Transcontinental Concerns

So, right now, on the other side of the continent, my grandmother is having brain surgery. It's weird. I talked to her last night and there's a chance that it was the last time I'll talk to her as her. Or maybe it's no big deal, and she'll be fine. They'll get the tumor out of her brain, it won't be malignant and she'll go right back to being the same grandmother I've always known, I don't know. I guess I'll find out later.

I hope she has a good doctor....


Anyway. Here's a random picture.


HA HA! It's not a RANDOM picture at all! That's what they're doing to my grandma right now! GOTCHA!!!

And no, I'm not putting the dog in that one.

Verbal Abuse

So, for the second time this year, somebody yelled at me from a car while I was riding my bike home from work. The first time was very predictable. Some kids driving an old, beat up Pontiac passed me going the opposite direction. One of them leaned out the window and yelled "FAGGOT!!" I was very disappointed. I mean, come on! That's some of the laziest name calling I've ever heard. No class, no panache, no originality. I don't mind being called names by dumb kids, that's what they do. I just wish they would add some flair to their insults. Maybe next time, try yelling "

But yesterday was much stranger. Some dude in his mid-to-late 20s leaned out of the passenger window of a Dodge Charger and yelled "Nice helmet, Lance!" My feelings were not hurt, but I was confused. I assume he was being sarcastic because if there is one person on earth who doesn't look like Lance Armstrong it's, well it's this guy..


But next to that dude, it's gotta be me.

And why did he choose to mention my helmet? I palp a very normal/cheap helmet. It's just a Giro Indicator in the black colorway, like this one.


If I were wearing this thing, I could see him mocking me. I would mock me.




But I'm pretty sure I look pretty normal. True, I do have a road bike and so does Mr. Armstrong. But I don't wear lycra, I don't wear bibshorts, and I don't wear bike jerseys, though I will admit that, yesterday, I was wearing a homemade Apple computer t-shirt, and maybe that's worse than lycra.

My only conclusion is that the guy doesn't like helmets, which is like a trail rabbit not liking pomegranates; no matter how you look at it, it doesn't make sense.

Paint Your Body Red and Brown

So, the other day I was just sitting around watching one of the strangest, best, and most non-sequiturishly-titled movies of all time. Okay, no. I wasn't just sitting around watching one of the strangest, best and most non-sequiturishly-titled movies of all time, I was also reading the news on the internet. All of a sudden, out of the blue, out of left field comes this article about a national security higher-up guy talking about how we need to redefine privacy. It should no longer mean [REDACTED]. Instead it should mean that the government will keep your information private from other organizations. Those [REDACTED], crazy [REDACTED] think that we don't [REDACTED]. [REDACTED] them!

If they successfully change the societal meaning of privacy my family and I are [REDACTED].

Seriously.

Bad Poetry (Thursday)

Today's theme is....Parenthetical Remarks!

In Which Our Hero (the Heretofore Unmentioned Ellery) is Faced with His Future As A Zombie

by The Unknowable Magician (Schuyler)

The undead face me
and confront me
and stand in front and back of me
There must be something particularly
tasty about my marrow
I don't know
why else these things would surround me

Come sweet death and let me ride
your fiery chariot through
the legions of grave-escaping fiends
that trail me and track me so
mercilessly
Let me grab your sweet embrace
and disappear without trace
from in front of their eyes
or what were eyes in a past life
a life which none remember
but all fear
Let me bask in your doomed descent
and find my solace in your sacred attempt
to free me from a future too
horrifying for words (but let me try)

BRAINS! BRAINS! BRAAAAAAAAAAAINS!

Nothing else
no words no thoughts no hopes
cross my mind
just your mind
is on my mind
and in my mouth and down my gullet
if you cannot escape from it (me)
Never satisfied
Never satiated
My bills are never ratified
expect to be excoriated

BRAINS! BRAINS! BRAAAAAAAAAAAINS!

I will walk
endlessly across the earth
like a banshee, screaming
but as a zombie
Searching always for another prey
I pray that I will die
But God does not answer the prayers of the undead
He'll throw our skeleton bones away,
and leave us all to rot on fiery graves
If only we would die that is.

BRAINS! BRAINS! BRAAAAAAAAAAAINS!

Arms! I don't need you.
Feet! I don't need you.
Head! I don't know if I don't need you.
You cannot kill the undead
Or perhaps you can
I hope to God, the Devil or Bob
that you can
Release me, Bob
from this
Do not let me get you
or you'll become like me too
Do you have a shotgun
that might work
Or at least a can of gas
and a lighter
or a pitchfork
Anything, Bob
that can free me from this outcast state
that I beweep so much.

Oh God (or Bob)
Just kill me now
Again.

There are no Un-un-dead.