More reasons to stay the course

By Golly, I found another justification to keep allowing my family to play World of Warcraft!

Even Shatner agrees..



Play on!

Johnny Thunders

Sometimes I wish I was Johnny Thunders. Watch this and maybe you will understand why:




Other days, I am so glad I am me.....

Just when I had forgotten why life is worth living

Lest we forget all that is Charlie the Unicorn:



Now I feel much better.....

Thank you and good night!

Giant Robots -- Come On, You Love Them

My son and I were talking the other day about the cartoons we use to watch together when he was much younger.

This one is/was/will always be

EPIC!

That's the World of Warcraft That You Play!

A quick note about World of Warcraft:

Our whole family (myself, my wife, and my 11 year old son) have all gotten on the WOW kick now. Many evenings are spent pw3ning noobs, farming for epics, camping Horde, and wasting our lives. The game is highly addictive and it does, in its own special way, bring the family together. It gives us common goals, a hierarchical power structure, and a clear set of rules to follow. That, and believe it or not, it ROCKS! Remember when the family all sat around together playing Monopoly? Well, this is sort of the same bonding experience, except this time your father won't make you cry when he wipes you out -- we're killing Hoard and running through instances TOGETHER!

All that, and after awhile you can get the following song stuck in your head:



And you will ROFLMAO to this Video:




So now it is time to put some Liferoot up for auction in Stormwind. As my son says, "Quick Robin, to the Rolfomoblie!" Then again, he says a lot of things like that after we have been playing for an hour or so.

So WOW, get on the horse (once you hit level 30 that is)!

Charlie the Unicorn is Back!!

Only because I like a certain level of continutity in my life, as well as the fact that it makes me giggle like a drunken nun in the face of eternity (and my son pokes my belly like the Pop N Fresh fella) -- I give you Charlie the Unicorn 2 (it is 6 minutes long, but "oh" what minutes they are):



Someday, I hope to be the Banana King.....

The Greatest Song in the World?

I don't know what it is -- I just can't get this song out of my head lately. I guess it is the Greatest Song in the World (doesn't sound anything like this song).




Maybe now I can live my life accordingly.

What about Russell Edson?

Russell Edson is a poet who speaks to you through your dreams. My friend, Dr. Fishbag, handed me a copy of The Reason Why The Closet Man is Never Sad and told me that this poet was actually me, but with better hand writing. Taken aback, I asked Fishbag "If this poet has better hand writing, will he be more profound?" Fishbag looked me dead in the eye and said, "Of course." And that made all the difference.


The Wounded Breakfast

A huge shoe mounts up from the horizon, squealing and grinding forward on small wheels, even as a man sitting to breakfast on his veranda is suddenly engulfed in a great shadow, almost the size of the night . . . He looks up and sees a huge shoe ponderously mounting out of the earth. Up in the unlaced ankle-part an old woman stands at a helm behind the great tongue curled forward; the thick laces dragging like ships' rope on the ground as the huge thing squeals and grinds forward; children everywhere, they look from the shoelace holes, they crowd about the old woman, even as she pilots this huge shoe over the earth . . . Soon the huge shoe is descending the opposite horizon, a monstrous snail squealing and grinding into the earth . . . The man turns to his breakfast again, but sees it's been wounded, the yolk of one of his eggs is bleeding . . .

And it only gets better the longer it sits in your lap. Edson turns our nightmares into beautiful pieces of succulent melon. He understands that everything in our lives, from the trip to the mall to a bowl of cereal, is fraught with the absurd. As we desperately try to make meaning of our lives, Edson points out clearly that it is a fool's game and ultimately we will be swolled by randomness.

The Family Monkey

We bought an electric monkey, experimenting rather recklessly with funds carefully gathered since grandfather's time for the purchase of a steam monkey. We had either, by this time, the choice of an electric or gas monkey. The steam monkey is no longer being made, said the monkey merchant. But the family always planned on a steam monkey. Well, said the monkey merchant, just as the wind-up monkey gave way to the steam monkey, the steam monkey has given way to the gas and electric monkeys. Is that like the grandfather clock being replaced by the grandchild clock? Sort of, said the monkey merchant. So we bought the electric monkey, and plugged its umbilical cord into the wall. The smoke coming out of its fur told us something was wrong. We had electrocuted the family monkey.

This sort of stuff doesn't just come from nowhere. This is a complex realization of how we interact with each other, but more importantly, how we interact with ourselves. Nothing points a finger in your own face more than an electric monkey, after all.

Do yourself a favor and go out and by The Tunnel, which is a collection of Edson's poetry.




Now kiss me on the head and tell me good-night.

A-Political Moment

My 10 year old son just showed this to me. I feel responsible for fostering his sense of humor and will take all slings and arrows you may want to toss at my laughing face.