'll be living off money that Sallie Mae agreed to loan me.

I just thought you should know. I'll get back to the funny next time.