George & Weezie Know What I'm Talking About

Today, I got one of these...

 

...'Nuff said! 

-Sage Words

Nothing Rhymes With "Orange"!

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Today I attempt

A brand new form of blogging

Strictly bad poems.

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A haiku to start

Count the syllables by line

Five, seven, and five

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These rules are rigid

With no room to deviate

Always just the same

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Then a limerick will come along next

But its format is not too complex

First you write up two lines,

With the fifth they must rhyme

But make lines three and four match up best!

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Mind you this can be just a bit quirky

Limericks normally come out quite dirty

But I'll try not to swear

Or bespeak underwear

And ideally you won't wish to hurt me!

>< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< ><

Then suddenly, like the grinding of mental gears

as a paradigm is shifted without a clutch

A switch

To absurdest analogy!

>< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< ><

Structure, like confetti prematurely dropped after a Steppenwolf concert

is thrown to the wind!

Our emphasis now moves

to drama!

>< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< ><

Two things compared, like as in a twisted mirror

their relationship tenuous at best

but presented anyway

for effect!

@ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @

Then finally, I think we'll see

My final type of verse!

A simple rhyme, to waste your time

(Maybe I should have done this one first!)

@ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @

Two rhymes within, line one begin

This poem's simple frame

Then two again, before the end

Hope the last line isn't lame!

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Now I must begin

Actual content comes next

Talk about my day

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First I woke up late

Concerned about all my plans

Then thought, "I have none!"

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Made a short phone call

Reassuring a young friend

Who has a hard life

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Then I went to a baby shower next

Lots of women discussing their breasts

And the way they can leak

When a baby does feast

And their bras tend to keep them all vexed!

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Now I know what you're thinking this time!

"I guess Sage Words was out of his mind!"

Without Chica he went

To hear new mothers vent

About bodily fluids they whine!

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But I had to lend moral support

To the father, alone with this court

Leave my good buddy Scott

Alone? I could not!

So I went there (But I kept it short!)

>< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< ><

After leaving there, like a monkey from a fancy dress ball

I proceeded to a used book store

But with Chica out of town,

depressing!

>< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< ><

Nonetheless I gathered my strength, and like a rhino preparing for a ballet solo

I shopped around for used books and DVD's

finding solace finally

in digital films!

>< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< >< ><

Checking out I was surprised, like a Winnebago suddenly lined up at a drag strip

I had won a twice daily random prize!

My $14.00 purchase

Now FREE!

@ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @

So now it seems, my movie dreams

Have finally come true!

It cost me ZIP, for two great flicks!

"Jason Bourne" and "The Accused"!

@ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @

Now I'm back home (I guess you know)

My day is now complete!

And in a fog I thought, "my blog"

Could use a little treat!

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So the poetry popped into mind

As a cool thing to try out this time

Though it's been kind of tough

I think you've had enough

So I'll make this the very last line!

-Sage Words

Promotional Consideration...

Today, I'm trying a little experiment in viral marketing. I'm going to a "Festival of Books" today (many books are festive, so it stands to reason they would eventually have their own festival!) and I expect to see a lot of writers and editors and others in the industry.

Now, as much as I like to think of myself as "A Writer," it turns out that you have to actually write occasionally to be looked at that way by others! As you can imagine, this came as quite a shock to me.

So, in an effort to boost my readership (double-digits, here I come!) and therefore, possibly encourage myself to be more productive, I've decided to try some self-promotion.

Now, I'm not talking about the kind of self-promotion I usually engage in (HEY JERKFACE! As a matter of fact, I DO own the road!). No, this time I'm going to try something subtle.

I've made up exactly twenty business-card teasers. They have the name of the blog (the tao of dethwombat for those of you who have forgotten), the Internet address, and my name. Some of these will be handed to people unfortunate enough to get sucked in to a conversation with me. Others will be strategically placed in locations where they are likely to be seen by passers-by. Still others may get planted on people without their knowledge (depending on police presence!). But the whole point of the exercise is to see if something odd and subtle like that will attract new readers.

If you've come here because you found or saw a little card with a picture of a wombat crossing sign on it, please be kind enough to leave me a comment. I also invite you to peruse the rest of my eclectic little pile of musings (I was especially funny back in February of '07!), and feel free to comment on any of them as well. Finally, you are welcome to make suggestions of other things you'd like to see me write about. As any of my long-time readers (both of them) will attest, I always welcome suggestions! Heck, I even acted on one once!

So if you're new, welcome to my little corner of the Interwebs! And if you're a returning reader, I PROMISE I'll start working on those challenge articles soon!




-Sage Words

Massive Historicalness

“Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country!” (Ancient Chinese proverb)

“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for Mankind” (Elvis Presley, Jailhouse Rock)

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself!” (Joe Rogan, Host of FearFactor)

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There have been times when, despite our best efforts to remain ignorant or foolish or just generally stupid, history has had the bad manners to intrude on our wallowing; insinuating itself into our self-definition and badly formed identity until we’ve had no choice but to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, we don’t deserve to be eaten by giant space-rabbits with cosmic-grade bad breath.

Today was one of those days.

Today, somewhere around two million people went to Washington D.C. to see our 44th president sworn in. They spent hour after hour in freezing temperatures waiting for HISTORY to play itself out before their very eyes. (Never mind the fact that 1,999,000 of them were too far away to really make anything out; never mind the fact that 1,999,000 of them would only be able to hear a portion of the speeches and have to make up for it later by reading transcripts on the Internet; they were THERE!)

They were there to see a man completely unknown on the national stage five years ago ascend to the most difficult and demanding seat of mortal (and moral!) responsibility in the entirety of human history!

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Notice I didn’t say “power” but rather, “responsibility”. I say it that way because, despite the trappings of “power” that surround the office of the Presidency--the White House, the limo, Marine One, Air Force One, the Oval Office itself--it is less an office and more a mantle of expectation and responsibility. It’s a mantle that has been known to crush its wearer (Nixon, Taft, That guy from “24”!) and lift him to immortality (Lincoln, Kennedy, Harrison Ford!). It is a mantle that, once worn, can never be removed while the President is still in office. And it will take the measure of its owner.

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President Barack Obama is now the 44th wearer of that mantle. He will be called upon every day to be worthy of its grandeur and tend to its needs, and the weight of that mantle upon his shoulders will be ever-dependent on how he wears it.

If the mantle is flaunted; waved in the faces of friends and foes alike, it becomes heavier and heavier. It becomes a burden so great; it cannot be waved and fluttered any more! This is by design.

But if the mantle is allowed to rest lightly; indeed if it is made secondary to the tasks for which it stands, it becomes ever more beautiful. Ever more effervescent. Ever more a symbol of the selfless nature our Founding Fathers intended it to represent!

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Today, history was made. A man who, twenty years ago (or perhaps as little as twenty days ago) would have had trouble hailing a cab in almost any major American City, became our President. But he is not the one who made history. We are.

God Bless America!



-Sage Words

"OLD WOMAN!" [ MAN! ] "MAN! SORRY..."

"I'm 37."

"What?"

"I'm 37, I'm not OLD!"

"Well, I can't just call you man!"

"You could try calling me Sage Words!"

"I didn't know you were called Sage Words!"

"You didn't bother to find out, did you? What I object to is; you automatically treat me like an inferior!"

"Well I am King..."

"Oh, 'King' eh? Very nice! And 'ow'd you get that then? By exploiting the workers! By 'angin' on to outdated, imperialist dogma, which perpetuates the social and economic differences in our society! If there's ever going to be any progress..."

There's some lovely filth down here!

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I'm 37. And although the great and wise Michael Palin insists that that is not old, I must admit to the occasional feeling of aged-ness. I believe Indiana Jones said it best when he said, "It's not the years, it's the mileage!" Then he got ka-schwacked by that big mirror...

Did you say something?

Still, mileage or not, old or not, the fact remains that I am now 37!

Now, 37 is not a normal milestone. For example: 15 years is the crystal anniversary, 25 years is the silver anniversary, 50 years is the golden anniversary, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera... but 37 is nothing. At least until now.

For our purposes today, I am naming the 37th anniversary after something very near to my heart. Partially hydrogenated vegetable oil. So from now on, the 37th anniversary of anything; a birth, marriage, discovery of a new planet that was just hiding behind Jupiter all this time, whatever, shall be called the Partially Hydrogenated Vegetable Oil Anniversary! Talk about some lovely filth!

So how are we to celebrate the Partially Hydrogenated Vegetable Oil Anniversary of my birth? Well, I suppose I could go into some sort of explanation as to why Partially Hydrogenated Vegetable Oil is so close to my heart, but I take Ezetimibe/Simvastatin every day to deal with that, so let's skip it for now.

No, I think, in honor of my 37th birthday, I'll give you...

The Sage Words Archive of Ten Interesting Things I (Mostly) Remember With Some Degree of Clarity

(or: Gee, much of my life seemed to make some sort of sense at the time...)

1. Dude, Mom Knew The Whole Time -- When I was in High School, I (allegedly) experimented with certain beverages which may or may not have been provided by friends who, for obvious reasons, shall be referred to only as "Bartyls" and "James". These experiments (purely scientific, I assure you) were intended only to establish a baseline for comparison with complete sobriety. There is still a small part of me that believes that my Mom was unaware of these scientific experiments, but that part of me has been drinking and is, therefore, unreliable.
2. Dude, I've Got An Idea! (Part I) -- I was once involved in an Independence Day celebration that resulted in a blown up truck, a six foot crater, several minor burns, and a temporary, short term legend in a small town. In retrospect, I think we should have asked around to see if anyone had a video camera first. Good times.
3. Dude, I Can NOT Drink Another Cup! -- In preparation for a medical procedure, I once spent a week on a diet of clear liquids only. Bullion, coffee, apple juice...after three days of only these for sustenance, remember this: If you suspect you may be flatulent, odds are very good that you are wrong!
4. Dude, where's my car? -- One 7th (perhaps the "Pez" Anniversary?) grade morning, my Mom asked me to go start the car to get it warmed up before she drove my little brother and me to school. Sadly, the parking brake was non-functional and Dad had left the car in gear so it wouldn't roll away. As it turns out, if you turn the key in a vehicle left thusly, and put the gas pedal to the floor like you've seen Mom and Dad do so many times before, but don't push any other pedals anywhere, the car will begin to move, forcing you to steer it into the neighbor's yard. A car with a standard transmission, it appears, has a clutch for a reason!
5. Dude, Dad Is Going To Be SO Pissed! -- My father is the most generous, hard working man I know. In High School, he gave me his 1978 Dodge Colt (with a blown head gasket!) so I could have a project car for Auto-Shop. My first project on the car, just so I could get the hang of working on them, was to remove and rebuild the carburetor. Among car enthusiasts, this is commonly known as the third simplest thing you can do with an engine (the first two are: Look At It, and Leave It Alone). Once I disassembled it I reasoned (quite wrongly, as it turns out) that if soaking the parts in engine cleaner for one hour was good, doing it overnight would be that much better! Now you know why I'm into computers, and why that car never moved under its own power again.
6. Dude, We Should Totally Join The Army! -- My friend Skippy and I decided to join the Army on the "Buddy System" not long after High School. This would have allowed us to go to Boot-Camp together, go to Technical School together, and even go to our first duty station together! (We tried to get our friend D.S. to join too, but he wouldn't cut his James Hetfield hair and mustache!) Due to circumstances beyond my control, I had to back out, but Skippy went through with it! He marched off to Boot-Camp and was promptly marched right back out again when they diagnosed him with flat feet! So now Skippy has a good job, a wonderful family and is quite happy with his flat feet! D.S. also has a good job and wonderful family and by now has cut his hair (as has Hetfield!) while I went back to the recruiters and ended up in the Air Force (sixteen years and counting!) with a beautiful wife (fourteen years and counting!) but somehow, through it all, we're still "Buddies"! I love those guys!
7. Dude, I Am STYLIN'!!! -- My first date with Chica. I was nervous, weak-kneed and surprised she had said "yes" in the first place! I borrowed my friend Brad's car and made reservations at a nice (as far as I knew) Italian restaurant. The fact that this place did not strictly require reservations did nothing to dampen my desire to look my best, so I put on my most stylish outfit: White slacks. Black shoes. Burgundy button-down shirt with a white faux-collar. Gold(-ish) chain..."Every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man!" And yet, still she married me! What a peach!
8. Dude, I've Got An Idea! (Part II) -- In Cheyenne, Wyoming, somewhere near East Ninth Street, is a park. This park has (or possibly had, it's been awhile) a relatively long stretch of downward sloping sidewalk. During one of my many misspent childhood days when I was in the neighborhood of 13 ("Oxyclean" Anniversary, anyone?) years old, I and one or more of my misspent friends (or possibly brothers, I'm not certain) discovered some construction materials just laying around (as far as you know!). In short order, we had acquired two concrete-filled cinder-blocks and a curiously white board about six feet long and two feet wide, from which we fashioned a ramp at the end of this excellent sidewalk (runway!). After a short, but savage battle of wills, I was selected to be the first to try out our new ramp and took off on my bike. As I approached the ramp (and ludicrous speed!) at the end of the long run, I learned three interesting facts: (a) That curious looking white wood is called DRYWALL and has the same approximate tensile strength as flan. (b) A pair of cinder-blocks filled with concrete have little to no desire to move the slightest bit at the behest of a scrawny 13-year-old boy on a speeding bike. And (c) At the age of thirteen, I could (briefly) fly every bit as well as Superman. I just couldn't land very well.
9. Dude, Is That An Electric Fence? -- Growing up, we had the greatest dog in the whole world with the smallest brain. His name was Adonis and he was part mongrel, part mutt, part unidentifiable terrier-like breed, and all AWESOME! But again, not brilliant. Now don't get me wrong; he could fetch (not on command, but I did see him carry sticks around sometimes), he could roll over (as long as a flatulent skunk had recently vomited on his chosen spot), and he could shake (actually, it was more like nervously twitching his paw at you, and only if you had a bag of M&M's!); but he was really just too cool for any of those stupid tricks anyway! Now, one other thing he had was the tail of a terrier. You know the ones, they go up and arch over the back, ultimately pointing forward like a little crescent moon growing out of his butt. Well, this particular tail had recently had its tip caught in a screen door, pulling all the hair out and scraping up the skin something fierce. Naturally, it was fairly raw and annoying for the poor little guy if he touched it against anything. So imagine his distress on the day when, as he and I were out walking near the electric fence that kept in the neighbor's cows, that raw and sensitive tail-tip accidentally came in contact with the fence just as an electric pulse was shooting through it! Adonis was so startled and angry he did an immediate about-face and bit out at whatever it was that had stung him! Uh...yeah. Just as another electric pulse went through the fence...while he was biting it...which scared and hurt him and caused him to rear back away from it...without...uh...opening his mouth. Needless to say, this did not end well for Adonis. Oh, he didn't die! He lived several more years (and when he finally passed, in a quiet and utterly non-traumatic way, I believe he was happy!). But he did have a gnarled little ball of scar-tissue on the tip of his tail and two less teeth in the front of his mouth! Our whole family loved him with all our hearts and we each still miss him from time to time.
10. Dude, I've Got An Idea! (Part III) -- For awhile, we had a burn-barrel next to the house. It was an old, rusted 55 gallon barrel and we used it to burn old branches and leaves. Or rather, we were supposed to! Okay, so I may have dumped a couple of bags of trash in there, and I may have decided (with Skippy's help!) to set it all on fire one drizzly day in Washington State, and I may have gotten impatient with trying to light the paper and I may have poured a couple of splashes of gas from the mower's can in there to help it along but I totally did not mean for it to explode just as I was looking in to see if the match I had just tossed had gone out and I certainly did not intend for my hat to be blown onto the roof, or for my eyebrows to be burned off, or for the long piece of burning toilet paper to go flying into the air, but you have to admit that it was COOL when the fire consuming the toilet paper began burning at the exact same rate as the TP was falling so it looked like it was just descending into a perfectly level line of fire floating stationary in the air about seventeen feet off the ground! Well. Maybe you don't have to admit that. Mom didn't.

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I have memories more valuable to me than any treasure.

I've dressed like a sailor and danced with another guy dressed as a sailor to raise money for charity. I've held a grieving friend in my arms as she tried to let go of her marriage to an abusive husband. I've stood proudly on the altar to promise a lifetime of spiritual guidance to my Godson.

All of these things I cherish, even the embarrassing ones, and when I sit and think about these memories and more, I'm energized! I can't wait to see what's next and to start experiencing the things that I'll reminisce about when I'm 47! or 57!

I'm 37!

I'm not OLD!




-Sage Words

I Hate Those Cursed Decepta-Siths!

Personally, I blame Darth Vader and Megatron. After all, they have both spent the majority of their lives actively trying to mess things up for others!

I mean, just look at these evil freaks...

Have you ever seen a pair of freedom-hating scuzzballs as nasty as them? It's obvious just by looking at their manufactured mugs of malfeasance that they would happily take a can-opener to their own mothers just to thwart a random, helpless, and perfectly innocent blogger like (just to name one COMPLETELY at random) me!

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As you, my loyal readership have certainly noticed by now, I am nothing if not utterly and completely devoted to providing you all with your daily dose of Sage Words; so it would HAVE to be an insidious outside force acting upon my unwilling person that would cause me to miss yesterday's blog, and NOT my own propensity to be distracted by shiny objects and new toys!

So here's the skinny:

Back at the beginning of November, I decided to participate in NaBloPoMo, at the behest of Yarntangler and Geezerguy. After a few days of actually posting here every day (instead of my normal "whenever the heck I feel like it") I found out that NaBloPoMo actually stands for something! So I looked it up.

As it turns out, NaBloPoMo means National Blog Posting Month. It was started as a joke by a wonderfully talented writer (the preceeding is a shameless attempt at sychophancy. If you do not have a strong enough stomach for that sort of thing, please accept my apologies for the nausia and the dry cleaning bill) named Eden Mariott Kennedy who writes her own blog called Fussy which I find quite amusing. I suggest you check it out.

NaBloPoMo is essentially an exercize in writing discipline. Now as my close friends and family will all attest to, I am nothing if not in desprate need of dicipline, (I once put two milk cartons with pinholes in them under the back seat of a teacher's car, but not untill I had properly "aged" the milk!) and doubly so when it comes to writing! So this was a great opportunity for me to try to achieve some!

The rules were simple. Post to your blog every day in November. That's it! No ground rules, no pre-determined topics, no advertising for Simpson's Individual Flood Preventers, nothing! Just write!

Whatever comes to mind, any length, and topic, any time as long as it was posted before midnight! So here is a reminder of what I wrote about (see the archive links to read them over if you like!):

• Four or five posts about writing
• Four posts on technology and geek stuff
• Four posts about politics (kinda low for me!)
• Three posts about my friend Sid
• Six posts where I mostly just slapped up a picture and called it a night
• Two posts about my own laziness (there would have been more but, you know how it is...)
• Two posts about our new house (none very detailed, or satisfying, I know!)
• And four undefined (possibly deranged) posts full of gobbledygook

Now there was really only one way to screw this up which, at the eleventh hour, I did. I failed to post anything yesterday.

Now, truth be told, it would have been easy to slap something on here and change the post date so it would appear as if I had posted yesterday, but I would not be able to accept that (somehow I have to find a way to get rid of that dang Integrity Gene!). So here I am, laying it all out there for you. I missed a day and there's nothing I can do about it.

But I'm telling you, it was Darth Vader and Megatron conspiring against me!

You may recall me mentioning a certain Plasma TV purchase I was planning to make? (Go on, check it out. I'll wait.) Well, the sad truth of the matter is, I got it. It's a 42 inch Panasonic Viera and it is (as they say back in England) "real purty"!

Geek-Topia!

So I got it yesterday and set it up. And calibrated it. And tuned it. And admired it. And caressed it. And named a future child after it. Then I made an error; I decided to test it.

Now, I don't know about you (actually I do, and if you don't cut that out right now, I'm telling Mom!) but I firmly believe that all new Audio/Visual equipment should rightfully be tested by a viewing of "Star Wars". [That's just "Star Wars", not "Episode Four: A New Hope"! You got that Lucas?!?! I refuse to buy into your revisionist, namby-pamby, "Greedo Shot First" do-over mentality you weasel! NEVER!] So I popped it in. It was, if I may say so, freakin' awesome!

When that was over, I felt the need to try out something a bit more recent (actually, Chica wanted to see it too, so it was a way to score some cheap brownie points!) so I put in Transformers. It too, was awesome!

It was thirty minutes too awesome, actually. When it was over, and I checked my watch, it was half-past midnight! I had missed the 29th! I MISSED IT! And it's all because of Darth Vader and Megatron!

It has to be, right? It couldn't be me!? Sure, I love consumer electronics as much as the next guy (MORE! The next guy doesn't appreciate the difference between 1080i and 1080p, but I DO!) but that doesn't mean I would neglect my adoring fan(s) by leaving them hanging like that! Does it?

I'm so ashamed.

So I guess this is it. I failed the NaBloPoMo movement in its pennultimate moment. I let down the Legions of adoring fans I've accumulated (imagined) since the beginning of the month, and I must pay for it dearly.

My punishment? Well that's up to you! Comment on this post and tell me what you think would be the most appropriate way to atone for my careless indifference to your literary requirements. I'll publish them all in a future post and let Chica pick the winner!

Until then, sorry about yesterday. It couldn't be helped!




-Sage Words

Black Friday

Chica and I bought a washer and dryer and a new vacuum at a Black Friday sale this morning. By 0700 this morning we had spent $1300, made a deal to buy a $1300 TV for just over $700, and eaten breakfast.

Wow. I haven't been that productive in months!




-Sage Words

Guess What?

May God give every one of you a reason to be grateful today!
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!!!

-Sage Words

Hasta La Vista, Little Sid!

Well, Sid has taken off now, on his way back to England. Actually, he's just staying at a different friend's house tonight, but he flies out early tomorrow morning (Thanksgiving!).

So let me just take a moment to wish him a fond farewell...

Sid,

Thanks for the comic geek talk, and the movie geek talk, and the science geek talk, and the TV geek talk, and the Sci-Fi geek talk, and all the other geek talk over the past two plus weeks! Thanks for the help moving Chica and I into our new house, and thanks most of all for having a good time, and making us have a good time in the process.

Good luck when you get back to England!




-Sage Words

Not My Day

We got the Internet hooked up at the new house today. Then it stopped working before I had a chance to do my blog. So it's cell-phone blogging again today!

Woo!

Problem is, I'm too tired! So here's a bad joke to tide you over:

Two guys walk into a bar.

You'd think the second one would've ducked...

(told you.)

-Sage Words

One For The Road

 

What you see here is my final parting gift to the United Kingdom.  I did this mere hours before we left the country!

 

The brown sign on the left was discovered, half-buried, behind my shed in the Base-owned housing development where Chica and I lived.  The house you see in the background had actually caught fire and was gutted about a year prior, but they had only begun the demolition process three weeks before I left, and in that time, had only managed to dig up the yard a bit!

 

One of my eagle-eyed readers (not you, the other one!) noticed that I've used this photo as my profile photo, but pointed out that it was not clear what was actually in the photo!  Thus, I have re-produced it here in all its high-resolution glory!  I hope you like it!

-Sage Words

I Am Wasting Your Time RIGHT NOW!

I was thinking about discussing Thanksgiving today, but I suppose I may as well save that for Thursday when it actually IS Thanksgiving.

However, I am still thankful today.  Tonight, Chica and I will spend our first night in our new house!  In fact, we need to get some stuff together and get over there, so I will beg your pardon and call it a night early on this one!

Besides, after the reactions I got to yesterdays blog, I think you might all need a short break from the Sage Words Mind!

We'll try again tomorrow!

A Small Defenestration of my "Talent"

I didn't see anything interesting today. It's odd, because I find myself interested in SOMETHING every day.

Now, you would think that in the absence of interesting external stimuli, a creative mind such as mine (if you can call it that) would simply manufacture something interesting. For example, I might imagine that a police car cut me off on the way to work and screeched to a halt, disgorging thirty nine rubberized ballerinas with badges and night sticks.



You would further suppose that I would go on to imagine that each of them flung their night sticks into the air where they underwent a metamorphosis into a hundred copies of Amazing Spider-Man #129 (First appearance of The Punnisher) printed on the head of a pin by a VERY patient calligrapher with a facial tick and poor euclidean geometry.

After a while, my mind would then generate a spontaneous concert of duets by Donnie Ozmond and Ozzy Osbourne, performing the haunting love songs of WHAM! in Gregorian Chant.  Naturally, the concert would be open only to direct descendants of the Katzenjammer Kids and their flamingos.

A huge success, the concert would eventually have been adapted into a mini-series on HBO, but re-imagined as a combination Western / Astrophysics Seminar starring Delta Burke and Delroy Lindo as a wacky husband and wife marionette team masquerading as secret agents and saving the world from the National Automobile Dealers Association.

?????????????????????????????????


I guess what I'm saying is that my imagination appears to be at a low ebb today.  Otherwise I could envision things like Ancient Egyptian professional wrestlers eating pie dipped in Pepto Bismol to save time.

I would conjure magical defenestrators who kindly clean up the tattered remains of fish suppers dropped from great heights.

I'd be able to fantasize about ping pong championships played on the moon where the competitors are so far apart they can't even see each other and the fans have to sit in orbiting bleachers with hot dog vendors with nine arms and a prehensile eye stalk growing from between their toes.

I might even be of a mind to fixate on the possibility of rust-colored windmills being sold at auction to fund an internal affairs investigation into corruption in the Cheeze-Whiz commodities market which has funded the processed-cheese-food-Illuminati for thousands of years and has only now been exposed for the inhumane dandilion-waterboarding monsters that they are; regularly knitting sweaters from non-hypo-allergenic yarn and maliciously donating them to Rambo impersonators with tragically sensitive skin.

?????????????????????????????????

But like I said, today I got nuthin'.  Sorry.




-Sage Words

Thou Shalt Honor Thy (Grand)Father...

I was reading Yarntangler's Blog today and one post in particular made me think about my Grandfather. The last time I saw him was this past May at my younger brother's wedding. He looked great, and had the energy of a man half his age. He danced with all the ladies at the reception and made most of them beg to take a break!

I have a lot of wonderful memories and stories of my Grandfather. From fighting with my brothers for the right to comb his hair, to helping him build a huge deck in front of his house (I was so proud to be allowed to use tools!). My Grandfather is a great man.

My Grandfather has done some awesome things in his life. He fought for his country in WWII, he knew JFK, heck, he sired my Mom! And while I understand that it's traditional to write a tribute to someone when they pass on, I think I'd rather do it now, while he's still alive and energetic and able to read it!

Ah but you see, there's the rub. The one thing my Grandfather has not been able to maintain like a man half his age is his eyesight. Oh, he gets by ok, but as much as he loves the Interwebs (and for an octoganarian, he's VERY computer savvy!) he can't read half of it because we all make things too tiny!

So I thought, instead of telling you a bunch of stories about us kids with Grandfather (although I will tell some of those eventually!) I have decided to craft my tribute to him in another way.

I have created a new blog to mirror this one. It will have all the same posts, all the same bad jokes, all the same amazingly innovative ideas, and all the same knee-jerk reactions to current events. And it will all be

HUGE!!!

I'm talking Big McLarge-Huge sized text so my beloved Grandfather, who has always encouraged my writing all the way back to my school days, can see just what a dissapointment I've become and how I've wasted what little talent God may have accidentally bestowed upon me in a fit of utmost optimism!

The bigger, badder version of this blog is at: bigdethwombat.blogspot.com and from now on, when I post here, I will post the same thing there.

Oh, by the way, I do want to tell one story about my Grandfather. I was young, so some of the details may be a bit off (I know my mom will correct me, God bless her!) but this is the story as I remember it and, therefore, this is how it happened!

I was just shy of eight years old, and living in El Paso, Texas. Gramma and Grandfather lived in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico (yes, it was named after the radio gameshow!) or perhaps Lubbock, Texas. Anyway, it's not important.

So one summer (spring, fall, whatever!) we went for a visit (or maybe camping) and Grandfather took me out to a lake (Crystal Lake?) to go fishing. To my knowledge, I had never fished before. For all I know, neither had he, but from my pre-eight-year-old perspective, he was the embodiment of all fishing acumen since the dawn of time (1950).

So there we were, on the shore (in a boat?) of the lake (or it could have been a stream) when suddenly I felt a tug (mighty heave!) on the line of my Mr. Popeil Pocket Fisherman (this part I'm sure is true!).

I was elated (or terrified)! I was about to catch my first fish, and it was a monster! Grandfather came racing (mosied) to my side, abandoning his own fishing line (putting down a sandwich) to join in the epic struggle! After many hours (seconds) taking turns at the reel of the Pocket Fisherman (he may have just done it for me) we landed the leviathan! It was ten feet long if it was an inch!

Actually, this part is clear. It was about four and a half inches long, minus an inch on either end for head and tail. It was a wide-mouth bass whose mouth should have been alowed to get a lot wider before he ended up in a skillet, but my Grandfather helped me clean that fish (we actually gave it to my Mom to do that!) and we cooked it and ate it. Both bites!

My Grandfather is a great man. He was an epic figure in my young eyes, and I was never above putting an elbow in The Lone Duck's ribs so I could be the first to comb Grandfather's hair when we went to visit. And I'm not above it now!

Grandfather, I love you! Please bookmark bigdethwombat.blogspot.com and visit it often. The posts may not always be about you, but every one of them is for you!

All my love!

-Sage Words

I Hath Wrote-eth Thy Blog-eth O Great One

Last night I dreamed that President-Elect Barack Obama called me up after reading my letter to him, and decided to make me his Blogger-Laureate.

I was actually less confused than you might think. This being 2008, it is only natural that we do away with the boring old Poet-Laureate position and create this position. Why would a hip, happenin' dude like Barack want to read some stuffy old poetry when he could read how to score major brownie points with Michelle on Valentine's Day (it's coming boys, get to work!), or study the economics of the Movie Exchange Rate?

So yeah, I think we do need a Blogger-Laureate position in this country. And come to think of it, I believe I may just be the right man for the job.

Now, if this were to actually come to pass, I suspect I would be the first ever Blogger-Laureate and as such, I believe it falls to me to define the position. After all, the first pilot got to make up the rules for his job (don't crash! Don't Crash! DON'T CRASH!!!) and that's working out pretty well (except when someone forgets that rule!). So I think I will do exactly that.

Now, in days of yore (your? you're?) the poet-laureate was employed by the crown (which is odd. You'd think the king would do the hiring and not his accessories, but I digress...) to ~ and this is the tough part ~ write poems. Now I know what you're thinking, "of course he writes poems, he's the POET LOAREATE!" Well, this wouldn't be the first government position to have a misleading name! Do you think the Secratary of State takes dictation? Or the Prime Minister presides over church services? I rest my case!

...hmm...lost my train of thought. Let me go back and re-read some of that, hold on...

(pilot doesn't want to crash...poet hired by crown...dictation...Ok, I got it.)

So the poet would write poetry. Not a lot, mind you, just enough to continue to amuse the King. And sometimes to amaze him! I believe the first dirty limerick was composed by a poet laureate, but I could be wrong. It may have been a poet leprechan. But, once more, I digress...

So the poet would write poetry and would be paid a stipend by the king. In 1638, Sir William Davenant was paid 300 British Pounds per year as the poet laureate. By my calculations, taking into account the exchange rate and the differing currency systems between 1638 and today, that works out to (without cost-of-living increases) approximately $915,283,084.42 per year. To show what a patriot I am, I'd be willing to do it for half that! God Bless America!

Anyway, let's just assume I've got the job, and that it will be at my patriotically-reduced rate. That's all well and good, but I need to define the work so now I give you:

$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$

The Sage Words Guide for the Blogger-Laureate of the United States of America
(or: how to make a ton of moolah without all that pesky working)

Be it known by all: The position of the Poet-Laureate of the United States of America shall forthwith be eliminated in favor of the more socially relevant position of Blogger-Laureate of the United States of America, Keeper of Tangents, Purveyer of Prognistication, and Champion of Entendras (both double and single)!

Be it further known by all: The responsibilities of the Blogger-Laureate shall be as follows:

• The Blogger-Laureate of the United States of America (BLOTUSOA) shall serve at the pleasure of the President (whomever THAT is!) and receive the stipend of $457,641,542.21 per annum plus reasonable expenses (beer)
  
• The President shall grant the BLOTUSOA complete and dictatorial control over the editorial format and content of the Official Blog of the United States of America (OBOTUSOA), but the President can make suggestions
• The President shall communicate requests for blog topics to the BLOTUSOA thusly: President - "Dude, did you hear about that crazy Economic Downturn? That would be great for your blog!" OBOTUSOA - "Whatever!"
• The OBOTUSOA may blog from any National Monument he wants without catching a lot of crap from his readership (all seven of them)
• Further rules will be made up as required

Be it lastly known by all: The OBOTUSA is appointed for life or until he gets fed-up with it.

$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$*$

It's funny. I spent all week posting lame blog entries and pictures and short apologies for my sloth-like work ethic, but President-Elect Obama still felt like he could trust me with this awesome responsibility! I promise, I'll work hard and be ever-tangental in an effort to retain his trust (and that paycheck!).

Heck, I might even write something useful again some day!



-Sage Words

You guys are really going to hate me soon!

So I have homework to do for a class I'm in for work this week. In the mean time, here's a picture of our house, which we FINALLY got the keys to today! Woo!

I swear, I'll write something worth reading soon!




-Sage Words

Everybody was Kung-Fu Fighting!

I have always been a huge fan of kung-fu movies. I love Jackie Chan and Jet Li and Samo Hung and the greatest of them all, Bruce Lee; but I have found a new star to be amazed by. His name is Tony Jaa and he may be the best in the business right now.

I just finished watching "The Protector" (which you've never heard of!) and it was phenominal! The story was weak and the acting bad, but the kung-fu (or in this case, Thai boxing) is amazing! This guy can seriously kick butt!


Go see it. Watch it twice, and remember that this guy is NOT using wires!



-Sage Words

Photographic Evidence of Dedication to My Art

This is me, blogging for your enjoyment. Note the huge, gaping chasm in the background.

Click on the picture to see the full size (and very cool) version

I ignored said chasm (and the amazing sunset) while I finished up my blog for my loyal readership two days ago. You're welcome.



-Sage Words

Two For The Price of Two

So I had every intention of putting together a big-time, whiz-bang blog entry today. It was going to be the all-singing, all-dancing story of our trip to the Grand Canyon, complete with (pretty awesome) pictures.

In fact, it was the very awesomeness of said canyon that has necessitated another trip to the dork-well for a second time. yes, I am once more blogging on my cell phone, although this time I'm in the car with my buddy Sid driving, passing through Phoenix.

So here's the thing with Sid. We drove about 30 miles discussing (are you ready for this?) typefaces!

That's right! That's right, typefaces! Now, in order to mount a little bit of literary tension, I'm not going to tell you which font came out on top just yet (although I WILL tell you that 'Comic San Serif was a tie!).

This conversation speaks directly to the reason Sid & I get along so well. Never mind the fact that we both love comics, movies, TV, obscure 80's songs, and chocolate; we can both be counted upon to speak intelligently about both standard and unique type styles. That is some SERIOUS geekage!

I know what you're thinking. ''You, Sage old buddy, are a whack-a-loon!''

Well, I can't deny my whack-a-looniness, but I will say there's something very comforting about having a friend who is wired up just as badly as you! I am quite happy to have him visiting.

Mind you, he's not perfect! He didn't like ''Men In Black'', he's too tall, he's British without being English (or maybe the other way around, I forget), and he hasn't picked up a single Depeche Mode reference all week (must be English without being British)!

Still, he seems to be a marginally competant driver and he speaks in a funny accent that amuses me when he swears. I guess that's pretty good.

So now the moment of truth; which fonts came out on top? Well, Sid prefers Palitino Linotype. He says it's because the ''S'' looks like a Klingon Bat'leth. This is a reason I can get behind.

Me? I prefer a good old Bauer Bodini. It's a strong, uncomplicated font with clearly differentiated '1s' and 'I's. Plus, it's named after Jack Bauer. Cool.

So I welcome young (relatively) Sid -- formally -- to my little corner of the world! I promise to keep an eye on him!

-Sage Words

Isn't Modern Technology Wonderful?

Believe it or not, I am doing this blog entry from the rim of the Grand Canyon!

This may put me in the Dork Hall of Fame!

-Sage Words