tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70739846234184188092024-03-05T04:44:42.363-06:00Scattershot(adj) Covering a wide range in a haphazard way.Dr. Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503186812820112200noreply@blogger.comBlogger132125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-12130658741674437612010-10-22T08:00:00.004-05:002010-10-22T08:00:09.467-05:00Willie Lobster, Detective: PART 5 "Krazy Klown Komedy"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJ-BHGezIC_gaOLMfTIpbwzFbGMYeY0fQoE34HcBYNpahdvoA4c9_lMNeeuRlC1p1y0aSuyQuWuHkL8dzWbXEkvQ8On-I6D-_AKwejarFrllr7-HaXj3wEw2fduvAaZ4vAEdKtjf3ejQ/s1600/WilieLobster.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 326px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJ-BHGezIC_gaOLMfTIpbwzFbGMYeY0fQoE34HcBYNpahdvoA4c9_lMNeeuRlC1p1y0aSuyQuWuHkL8dzWbXEkvQ8On-I6D-_AKwejarFrllr7-HaXj3wEw2fduvAaZ4vAEdKtjf3ejQ/s400/WilieLobster.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529201243609356450" /></a><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Koqteese had just turned Detective Lobster’s car around when a small, slightly comical looking Ford Fiesta traveling in the opposite direction erupted into a ball of flames. The crappy lime green Fiesta lifted off the ground and tumbled through the air like a child’s toy. As it spun through the air a handful of people spilled out onto the blacktop.<br /><br />People in baggy trousers and enormous shoes.<br /><br />“Holy shit,” Koqteese said. “I have just forgotten all about taking you back to your apartment to get your glasses!”<br /><br />“Glasses!” Lobster shouted. “What are you even talking about!”<br /><br />Koqteese managed to steer their car out of the fireballs bouncing trajectory.<br /><br />“You know,” Lobster said. “Ford makes one helluva basketball…”<br /><br />“It is bouncing pretty high,” Koqteese said in agreement.<br /><br />“Oh Jesus,” Lobster said as the flaming Fiesta hurtled past his window. “That’s not a basket ball, that’s a fucking flaming car!”<br /><br />Koqteese decided to pretend like she hadn’t heard him—this would be her new way of dealing with Detective Lobster’s many short-comings. This was the same method employed by Lobster’s mother and father, as well as his first two wives (Rebecca and Sayshauna Ann).<br /><br />“Pull over, we gotta see if there’s anyone left to pull outta that wreck,” Lobster said, banging his hand against the dashboard dramatically as he spoke.<br /><br />“Whatever,” Koqteese told him as he slowed their car down.<br /><br />Detective Lobster didn’t wait for the come to a complete stop—he was so badass that he leaped out of the car when it was still rolling to a stop. He’d seen that done in the movies and had always wanted to give it a whirl. Of course, what they don’t tell or show you in the movies is the wear that this tends to put on the souls of ones shoes. Detective Lobster could suddenly feel the pavement through the bottoms of both shoes.<br /><br />“It was time to get a new pair, anyway,” he said as he stomped over to the wrecked Fiesta.<br /><br />Though it was smashed against a streetlight, and consumed with flames, Detective Lobster could tell that this was no ordinary sub-compact. The rear fender was shaped like the backend of a goose, and the front of the car was bent to look like an enormous bird bill. Clearly this was some kind of bird-Fiesta hybrid.<br /><br />Not that it mattered. The flames danced along the green paint job, licking away the frivolity like a fat kid licking an ice cream cone on a balmy July afternoon when the air conditioner is broken and he won’t shut up about being so fucking hot so his mother gives in and gives him an ice cream cone even though he’s just developed Type II diabetes and the State is going to take him away because she’s let him grow so enormously fat that it’s become a sick kind of child abuse.<br /><br />It was kind of like that.<br /><br />“Hey!” Lobster screamed into the flames. “Anyone still in there!”<br /><br />“H-h-haaa!” a shrieking clown laugh sounded from somewhere inside the burning wreck. “H-h-haaa! This haahahahaha, this hahahah burns…”<br /><br />Then there was a series of strange honking sounds. It wasn’t like the honking of a goose (which would have kinda made sense) but rather, it was like the sound of a deflating bicycle horn.<br /><br />“Oh my gawd!” Koqteese said, shoving her heaving bosom against Lobster’s back. “There’s a clown in there! He’s fryin’ like a piece of succulent cod!”<br /><br />“Take it easy,” Lobster said. “I’m canceling this fish fry.”<br /><br />Without thinking, which was pretty much how he always operated, Detective Lobster dove through the flaming (broken) windshield and reached down to grab a hold of the burning clown.<br /><br />“Hahaha…don’t try to save me…I’m done for,” the clown coughed. “Hahahaha!”<br /><br />By this time the other clowns, the ones who’d fallen out of the Fiesta as it tumbled through the air, were limping towards the burning wreck.<br /><br />“Chuckle-chuckle! Garsh, we gotta save Mr. Giggle-Pants!” one of the injured clowns said as he limped to the burning car.<br /><br />“Stay back!” Koqteese said. “Detective Lobster will save your friend.”<br /><br />“Well I couldn’t save him,” Lobster said as he leaped out of the burning Fiesta. “Poor bastard wouldn’t stop laughing…I couldn’t get him to leave the car.”<br /><br />“That was Mr. Giggle-Pants,” another of the injured clowns said. “Always laughing…right up to the end.”<br /><br />In the distance there came the sound of sirens.<br /><br />“The fire department can handle the rest,” Lobster said, wiping the soot from his pants. “Let’s spilt before those bananas show up and start making trouble.”<br /><br />“Hey mister,” one of the clowns said. “Did you say bananas?”<br /><br />“Do you know about this gang of vicious, killer banana bullies?” Koqteese said, pursing her lips in a way that reminded all of the clowns, as well as Detective Lobster, of that fat boy licking his beloved ice cream cone.<br /><br />“Those rubber heads have been muscling in on our territory,” the smoking clown said. He wasn’t smoking a cigarette; his clothes were singed and giving off little trails of jet black smoke. It was really distracting.<br /><br />“The bananas are doing kids parties?” Lobster said skeptically.<br /><br />“No, no, we’re cocaine smugglers,” the sort-of-still-burning Clown said.<br /><br />“I should have known,” Lobster said. “That explains the red noses…”<br /><br />“Those bastard bananas must have slipped a bomb under our Klown Kar,” the clown explained.<br /><br />Lobster frowned.<br /><br />“Why did you say it like that?” he asked the clown.<br /><br />“Say what like what?”<br /><br />“You called your clown car your ‘klown kar,’ that’s really very stupid,” Lobster said. Detective Lobster was a very good judge of stupid. This was because of Einstein’s famous theory of “Takes One to Know One.” This rule applies to a lot of people, in a lot of instances.<br /><br />“I guess I was trying to add a bit of levity,” the clown said. “To a terrible situation. You see, that ‘s what we clowns do—we add levity to a terrible situation. That terrible situation is called ‘reality.’ You see, the world is full of chaos and pain, there’s nothing I can do about that. What I can do, however, is try to make both you and your voluptuous friend smile by wearing baggy pants…and calling my car a ‘klown kar.’ Is that so wrong?”<br /><br />Another of the dazed, and injured clowns nodded in agreement and said: “We also sell cocaine…to help with all that suffering and shit…honk-a-honk-a!”<br /><br />Detective Lobster grunted in disgust and turned away.<br /><br />“Come on Koqteese,” he said, heading back to his car. “Let’s leave these Klowns to their Krime scene.”<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">SCATTERSHOT READERS YOU DECIDE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT:</span></span></b></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">DOES DETECTIVE LOBSTER PLAY POOL WITH AN UMBRELLA?</span></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">OR </span></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">DOES DETECTIVE LOBSTER DIG A REALLY DEEP HOLE WITH A SLOTTED SPOON?</span></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">VOTE IN THE COMMENTS SECTION!!!</span></span></b></span></div></span></span></b>Dr. Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503186812820112200noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-31640761817054736882010-10-22T07:59:00.007-05:002010-10-28T09:32:59.208-05:00Natalie Burroughs: Sex Detective<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">RUSSELL:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Um, hello? Miss Burroughs, are you in here? Your receptionist told me to come on in.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">NATALIE:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Yes, I’m Natalie Burroughs, Sex Detective. You must be Russell Muddige. You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. I almost gave your appointment to a young woman convinced her boyfriend is sleeping with his science professor.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">RUSSELL:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sorry. I hit traffic on the 101.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">NATALIE:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Well, now that you’re here, we can begin. Why don’t you step across my spacious, ornately decorated office and sit in one of the brown calfskin chairs in front of my impressive but not quite boastful glass desk.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">RUSSELL:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">(confused) Why are you talking like that?</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">NATALIE:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I apologize. Sometimes I lapse into talking like I’m giving narrative details. It only happens occasionally.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">RUSSELL:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing here. I saw your late-night commercial after an ad for a phone-sex chatline. I’m not even really clear on what a “sex detective” does.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">NATALIE:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Some people prefer the term “sextective,” which may clear things up.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">RUSSELL:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Not really.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">NATALIE:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mainly we specialize in helping concerned spouses or significant others uncover whether or not their partners are having … um … undisclosed </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">relations</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">. When the situation is more internal and no infidelity can be proven, we try to get at the root of what the couple’s problem is. I take it something’s not right with your relationship and that’s why you’re here.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">RUSSELL:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">(defeated) It is. I think my wife may be having an affair. She’s been distracted lately, and we haven’t made lovey-doves in almost three months.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">NATALIE:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Is that what you call it? “Lovey-doves”?</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">RUSSELL:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">(refocusing his attention) Yes. Why, does that mean something?</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">NATALIE:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">(deadpan) It just means that I’ve cracked a case in which a young man tried impregnating a cat repeatedly and you still take the trophy in my WTF competition.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">RUSSELL:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I suppose it does sound a little … cutesy. (pause) Oh god. You don’t think </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I’m</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> the reason my wife’s out having an affair, do you?</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">NATALIE:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Well, we can’t even be sure that your opposite sex life partner is actually having an affair. It’s too soon to jump to any conclusions. But, to answer your question: Yes.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">RUSSELL:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I can’t believe it. I mean, I figured that things, you know, in the bedroom might have been strained because of the long hours I work and my freakishly misshapen penis, but I didn’t realize that something so simple as a phrase could snuff out our love dumpling noodle time.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">NATALIE:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I’m staring at you, incredulously and with a hint of disgust.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">RUSSELL:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">More narrative detail talk?</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">NATALIE:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sorry. It sneaks up on me.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">RUSSELL:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">If I really am the cause of all this, what can I do to fix things? </span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">NATALIE:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">First of all, you need to retrain the language center of your brain to not sound so … hmm, what’s the clinical phrase … “fucking retarded” when you’re talking about sex. We women like a man who isn’t afraid to plow it like it’s harvest time, if you know what I mean. And the same thing goes for the way you talk about getting freaky under the covers. Don’t shy away from terms and phrases like “skanky ho,” “cum-hungry pig,” and “I want to fuck the shit out of you.” They’re scientifically proven to trigger the affection regions of a woman’s brain mass.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">RUSSELL:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">(repeating, as if to remember) Skanky ho. Cum-hungry pig. I want to fuck the shit out of you. Got it. And you think that this may help rekindle things between me and my elementary schoolteacher wife?</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">NATALIE:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I think it’ll be a start.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 36px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">RUSSELL:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Thank you, Miss Burroughs. I really think this might just be the turning point in my marriage. I don’t know how you do it, but you’re something wubby-bubby-snubby-lubby indeed.</span></span></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551798607980616941noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-77327091545722513302010-10-15T08:00:00.000-05:002010-10-15T08:00:06.992-05:00Willie Lobster, Detective: PART 4 "Not Much Happens Because Jason Is Getting Burned Out (the second to last installment)""<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRbQ7W78X5E4_PEsdb-U1Tlr_dVqylCsgXBQ1j2kAhwG7fD0pV66M_NmySEydxkJ5wqVzXIa0Ui3WH0ohmg0RGLfAnIKfTQZx1dkaTcC1SsPKrggUZ_AtJdVD2nykc-_p2AsD9Z2cTGFY/s1600/WilieLobster.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 326px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRbQ7W78X5E4_PEsdb-U1Tlr_dVqylCsgXBQ1j2kAhwG7fD0pV66M_NmySEydxkJ5wqVzXIa0Ui3WH0ohmg0RGLfAnIKfTQZx1dkaTcC1SsPKrggUZ_AtJdVD2nykc-_p2AsD9Z2cTGFY/s400/WilieLobster.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528055265059623778" /></a><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Willie Lobster started up at the banana thug. The thug's mouth trickled blood. The blood was red. The redness reminded Lobster that he had a weapon hidden under his divan. </span></b><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The divan was a ratty-looking piece of furniture that Lobster kept for sentimental reasons. Most of these reasons had to do with his bitches. Lobster had, over the course of his life, had several female dogs...they'd loved the divan. They were gone now (just like poor Daniel) but Lobster kept their memory alive with the divan. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Lobster groaned and rolled towards the tattered divan. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Hey!" one of the banana thugs shouted.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Get him!" another shouted.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Mu mufth!" the one with the bloody mouth said.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Detective Lobster stuck his hand beneath the divan and groped frantically for the weapon he'd stashed underneath--because one never knew when one was going to be attacked inside one's home by a rang of bananas.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Get back! Stay back!" Lobster said, whipping out his secret stashed weapon. "I don't want to...but I'll use this if I have to."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The banana thugs stopped dead in their tracks.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"An apple?" one said.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Yo, am I trippin' or is that dude holding an apple?" another asked. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The banana thugs were not seeing things, Detective Lobster was indeed brandishing an apple. He'd thought he'd left a 9mm under the divan, but apparently he'd moved it to another (presumably more secure) location. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Instead, Lobster had found nothing but a moldy apple.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"What?" Lobster said. "This is a fucking gun."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">He looked at the grimy apple in his left hand. There was a generous dusting of dog hair and dust bunny remnants upon the apples mushy flesh. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Ha! Ha! This muthafucka is nuts!" one of the banana's said.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Grab 'em!" the banana leader said, spitting blood onto the floor. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">As the thugs descended upon him, Lobster thrust the nasty apple in their direction. The first thug to reach the desperate detective got a face full of moldy apple mush. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Gah!" the blinded banana shouted, frantically wiping the offensive gunk off his face. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The blinded thug's flailing smacked the second thug, whose gun went off. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Detective Lobster, who'd grown up in a bad neighborhood, wasn't fazed by the gunshot and jumped to his feet and raced towards his front door. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Oooooawwww!" the lead banana thug screamed. "Youf -hot me! Youf -hot me inna mouf!"</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Oh man...I am so sorry, man."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The trickle of blood pouring out the lead banana thug's mouth was now a geyser of gushing crimson death. This banana's problems were now bigger than a few popped stitches. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Dude, we gotta take you to the hospital..."<br /><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Lobster, meanwhile was racing out the door and down the steps of his apartment building. As he neared his car, he saw that </span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">Savanna Koqteese was sitting behind the wheel. Her face was a mixture of concern and constipation. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"Go! Go! Go!" Lobster shouted as he leaped into the car.</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>A true lady of action, </b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">Koqteese didn't question him--she just got them the hell out of there.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"I heard the gunshot and decided to get the engine warm for you," she told him after they'd gone a few blocks. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"You're one helluva woman, </span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">Koqteese," he said. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"Where are we going?"</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"Shady Street, to see DeJesus's cousin, DeMoses," Lobster told her. "I'm getting to the bottom of this mess..."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"Fine," she said. "Could you do me one favor?"</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"Anything, sweetheart."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"Put on your seatbelt."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Lobster, who was never a fan of mandatory safety devices, reluctantly reached back and grabbed his seatbelt. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"These bananas are driving me nuts," Lobster said gravely.</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"Did you get your glasses?" </b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">Koqteese asked. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>A thousand thoughts had been racing though Lobster's razor-sharp mind. Where was his 9mm? Who were these bananas? Why were they trying to kill him? Was </b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">Koqteese really a cock tease? Were DeJesus and DeMoses Catholics? </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">He was thinking about everything...everything but his glasses.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"Damn it," he grumbled. </span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"What?"</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"We gotta go back," Lobster told her. "I forgot to get them."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">SCATTERSHOT READERS YOU CHOOSE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT:</span></b></span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>DOES KOQTEESE DRIVE THEM BACK TO LOBSTERS APARTMENT?</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>OR</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>DOES A CARLOAD OF CLOWNS EXPLODE NEARBY, MAKING BOTH OF THEM FORGET ALL ABOUT LOBSTER'S GLASSES?</b></span></div><div> </div>Dr. Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503186812820112200noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-88992501508668784122010-10-15T07:59:00.006-05:002010-10-15T07:59:00.219-05:00That Which Has Led Me Here Before You<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I’ve never really been opposed to the idea of slaughtering animals. Now, taken out of context, that statement can sound kind of bad. But hear me out. Before, when I was growing up, my parents never owned a farm. They never plowed fields or woke up at some ungodly hour to trudge through the rain or snow to collect eggs from a chicken coop. We didn’t live anywhere remotely city-like, but our shoes didn’t smell like chicken shit. Oh, sorry, Your Honor. Excuse me, ‘chicken poop.’ My experience with livestock came from the TV and a single trip to my aunt and uncle’s house in the country, one time when I was seven.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Their farm wasn’t the biggest, and it was certainly nothing to bring in the big bucks. Nothing more than a couple cows, a litter of good-for-nothing cats, and one pig that went by the name of Lucas Pembroil. I’m talking, Your Honor, about my cousin, a fat little boy a couple years older than me, who decided it would be hilarious to show me the chickens. See, it was his job to feed them each day, and on one of my family’s trips to see his parents, he brought me outside, out to the hen house. They had a chain-link fence to keep the chickens penned up, but it was the most ramshackle thing ever laid eyes on. The birds always got out and ran amok, bringing dogs and coyotes around. It was Lucas’s job to get them back in the pen and fix wherever they’d managed to get out.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“So Lucas brings me to the chickens and tells me that they love to play. ‘It’s sure fun trying to run and catch ‘em,’ he says. And this, remember, to a little seven-year-old boy. ‘Why don’t you try it?’</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“And so I’m all full of energy from being stuck in the car for the ride there and then being inside while my mom and pop gab-gab-gab with my aunt and uncle. So I go after this one chicken, a hen. This little burnt red soccer ball of a thing that’s running around, jutting its neck out like it’s dancing. Lucas, meanwhile, has a grin on his face that touches his scabbed ear, like my aunt smacked his mouth and sent it a couple inches sideways on his head. And as I’m going after this chicken, he grabs this wooden pole, even taller than him at five feet.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“All of a sudden this bird decides it’s had enough. It comes after me, jumping, flapping its wings, losing feathers like money in the state lotto. Surely you’ve seen chickens when they get agitated, Your Honor. Well, I hadn’t seen such a thing, and I screamed like a girl when I felt that first spur cut into my hand. She got me several times, and by the time Lucas had beat her away with that pole, my arms were scratched to hell and back like I’d just lost a fight with a rosebush.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“That event was a traumatization. That’s what my shrink calls it, anyway. I’m just a good old boy from Cornhole, Iowa. Ha ha! I’m just joshing; that’s just what us locals call it. You all probably know it as Compton. That’s where I was born and raised.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Anyways, that moment stuck with me for the rest of my days, and it still wakes me up in the middle of the night sometimes. I’ll open my eyes to the dead of night, my hair matted with sweat, thinking that I’m surrounded by the prickliest feathers but which are really just the low thread-count sheets I bought at the Discount Decor over in Ridgemont.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“My parents didn’t have high hopes for me, and I guess maybe their lack of inspiration set me down the path that brought me here today. I knew from a young age that the college education card got left out of my deck, and so I turned to mechanics in high school. I thought about being an inventor, but I could never come up with som</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ething to invent. ‘Well, think about something people need,’ my shop teacher would say. ‘Try to fill a niche that hasn’t been filled.’</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Now that’s easy to say when you ain’t trying to invent things and you know what in the H-E-double-toothpicks </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">niche</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> means, but for me, the best I ever came up with was my own version of a clothes dryer for people who liked their shirts to smell like the outdoors. You know that smell that comes with hanging clothes out on the line? Well, this was a machine to get clothes dried fast but still get that outdoor-fresh scent, you see?</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Basically it was just a big vented metal tub attached to a motor. It spun like the devil and dried things quicker than you could say ‘Kenmore can lick my — ’</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Well, you get the idea.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“After graduating I spent a few years moving from job to job, working as a dishwasher and a laborer and a few other little things. But I never stopped thinking about how great it might be to invent something that people all across the country might use. Something that would make me rich and give me what my shrink calls ‘validation.’ Ultimately, though, my parents kicked me out of the house when I lost my job as the high school’s facilities cleanliness specialist due to a marijuana addiction that I’ve recently gotten under control.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I ended up heading back to my aunt and uncle’s farm, where I figured they could use a hand since Lucas had gone on to bigger and better things in the United States military. Family, as they say, is the one place you’re always welcome. So I helped them with the chores and duties they couldn’t do anymore, and they let me into their home until I could figure out what to do with myself.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Corralling the chickens had to be my least favorite job, but I did it because I was grateful. I swallowed the fear that had been my companion for all these years and took to those birds with my own stick. After some time, I jerry rigged the fence around the pen, and they didn’t get out except for every once in a while. Nothing like before, when Lucas had to take care of them. Dealing with those chickens wasn’t so terrifying after that; feeding them was nothing like corralling them, but when my aunt decided to cook chicken for dinner it was my job to get one and pluck it. It was bad enough having to get near them to feed them, but taking one in my hands was a whole other story.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“For months I had to go in that pen and hunt for the plumpest one. Then, after the rigamarole of catching and killing it, I had to pluck the damn thing.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“My uncle had quite a workshop in an old shed out behind the house. And one day I had an idea. What if, I thought, I put that outdoor dryer to use? So I went back home and got my dryer, and when I brought it to my uncle’s workshop I put little rubber spikes along the walls of the metal drum. In my head I imagined that, if I put a bird in there and started the motor, the rubber pieces would catch the feathers, plucking them out with no problem at all.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“And that’s exactly what happened when I tried it out. Sure, I had to use the hose to spray inside there to get that chicken clean. And, yes, it made such a thudding, horrible noise that my aunt and uncle came rushing outside to check on what they thought was a derailed locomotive crashing through their yard, but that chicken came out naked as a Playboy centerfold!</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Of course, what I didn’t realize at the time was that putting a live chicken in there would be considered animal cruelty. And that’s exactly what I did when I demonstrated my automated chicken plucker for the fine folks at the United States Patent and Trademark Office, which has led me here before you fine folks and you, Your Honor.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“That’s about it, I guess. That’s all I have to say. My mouth to God’s ear, I am not one for treating animals with anything less than the dignity and respect they deserve. Those chickens, however…”</span></span></span></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551798607980616941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-83641363191911262702010-10-08T08:00:00.001-05:002010-10-08T08:00:12.060-05:00Willie Lobster, Detective: PART 3 "A Familiar Fruit"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipYdYB6hVi9UuiWyjPE6zsf-52wmjRFwr4zrZkodWoWZal2E9HcitIQJncr0JYWohveDiGFZqK31nWc61lv7UONsXHhdm3-6JAOmDa97OSJzaivxNoDEnB0TjjDfp3chWuj8mW0to5SP4/s1600/WilieLobster.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 326px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipYdYB6hVi9UuiWyjPE6zsf-52wmjRFwr4zrZkodWoWZal2E9HcitIQJncr0JYWohveDiGFZqK31nWc61lv7UONsXHhdm3-6JAOmDa97OSJzaivxNoDEnB0TjjDfp3chWuj8mW0to5SP4/s400/WilieLobster.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525500065876530898" /></a><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Detective Willie Lobster lived in an apartment over on Maple Avenue. It was a small, rinky-dink affair with just enough room for a a mattress, wardrobe, bidet, and hot plate.</span></b><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Apartment 1313. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The neighborhood was diseased, a gathering place for those waiting to die and those who'd already done it. Lobster's next-door-neighbor had died a few years back, and no one had noticed for almost the month.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The stink was that bad. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Curling wisps of stream shot out of a number of crevasses on the sidewalk--no one asked what it was exactly that was leaking out of ground. All anyone could tell was that it stank. It stank like the apartment, the building, the street, the neighborhood, the borough, the city, the county, the State, the nation, the continent, the hemisphere, the planet...the whole goddamn universe. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Everything stinks in the miserable city," </span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">Savanna Koqteese said.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">She was sitting next to Detective Lobster. They were inside his 1971 Chevy Crapi. As you can imagine, it wasn't a very good car.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"Yeah, well..." Lobster grumbled, "It ain't so bad."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"It ain't so bad?" </span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">Koqteese said in disbelief. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"That's what I said," Lobster told her. "Now you wait here, I gotta run inside and fetch something..."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">The word "fetch" reminded Lobster of Daniel, his fallen Spaniel. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">"Get it together, Lobster. Get it together," he murmured to himself as he climbed out of the shit-bucket seat and oozed himself out onto the steaming streets.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">The climb up to his apartment was long and arduous. In the winter, when there was snow and ice on the cold concrete steps, Lobster liked to pretend he was an explorer climbing some treacherous, far-way mountain. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">Like Mount Kill-a-Man-orrow. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><br /></span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Lobster knew something was wrong even before he'd reached his front door. The "Wipe Your Fucking Feet" mat was slightly askew. As he approached his front door, he could see that it was part of the way open. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"Better check my piece," Lobster said. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>He reached down and gave his dick a squeeze.</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>That was what he called his pistol--Lobster called it his "dick." He called his penis his "gun." The last time he'd tried to make love to a woman...well...you can see that there was a misunderstanding. Four hours and several phone calls to Sloan Whixler, his attorney, straightened everyone out (except his "gun" which was no longer very straight).</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"Well, well..." a voice said as Lobster entered his apartment. "Look what the proverbial cat dragged in!"</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>There were five men lurking amid Lobsters meager possessions. These (the possessions) included: pizza boxes, empty tin cans, used tissues, discarded candy wrappers, a can opener, a TV Guide from 10 years ago, several dozen cardboard tubes (from paper towels, one never knows when one might need a cardboard tube), and a carton of milk--aged to a fine blue cheddar. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"A gang! Inside my apartment!" Lobster exclaimed as he reached for his gun, but he was confused himself and reached for his...well you know...which wasn't very helpful in this situation.</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"Yo, check out this perv," the leader of the lurkers said. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>All the men were wearing identical rubber banana costumes. There was something familiar about them...but Lobster couldn't quite put his finger on it.</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"What the fuck are you doing in here?" he asked them.</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"Okay, first off--we're not a "gang" we're a bunch," the leader of the lurkers said. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>The rest of the bunch sniggered in approval. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"You lady friend, a Ms. Neverputt, she's a bit of a problem for us," the banana man said. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"What are you talking about?" Lobster said, wondering where his glasses were. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Lobster fumbled over to the light switch near the front door and turned on the apartments single dim-bulb. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"Like roaches," Lobster said as the bananas scrambled to avoid the light.</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"Hey! Let's trash his shit 'an leave!"</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"Let's bash his brains in!"</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>The leader of the lurkers huffed, "Nah man, we gotta rare opportunity to do a little one-on-five counseling..."</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>The banana thugs descended upon Detective Lobster in a loose configuration roughly resembling a crescent moon. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>The Moon. It had been Daniel's favorite celestial body. He'd stay up all night a yawl at it, his furry paws occasionally swiping the air as if he could somehow...get at the moon. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"You're standing on Daniel's nest," Lobster sobbed. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>It was true, one of the banana thugs was trampling on Daniel's circular puppy bed--Lobster had left it untouched in the dog's honor. Now it was soiled by the rubbed robed brute.</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"Fuck you, Lobster...and your damn dog bed," the banana thug spat. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Lobster gritted his teeth and lunged in anger at the banana. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"I'll PEEL you! I'll PEEL all of you!" Lobster shouted as he transformed himself into a whirling dervish of hands, feet, teeth, and eyebrows. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Someone kicked someone else in the face, while someone smacked someone else in the knee cap.</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>It was all very exciting.</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>But in the end, Detective Lobster was no match for a gang of fruit-themed thugs. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"Hold 'em down!" the leader said, spitting blood. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>The blood was from a recent oral surgery and not, as one might expect, all the excitement and scrapping. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"Oh crap, I popped a stitch. My dentist is gonna kill me!" the banana thug said. "Listen boys, wail on Detective Lobster until he knows better than to get mixed up with mysterious, provocatively-named dames."</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 22px; "><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;">SCATTERSHOT READERS YOU CHOOSE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;">WHAT FRUIT SAVES DETECTIVE LOBSTER?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;">APPLE?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;">OR</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 22px; "><div style="text-align: center; display: inline !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 22px; "><div style="text-align: center; display: inline !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div></span></b></span></div></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 22px; "><div style="text-align: center; display: inline !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 22px; "><div style="text-align: center; display: inline !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;">PEAR?</span></span></div></span></b></span></div></span></b></span></div></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>Dr. Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503186812820112200noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-42952338505382689432010-10-08T07:59:00.004-05:002010-10-08T07:59:00.809-05:00Ten Questions For The Person Who Literally Took A Shit In The Women's Clothing Wednesday Night<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1) What the hell were you thinking?</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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2) Was it really a good idea to, apparently, eat such a hearty meal before coming to shop at a major retailer?<br />
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3) If you are old and/or senile do you have someone to monitor you while in public?<br />
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4) If this sort of thing happens on a regular basis and you can expect such an event, why do you not wear protective diapers?<br />
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5) Honestly, how could you take the time to check for onlookers and then pull down your pants but </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">not</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> have time to get to the restroom ten yards away?<br />
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6) Did you wipe afterwards? If so, should we have looked for an empty, stolen package of toilet paper, too?<br />
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7) If no toilet paper was stolen, should shoppers beware any chocolate-colored blouses in that area?<br />
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8) After you finished, did you have to leave, or did you continue shopping?<br />
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9) If you're a teenage prankster, don't you have anything better to do, like get someone pregnant in the backseat of an automobile or cook crystal meth in your parents' basement?<br />
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10) Again, if you're a prankster, do you realize that we're going to search through our extensive security footage and find you, and then many jokes will be shared at your expense, kind of like what's happening right now? </span></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551798607980616941noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-53077664773917597952010-10-01T08:00:00.001-05:002010-10-01T08:00:12.118-05:00Willie Lobster, Detective: PART 2 "Taco Night"<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/limemonkeyx3/5019419494/" title="WilieLobster by limemonkeyx3, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4132/5019419494_4c2e00ed09.jpg" width="400" height="326" alt="WilieLobster" /></a></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Detective Willie Lobster clutched his gut and took several quick gulps of air. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The panting reminded him of Daniel, his recently dead Spaniel. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"My God," Savanna Koqteese</span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">asked. She hesitantly stepped out from behind the office door. Grimacing, she tried to to stare at the watery-eyed Detective. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"I'm not crying," Lobster wheezed. "I'm just...still in mourning."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Shouldn't you go after him?" </span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Koqteese asked, motioning out the still open office door.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"What?"</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"The banana that attacked you," she said. "He's getting away..."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Oh my God," Detective Lobster exclaimed. "Lady, what day is it?"</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Huh?" </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"You know, Monday...Tuesday..."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Oh, it's Thursday," K</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">oqtees</span></b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">e said, not sure what the day of the week had to do with running after the maniac-banana. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Thursday," Detective Lobster said. "Thursday, Taco-Day. Come on..."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Where are we going?" she asked.</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Down to Nacho Heaven to see a man about a taco."</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">***</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Detective Lobster and Savanna Koqteese were sitting in a grimy</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> paper-mache booth. Lobster was wearing a massive, cheap, foam sombrero and a large bib. </span></b></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Koqteese, on the other hand, wore only an embarrassed look. </span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"This place is...interesting," she said.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Yes," Lobster said. "It certainly is! Best tacos in the city."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Listen, Detective, I can't go any further with you until I know if you'll take my case."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"</span></b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Case?" Lobster repeated. "What case? I thought you were just looking for your dog."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And then the tears began to flow once again on the grizzled Detective's face.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Daniel...you son-of-a-bitch..." Lobster sobbed. "That bullet was meant for me...for ME damn it!"</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Koqteese got up to fetch a few extra napkins. She hated to see snot on a grown-man.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Speaking of terrible injustices," Koqteese said, segueing into her brother's disappearance like a lazy podcaster. "My brother Pedro has gone missing."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"</span></b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Really?" Detective Lobster said, wiping salsa from his fingers.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"My family hasn't heard from him in days," Koqteese said. "We're getting really worried."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Maybe he can't remember your phone number," Lobster said. "Ever think about that?"</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"But if he couldn't call, surely he could just come over..."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Lobster smiled.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Honey, you ever think your brother might have forgotten your phone number AND where you live?"</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Could that happen?" Koqteese asked.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Could a cocker-spaniel catch a bullet with his teeth? No. But damned if he didn't try..."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Just then, the portly-criminally-connected (but not a criminal) owner of Nacho Heaven, David DeJesus waddled over to their booth. </span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Hola, Detective, how es your tacos?"</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Fabulous," Lobster said, sniffling. "I was just about to get up and order another soft-shell..."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Con carne?"</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Si," Lobster nodded.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">DeJesus snapped his fingers and a waitress appeared with the Detectives delicious soft-shell taco.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"So," the portly restaurant owner began, "You never bring a date with you to Taco Night...so I know that this lady must be a client of yours, senior."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">DeJesus was right, Willie Lobster never mixed business and tacos. It was just bad business.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Mr. Lobster was just about to take the case of my missing brother Pedro," Koqteese said.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">DeJesus nodded, "Pedro. I like that, I have a few sons with that nombre."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Detective Lobster squinted across the greasy taco platter at Koqteese. He didn't like how she's presumed he was taking her case--he also didn't like how much make-up she was wearing.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"We were so happy when he got that job, working at the used car dealership off Interstate-21," Koqteese said, starting to cry. "But now my brother is missing..."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">DeJesus stroked his mustache and said, "Interstate-21? You mean your brother got a job working at Carmageddon?"</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Yes," Koqteese said. "That's right, working for Mr. Baddguy."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Oh man," DeJesus said groaning. "That's over in the Sunbelt...that's a real rough part of town."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"The Sunbelt," Detective Lobster repeated. "The Sunbelt. Why does that ring a bell? There's something I'm supposed to not do..."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Hey Lobster, you gonna investigate this lady's brother you should be careful," DeJesus said. "Go see my cousin DeMoses, he owns a bar on Shady Street...it's not too far from the Sunbelt. He can tell you more about this Baddguy."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Detective Lobster bit into his taco, uncertain if his gut hurt from being punched or from all the Grade-F meat. </span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Maybe I'll do that...maybe I will..."</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; "><div style="text-align: center; "><b>SCATTERSHOT READERS YOU CHOOSE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT:</b></div><div style="text-align: center; "><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center; "><b>Does Lobster take an antacid?</b></div><div style="text-align: center; "><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center; "><b>OR</b></div><div style="text-align: center; "><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center; "><b>Does Lobster go home and get his glasses?</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></b></div><b></b></span><b></b><b></b></div>Dr. Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503186812820112200noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-56503306027688751052010-10-01T07:59:00.010-05:002010-10-01T07:59:00.516-05:00A Quick Message at the Mega Church<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"... and that, my brothers and sisters, concludes this morning's sermon.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"Now, I want to take a moment here at the end of this, our first nationally syndicated service, to talk about something that's been plaguing my heart for days now. I promise it'll only take a minute or two, so as we're not running over into time allotted for Travis Jones's Prayer Power Hour or whatever else fine programming the Cristian Broadcasting Network decides to air.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"Ha ha! And, you, Sister Jones, don't you worry one fake feather in your sunhat that you won't make it to the Denny's noon lunch special! Ha ha!</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"Our church has seen its fair share of changes in its time. Why, I've seen it grow from a twig to a tree in my fifteen-plus years here. I remember it having just a few leaves -- like you, Sister Marsha, and you, Brother Marcus Levinson, who was just a young pup when we opened the doors and let the light o' God shine on out -- and now, we've got an entire tree full. Some are smaller, and some of us are, well, bigger, if you know what I mean! Ha ha! We have over three thousand God-fearing, selfless people, to put things in perspective. Several of you have known me for all of those fifteen-plus years. Many of you have known me for nearly as long.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"I want to address something that's come up recently, something so heinous and unspeakable that I'm loathe to even broach the subject. But I feel it's important to not let these ... rumors ... gain a foothold.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"As many of you have probably heard, a dear, dear member of our teen youth group, Brother Deshawn Clift -- who's eighteen -- has stated that there have been, between him and myself, certain ... indiscretions.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"Now, now! I know it's hard to hear, but I want to talk about this and make sure we all know the truth of the matter: Brother Deshawn is a, a troubled young man of eighteen -- which makes him legally an adult. I don't know the movies he watches, what music he listens to, or whose company he keeps, but it is obvious that he's been taken over, his mind ... infected by the seed o' the devil! His judgment has been clouded by Lucifer himself.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"One year ago next month will be the anniversary of the missionary trip Brother Deshawn and I took to Uganda, the month-long trip which our confused but good-hearted, green-eyed, athletic brother believes put the two of us in a compromising position with another young man who is not a 'prostitute' as some major news organizations have reported. Mistakenly.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"Brothers and sisters, this troubles me deeply. My job as pastor is to protect you all from the influence of the devil, and to have this filth slung up in our faces is ... is ... Oh, it just breaks my heart. Now, as you all know, ever since the beginning I have taught that hommasexuality is a sin. Plain and simple. I've been married to my lovely wife, Denise, for almost twenty-five years, and although we don't have children -- for personal reasons which are entirely unnecessary to discuss here -- we have built for ourselves a wonderful, stable relationship impervious to the temptation to be unfaithful.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"Intimacy is a ... a sacred gift. One that should not be taken for granted, even for husbands and the women to whom they're married. Intimacy is something that should be kept for special occasions. The secret, my friends, is to save it for ... once a year. Maybe every few years. As the Lord intended.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"Anyway, we need to pray for our dear Brother Deshawn. Pray that God shows him the truth about what happened on that trip to Uganda, so that this veil of confusion can be lifted! Pray that the Lord reveals to him the truth of my hired ASSISTANT and the fact that there was only one cot for the three of us to sleep on, as well as the reality of it being so hot in our tent that clothing had to have been shed so as not to suffer some sort of nighttime heatstroke.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"Pray that this disheartening, deceitful story goes back down to the brimstone it was written with so that we all can get back to worshipping Almighty God and our newly-inked television deal with the Christian Broadcasting Network does not suffer in any way from these falsehoods floating around.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Georgia; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"Thank you all. Let us pray."</span></span></span></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551798607980616941noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-83626603688291560752010-09-24T08:00:00.005-05:002010-09-24T08:01:38.587-05:00Willie Lobster, Detective: A SCATTERSHOT Choose-Your-Own-Adventure<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/limemonkeyx3/5019419494/" title="WilieLobster by limemonkeyx3, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4132/5019419494_4c2e00ed09.jpg" width="400" height="326" alt="WilieLobster" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/limemonkeyx3/5019419494/" title="WilieLobster by limemonkeyx3, on Flickr"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“Mr. Lobster,” Savanna Koqteese said as she entered the cramped office. “I’m in desperate need of your services.”</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />Detective Willie Lobster looked up from his Jumbo Crossword puzzle book and squinted. It wasn’t because the room was bright, but because he’d forgotten his glasses at home.<br /><br />“Look Mister, I’m not taking any new clients right now,” Lobster grumbled.<br /><br />“But Detective Lobster, you’re my only hope.”<br /><br />“Hope? Hope?” Lobster repeated. “Nope, I’m nobody’s hope…more like a dope. I just realized you’re a dame for Christsake. You can do better.”<br /><br />“But I want you!” Koqteese said. She bent over and maneuvered her shoulders together in such a way that her massive breasts smooshed together. This erotic display was lost on Lobster, who as previously mentioned had forgotten his glasses at home.<br /><br />“Look, I’m not taking on any new clients,” Lobster said. “If you want I can recommend a very good fella…does mostly doggie recovery work….”<br /><br />Koqteese huffed and crossed her arms.<br /><br />“Mr. Lobster, I don’t need anyone to help me find my doggie!”<br /><br />“Oh,” Lobster said, shrugging. “Then you ain’t doing too bad, honey.”<br /><br />Detective Lobster had recently buried his pet spaniel, Daniel. Daniel the spaniel had been Lobster’s pet and life-friend. The two had chased cars and perps for nearly fifteen years. The death of Daniel was one of the reasons why Detective Lobster wasn’t taking on any new clients.<br /><br />“I lost my license,” Lobster said, revealing the other reason he wasn’t eager to acquire new work.<br /><br />“But Mr. Lobster, I don’t care about all that,” Koqteese huffed. “I need help—your help.”<br /><br />Squinting, Lobster tried to tell if Koqteese had smeared her lipstick or if she had a ginger mustache. Lobster couldn’t abide mustaches.<br /><br />Hell, any facial hair for that matter. Nasty stuff, facial hair, it was always soaking up soup and catching crumbs. If this dame had a mustache she really was barking up the wrong tree. Lobster told her as much:<br /><br />“Lady,” he said “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”<br /><br />“Mister, what’s with you and all this dog talk?” Koqteese whined.<br /><br />It was starting to dawn on her that perhaps she’d made a mistake in coming to Lobster’s office. Koqteese bringing up “dog” made Lobster think of Daniel which caused his eyes to well up with quivering tears.<br /><br />“Aww, I’m sorry,” he said sniffing. “I got something in my eye, will you excuse me?”<br /><br />Lobster started to get up and head for the office door, when someone starting knocking on it from the other side.<br /><br />“I can’t believe I wasted my lunch hour coming down here,” Ms. Koqteese muttered to herself. She followed Detective Lobster over to the front door. She’d come with the intention of hiring Willie Lobster to find her brother, Pedro. Pedro was a good boy who’d just gotten mixed up in some very bad things.<br /><br />His last job, for example, was selling used cars off Interstate-21.<br /><br />“I just forgot to take my Claritin this morning,”’ Lobster told her as he whipped the tears from his eyes.<br /><br />The person on the other side of the office’s door continued to obnoxiously hammer away at the door.<br /><br />“Alright, alright,” Lobster grunted as he opened the door. “What? Whattdya want?”<br /><br />Standing in the hallway was a man wearing a rubber banana costume. His tan face poked out from the costume’s round face-hole.<br /><br />“You Lobster?” the banana man asked.<br /><br />“Who wants to know?” Lobster said. Again, the Detective had to squint because he’d left his glasses at home.<br /><br />“Me.”<br /><br />“Me who?”<br /><br />“The Top Banana.”<br /><br />Koqteese’s mouth fell open and her eyes widened. Before the banana man could see her, she ducked behind the door.<br /><br />“Look, I’ll tell ya what I just told that lady with the stash,” Lobster began. “I’m not accepting any new clients…”<br /><br />Before Detective Lobster could finish, the man in the banana costume punched him right in the gut. Detective Lobster didn’t have a large gut, but he was middle aged and had very little will power when it came to pasta and savory crepes.<br /><br />These things tended to add up over time.<br /><br />“Oof!” Lobster groaned and doubled over.<br /><br />Staring down at the banana’s feet, Lobster could see a pair of blurry Nikes. There were a few flecks of white powder on them. Lobster noticed the powder because as he gasped for air his eyes narrowed and the world momentarily jumped into focus.<br /><br />“Jesus…” Lobster wheezed. “Are…you…in…a…fuckin…banana…costume?”<br /><br />“Hey man, you see me judging you?” the banana man asked.<br /><br />“Good…point…”<br /><br />“Look, I gotta split, but before I do remember what the Top Banana says—you listening?”<br /><br />Detective Lobster shook his head.<br /><br />“Stay outta the Sunbelt. That’s Banana Town, ya dig?”<br /><br />Lobster grunted and said, “Oh, is that all? Of course…Sunbelt…stay out…got it.”<br /><br />It should be noted that Detective Lobster had no idea what the banana man was talking about. But Lobster knew, from years of experience, that one never argues with a costumed bandit. A costume tended to lower one’s social inhibitions, allowing most folk to do things they’d normally know better than to do.<br /><br />“Oh shit,” the banana man said, suddenly erupting into laughter. “I fucking said ‘split.’ That shit was not intentional, I assure you. I ain’t that wack!”<br /><br />“No,” Lobster said, still gasping for breath. “Of course you’re not…that wack.”<br /><br />“Alright Lobster, remember—I got my eye on you.”<br /><br />And with that the banana man turned and fled down into the darkened hallway. Just as the rubber-suited attacked had disappeared from view, Lobster got his wind back.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" >SCATTERSHOT READERS YOU CHOOSE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT:</span></b></div><b><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" >DOES LOBSTER GRAB A TOILET PLUNGER ?</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" >OR</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" >DOES LOBSTER GO BUY A TACO?</span></b></span></div></b></span><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >VOTE IN THE COMMENTS!!!<br /></span></span></b> <br /></div>Dr. Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503186812820112200noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-23996189006058535852010-09-24T07:59:00.001-05:002010-09-24T07:59:00.786-05:00Hopped Up On Drugs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6M25-JrKyaTLw2ZPXQsKtHaO437PiNp79ATi_DvQP6OnBsF9NQOiVKvKkMKmiNqIuy-zSmo2hH9qrbLE5MESa-bWCq6YR9HOxbx6XoaEBe-d98nFnRgXaILKU3_NVstUQ1SrmCGdV1M0/s1600/IMG_0295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6M25-JrKyaTLw2ZPXQsKtHaO437PiNp79ATi_DvQP6OnBsF9NQOiVKvKkMKmiNqIuy-zSmo2hH9qrbLE5MESa-bWCq6YR9HOxbx6XoaEBe-d98nFnRgXaILKU3_NVstUQ1SrmCGdV1M0/s640/IMG_0295.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Harry lost everything, buying drugs from the thugs.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Now life don't seem so sunny, cause he's one sad little bunny.</div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551798607980616941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-10331245334448478592010-09-17T08:00:00.005-05:002010-09-17T08:02:24.855-05:00Acquired Taste(s)<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">As a child, I never understood it when an adult would say something was an "acquired taste." If you tried something and didn't like it that should it...end of story. Why would I need to try something many times in order to like it?</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />And yet, as I've gotten older (read: fatter/grayer) I've discovered that there are many things that I know love that a long time ago I didn't like.</span><div><br /><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO-Y4_b8Ln_8wQ1feULcvWQVKLNXQJy77WEwBdWwNMNeNkiUP-wWAHaFGLJb8aozrDuWsLj0dOz0VIuF2DzTpIV3b0IEo_WqYoP_TSCugw0wQs_8fGaekXwkR3is2uJbRMMbcNEoMPYWY/s320/green_olives.jpg" /></div><br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Olives</span>.</span></b> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Olives are a good example of this. When I was a kid I wouldn't go near an olive. I don't even remember trying them and not liking them...I just didn't like them. I guess it was because the black ones, when sliced and put on a pizza, look a bit like shriveled bugs. Yuck, who wants THAT in their mouth?</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj89Ibcy9Zh1sjOhBgqSXNBaNrlgtPd_lGKPTVUGlKzy4iR-fIgV6OmM6SZEnu2wIbj_B9JllIYtCqNVO68JjYdaLtCUSPH8WioHZUATPXK39Qe7vBh5Yrz5FBFdhVO5H5aku48eK1Vq5o/s320/coffee.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Coffee</span>. </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I used to think coffee was the biggest con adults played on children. Every morning my parents would wake up literally CRAVING the stuff. But what was so special about it? It tasted like dirty water. Any drink you have to "dress up" with sugar and milk can't be all that great to begin with, right? But over time (and many late-night "study" sessions) I've come to love coffee. In fact, when I'm working on one of my novels I tend to drink a pot a day. And I wonder why my teeth are so yellow...speaking of which...</span><br /><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXuCsl56Cs2tzPG5Ah3pyNp9C7tBBhxUV1bmoAhpuZLwx15j5iuiGbDCws-eUacF4y9k7dWn3pP18wgpSBkBSihw3ybnSYSxKIbgoTHe5npCApdubU9hIH-sPyyg7mobBIQXGCzj3X6CU/s320/Cigarette-Smoking.jpg" /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Cigarettes</span>. </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Cigarettes are fantastic. I won't lie kids--smoking kills and I don't do it anymore, but nicotine is the shit. The euphoria one gets from a puff off a fag can't be beat. And that first puff of the day? Forget about it. I've written about my history with smoking (go look it up) so I'll spare you the details about how I initially was skeptical about tobacco. Needless to say, if you do it enough you "acquire" the taste (read: develop a crippling addiction).</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIWjssXHT3B-q4Ju3iPV7a7UkbRdyxHd4PfIcFqiyktdNAp8s61q80IjvrNB7_PNlVRifyFBwtLGkdQyO4diyp1KCO_FjA3Au9UXyi3UWiOoU4aRGCziCbsG7RrJzXrdn_5-VsLvIdTeQ/s320/.jpg" /></div><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Beer</span>. </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">See a pattern here? Everything that's horrible/terrible for you seems to be an acquired taste. Maybe saying something is an "acquired taste" is just our way of saying "please let me kill myself in peace"? Anyway, beer used to taste pretty shitty to me but now I really enjoy beer (tastes just as good coming back up, too).</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJYSPoStsYBIrfyP4-F_BeFyVbj75_pRj7optj0o6gKVSI4CkKT7CkuTaxb852iWFVte2wgIBklTpJIPBuJY9S4QqrflZNIHS9Nf44wcBdP9JE0PFQ2m2A-6iFvhLrlSiXZh7xh3xFcAM/s320/Golden+Glazed+Ham.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Ham</span>.</span></b> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Growing up, my sister Amber and I were pretty much opposed to all forms of pork (with the notable exception of bacon) . Over the past few years though, my stance on bacon has softened a bit. Just this past weekend I ordered a pizza with ham and pineapple on it. And I love a good pulled pork sandwich. I'm not sure what happened exactly...one day I just said to myself "Ah hell, I'll give pork another chance." I'm still not a fan of the pork chop, however.<br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqcAPNozjJhwtflSj4bPIGfAjet7xgEHYo1-gyvnPd7VlwcudTeBesHSw0iXEO5lcR8PLG3vW_f__sjgQvTZSQk9Fd-B9ColuvNIkwrqMD6HVrNQSXkCqkb429uoDD8aU-1jGEZ-del5I/s320/coke-zero.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Diet Soda</span>.</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> If there's a better example of "acquired taste" I don't know what it is. Growing up I INSISTED on drinking regular soda (I have the gut to prove it). About a year ago my wife snookered me into trying a carb diet (read: eat nothing delicious). I was so desperate for soda that I let her convince me to try drinking diet soda. And guess what? After three months of no sugar, COKE Zero tasted pretty damn good. Now I can't drink the regular stuff (too sweet).<br /><br />I feel like we can program our taste buds. The diet soda example is pretty good proof of this. As a child the psychology what we like or don't like is probably just as much a factor as ACTUAL taste. Like the ham I just decided to give "another shot," the things that are acquired tastes don't change. We change. An acquired taste basically when you "stop worrying and learn to love the ham. "</span></div></div>Dr. Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503186812820112200noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-65657568218926186042010-09-17T07:59:00.001-05:002010-09-17T07:59:00.377-05:00Apple Of My Eye<p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">In the fall of 2009 my friend Amber and I stopped in at a Best Buy, looking at laptop computers for Amber’s boyfriend. We made cursory passes by desktops, examining them in the way that all window shoppers do, when we came around to the computers adorned with little glowing apples. Before Amber went to the job of actually considering her options, she paused a moment at the Apple kiosk and stood there, as if dreaming.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">The computers contrasted sharply with the simple, polished wood of their display table, which further set them apart from the rest of the brands. Everything else sat on black metal shelves, secured by black metal arms so that no one could pick them up and carry them away. The Apple notebooks had nothing keeping them there save for a thin white wire attached to a sensor. I’ve never attempted larceny, but I assumed that severing it would result in a lot of attention with loud sirens and flashing lights. Sitting that way, it truly felt like having one would be no more difficult than filling out a credit card application.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">“My computer’s so old,” she said, tracing a finger along the lid of one of the shiny silver laptops. “I’d love to have a Mac, but…” She paused. “I don’t want to become one of those Mac snobs.”</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I watched her finger as it followed the graceful curved edges of the otherwise rectangular lid, and I felt that familiar stirring, like heartstrings but in my back pocket.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Gadgets, to this day, are a big draw for me. As a self-proclaimed nerd, I have an eye for anything with glowing lights or blinking buttons, and the attraction is probably best described as “unhealthy.” Right up there with sugar and a mild self-loathing, technology could be described as one of my major addictions. Walking into an electronics store, I imagine that the sight of me is something like a kitten plopped into the middle of a room filled with yarn, if the yarn was dancing and the kitten hopped up on speed. God knows how much of my income I’ve squandered on technological trinkets that, really, are nothing more than flashy toys.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">How, then, does one admit to already having become one of those snobs? I’d made the switch to Apple computers a year or so before, and I felt immediately uncomfortable in that moment, standing there looking at several overpriced products I had lying in wait for me back home. I went from feeling ashamed, then, to slightly defensive. I certainly didn’t think of myself as a snob, and as we walked away I ran through all my reasoning for wanting things like these and the justifications for already having them.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">As a child, I loved toys that lit up and had switches and levers and made science-y noises. I would pretend that educational toys — things made of bright plastics that were supposed to teach a child how to count or multiply — instead made excellent controls for spaceships or a computer workstation at a distant outpost. Things didn’t even have to be toys. At my great-grandmother’s house, I would play with her melodica, a handheld musical instrument that looked like the result of a flute and a piano’s wild night in Vegas; the rows of black and white keys looked like buttons that would fire missiles or close a bulkhead against an advancing army of mutant soldiers.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Years later, in the middle of a camping trip where my mother and I seemed sentenced to boredom, she and I drove into town to look at the local shops. We were in the middle of a junk store, basically a glorified indoor garage sale, when I stumbled upon an entire computer priced at twenty-five dollars. The find felt like a prospector’s discovery of gold, and, without prodding, my mother asked if I’d like to have it. Never one to pass up a good deal, my mother, I think, overestimated the computer’s capabilities. When we got it back to our camper, we set it up on the foldaway dining table and plugged it in. From school and even at home, I was used to having a mouse and onscreen pointer to navigate things. But this thing was from a different era. All the monitor gave me was a black screen. That and a lime green cursor for typing commands in what I thought of as the old-fashioned way. At twelve years old and a child of the nineties, I had no idea how to work a computer that had possibly seen its prime during the Kennedy administration. So I was left typing little stories onto the screen, only to have no idea how to store or retrieve them when I shut the thing off.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">The computer was a disappointment at best. Still, the sight of it, boulder-like and bowing the dining table, felt comforting in a way that got me through the rest of the camping trip. It even outweighed the fear I felt when using it, when the thought of it crashing through the table and crushing both of my legs covered me like a shadow.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">In high school, when I got my first job, I passed up the opportunity to go to London on a class field trip so that I could buy my first real computer. The idea of going to another country felt promising in the way that adventure does when you’re a teenager and your departure date is still far off. Partly, it was my parents who diverted my desire to go. The trip was in the summer of 2002, not even a year after the events of September 11th. America had forced its way into the War on Terror, and being a U.S. citizen abroad — to my parents, at least — was like bringing a toasty roast beef sandwich into a bear cage.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">“You </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">could</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> go to Europe,” my father said. “Or...you could get a brand new laptop.”</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">My mother chimed in, her voice masking her intention of me never leaving the country or even setting foot on a plane. “It’d be about the same amount of money. And it would last longer.”</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">All the wonders of the British Isles paled against the glowing promise of a shiny new computer, and in that moment, no matter how much I might have pretended to think about it, I was sold. As a family, we made the trip to a Best Buy, the nearest of which was almost forty minutes away, so that I could make my first foray into the world of zero percent financing.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">In the way that these things go, the laptop ended up being outdated within eight months, and within shouting distance of its fourth birthday it quit on me, essentially retiring into the job of a thousand-dollar paperweight.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">By this time I had a little better income, and so I purchased a new computer, an Apple laptop that I would turn around and resell less than a year later when a newer, better one caught my eye. I had no justification for doing it. I’d just finished paying off the desktop I’d bought, and there was nothing wrong with my laptop except for the fact that it lacked a few features of the shinier, slimmer models.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Standing there in the Best Buy, I had to wonder if I really was one of those Mac snobs. And not just a Mac snob, but a tech snob in general. What other reason could there be for my attitude toward technology? Should a man’s worth be measured in flashy gadgets, I guess I thought I might rank a few rungs higher than other people. But, as we walked away from the Macs and toward the other computers, perched on their demure black shelves reaching onward to infinity, it became clear that all my toys really are are testaments to the fact that I don’t have a life. While other people are out getting drunk in a friend’s cornfield or sleeping around in the backs of sports car, I’m sitting alone in a sea of glowing lights and blinking buttons, waiting for my next toy.</span></span></span></p>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551798607980616941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-65494630366679015542010-09-10T08:00:00.002-05:002010-09-17T07:33:53.030-05:00Hey, Remember Screensavers?I was introduced to computers fairly early in life. They were large, beige colored boxes that for the most part held little interest for me. I mean, there's only so much use for a massive calculator when you have grass stained knees and a snot nose.<div><br /></div><div>Somewhere around the end of my elementary school daze I ended up at my mother's work--home to many computers. I remember being fascinated with PegLeg, a Galaga-style space shooter, and with her STAR TREK screensaver. </div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv0CU4lcidDMc4QXvJDI4GFIp5zhlUkSw9Ctrg25Ur-aBOFEuy3yhKSKrlOgvgpMOZphtI5vn2fG74wAQ9ZUUP4InQObUJy1BT1rUbwtk-_3Pme-X49a6dwfK71GwfuW7v-NbKvUwyZEY/s1600/o_9TMZVSl2idGiPQZ.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 350px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv0CU4lcidDMc4QXvJDI4GFIp5zhlUkSw9Ctrg25Ur-aBOFEuy3yhKSKrlOgvgpMOZphtI5vn2fG74wAQ9ZUUP4InQObUJy1BT1rUbwtk-_3Pme-X49a6dwfK71GwfuW7v-NbKvUwyZEY/s400/o_9TMZVSl2idGiPQZ.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511388429692258626" /></a></div><div>Pre-the-world-is-ending-because-we're-energy-hogs, people liked to waste electricity by leaving their computers on all the time. Monitors weren't as good and screen-burn was apparently a real problem (I've only see it on ATM screens and CCTV monitors). Her Mac would instantly fire up the screensaver if you put the pointer in the far corner and didn't touch the mouse for a few moments. </div><div><br /></div><div>Over-pixelated clown fish chugged their way through a blurry seafoam "fish tank." I was enthralled with screensavers. They were somewhere between cartoons and video games when it came to entertainment. The STAR TREK screensaver suite my mom bought had a number of really cool screensavers. There was one where the screen slowly filled up with tribbles (who multiply like rabbits). There was another one where the Enterprise drifted along the screen as the Tholian Web slowly unfurled around it--trapping the ship. I also saw a really funny Three Stooges screensaver ("ya knucklehead!").</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh772g_Vg8I99ayxhtSbIwp98Qx32FpEmB2E_t3D4TZj6bW_5T0mIBXOgPc9wKDt6-Yd_QAvp2mOqJErzGoiVoMZxKcV0dk2hM3OEHocuK5i_42AvAQFdNFkV1Kjt8FucR27evf-N8_KAY/s1600/big1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh772g_Vg8I99ayxhtSbIwp98Qx32FpEmB2E_t3D4TZj6bW_5T0mIBXOgPc9wKDt6-Yd_QAvp2mOqJErzGoiVoMZxKcV0dk2hM3OEHocuK5i_42AvAQFdNFkV1Kjt8FucR27evf-N8_KAY/s400/big1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511387778675937586" /></a>A few years later (actually a lot later) I decided my Dell laptop needed a Matrix-like screensaver. I foolishly decided to not pay for said screensaver, but instead just find a free one online. Needless to say, I got my screensaver--and a host of trojans and other Internet nasties. Here it is, 2010 and I'm on my third computer...and you know what? I don't use screensavers.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know very many people who still use them. Most people (such as myself) have their computers set up to just got black. No more clownfish. No more tribbles. No more Matrix scrawls. </div><div><br /></div><div>Part of me misses screensavers. I'm sure there are people reading this who still use them, but for the most part, they've vanished from my world. Kinda makes me wonder what other things will vanish.</div>Dr. Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503186812820112200noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-17072882248164059972010-09-10T07:59:00.002-05:002010-09-10T07:59:00.314-05:00Fast Food Slogans From Red Light Districts<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">McDonald's</span><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>"Over 1 Billion Serviced"</i></span></li></ul><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Burger King</span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>"Have A Four-Way"</i></span></li></ul></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Wendy's</span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>"Where's The Beefcake?"</i></span></li></ul></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Quiznos</span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>"Mmmm...sexy!"</i></span></li></ul></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Taco Bell</span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>"Think About Those Buns"</i></span></li></ul></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Dairy Queen</span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>"Hot Eats, Cool Teats"</i></span></li></ul></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Kentucky Friend Chicken</span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>"Finger Lickin' Good"</i></span></li></ul></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551798607980616941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-55919279534701499772010-09-03T08:00:00.008-05:002010-09-03T08:02:25.009-05:00Your Favorite Song Plays Forever: PET SOUNDS<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LT3fURz333PscF4vRGye3w-ql3UZPVcs0whg3vERzK9DGNzyGZn4WnaLGDy_CXk-lU2HF_Tud4IHDudeCWOlLRxNz3UmHmoMESs0u80U35npliYQe4TcwxAGLMbz8eCvEoGMREpTxSE/s1600/petsounds01.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 390px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LT3fURz333PscF4vRGye3w-ql3UZPVcs0whg3vERzK9DGNzyGZn4WnaLGDy_CXk-lU2HF_Tud4IHDudeCWOlLRxNz3UmHmoMESs0u80U35npliYQe4TcwxAGLMbz8eCvEoGMREpTxSE/s400/petsounds01.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511733282390212258" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">"They say I got brains, but they ain't doing me no good, I wish they could..."</span></span></i></b></div><div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I fucking hate "Kokomo." </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Thanks to "Kokomo," whenever I say things like "The Beach Boys kick-ass" people think I'm joking. Or out of my fucking mind. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">But back in the 1960's, before the dust had settled (and Brian Wilson completely lost his mind) The Beach Boys were in direct competition with The Beatles. History tells us that The Beatles were able to surpass The Beach Boys, and ultimately became the greatest rock band in history (arguably) but that outcome wasn't always certain. At one time, The Beach Boys had The Beatles on the run. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The year was 1965, and The Beatles had just released their first truly "grown-up" record REVOLVER. A non-touring, drug addled Brian Wilson listened to what the fab four had done and was moved. The Beatles had crafted an album whose parts added up to a (somewhat) larger whole. Rather than play by the traditional album rules where a handful of singles were anchored by "filler," REVOLVER was a full album of complex, interesting songs. Challenged by what he heard, Wilson decided to roll up his sleeves and top what the Englishmen had done. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Several months later in May of 1966, The Beach Boys released PET SOUNDS. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Although it carries the name "Beach Boys," PET SOUNDS may as well be a Brian Wilson solo record. Wilson had been toying with going solo, and the majority of the songs on PET SOUNDS were written and arranged by Wilson and his then-collaborator Tony Asher. While the rest of the band toured Japan and Hawaii, Wilson and Asher toiled in the studios. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">When I say "Beach Boys" I bet you think surfing, cars, girls, and "fun, fun, fun" right? While those things are...well...fun, they don't really strike an emotional chord deep within the soul. When I'm feeling sad because the world is unfair or I'm having problems with the woman I love, I don't want to hear about some bitch's T-bird. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">And when I doubt myself and the direction my life is taking, I don't want to hear "Kokomo." Actually, there's never a time when I want to hear "Kokomo."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I want to hear PET SOUNDS. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">PET SOUNDS is one man taking a knife and gutting his soul. With bitchin' harmonies and an intricate, crazy-ass production. I'm not ashamed to say that I've listened to PET SOUNDS over 100 times in the past 6 months (which is when I "discovered" it by accident). I'm also perfectly willing to admit (as a BEATLE-MANIAC) that PET SOUNDS is 1000% better than SGT. PEPPER (which was the album Paul and John crafted after hearing PET SOUNDS). </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">PET SOUNDS is full of self-realization ("That's Not Me"), rejection of selfishness ("I Know There's An Answer"), and the awe one feels in the presence of love...not that bullshit kind you see in movies, but the actual thing ("God Only Knows" one of the first commercial songs to feature "God" in the title). </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">PET SOUNDS lets me know that it's okay that I'm not perfect, and that I'm not alone when I feel loneliness and disappointment ("I Guess I Just Wasn't Made For These Times" a fantastic song about trying and failing to fit in). SGT. PEPPER is a damn fine record, but if I was despondent, it wouldn't stop me from killing myself--but PET SOUNDS would. PET SOUNDS is like that older brother who sees you're having trouble and takes you aside and says "Look, I've been there...it'll get better...probably." </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Sure, there are a few "throw-away" tracks. Things that the record company insisted Wilson add to increase sales (like the cover of the West Indies traditional song "Sloop John B" and the sadly immature "Wouldn't It Be Nice"). But overall, PET SOUNDS as a whole, cohesive unit, is about one man pouring his guts out--the ugliness, the insecurity, the doubt. </span>PET SOUNDS is love, disappointment, and modern-day confusion. I feel all these things almost every day. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The love songs of PET SOUNDS are (with the glaring exception of "Wouldn't It Be Nice") vastly more mature than anything else on the radio at the time. Songs like "You Still Believe in Me" (about recognizing a partner's loyalty and patience even when you've acted less-than-stellar) and "God Only Knows" are realistic examinations of love and relationships.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">What does SGT. PEPPER offer the listener? The album has been hailed for decades as a "concept album," but I ask you--what is that concept? Is it that The Beatles are pretending to be this other/fake band and the record is supposed to "be" Sgt. Pepper and his band (and not The Beatles)? That may have been the album's conceit, but other than the first two songs (and the reprise just before the end) there is little else on the record that functions as "another band's song." </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">For me, SGT. PEPPER is an amazingly intricate rock record. It's the greatest band ever at the top of their game. But to call SGT. PEPPER a unified work of art is a bit much. PET SOUNDS has a few tracks that aren't quite "on program," but in general, I find it much more cohesive than The Beatles album. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">And those tracks that do "stray" from the theme of loneliness and self-reflection were forced upon Wilson (ala "Sloop John B") to sell more records--and make PET SOUNDS "more commercial." But being more thematic than SGT. PEPPER isn't all that makes it better, in my opinion. While it can be said that PET SOUNDS was not 100% Brian Wilson (and his immense will), Wilson was not Paul McCartney--he didn't have John Lennon sitting beside him when he crafted his record. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">With two geniuses in The Beatles (although there were three, though at the time George was still hiding in the shadow of Lennon/McCartney) SGT. PEPPER should be twice as fantastic and thought provoking as PET SOUNDS...and quite frankly, it's not. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The Beatles made more classic albums, but for a brief 37 minutes, one man trumped them. The next time you're at a place where music is sold, for crying out loud do yourself a favor and pick-up the greatest piece of pop mus</span>ic of all time. Pick-up PET SOUNDS.</div></div>Dr. Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503186812820112200noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-77205756753449887932010-09-03T07:59:00.000-05:002010-09-03T07:59:00.429-05:00Camper<p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">When I was growing up in Brighton, Illinois, I watched as my father fell in love with the idea of camping. As a sportsman, his love of the outdoors was an exceeding one. Fishing, hunting, he loved it all; in fact, he might have taken to the woods with nothing more than a canteen of water and a blade had there been a permit for it. My great-uncle David shared his passion for anything outdoors, and it was from him that my father developed a fascination with extended stays in the wild.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">David and my great-aunt Juanita owned a camper, and every so often they would take it up to a campsite at Greenfield Lake, just a few short miles outside of Rockbridge and Where The Hell Are We? Though I didn't have a lot of experience with these kinds of establishments, the first time I went it seemed slightly downgraded. I saw it as something more akin to a Motel 6 than a Hyatt, and it had a lot to do with the clientele present. My aunt and uncle got a free pass for the fact of our relation, but a good portion of the others looked as though they'd been pulled straight out of the movie "Deliverance." Pickup trucks abounded, most of them with attached trailers, empty of the boats now bobbing down along the lakeshore. Generic country music seeped from unattended radios like broken barrels left abandoned as dogs with names like Rascal and Cooter barked halfheartedly at passers-by.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">The scene around everything had a kind of unspoiled beauty to it, except, of course, for the rows of eggshell white and yellowish campers lined up in a rough grid. Everything else, though, would have made for a nice, if somewhat generic, postcard. A breeze ran through the lush trees. The water glistened, golden with the afternoon sun. Empty cans of Bud Light lay half-crumpled and just a lazy toss from each fraying mesh folding chair.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">After we arrived, my father split off to talk with my uncle and cousins. Meanwhile, my mother, my brother, and I planted ourselves at the wooden picnic table with my aunt and grandmother, who were sitting there with my cousin Tammy and her daughter Stacey. They all started talking as I looked around, surveying the place, already trying to figure out how long I would last if I made a run through the cornfields at my back and tried to get back home. After a while, what surprised me most was the overall quiet of things. Every so often one might hear a car crunching gravel as it made its way down the makeshift road or the whine of a little three-person fishing boat cutting its way across the water. There were no car horns, no trains or airplanes, and no television.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">The silence was intriguing at first, but then as it grew longer and longer I realized that there was nothing to distract me. No video games. No cartoons. "How," I wanted to ask, "are you supposed to make the time go by?" It never occurred to me that this was the whole point of camping: an escape from the daily grind of work and life. What made no sense, when I thought about it, was what a person got in return. Sure, paper plates could be used instead of dishes, but there were numerous times when our family did that at home. And how was catching and gutting a fish easier than ordering a Fillet-O-Fish at a drive through window?</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">The answer came to me when Aunt Juanita invited us to see the inside of their camper. She opened the dinky screen door and we climbed up the two metal steps after her. Inside lay all the wondrous inventions and technological marvels that made modern life worth living, all conveniently packaged inside what amounted to an oversized U-Haul. My eyes grew wide as they gazed upon the two-person couch, the small-basin kitchen sink, the fold-away dining table, and (Lord, God, hallowed be thy name!) the television. To the left of the TV was a smaller room occupied by a short, squat bed just big enough so that three fifteen-year-olds could lie down side-by-side and just barely have their feet on the bed. But that paled in comparison to the television.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I sat down on the couch, relishing the soft, cool purr of the air conditioner and the warm glow of the TV. It didn't even matter that I couldn't explain the first thing about home runs or switch hitters, my eyes never left that soccer game.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Eventually my dad and Uncle David came inside, and when my father saw me sprawled out on the couch with my mouth agape, he must have mistaken my relief for enjoyment. That coupled with my mom's very interested examination of the midget-sized refrigerator sealed the deal, and by the same time next year we had our own camper.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I was eleven when my parents, brother, and I took a trip to a local RV and camper dealership. The parking lot reminded me of the lake, except where there had been grass now we had smooth asphalt to walk on; and instead of trees offering shade, I looked up to see a billboard promising guaranteed financing for a St. Louis used auto outfit. While the lot was nothing to scoff at, it was eclipsed by the main building, which basically doubled as a single massive showroom. Inside were open displays of all the latest models of campers and RVs. The concrete floor was covered in patches of fake grass to help sell the idea that, to be living in this dream, all one had to do was sign a few papers.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">After making the rounds and looking at vehicles which appeared to be nothing less than mobile palaces fit for a third-world ruler, we moved back into a more realistic price range. Ultimately, my dad had the decision narrowed down to two campers: one which was nearly identical to my uncle's, right down to the "Mallard" printed in blue-green letters along the front, with the namesake duck flying beneath it; the other one was more or less the same, just a little longer to accommodate an additional set of bunk beds at the back.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">After some deliberation, and under the coda of "bigger must be better," my parents walked away with one new camper and the promise of many adventures to come.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Our first trip out, we took the camper to Greenfield on a joint venture with my Aunt Juanita and Uncle David. After going through the lengthy maneuvering process of what amounted to a school bus squeezing into a spot the size of a Smart Car, we set up our plot with folding chairs and coolers full of soda. After a full afternoon of lounging around, snacking on the camper's stash of candy, I ate dinner, which was the haul from any number of fishing trips down to the lake. Later, as the sun set, Uncle David started a bonfire, and under the assumption that hotdogs and marshmallows make for a fine late-night snack, like stereotypical Midwesterners we ate again.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">That night, as we retired to our beds, I listened as the first rumblings of a thunderstorm rolled in. Within a half hour the sounds had become a presence, rocking our little plastic box like an annoyed child with a broken toy. The rain fell hard, making a cacophony of noise against the roof and the sides of the camper. Things got so bad that my parents got up to check the weather on our own little TV, which we'd taken out of my brother's room for the trip; but the camper's antenna was little more than a piece of wire taped to the roof, and so none of the local stations would come in.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Finally, after a full twenty minutes of us not having died, my parents went back to bed. This left me huddled in my bottom bunk, built into the back corner so that my legs lay between the outside wall and the bathroom. Lying there, I felt like I was in a coffin, and when the next clap of thunder struck, I dug myself out of bed and went over to the couch, right next to the little room where my parents slept.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I fell asleep sometime after, and the next morning I swore that that would be my last time camping.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">From then on, whenever my parents would arrange for us to go, I went so far as to stay home by myself. My father tried to dissuade me by telling me that, if I stayed home, I'd have to cut the front and back lawn while I was there. I think he expected me to relent, but he underestimated by desire to never be in a camper again. I gladly accepted the task of mowing the lawn in the middle of the summer in exchange for not having to spend another day kicking around a lake and trying out every folding lawn chair ever manufactured to see which one made a body of water most entertaining.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Baskerville; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">My parents' fascination with camping dwindled out as the years went on. I'm not sure if it was the hassle of hauling it back and forth, the arduousness of stockpiling everything one might possibly need for a weekend, or the frustration of setting the thing up. Maybe the luster just wore off after my mother and father had tried it out a few times. By the time I learned how to drive, the camper became nothing more than a shape in my father's garage, a silent testament to my dad's adventurous spirit and my lack thereof.</span></span></span></p>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551798607980616941noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-20122753784170498632010-08-27T08:00:00.002-05:002010-08-27T08:00:08.429-05:00Happy. Apples.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">As the weather gets a little cooler and the leaves begin to turn colors...the Happy Apples return to the store shelves.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I love Fall. I like how cool it gets (not too hot, not too cold). I like how the bugs go away (yuk). I like the back-to-school sales. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">But I <b>LOVE </b>Happy Apples. When the apple harvest comes in, the farmers (i.e. the good folks over at Happy Apples Inc.) dip their precious fruit into creamy caramel and kissed with peanuts (or sprinkles if you prefer). </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Last week my wife and I found the Happy Apples at our local supermarket--and I was in heaven. I haven't always been a H.A. super-fan, but for the past two years I've been more hard "core" about eating them. There's something special about fruit covered with candy, which is then covered with nuts. I think if I could eat only one thing, for the rest of my life, I'd choose Happy Apples. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The first bite is always a challenge, where to begin? Should I start in a nut-free bald spot? Or should I take "the plunge" and bite into that massive cluster of peanutty-goodness? Decisions, decisions. Maybe this sort of thing isn't your thing...I can understand. But for me, there's nothing better in life. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Happy Apples are also a really good way to trick kids into eating fruit. I always eat more of the apple than I would if it weren't slathered in sugar and nuts.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">What else can I say? It's t</span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">he food of the Gods! Oh Happy Apples, if I weren't married already...I'd marry you (and then eat you). I'm not sure anyone can truly understand the depth of my love for this sweet autumnal treat...</span></i></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Seriously though, I've decided to keep track of how many I eat this year (so far six). The apples tend to vanish from the store shelves just before Thanksgiving. I think I can eat 50, I think that's a legitimate goal.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I'm going to keep working out (this is week four working out at the gym) but I'm also going to focus on eating Happy Apples.</span></div><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFBjwnxilXm6i3I2ScS1NmtqaLSmeWxEpsxyzpdFAGkc9qGPLepvXXiIUbZor3HNKutKcHDA7g_gGD26h4Wlu1LT22CVGVT1cYPrI3BwKzft0LdXssRpgXJ8tvVOWwP7-f_-TqSam_L0/s1600/caramel-apple_300.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 357px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFBjwnxilXm6i3I2ScS1NmtqaLSmeWxEpsxyzpdFAGkc9qGPLepvXXiIUbZor3HNKutKcHDA7g_gGD26h4Wlu1LT22CVGVT1cYPrI3BwKzft0LdXssRpgXJ8tvVOWwP7-f_-TqSam_L0/s400/caramel-apple_300.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509874612368995922" /></a></div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><a href="http://scattershotpodcast.blogspot.com/">ALSO, DON'T FORGET TO CHECK OUT THE SCATTERSHOT PODCAST! NEW EPISODE POSTING SATURDAY AUGUST 28, 2010!!!</a></span></b>Dr. Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503186812820112200noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-8078257475485993732010-08-27T07:59:00.000-05:002010-08-27T07:59:00.588-05:00MAACOh My God<p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">While I do appreciate the ease of living that having a car affords me, I can’t get over the fact that they’re so expensive to maintain. When I first started driving I rode under the impression that, after the final payment was made, or if your parents bought you one outright, that was it. End of story. Even if the car was a ragged, aging, piece of junk (which mine was), there would be nothing which would demand my semi-hard-earned money. Except for gas.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">As the years drove on, my tires, much like my disillusionment with the ways of the automobile world, wore increasingly thin. The first time I bought new Goodyears for my aquamarine Ford Tempo was an experience that I will never forget, namely because it was something akin to watching someone steal cash from my wallet and then light it on fire.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">This week I not only had to buy new tires, but my brakes recently decided that they, too, wanted some attention. And so, like a frazzled mother with children in a toy store, I broke down and made arrangements to get two new tires, an alignment, and have my brakes serviced. The entire process took about five hours. That’s from the time I arrived five minutes late for my appointment to when they called, saying they were finished, and I nearly cried as I checked inside my wallet for the poor credit card, scuffed and chipped like it had just returned from a shopping trip with one of the Real Housewives of New Jersey.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">My grandmother gave me a ride back down to the garage — this after waking up early to bring me back home the first time. It felt strange having to depend of someone else for transportation. It was as if I were missing something vital to my very existence, and I wondered how on earth someone could go through their life not having a vehicle for transportation. At the garage I walked up to the cashier’s window. I opened my wallet, anticipating a total at least as devastating as news of a nuclear attack. Really, the number she gave me stood more in the ballpark of a tornado warning, but that still didn’t stop me from cursing, slightly, under my breath.</span></span></span></p>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551798607980616941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-64801066775253493192010-08-20T08:00:00.005-05:002010-08-20T18:55:15.517-05:00Dear Creepy-Ass Personal Trainer at My Gym<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102); ">Dear Creepy-Ass Personal Trainer at My Gym,</span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;">Hi. Wow, this is awkward. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;">Okay, so I get it that you're in better shape than I am. I really, really, really get it. Your size XXS T-shirt looks fantastic (wow your nipples are big). You have a very square, tough-guy jaw. I guess, if I wasn't such a lazy bastard, and if I didn't like food so much...I'd want to be just like you.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;">BUT--I kinda want you to leave me the fuck alone. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;">I know, I know...I get a free session once a month. I realize that I'm paying for this service, but I want you to stay the hell away from me "bro." See, I got two rules: I don't trust people that are taller than me AND I don't trust people who have necks wider than their heads. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;">When you came up to me, while I was on the elliptical and started talking to me about my shorts...yeah, that freaked me the fuck out. I kinda wanted to punch you and then run away. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;">So, no. I don't want my free session this month or next month. That whole "don't call me, I'll call you" thing? Yeah. Just keep waiting for that call bro. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;">Sincerely,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;">Jason</span></span></div></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0PP-w9K45mZR8z62de2q2dlVHjInN5AYzIF6KytLDryxEVk5IrWNJA2fMVVjfNVK3y3pCX39QEsygLL0R2aKmv0-FGUETPdGHptwSRkDGb4wiX6mh-wwZqwSneb94aU6fBe-YhC5i4MA/s1600/personal-trainer_965841.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0PP-w9K45mZR8z62de2q2dlVHjInN5AYzIF6KytLDryxEVk5IrWNJA2fMVVjfNVK3y3pCX39QEsygLL0R2aKmv0-FGUETPdGHptwSRkDGb4wiX6mh-wwZqwSneb94aU6fBe-YhC5i4MA/s400/personal-trainer_965841.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506951380764975762" /></a>Dr. Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503186812820112200noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-65124126874558194432010-08-20T07:59:00.001-05:002010-08-20T07:59:00.664-05:00Big Deals at Small Prices<p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">My childhood was lived in department stores. That's how it seemed, anyway, because my mother had a love for shopping that ranked just shy of her love for my brother and myself, and well above her care for our pets. The everyday memories of my mother do not take place in parks or at Bingo halls, but rather among racks of moderately priced kitchen textiles and aisles of crafting supplies.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">While other children were off learning about the rules of baseball and football from their fathers, I opted instead to hang out with my mother. And so, while I cannot tell the difference between a field goal and a grand slam, I can find my way around a Walmart or a Target like nobody's business. If one of my friends in grade school had suddenly come up to me and said, "I wonder where I can find some glass champagne flutes at Big Lots," I could have directed him with ease. Or if one of my teachers sprang a pop quiz on me, asking me to close my eyes and describe the interior of a Value City, I would have passed with flying white and brown colors.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">If anything, I might have considered myself a navigator of retail, something akin to a seaman and his frequented waters. Except my boat was a shopping cart, and my sails were made of plastic shopping bags. Had the other kids my age been competing with me for the title of World's Best Retail Expert, I would have feigned congeniality but secretly told myself, "You're the one, you're the one. You're a shoe-in for this. This is what you were born for. You know where the highest thread-count sheet sets are, and you can get from there to the paper towels in no time flat." If I couldn't join in a conversation about the St. Louis Cardinals, then I could at least convince myself that I might impress someone with my knowledge of department store floor plans.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">By the time I was eight I was off exploring on my own. The toy department became my destination of choice, and every time my mother and I would go somewhere we would part ways. She would go through her lists and stashes of clipped coupons, looking for basics like toilet paper and detergent. She'd then make her way to the grocery sections to stock up on cans of peas and pork 'n' beans to join the ranks of </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">other</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> canned foods and gallon jugs of water waiting in our basement. Meanwhile, I would drool over $40 Lego sets and Star Trek action figures, oblivious to the coming nuclear armageddon intimated by my mother's cache of food and water. I found myself so enraptured by the toys that my mother would have to come find me when she was ready to leave, prying my fingers off of a set of miniature plastic spaceships or a Batman doll with a working utility belt. "Come on," she'd say. "We...have...to...GO."</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The first time my mother didn't come to find me was an experience, and a real eye opener. We were in a Target store and, somehow, I exhausted my desire to browse, so I set off to find my mother, thinking, I guess, that that would be the end of our stay there. As each department came and went with no Mom, a growing panic took hold. It's funny how rational though can escape a person when their age is eternities away from double digits and their height's rivaled by a yardstick. Oh my god, I thought, my mother has abandoned me. She finally got fed up with my neediness and my always wanting that Space Enforcer Lego set and she's taken off, and now I'm going to have to live in this Target store until I'm old enough to hitchhike back home.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">After what felt like anywhere from three to seven trips around the store, passing families with their kids in tow, I started to reevaluate my pride in thinking I knew how to make it on my own in places like this. Sure it was nice being able to go look at toys I wouldn't be able to afford until I was well into my twenties, and it was something of a relief to say I had a skill that few of the others my age had (even if that skill was at finding discounted hand towels and dish soap on clearance endcaps). But what was it worth when you couldn't find the one thing that mattered?</span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">All the dish soap and towels in the world wouldn't do me any good, and neither would Legos unless I could somehow build a giant, pedal-powered dune buggy that would drive me home. But, judging by how long it took me to follow the step-by-step instructions for sets as simple as the police station or the underwater sea lab, my Lego idea was a no-go.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Ultimately, by the time I came around to the toys once again, I was on the verge of tears. The thought of going up front, of asking strangers for help, made me lightheaded. It was the last option I had, and I was just about to take it when I saw my mother turn a corner up ahead and start making her way toward me. The weight of my relief felt like a quilt, heavy on my chest, and I walked, nearly running, to her and the fully-laden cart whose plastic bottom sagged like an overweight dog.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">With a cursory once-over to make sure I wasn't bleeding or clutching something I hoped she'd buy, she said, "Well, I think I'm about ready. Did you see anything you liked?"</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I started to speak, but I couldn't think of anything I'd looked at. Instead, I just said, "Not really," and, pressing myself close to her, we made our way up front.</span></span></span></p>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551798607980616941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-83579776147768611142010-08-13T08:00:00.001-05:002010-08-13T08:00:00.870-05:00SmokingGrowing up, I never imagined that I'd be a smoker. Both my parents smoked when I was younger, and I hated it. Smoking was glamorous like it is in the movies--it was messy and smelly. The idea of being addicted to something (other than Pepsi) was also very repugnant to me.<div><br /></div><div>The thought of "trying" it out never occurred to me, until one night while I was at work. Now, this was back in my security guard days (of course, everything terrible is from this period in my life). I had to relieve the guard who was working in the guard booth, who was a notorious smoker. </div><div><br /></div><div>Actually, come to think of it, all of the guys smoked.</div><div><br /></div><div>UH-OH! Peer pressure!</div><div><br /></div><div>When I got to the booth, I caught my fellow guard sleeping. Well, to tell you the truth, I scared the shit out of him. He jumped about ten feet in the air when I knocked on the door. It was pretty funny because he was about 65 years old. He tried to play it off like he wasn't sleeping (the cardinal sin of guarding) so I played along and said nothing. In in his haste to get back inside (because it was cold and because he was embarrassed I caught him sleeping) he forgot some of his things.</div><div><br /></div><div>One of the things he forgot was his newspaper. The other was a single cigar. </div><div><br /></div><div>I found it an hour later while I was reading the papers (i.e. the funnies). It was wrapped in plastic, but it still smelled fantastic. When I'd worked at Walgreen's I'd loved the tobacco aisle where we kept all the cigars and pipe tobacco. The smells were all so colorful and delicious. Of course, I knew if I put a flame to the cigar it would go from smelling like exotic spices to odor of cat turds. </div><div><br />Still, the smell was intoxicating. I put the cigar in my pocket and forgot all about it--until I got home. Since I worked the graveyard shift, everyone in my family was gone or going when I got home. An hour after everyone had left I crept upstairs to my parent's room and scrounged up a lighter from my father's sock drawer (yes, that's where he used to keep spare lighters). </div><div><br /></div><div>I went out onto the back porch and unwrapped the cigar, feeling like an outlaw. Tossing the wrapping aside, I put one end in my mouth and lit the other end (this was a cheap cigar, no need to cut the end off). To my surprise, the smoke didn't smell all that bad. I took a few puffs then stomped the thing out. </div><div><br /></div><div>Smoking was overrated, I thought. </div><div><br /></div><div>A few nights later I got in a fight with my folks (which was common in those days) and on my way to work I decided to buy a pack of smokes. It was kind of a "I'll show them! I'll slowly develop lung cancer!" As immature as that sounds, it's probably the best reason to start smoking. I puffed on a cigarette on the way to work and again on my lunch break. For some reason I just didn't get why people smoked. I mean it wasn't really all that great, just smelly and expensive. </div><div><br /></div><div>I decided to try one more on the way home. With one hand on the wheel, I lit a cigarette (a Camel by the way) and stuck it to my lips. I was about to take a puff when I hit one of Kansas City's world-famous potholes. The sudden jolt interrupted my puff and I inhaled (for the first time) by accident. </div><div><br /></div><div>Suddenly, my head my swimming and I knew why people smoked! I'd been doing it wrong! It took me a few attempts to replicated my inhale, but once I figured it out I became a smoking fiend. </div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually I made a few attempts to quit, but it wasn't until I got married that I was able to quit for good. </div>Dr. Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503186812820112200noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-15708490095748714752010-08-13T07:59:00.000-05:002010-08-13T07:59:00.803-05:00Red Envelope: A Love Poem for Netflix<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;">Bringing me movies both day and night</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;">Your limitless choices are just right.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;">Even if $20.99 a month is due,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;">Oh, Red Envelope, how I love you.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;">So many options, so many choices,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;">From <i>Ugly Betty</i> to <i>Little Voices</i>.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;">Truthfully, you never cease to amaze</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;">With your suggestions via critical praise.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;">My dear Netflix I will never quit,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:medium;">Because, oh, Red Envelope, you are the ... best!</span></span></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551798607980616941noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-84117708604487651312010-08-06T08:00:00.007-05:002010-08-06T08:00:05.669-05:00Amazon.com: KINDLE, now only $0.75E-readers are the future (or so I'm told). As a writer, I'm a little bummed at the idea of owning digital files as opposed to a physical book that I can put up on my shelf. On the other hand, modern books are made pretty cheaply and don't last "forever" like older books.<div><br /></div><div>So maybe digital files are the way to go. I don't know.</div><div><br /></div><div>What I do know is, Amazon.com's Kindle is the leading e-book reader on the market. The only other reader I can think of (besides the iPAD, which does so much more I don't think of it as an e-reader) is the Nook (Barnes & Noble's in-house e-reader). </div><div><br /></div><div>The Kindle seems to be doing for e-books what Apple's iPOD did for MP3's. And much like Apple's fantastically successful music player, the Kindle keeps getting updates/upgrades. It seems like every time I log into Amazon.com I'm informed of some new-and-improved version of the Kindle (which I can PRE-ORDER NOW!).</div><div><br /></div><div>As annoying as that is (why should I buy something that will be better in a few months?) what's even MORE annoying are the near daily emails I get regarding the PRICE of the Kindle. I wake up, take a shower, and then I go into my office and check my email. Usually I have about three to five emails every morning. One is from <a href="http://www.groupon.com/">Groupon</a> (a daily online coupon/deal-of-the-day), one from Careerbuilder.com (from my unemployed days), one is from 1-800-flowers (because I like to send flowers), and finally I have between one to two emails from Amazon.com.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I realize that I could unsubscribe from all of these daily emails/spam. But I'm lazy. And I like getting mail (sorry, I'm lame). The Amazon.com and the Groupon emails have the potential to actually be useful to me, so I wouldn't want to opt out of either of them of anyway. </div><div><br /></div><div>BUT, the Amazon.com emails are annoying because it seems like once a week I'm told that the Kindle has dropped in price.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"Amazon.com: KINDLE now only $139!"</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div>It seems that the price of this thing is constantly dropping, to quote Mr. Dogg, like "it's hot." I imagine a day will come where I'll wake up and see that the Kindle has dropped in price so much, that'll it'll be free (and on it's way to my house!). </div><div><br /></div><div>I remember there was some controversy surrounding the release of the last iPhone when the price dropped dramatically just after the product's launch. I'm sure there's a very good, sound economical reason for lowering the price of high-end consumer electronics shortly after the product comes out...but I don't get it.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"Amazon.com: KINDLE now only $0.00 (we took the initiative and just mailed you one, Jason...you're welcome)!!!"</span></b></div>Dr. Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503186812820112200noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-85527228408806943972010-08-06T08:00:00.006-05:002010-08-06T08:00:06.623-05:00Fictional Newspaper Headlines Regarding the Prop 8 Trial Decision<p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">PROP 8 OVERTURNED, DISAPPOINTED FUNDAMENTALISTS PRAY FOR THE WORLD, SMITING OF FOES</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">RIGHT-WING PUNDITS CLAIM JUDGE WALKER “PRO-GAY FOR PAY”</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">VICTORY FOR GAYS LEADS TO QUESTION: WHAT IDIOTIC THING CAN CONSERVATIVES GO APESHIT OVER NEXT?</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">DESPITE SETBACK, WESTBORO BAPTISTS REMAIN COMMITTED TO DOUCHEBAGISH CRACKPOTISM</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">NEWS OF PROP 8’S OVERTURNING ECLIPSES ATTENTION SOUGHT BY LADY GAGA’S NEWEST OUTFIT MADE OF BABY SKULLS AND KITTEN TONGUES</span></span></span></p>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551798607980616941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7073984623418418809.post-9494542800382784122010-07-30T08:01:00.001-05:002010-07-30T08:01:00.141-05:00Word Addiction: A Brief History of My One True Love<p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Even if she wasn’t a huge reader herself, my mother knew the importance of making me fall in love with books. At an early age I was given a handful of little plastic-bound tomes to sift through so that I might learn the building blocks of what would eventually become my first real addiction. Had the doctors allowed such a thing, she might have brought some into the delivery room and put them in my tiny, placenta-covered hands to jumpstart the process. But, as was her fashion, she stuck to the rules and waited until we got home.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">By the time I was in kindergarten, I knew the alphabet, and thus was bored to death as my teacher, Mrs. Young, showed videotapes of little cartoon consonants and vowels acting as though they were people. Instead of watching to figure out how a group of sans-serif individuals could befriend one another to make simple words, I resorted to looking out windows and staring at walls, wishing that I were at home.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">That next year, during a parent-teacher conference, my teacher refused to believe that I could read a storybook deemed beyond what a first-grader was able to do. My parents disagreed, and so in a battle of wills, it was agreed upon that I would be forced to read the book in class. Aloud. In front of everyone. All in all, the book was pretty easy. It had to do with a star or a baby lion or something along those lines. Nothing beyond </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Charlotte’s Web </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">or anything by Judith Viorst or even a James Patterson novel, for that matter. Still, I got up in front of my class and got about five pages in, a little more than halfway through the book, when my teacher told me that that was enough. “That’s all we have time for today,” she said, sending me back to my seat.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Throughout the rest of my grade school years I took an insane pleasure from copying down words and learning to spell, and on our visits to the school library my friends would find me salivating like a dog waiting on the promise of a treat. Every few months when my teachers would hand out the leaflets for a new Scholastic Book Fair, I would treasure it, worrying the edges with my fingers and taking in each title’s little synopsis with what amounted, back then, to ecstasy.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">It wasn’t until middle school that I began to learn the joys of writing myself. Before then, my knowledge of composition had been limited to basic school reports, which were cookie-cut and had all the flexibility of a back brace. My first attempts at writing for fun were transcriptions of video games I’d played, scribbled in pencil in my school notebooks. Then came fantasies about spaceships from television shows like </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Star Trek </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">scouring the galaxy for adventure. No one saw these. Not even my mother, who tried peering over my shoulder to see what I was up to, sitting at my desk, my back to my bedroom door, hunched over with one hand hidden and working furiously at something. Looking back, I suppose the concern she displayed might have been at the mistaken notion that I, at twelve years old, had prematurely discovered the fun that is masturbation.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">From my space-bound adventures, I transitioned into more humorous fare. Namely, a collection of stories that concerned my friend and classmate Tiffany, who would make me laugh with her made-up recollections about living in a Mexican hut with a feline named HeyCat. The stories came out in a frenzy of excitement that was ushered in when I showed the first one to my language arts teacher, Mrs. Althoff, who would sit at her desk and read them, laughing occasionally against the hush of the classroom. The sound of her laughing was like a drug, and so I set out like a junkie looking for my fix.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">At this time, books too became more adventurous, as I reached beyond the children’s fare of Judy Blume and Louis Sachar and into the deeper waters of Lowis Lowry and Rodman Philbrick, both of whom demonstrated a fascinating ability to achieve in me an emotional reaction. I read my first Stephen King novel my last year of eighth grade.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Throughout the rest of middle school and into high school, writing became more than just a hobby. I felt as though I had been called to write, and I took the mantle of doing so with all the seriousness and gravitas capable of a slightly overweight teenage boy into writing stories about talking Mexican cats and intergalactic spaceships. Stories stretched and reached for things which they had never attempted before. Characters grew larger as explosions diminished; humor took a backseat to my crazy, wild-eyed attempts at lassoing the same emotional power that I could see authors wielding in their works.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">College brought on courses in creative writing, which introduced me to people who had the same desires as me. It felt refreshing to be in a room full of people who I imagined got the same thrill out of crating a well-worded sentence as me, even if in reality few of them actually enjoyed writing as much as they enjoyed having one less elective course to add to next semester’s schedule.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">When I came into a class called Practical Criticism — a course dedicated to the routine dissection of stories, as if they were frogs — I first met Jason Wendleton, the coauthor of this blog. By the end of the semester we had struck up a friendship, one that I’m 98.6 percent certain remains to this day. Part of the draw was the mutual attraction to the limitless possibilities of writing. The magic of creation. The power of good prose. And, of course, our strong aversion to looking for real jobs.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">After college was finished for Jason and myself — he with his genuine UM-St. Louis English degree and me with my still-in-progress dual major in Laziness and Procrastination — we started talking about our mutual desire to start putting our works out into the world. Seeing as neither of us had any major publications aside from some of Jason’s columns for </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">The Current</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">, the college newspaper, and a <a href="http://www.umsl.edu/~mfa/awards/people/michaelwense.htm">short story</a> I’m managed to weasel into the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">UM-St. Louis LitMag</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">, we decided to start a blog: this very one.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">It is hard to believe how quickly time can pass. As most people do, I think the process gets quicker each year. It was approximately 365 days ago that Jason and I founded this little blog, this scattershot collection of random trinkets and pieces of work that remind us (or remind me, anyway) of why it is that writing draws us in like it does. It takes me beyond the ordinary, and it fills in the little gaps in life with things that I would never hope to accomplish. Through writing, both my own and others’, I have seen this world and more, lived years in other people’s lives.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">My crazes for caffeine, candy, and fast food have all come and gone with relative ease, but the one thing that always draws me back, even when I try my hardest to ignore it, is the written word. When I sit down to write, I am reminded of the sheer power of imagination, and the everyday magic of creation. That, and it gives me the hope that, one day, I won’t have to have a real job.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-indent: 36px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Times New Roman'; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Happy birthday, Scattershot.</span></span></span></p>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551798607980616941noreply@blogger.com6