As if! OK, I admit that it has been years and years and years since I read Asimov's fine epic, I, Robot,** and yet, for some reason, I still am of the opinion that the movie did not follow the book all that well. But then again, the book was written how many years ago? Technology has advanced a bit since then, so I suppose even a futuristic Sci-Fi story likely needed to be updated a bit, huh? As for the movie, I give it three paws out of four. It was watchable, somewhat enjoyable, but not as great as expected. Will Smith did a fair actin' job as did up and comin' actress, Bridget Moynahan. The biggest star in this movie, however, was likely all the work done on the computers by unknown people as most of the movie was action-packed CG situations as hundreds of robots rampaged all over the place. Of course, from where I stood, I think Spoons was bitten by that same spider that turned Peter Parker into a reluctant super-hero. Lazy Saturday is comin' to an end.
My navel is fine, and, just so's ya know, was doin' pretty well over the last four nights as well, so despite the lack of reports, take it for granted, there was really nothin' all that excitin' goin' on to report upon, anyway. End of report.
*A smatterin' of Kudos® to anyone who can tell me why I entitled this post as such. I suppose anythin' you can think of qualifies ya to compete for the top prize as I don't have a clue as to why I did it, but believe I might be able to recognize the right reason if I see it.
**I actually preferred the Foundation Trilogy.
Well, I might shore have missed four straight Nightly Navel Gazin' Reports™ and yesterday's Friday Funny™ durin' my recent hiatus,* but those non-bloggin' efforts were mentally invigoratin' and, somewhat, life renewin'. The experience, however, was also a very strenuous and tirin' exercise.** I returned yesterday evenin' to my lonely abode quite weary and road worn and wholly unable to compose my thoughts for publication. Although a good night's sleep atop my comfy King-Sized bed dispelled, somewhat, the utter weariness of last eve, it seems to have done nothin' to enliven my current lack of creativity. I need, sorely, to get this first book between the covers so that I can turn my concentration onto formulation of the second book in the Alien Attitudes™ series: Alien Attitudes-Brink-o-Link's Brand New Can.
*I was somewhere else doin' somethin' different.
**Regrettably, I was financially forced to forego accommodations. Nightly, I curled up to slumber, most fitfully, in the long back seat of the Lincoln.
I am already a day and a half behind on driving several hundred miles to the site of a week long seminar I had paid to attend. I guess my stars are tellin' me to quit draggin' my feet and get on the road:
Your Tuesday, July 27, 2004, Horoscope, Taurus!*Enough with the possibilities, already! I am ready to go back into the game, coach.
Travel is favored today. You could be looking at the start of a new journey in the search of wisdom. You will soon be enjoying casual vacation that brings new possibilities of romance[*] and art your way.
I was sitting here and I caught a strong whiff of an odor -- kinda like what a decayin' dead mouse under the stove or the moldy stagnant water sittin' in a sink full of dirty dishes after a week smells like -- you know what I mean - stank and nauseatin'. I checked all around where I was sittin' as well as I could given the little bit of light available as an instantaneous light bulb incident coincided with the initiation of my search efforts. No sign of dead animal or putrid food was located in the immediate area. Such necessarily leaves the conclusion that the smell had to be comin' from me. That I might be in some way decayin' or decomposin' was a most depressin' thought indeed. I did try to move on to lighter thoughts.
However, I am also highly mindful that it ain't the only time that dyin' has come to mind, here, of late. The linked post acknowledges only one of several anniversaries associated with the death of someone close to me. It is almost uncanny that my late wife, my mother, and then my dad, all died in the summer months. All three of those mentioned have been on my mind a lot lately and my deep inner mood has been dark and despairin'.
It is partly 'cause of my mood that I have been recompense in my bloggin' duties, however, 'cause I had to also focus a lot of my attention on gettin' that final rewritin'/editing of the book completed so to get me through some of the particularly rough spots. Of course, the book is finished, as I previously stated, but the road ahead still has a few potholes.
Currently, Alien Attitudes-Alura Allen: Alien at Large* is in the hands of three review readers, each of whom has been involved in this project for a considerable length of time and all of whom has heaped rave reviews upon my literary efforts. Yee ha! 'Cept that those same three people regularly read this blog. I already know that they really enjoy my writin' efforts.
I am developin' this concern that the dead statistics involved with this blog also forecast the public reception I can expect to get from from the publication of my novel. I can fervently describe my book as a 60,000+ word tale about a group of unique and lovable characters all caught up in a fast movin' series of adventures involving a clever and talented young lady tryin' to find herself under highly unusual circumstances.** Look out Harry Potter!
The book, of course, is filled with the same sort of descriptive prose and witty repartee that I use in all of my blog posts - blog posts that many, it appears, feel are unworthy of readin', or, if worthy of readin', are unworthy of comment or mention. I had always maintained some belief that my unique and, hopefully, humorous way of phrasin' stuff out-shined the inane and insane topics upon which I chose to comment. I surmise that I may have developed a severe case o' the I must be the only one who thinks I am funny 'cause no one's laughin' syndrome. Desperately, I am seeking a remedy. A lot of anything [applause?laughter?rotten fruit?***]**** would be nice. Pre-orders on the book [by Christmas?] are welcomed, and encouraged. roguegenius[at]hotmail[dot]com subject line=Alat1
My navel seems to still be dealin' with the nausea matter discussed above and is not currently available for comment. End of report.
*I have neither found nor selected a publisher. If you have any ideas that might assist me, please feel free to pass them along.
**And not a single footnote in the entire novel. For some of you, that reason alone, might be worth the price of the book.
***Please do not throw dead animals at the entertainers.
****Odd that neither love? nor money? was listed, huh?
OK, since the book is finished, I need an outlet for my creativity. I thought I did a pretty good job on that last creation, I would try to see it from the other side:
I am -insert age- and [ own my own house / have my own place / have my own room / sleep on someone's couch / have a spacious box down under the Main Street bridge ]. My current mode of transportation is [ by limousine / in my own car / on my hawg / by bicycle / on the bus / hitching ]. My last [ wife / girl friend / old lady of other type ] dumped me because [ I lost my job and couldn't or wouldn't look for another / her ex got out of prison / she fell down the stairs and the cops made her get a restraining order / I could no longer deliver what she needed ]. I swing like [ an elephant / a horse / "size doesn't matter" ]
Hi, I am -insert age- and [ overweight / codependent / mentally ill / in prison ]. My last [ husband / boyfriend / platonic friend ] deserted me because I [ nagged him to death / physically let myself go / lost all interest in sexual activity ]. I am currently seeking a [ very rich / very handsome / very compassionate ] [ man / toy boy / sugar daddy ] [ for a long term relationship / for a prom date or one night stand / to support my kids and myself / to put me through college ].
It does not seem like 10 years has passed since I celebrated your last birthday on this plane of existence with you. I am hopeful there is an afterlife and you are doing well. Hopefully, from time to time, you look down upon me and smile. I realize that I am not the man you knew, but without you, I kind of lost direction for awhile. I am still not sure I have found my direction, but Project Procreation seems to be the focus of my dreams. If you are in a position to do anything about that and still have as much love for me as I still feel for you, maybe you can assist me if you want. I have heard that Angels can work miracles. As you were an Angel in life, I suspect you are an Angel in Heaven. I readily admit that life has been Hell without you.
Well, the supposed final edit and rewrite is completed and two of the intrepid souls who voluntarily put their psyche into my hands by reading this particular piece of fiction have the complete book, and the third has half of it. I am quite eager to send it off to the publisher. I have consulted the project with my navel and it has agreed to contribute its college fund toward the endeavor. Great praise indeed. End of report.
I don't know but seems the Opus/Rent-a-Mom gag is a bit overused. Even Pickles sweet face couldn't make today's strip worthy of a second glance.
Just in case you were unaware of the fact, Susie is much prettier than I am, and is way too busy doin' stuff like hatin' Bill Gates to visit me on a regular basis any longer. My navel cried when it discovered that fact. End of report.
I was so utterly exhausted last that I utterly strode into my abode, went straight to bed and straight to sleep. I did awake at some point about 3:00 a.m., stared over at the clock, thought to myself. "Naw!" and went back to sleep. I am hopeful that my lack of a timely navel report was not the cause of any severe mental distress on anyone's part. My navel was most congenial in not voicing any complaints about my decision to call it a night at 6:00 p.m. End of report.
P.S. I was so extremely busy that I did not have a chance to put forth a bit of effort toward completing my novel.
A young preacher was asked by the local funeral director to hold a grave-side burial service at a small local cemetery for someone with no family or friends. The preacher started early but quickly got himself lost, making several wrong turns.
Eventually, a half-hour late, he saw a backhoe and its crew, but the hearse was nowhere in sight, and the workmen were eating lunch.
The diligent young pastor went to the open grave and found the vault lid already in place.
Taking out his book, he read the service. Feeling guilty because of his tardiness, he preached an impassioned and lengthy service, sending the deceased to the great beyond in style.
As he was returning to his car, he overheard one of the workmen say: "I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years and I ain't never seen anything like that."
Yes, for the time being, but start saving up all your dimes and nickels everyone, because you will be wanting to buy* a copy of my book really soon, it seems. My navel is simply ecstatic about the
project prospect. End of report.
*As it stands right now, you will need approximately 200 dimes and 100 nickels to purchase a first edition copy in hard cover.**
**A steal at twice the price.
My passion for completin' the final editing and rewritin' of the Alura book is still goin' on. My passion currently seems to be goin' so strongly, that I jes' realized my whole daily intake for today, other than several ounces of fountain Dr. Pepper, is a small sack of pistachios. I can't ever seem to find a large sack. My arm is really hurtin'.
Navel is bein' no bother and I am doin' my best to not be a bother to my navel. End of report.
Alura project is still on the front burner and goin' well. Final edit and rewrite is more than 33% complete. Tendinitis is at level orange, or is that level Bert. I still ain't sure I am up to snuff on all the snazzy bloggin' lingo. My navel has been hangin' 'round durin' my editin' efforts, behavin' itself. On the other hand, that unmentionable member of my anatomy always seems keen on makin' a nuisance of itself. Also, my butt is stuck to the seat of this chair. End of report.
Alura project currently occupies front burner. I am goin' away for now and takin' my navel with me. End of report.
All right, all right, I did all that laundry that was layin' 'round. But for the few items I am currently wearin', ever' piece of washable clothin' I own, as far as I can tell, is clean. I only give the small caveat 'cause I ain't sure that I might not have someone here or there holdin' onto a few select pieces of my clothin'. This ain't my first rodeo, so to speak. The only problem with doin' seven, yes, seven, loads of laundry around this place is due to that ridiculous indoor dryer vent in my house. I know I have asked my landlord several times to just come cut a danged hole in the wall so I can vent all this hot air outside. If ya read back a bit, you will remember how I did laundry often in the winter just because I wanted that heat.
I am literally drippin' with sweat and fixin' to go jump into a cool tub of water. I am usually a hot only cycle when it comes to my bathin' choices, but a cool bath is just what I need to counter the sauna floatin' 'round inside my abode. The navel is still unaffected. Are there sweat pores in there? End of report.
Wow, I might jes' have to change the name of this weekly post as Eye on Pickles, but, what the hey? I like the rampagin' Vikin' Princess who gives what to those that deserve it. Like Opus and that cat formerly known as "Bill," I don't mind sittin' back and watchin' Pickles have all the fun. I love the gal's way to dealin' with stuff. Pickles for President!
Well, I accomplished very little toward either the sunshine/navel matter or getting any of that laundry done. Unless you count pilin' dirty clothes in a different place than they were previously as doin' somethin' toward gettin laundry done, I did diddly-squat toward either. However, a'fore ya think I lazed away the whole of the day, consider that I did do a lot toward completin' the Alura book project. I am pretty satisfied that all parts of the book are now fully complete. I am almost sure, however, that another reading for editing and some slight rewriting is necessary before I am ready to allow anyone else to look at it. Procurement of illustrations is not going according to plan. End of report.
My head must have been really bloated 'cause I jes' had one heck o' a brain fart. I know I connected to the Internet to look up some information I was curious 'bout a few minutes ago. O' course, after the ordeal of actually gettin' connected to the 'net, I cannot, for the life of me, recollect what it was. I am jes' gonna blame it all on Moby Alura. Event horizon: Christmas?
Navel is beggin' to get some time in the sun. Laundry is beggin' to be done. I don't know how to describe the look on my face. Deigned displeasure? End of report.
ADDENDUM: Francis Bacon, I'm not. Kevin Bacon neither. But so what's so bad about bein' me? End of Addendum.
ADDENDUM II: Since I had no chance to give sun exposure for my navel, and that laundry seemed to still be quietly sittin' in the corner and was not likely to voice a complaint, I decided to venture to Sonic® for my first experience with their oft advertised Junior Banana Split. I figgered to at least give my palate a pleasant experience this evenin'. It was a tasty li'l tidbit, to be sure, but they do need to give you an instructional video to teach ya the correct way to pop the tops on those containers. I still ain't sure how I acoomplished the task, but I do know what I did. I am purty sure I ain't gonna repeat those movements next time I get one, 'cause, although I was finally successful in accessin' the contents, I also got a very nice splatterin' of strawberry sauce all over my beige pants. End of Addendum II.
ADDENDUM III: Please do feel free to add your comments, ya'll. ;) End of Addendum III.
Thanks to Funkalicious, I am happy to bring you the saga of George W and John Waffles,* two hapless salesmen who just climbed off the Cannonball with big suitcases of wares to carry up the hill so as to check in to the Shady Rest. Well, no, actually, you will find somethin' much much funnier than anythin' my poor pathetic brain is able to conceive momentarily. This Land is Your Land -- hilarious!!!!!! Hi-band connection is suggested for anyone itchin' to click such link, however.
*Whose biggest claim to fame is that he won 3 Purple Hearts?
Two women met for the first time since graduating from high school. One asked the other, "You were always so organized in school, Did you manage to live a well planned life?" "Yes," said her friend. "My first marriage was to a millionaire; my second marriage was to an actor; my third marriage was to a preacher; and now I'm married to an undertaker." Her friend asked, "What do those marriages have to do with a well planned life?" "One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, and four to go."
An older gentleman was on the operating table awaiting surgery and he insisted that his son, a renowned surgeon, perform the operation. As he was about to get the anesthesia he asked to speak with his son. "Yes Dad, what is it?" "Don't be nervous, son; do your best and just remember, if it doesn't go well, if something happens to me ... your mother is going to come and live with you and your wife...."
I almost want to reply to the SPAMMER who sent me this followin' message just to find out how he expects to fulfill such promise.
Please clearly give me the opportunity to lower your next GLEN ROSE TX mortgage for PO BOX 1580. No obligation. [emphasis supplied]
Accordin' to Denita Two Dragons, Rachel Lucas said politicians are a lot like urinatin' dogs when it comes to establishin' their
territory political base. I ain't real sure 'bout that, but then ag'in, I am of the opinion that a lot of the insane rhetoric that sometimes comes outta of their mouths stinks a lot like dog pee.
*I am actually of the opinion the "What's That Smell?" was dealin' with a whole other source beside dog urine, but the title popped to mind when I was contemplatin' publication of this story.
Wow! I might be the last to know about the rash of wildfires goin' on 'round the various parts of the continental U.S.A. It sure is hot here, but the only thin' burnin' 'round here is skin. I have a whole bottle of SPF45 in a sack somewhere among the flotsam floatin' 'round on my livin' room floor.* I bought it a couple of weekends ago with the intent of gettin' some use for it, but have continued in my hibernational leanin's or is that my addiction to air conditionin', the latter which, like most other temptations, I use only moderately.**
Ya jes' ain't got no idea about how close the only thing in this post tonight was the words Thank you. I do think, however, that th'effect of the current commercial use of that term is grossly overstated. IMHO
My navel expressed the most profound opinion this evenin' in expressin' its belief that most of the really funny stuff written on this blog is incomprehensible to most. Oh, the opinion is not profound 'cause I am almost sure that such opinion is universally shared. It is profound that my navel was finally able to express anythin'. We are talkin' navels, after all. End of report.
link was added after original publication.
*Those of you who are keepin' score are advised to take that part with a huge grain of salt.
**Experiment by readin' that aloud with a mouthful of marbles.
Q: How many lawyers does it take to change a light bulb?
A: Such number as may be deemed to perform the stated task in a timely and efficient manner within the strictures of the following agreement: Whereas the party of the first part, also known as "The Lawyer", and the party of the second part, also known as "The Light Bulb", do hereby and forthwith agree to a transaction wherein the party of the second part (Light Bulb) shall be removed from the current position as a result of failure to perform previously agreed upon duties, i.e., the lighting, elucidation, and otherwise illumination of the area ranging from the front (north) door, through the entry way, terminating at an area just inside the primary living area, demarcated by the beginning of the carpet, any spillover illumination being at the option of the party of the second party (Light Bulb) and not required by the aforementioned agreement between the parties.
The aforementioned removal transaction shall include, but not be limited to, the following steps:
1.) The party of the first part (Lawyer) shall, with or without elevation at his option, by means of a chair, stepstool, ladder or any other means of elevation, grasp the party of the second part (Light Bulb) and rotate the party of the second part (Light Bulb) in a counter-clockwise direction, said direction being non-negotiable. Said grasping and rotation of the party of the second part (Light Bulb) shall be undertaken by the party of the first part (Lawyer) with every possible caution by the party of the first part (Lawyer) to maintain the structural integrity of the party of the second part (Light Bulb), notwithstanding the afore-mentioned failure of the party of the second part (Light Bulb) to perform the aforementioned customary and agreed upon duties. The foregoing notwithstanding, however, both parties stipulate that structural failure of the party of the second part (Light Bulb) may be incidental to the aforementioned failure to perform and in such case the party of the first part (Lawyer) shall be held blameless for such structural failure insofar as this agreement is concerned so long as the non-negotiable directional codicil (counter-clockwise) is observed by the party of the first part (Lawyer) throughout.
2.) Upon reaching a point where the party of the second part (Light Bulb) becomes separated from the party of the third part ("Receptacle"), the party of the first part (Lawyer) shall have the option of disposing of the party of the second part (Light Bulb) in a manner consistent with all applicable state, local and federal statutes.
3.) Once separation and disposal have been achieved, the party of the first part (Lawyer) shall have the option of beginning installation of the party of the fourth part("New Light Bulb"). This installation shall occur in a manner consistent with the reverse of the procedures described in step one of this self- same document, being careful to note that the rotation should occur in a clockwise direction, said direction also being non-negotiable.
NOTE: The above described steps may be performed, at the option of the party of the first part (Lawyer), by said party of the first part (Lawyer), by his heirs and assigns, or by any and all persons authorized by him to do so, the objective being to produce a level of illumination in the immediate vicinity of the aforementioned front (north) door consistent with maximization of ingress and revenue for the party of the fifth part, also known as "The Firm".
Strange and long day. Jes' had like several different people come in with various very strange problems, a couple who I had to send to other places to get the assistance they needed. I had a lot of paperwork that I had hoped to get done, though, that was continually pushed aside so that I could listen to these people's problems. Actually, it was not all that extraordinary of a day 'cept that jes' 'bout closin' time, I get this strange call: my sister. Normally, I would 'spect she as bein' at her home in Tullahoma, TN, but my sister,Kelly, found herself in the next town over doin' some visitin' with a good friend after goin' to visit my aunt, and discovered how close to when I am now located. I was a surprise. So I had to hang around awaitin' her arrival, then I invited her to dinner, then brought her over here and gave her some stuff. It was good to catch up with her and her family. She finally brought some of the pictures she scanned from the family album and a couple of duplicates of some pictures she had come across of my mom, my dad, and us kids when we was little. Less than a month it seems until two of my three nieces turn 21. The other one will be two in October, but lives in my brother's household, as some of ya'll might know.
I've got another day of SOS tomorrow, so need to do as the title suggests. Navel is unobservable because for some reason I have pulled the laptop a bit closer to my face for some reason. Likely so that I can see the keys somewhat with the reflected light from the screen while I am sittin' here almost like what squishybear would love me to be, for whatever weird fantasy that might be goin' on in her lovely mind, in a very dark room. It is hard to believe I forgot to turn on my lava lamp, so the only other light visible is comin' from the TV sittin' on the other side of the room and the small Tesla coil in the globe several feet to my right. I suspect that the moon is either way below the horizon or we have a new moon in the sky tonight. O' course, I was pretty sure there was usually a street light shinin' on the other side of the Venetian blinds on the windows. Anyway, since I can't see the navel, I am unable to delivery any super snarky remarks about it this evenin'. End of report.
Ya would think there might be a bit more interest in the trivia quizzes I have created here lately. Actually, the original Texas trivia quiz has gotten a good smatterin' of a response, but last week's quiz on Best Picture Winners musta been way too hard for my readership, 'cause none has yet to take a gander at the one I did today on ol' cartoon shows. Should someone be wonderin', the source for all those great questions come from somewhere within my memory. Thusly, it takes my addle-pate lengthy periods of time to find the pertinent data.
Help Wanted Notice: If there is anyone out there who has the proper equipment to take 15 seconds of VHS and convert it into a .mov or .mpeg format who would be willin' to transfer this footage I have of Moby Alura, I can use some assistance. Leave message to this post if you can assist.The navel again attempted to construct a poll for all of ya'll, but couldn't cut the construction paper due to a lack of opposable thumbs. Strange, though, it doesn't seem to need opposable thumbs to firmly grasp the crayon. Have I just made a discovery with regard to the prehensilic skills of the human navel? I smell Nobel Prize here. End of report.
[UPDATE: Hopefully by semi-recreatin' the cartoon quiz, I have fixed the problem. I apologize for any problems associated with the previous try.]
[UPDATE2: There is a problem with question No. 9, which is returning C as the correct answer whereas the correct answer is A.]
Hey, I am a much better sailor technologically it seems than the said Captain Ahab was above the seven seas, as it has only taken me a few days to catch Moby Alura. Now I can go on with my life, well --- kinda. I still gotta figure out a way to capture what I now have caught on 15 seconds of VHS to somethin' digital so as to be able to work on or send to others electronically. Still, the fish is in the net, and one lovely fish she be. I am tellin' ya'll, this gal was what I was seein' in my mind as I developed my Alura character. Ya might have seen her: blue eyed blond on the tic-tac commercial, the assuredness and self-confidence she was able to express in her face and physical reactions.
My navel is dry lay in the midst of a major stickiness that has enveloped almost every other part of my outer surface, that which is usually referred to as skin, for those of ya'll who are still lookin' for the link to the crib notes in reference to this blog. In case ya are startin' to get really really confused as to what is goin' on or where you are, exactly, in reference to this blog, this is the REFERENCE DESK. The navel is currently busy with another patron and will be with you momentarily. End of report.
Another hot day where I sat around most of the day skimpily dressed sittin' on my seat watchin' TV and tryin' to stay cool. I jes' wish the weekend was not almost over, already.
National navel condition is green. End of report.
It was a strange day today, as I awoke early, did little, then went back to bed and slept the day away. I suspect that I was really in need of the sleep. Now I am jes' hopeful I can sleep through the night. I ain't gonna dwell on much, and jes' let it go with that, but did think ya'll might be interested in seein' the world as it appeared to Herodotus in 850 B.C., jes' 'nother of those weird endin's on a huntin' trip through the jungle of Internet links in the deep deep regions of the Wild Woolly Web.
My navel is well rested. End of report.
Tonight's report was rendered redundant.
I jes' seen a commercial blurb for King Arthur where they said somethin' 'bout the movie bein' produced by Jerry Bruckheimer as havin' previously brought us Pirates of the Carribean, whereas, might it not be equally as accurate to say he was responsible for Kangarooo Jack?
Well, a'fore some of ya'll get a little carried away by my admission, let me clarify -- I mostly find myself cryin' when watchin' Dharma & Greg. Ya see, the zany antics of Dharma are so akin to what I used to expect from my late wife, that I almost get tearful 'memberin' playin' the Greg part and how very very happy I was. O' course, my late sweetie's name wasn't Dharma, it was Betsy, and my name ain't Greg, so we could not have actually been Dharma & Greg, but Betsy & Tig might work, huh? 'Scuse me now, 'cause I am gonna go get my cryin' done. Lonely weekend foreseen.
No, leave the SPAM in the can for a moment. I was jes' wonderin' if any of the rest of ya'll few readers of mine were a'thinkin' of givin' up on hotmail due to gmail givin' much more storage space and such than hotmail did. Soon after the announcement, I noticed Yahoo, who already had more email storage space than hotmail jumped on the bandwagon and was offerin' way more storage space than previously so as to compete with gmail's offerin'. I, of course, figured if I waited long enough, Billl Gates and his cohorts would give up more storage space as well. It seems that time has finally come and all of us who have been hotmail users for like forever, to use today's venacular, don't have to send out all those address changin' messages to all our friends and such after all.
Of course, the storage space problems I had been overcomin' pretty well by cleanin' out all those old messages on a regular basis, but what was really bad was the file size of attachments you could send through hotmail. I was forever havin' to tell people who were tryin' to send me somethin' that they would have to use my Yahoo email address.
How to tell you have a BAD Lawyer:
1. During your initial consultation he tries to sell you Amway.
2. He tells you that his last good case was a "Budweiser."
3. When the prosecutors see who your lawyer is, they high-five each other.
4. He picks the jury by playing "duck-duck-goose."
5. During the trial you catch him playing his Gameboy.
6. A prison guard is shaving your head.
7. He places a large "No Refunds" sign on the defense table.
8. He begins closing arguments with, "As Ally McBeal once said..."
9. He keeps citing the legal case of Godzilla v. Mothra.
10. Just before he says "Your Honor," he makes those little quotation marks in the air with his fingers.
11. The sign in front of his law office reads "Practicing Law Since 2:25 PM."
12. Whenever his objection is overruled, he tells the judge, "Whatever."
13. Just before trial starts he whispers, "The judge is the one with the little hammer, right?"
If each species evolves with each generation so as to have a better chance to survive in a dog-eat-dog world, is not the biggest factor to consider in each individual member's success or failure in doing its part is how well one does in creating members of a subsequent generation? Those of us who have not yet done our part in doin' so surely feel a lot of natural pressure to continue tryin' to succeed. Jes' thought maybe all ya'll needed a reminder.
Ya can likely blame the foregoin' to my havin' watched the third segment of a wonderful Nature multi-part series: Triumph of Life. This segment, called The Eternal Arms Race, which was a simply amazin' presentation of the evolutionary process concernin' several pairs of hunter/prey species. I watched while wishin' my historical geology professor back in my college days had been able to present the evolutionary process and interaction of different species as eloquently and understandably as this program. My life could have turned out remarkably different.
How many forks and crossroads do we encounter along our life path where we are given different choices as how to proceed? Do we not always try to make the choice that will bring us the greatest individual chance of succeedin' with our dreams? What does one do when such dreams are unrealized and the forecast of any possibility of future success grows dimmer and dimmer with each passing day, bite the bullet and hit their head against the wall?
Blue funk city and my navel is still pink. End of report.
My day today started out normally enough. I arose, did whatever business was found to be necessary to be done before headin' to court. Thankfully, today was one of those two District Court dockets that are actually held in my hometown, so I did not have to drive that old utility truck to the neighborin' town. My court business quickly finished, I headed out to where my car was bein' tended to so as to make sure that the keys were not locked inside of a power dead car, and to see if it was ready to be put back into action.
I was informed that the part had been delivered right at the close of business last evenin' and they would be installin' onto my car as soon as they had completed the task at hand, installin' an alternator on the truck of another of my friends. I went back to find another of my friends so as to get someone to drive me back to the garage, as I expected my car to be ready about the time I got back. The mechanic was under the car when I returned, so I waited in the air conditioned office until the car repairs were completed.
As I returned to my office, my friend Matt called to ask if I wanted to eat lunch with him, and the timin' seemed to be perfect by that time, so I assented. Matt asked me to drop by and pick him up, and, as I had just gotten my car back after havin' not had it a few days, I agreed. We drove to the neighborin' town to the north and had lunch. When we returned to my car, I discovered that the mechanical situation had returned to square one: It would again not start, and here I was with responisbility for my guest, a dead car, and twenty miles from home. Thankfully, country folks are grand folks and I had another friend on the way to provide transportation home for my friend as my mechanic was travelin' up to see what could be done to get my car to start. Still, it was hot, and waitin' 30 or so minutes in the hot sun was not much fun.
I was directed to drive my car back to the garage so that they could determine why the same the situation had reoccurred. So, there I was, back at the garage, sittin' 'round in the heat, sweatin' profusely. Thankfully, I was able to locate a T-shirt in the trunk and changed from my business attire into somethin' a bit more suitable to handle the extreme Texas heat. While the mechanic worked to remove the starter assembly from the extremely hot engine, as he continually could be heard to remark as he worked, I worked at tryin' to remove the tent from my rear window. Such has come to be so filled with bubbles of air as to make anythin' viewed through it an unidentifiable blur. Once, the problem was discovered and I was told that a part would have to be fetched from the same neighborin' town where I had just found my self stranded, I asked to be dropped at my home. I was hot, soaked with sweat and, by this time, the whole of the business day today had been thoroughly shot, and I was so weary I was unsure whether I was still in Texas or had somehow found my way to the netherworld.
The navel was again unfazed by any of today's events and snoozed peacefully a'midst its bed of soft black, with an occasional gray interloper or two, hairs. End of report.
I am 'spectin' that the title came from somewhere a bit outside of reality, but it popped into my head, so it was ripe for output at the perfect time . . . or maybe it is an imperfect time. I am runnin' on less than a full set of cylinders at the current moment. I guess it has a lot to do with all the stress I went through last evenin' 'bout wonderin' if I was gonna sleep through the alarm this mornin'. I fretted and fretted 'bout that, to an end that might not be understandable to many, maybe not any, for I am without a clue as to why a person should go through an occurrence such as my night last night. I did go to bed just after postin', turned on the TV and put the sleep on 90 minutes. I felt so drowsy, I was almost sure I would drop right off easily. No way. I remember seein' the clock at 1:00am and again at 3:00am. By that time, I was assured that I would either stay awake all night, or, more likely, be guaranteed to oversleep. I did neither, however, as the next time I remember seein' the clock was when I looked over when my body became alerted that the alarm was blarin' that George-awful noise at 6:30 am. I was instantly alert and ended up actually gettin' to court an hour early.
My car was supposed to be ready by the time I closed up this evenin'. Accordin' to the testin', it was the solenoid as I 'spected. Part was supposed to have been delivered by 4:00 pm and was gonna be easily installed on the car. The game plan was that my mechanic was gonna have the car ready to go, throw the keys under the mat, and lock the door. I just use the key-less entry code. However, when I went by there after work, the key-less entry trick did not work, like there is no power. I am now surely hopeful that the keys have been throw under the mat of a power dead car, because I don't have an extra key. That reality seems so far fetched, I am not gonna stress enough to stay awake for very long. In fact, I 'spect to drift into lalaland a'fore that first dozen of those fence jumpin' ewes has finished hoppin' the rails.
Ya know, on that brief hiatus, I could swear that little cherry mole has moved closer to the navel than I remember. Finally, a brief bit of belly button news. End of report.
As it seemed as if people were gettin' a lot of enjoyment from the Texas Trivia Quiz I created, I decided I would work on creatin' a trivia quiz for each week. As such, I have created a quiz based upon Academy Award Best Picture Winners for my initial offerin'! Show Your Stuff! or View the Scoreboard!
Well, the day I been dreadin' since sometime last Thursday or so, is comin' to an end. I needed the break, but the SOS begins again bright and early tomorrow mornin'. Of course, it may have been mentally induced, but I have not even heard either of my alarm clocks for the past few days. I am now very fearful that I will not hear them go off in the mornin'. If I would somehow end up bein' late for court, I ain't gonna tell ya'll how much trouble I would be in if that occurs.
I ain't really been up to much of any sort over these past couple of days. As yesterday, I have watched a lot of television today, however, there was no great marathon of British comedies for today. I was changin' channels here and there almost all day, 'cept for about a half hour ago when I found that the Texas Rangers' game was on. I was utterly surprised at what I found to be playin' durin' the day. I am not talkin' 'bout the soap operas and talk shows, as they seem to have not changed all that much since the last time I watched daytime TV all day. I did catch jes' a bit of a showin' of Leave it to Beaver, and was mindful that it was in reruns the first time I 'member havin' seen Jerry Mathers' smile come across our B&W TV. I have to admit I was intrigued with watchin' the daytime fare on the Spanish-speakin' networks. Game shows and divorce court seemed to be funnier in Spanish, even if I could only pick out only one or two words here and there. I am always amazed at the categories for which I seem to know the questions on Jeopardy. I answered more questions about Cleopatra than a couple of other subjects for which I had believed that I had done my homework.
I did catch a glimpse at Moby Alura this evenin' and picked up the remote control and hit play/record so as to capture her image, but somehow the equipment malfunctioned and my electronic harpoon missed its mark. Progress in other portions of the endeavor is continuin'.
The navel has returned to its previous form, and is jes' hangin' 'round, agreein' with whatever decision I make. I suppose a person could not possibly ask of anythin' more of one's belly button, huh? End of report.
That's my story and I'm stickin' to it. Really nuthin' much of any nature occurred on today, with one major exception: My main ride is incapacitated. Somethin' electrical in the ignition system. So, until it is fixed, I am travelin' 'round in my utility truck, legal but not all that economical, comfortable or luxurious.
I had a healthy itch to go do some floatin' down the river like nearly ever'one else was doin', but knowin' how easily I get sunburned unless I slather ever' bit of my body with some SPF45 or higher sun screen. For some reason, the idea of floatin' down the river sounds so nice until I envision myself sittin' there coated with a substance that can cause me to feel so uncomfortable that I am forced to evict such visage from my thoughts.
Strangely, this may have been the first 4th of July where I did not purposely have anythin' to do with fireworks, either in settin' them off, buyin' them for someone else so as to watch them do so, or watchin' some professionally designed fireworks show, but for some reason, I was really not in the mood to leave the house much. It was odd that my car actually broke down in the parkin' lot of my friend's convenience store. My day was filled with hours of doin' laundry while watchin' a marathon of British sit-coms on one of our area PBS stations. Lastly, I began watchin' some semi-musical movie about the creation and signin' of the Declaration of Independence. Of course, this was on our local UPN station, so there were a lot of commercial breaks interspersed. Durin' one of these, I caught the introduction of the Medal of Honor winners to President Bush. I counted that as a lucky break, because the moment was so movin' on a deep emotional level.
The navel was ecstatic about not bein' slathered with lotion and likely bein' filled with either sweat or river water for several hours today. In fact, it was quite elated to find that I spent at least that much of the day layin' 'round in my skivvies on the bed durin' a lot of my marathon of TV watchin' as it is the only real cool place in the house. End of report.
I was unsure what to expect from the strip today, what with the date bein' Independence Day and we have only recently seen the introduction of Bill the Cat into Breathed's newest comic effort, and what did we get? A nicely drawn strip that is so ripe with symbolism I am in awe in tryin' to understand exactly the meanin' of such. Here we have a scorched nun in the same strip with a penguin, with such penguin holdin' some young Catholic school student of the female gender who has pulled her skirt up over her head thereby exposin' her underwear for all to see, except that our great hero Opus seems to never notice or even look that way, while our Bill the Cat seems oblivious to ever'thin' goin' on. Actually, the latter statement was of no real surprise to us that are actually all that familiar with his character. Here is my hope that Pickles has come to stay.
Well, with the previous ode postin' ya'll prolly know right after I hit the publish button, I was off to go see the event I was discussin'. Although it was BYOB, I only took a full cup of Dr. Pepper along. I pulled a chair outta my trunk, and those fold-up chairs are so much easier to deal with than lawn chairs. I have had a couple in my trunk ever since the price got down below $10. I sat down in my chair in a shady spot so as to be able to watch the singers on the stage. I was there 'specially to observe the Three Fools on Three Stools and Brian Burns gigs. Both performances were grrreat!* I enjoyed it but was gettin' a bit tired. I got up pretty early this mornin' so as to re-ice the drinks to keep 'em ice cold. I bagged up my chair and came home.
The music must have soothed the savage belly button, 'cause it seems that the navel is back on the job. I get some sense that one of squishybear's recent comments had somethin' to do with my navel endin' its hiatus. Too bad it did not return to work with some excitin' navel stories to tell, or some strange and interestin' malady to whine about, but jes' showed up at the door, hat in hand attitude, without any clue as to what it did while it was gone. I think I will go on to bed, although I am sure I shall sleep ear-to-pillow tryin' to catch any snatches of information goin' 'round on the grapevine. Hence, I regrettably have nothin' to report. I didn't even clip my toenails. End of report.
*Oops, let a bit of cousin Tony slip by.
I almost had it this time, but it has gotten away again. You know what I am talkin' 'bout, don'cha? That stray errant thought that seems to pop into your consciousness and then flit away? I am ever attemptin' to 'member jes' enough of one of 'em to actually have some recollection as to what it was. It is akin to havin' a tumbleweed spinnin' though your mind. It is a very hot Saturday afternoon. Of course, as most of the rest of ya'll know, at least those of ya'll from the U.S.ofA., this is Independence Day Weekend, usually referred to as the Fourth of July, and thusly, I was down on the square for the annual parade, the best ever, in my opinion. Kudos to any and all of ya'll who might happen onto here who took part in organizin', implementin' and participatin' in the event. I was surprised that I did not give away as many FREE soft drinks as I had imagined, but I did not make a really big advertisin' attempt to steal business from the people who came to sell competin' products for a profit. I did not concern myself all that much about it, as the drinks will keep and can be iced down again. It was a very interestin' exercise in social observation, however. I enjoyed the mornin' despite the slim stream of traffic ... wow, that is so analogous to my bloggin' efforts of late.
So, went by Scott's place but didn't locate said Fat Guy, then checked out the other major hoedown to which I had been invited. It appeared that the action at that locale was not scheduled to begin anytime within the next hour or so, so I took the opportunity to come back here and compose this ode. How did I do?
I caught sight of Alura on a Tic-Tac commercial yesterday. It went by pretty fast and I was not prepared for the discovery, so had not set up to catch a copy of such on VHS. I been sittin' on top of the remote all night awaitin' another chance of seein' it again. I have been unsuccessful in any sightin's today, and somehow I am sittin' here wonderin' if I am steppin' into the Captain Ahab shoes in my own personal search for Moby Alura. I am already ponderin' the meanin' of that vision appearin' just at the point when it did. Don't such things have some meanin', usually? I sure would hate to miss a blarin' clue 'cause I am blinded by my cynicism. I hope all of that sounds as fine as I am thinkin' it does right now as when I read it back sometime later.
Tomorrow is the big July 3rd Celebration where our ol' town parade is occurrin' as well as a couple or three music festivals at some of my friends' spreads. I had plans to and a couple of invitations to ride in the parade, but I decided to pass on bein' in the parade and work the watchin' crowd. I got all my free cold drinks icin' down at the office, so the hard part of my square presence has been accomplished.
Ya'll ain't sendin' in all the comments and emails my navel was hopin' for and it seems to be sulkin' a bit. I didn't want to pester it tonight. I mean, it seems ya'll really weren't clamorin' it to come back so maybe I can just make it wait until it is ready to make some concessions to get back under the spotlight. I almost clipped my toenails tonight to provide somethin' to actually report in the Nightly Toenail Clippin' Report. But then I thought better of it. I suppose I could hire George Hamilton to provide some anecdote about caviar in a super model's bellybutton. Too much
money trouble involved in that operation. I'd jes' as soon clip my toenails. Faithfully submitted by your loyal servant. End of report.
Thanks to my friend TL Cat, I was able to locate a site where I was allowed to create a special quiz for you! Take my Quiz! and then Check out the Scoreboard! I truly hope that you have as much fun takin' this quiz as I did in my creation of such.
*If you are from Texas.
Well, Emperor Darth Misha I led me to this test* where I could determine whether I was a neocon or not. It seems that I have failed, because my views show that I ain't 'mongst the membership of such neocon movement. Accordin' to my results, I am a realist:**
Realists…*I did find it somewhat ironic that the test formally announced that its results were not scientific, even though such was posted on the site for The Christian Science Monitor.
- Are guided more by practical considerations than ideological vision
- Believe US power is crucial to successful diplomacy - and vice versa
- Don't want US policy options unduly limited by world opinion or ethical considerations
- Believe strong alliances are important to US interests
- Weigh the political costs of foreign action
- Believe foreign intervention must be dictated by compelling national interest
Historical realist: President Dwight D. Eisenhower
Modern realist: Secretary of State Colin Powell
**Thankfully I did not fall 'mongst the headless group of liberals crawlin' round at the bottom of the result barrel.
It seems there is some brouhaha goin' on over at Who Tends the Fire. Another of the leftish moonbats has awakened from hibernation and is prowlin' 'round screechin' ignorance, as such leftish moonbats are often wont to do. Denita done gave this one a good slap down. I 'spect that if we say the 1st 'Mendment allows freedom of dress which 'spresses one's political viewpoints, how would Missie Barbie is a Lesbian feel 'bout bein' surrounded by a whole bunch people clad in white sheets or wearin' swastikas or somethin' equally as revoltin' and havin' no place in our classrooms.
Death made an offer that he could not refuse. Marlon Brando has died at age 80. I think that was a pretty good lifespan for someone who looked as much like Jabba the Hut as anyone. He had a very large body and a really big head to go with it. I guess that now leaves Garfield as the only remainin' really fat cat who is full of himself.
[UPDATE: I got to thinkin' that On the Waterfront was one of the few Best Picture winners I still did not have in my collection, and, with it bein' one of the few movies with Marlon Brando in it, the price might be goin' up quickly, so I ran to my regular source and ordered the movie. I think I am less than five away from havin' them all. Of course, I am sure that the last winner is the one to control them all.]
Since I missed ya'll last week while I was without internet connection in a high dollar room at the Mariott Rivercenter in San Antonio, I am providin' a daily double in this week's offerin':
One evening a preschooler, Krystal, and her parents were sitting on the couch chatting. Krystal asked, " Daddy, you're the boss of the house, right?"
Her father proudly replied, "Yes, I am the boss of the house."
But Krystal quickly burst his bubble when she added "Cause Mommy put you in charge, huh Daddy?"
A customer was continually bothering the waiter in a restaurant; first he'd asked that the air conditioning be turned up because he was too hot, then he asked it be turned down cause he was too cold, and so on for about half an hour. Surprisingly, the waiter was very patient, walking back and forth and never once getting angry.
So finally, a second customer asked why didn't they just throw out the pest. "Oh, I don't care." said the waiter with a smile. "We don't even have an air conditioner."
Well, mostly workin' hard to find a way to work out the differences between I and the supposed star of this show, and still not havin' much luck. Communication appears to be the principal problem. Negotiations have always previously been done on a purely personal basis, but it seems that my navel and myself have lost the ability to effectively discuss matters. It might be time to hire an agent to act on my behalf in these negotiations. The only agent that has come to mind at this point is a butthole -- in the purely literal sense of that word. Again, there was no toenail clippin', so again there is no necessity of makin' a Nightly Toenail Clippin' Report. End of report.