Goodbye, Dummy

I’ll be brief.

Things change. The internet changes. Life changes. This blog no longer holds anything for me, and I’ve decided to officially close it down. I’m sure anyone who came here regularly saw it coming through the slowing of posts, the shifting focus to my MARDL pulp writing blog, my YouTube channel, etc.

Plus, it’s really hard for me to like this blog anymore… I hurt someone I love through it by accident, and I’m eager to cut ties with it. I admit that what I did was wrong, and want to continue the healing process.

I’ll keep it up, as kind of a time capsule or archive. I appreciate anyone who came here and commented and / or enjoyed what I did here.

Thank you.

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Published in: on November 3, 2009 at 11:50 am  Leave a Comment  

“Dammit, I wanna trick-or-treat too!”

For some reason, the whole world seems to be having Halloween fun tonight but me. Kids are trick-or-treating, adults are going to costume parties, teenage “devil worshippers” are up to all sorts of mischief (lock up your cats tonight, people!). So what am I doing? Stuck at work, listening to callers rant about magazines (and in the background? Trick-or-treating sounds!). My job is full of the holiday spirit: cardboard scarecrows and little bags of bat-shaped pretzels. Whee!

(But I’m not bitter.)

Happy Hallowe’en!!

Published in: on October 31, 2008 at 6:08 pm  Leave a Comment  

Apart from the super-heroic sounds, the silence is deafening…

Hello again. Remember me?

Been away awhile, but still been here. Got tired of letting you folks hang, so today I decided “Dammit, I’m going to post something, no matter how long it takes to write it at work.

A lot of things happened suddenly, leading to the radio-silence here. Stepped-up intensity at work and in college led to not being able to spend as much time giving to the internet, only able to take. Add to that the previously-mentioned health problems of my father (who I’ve only recently have begun to know, really) and the increased hours at work (my wife lost her job), and I haven’t had the energy for the creative stuff. My pulp-hero video series on YouTube is on hiatus, the typing of my Challenger Storm novel is going slllloooooowwww… I know that the good stuff will come back soon, but not until things stabilize. I’m tired… really friggin’ tired. At the end of the day right now, I really only have the energy to point and click right now… and that’s where City of Heroes and City of Villains come in.

(more…)

Randomness…

1. My wife makes the best tuna sandwiches in the world.

2. The live action “Tick” was so much better than I remember it. I loved it immensely the second time around (on DVD)

3. Finally, our Christmas decorations have come down. We were planning on keeping them up until our big January bonus check came again, but I think we realized we weren’t plugging in the lights anymore. Basically, we had a tree and a bunch of gaudy things in our house that would still look gaudy until after next Thanksgiving.

4. The book is coming along steadily. I’m about 2/3 of the way through. I had a lot of internal battles over things I considered “too cliche” to put into the book… until I realized “damn it, of course it’s cliche, it’s pulp“. So the cliches are still in, and it makes for good pulp.

5. “Cloverfield” seemed so cool when the first rumbles were heard from the marketing campaign. What the hell happened?

6. My brother-in-law went to jail. Long story short: karma finally strikes!

Published in: on January 24, 2008 at 10:41 pm  Comments (1)  

Gloomy Thursday

It should be raining.

It feels like it should be coming down in buckets outside, but it’s not. It’s too damn warm for December; while the rest of the county is snowing or at least nippy, I’m battling mosquitos on my lunch break.

Maybe that’s it: the weather. Last night it was very cold for us here, today it’s too warm. That rollercoaster-weather… maybe that’s why I feel so down today. Work is too busy, so much noise that feels like it’s intruding into this weird need, this craving for quiet, comfort. Yesterday was just a tired day. Today, it’s depression.

I don’t want to come across as some whiny emo-kid here. I’m not. I’ve been happy lately, but today is bad. Maybe it is the weather. Or maybe it’s the post-holiday blues. Maybe it’s this job: it’s easy and I have access to a computer all day, sure… but on the other hand, talking to 100+ miserable and mean-spirited people all day gets a bit old and soul-sucking at times.

Anyway, had a good Christmas, got cool stuff, haven’t finished writing the book yet, blah blah blah…

Later.

Published in: on December 27, 2007 at 8:17 pm  Comments (1)  

Happy Holiday Wishes (and bad lip-synching) To All

As this will probably be the last post until after Christmas, I just want to wish everyone out there the happiest of holidays this year.

And, since nothing says “Happy Holidays” more than ridiculously lip-synched performances, here’s some holiday silliness from me and mine to you and yours:

“Fairytale of New York” by The Pogues

“(Ding Dong) Christmas Song” by Gunther, a man who seems to be a Saturday Night Live sketch come to life.

Published in: on December 17, 2007 at 3:17 pm  Comments (2)  

“Which one? Ackroyd? Belushi?… Goodman??”

So today is part of a special “customer service” week at my job, and it’s “Favorite Era Day”, where you can dress up in the clothes reflective of your favorite time-period.

“Well,” I think, “this is a good excuse to wear my suit and fedora, give ’em a taste of the golden era of the ’30s and ’40s. This time last year, I wore my fedora by itself into work and got told it was a ‘pimp hat’. Maybe the suit will keep that from happening?” My wife warned me against this, reminding me of the time years ago I dressed as The Crow for Halloween and people thought I was a mime. Pig-headedly, I persevered, ignoring her attempts to keep me from embarrassment.

So, I get all suited up with my lid and suit and trudge into work. And what am I met with? This:

“Blues Brothers!”
“Blues Brothers?”
“Hey, a Blues Brother!”
“Hey, Blues Brother, where’s your sunglasses and harmonica?”

And, my favorite:

“Afternoon, rabbi.”

What, no “Hey, pimp!” this year?

I need a beer.

Published in: on November 13, 2007 at 4:58 pm  Comments (4)  

Celebrities I’m Mistaken For

PART 1:

According to my brother- and sister-in law, my 2 year-old niece apparently thinks Homer Simpson is me. When asked who it is at stores or on TV, she replies “Uncle Donny”.

My wife and I blew it off as exaggeration, until they came over last weekend and brought her.

The first thing she did as she walked into the house was to walk over to my plant-less Homer Simspon Chia-pet. She pointed to it and turned to me, with the most earnest expression I’ve ever seen, and asked: “Is that you?”

Is this a good thing or a bad thing?

PART 2:

I had a cold this week and haven’t shaved. I’m looking kinda rough but feeling better… but I have a nearly-full beard. I didn’t style my hair into it’s normal spiky self, so it kinda hangs in a short “Caeser” look today.

Shortly after I got to work today, a new rep in the next cubicle turned to me and said: “You look kinda like that guy from ‘300’.

“Except, y’know… fatter.”

“SPARTANS!!! PREPARE for BACON!!!”

Published in: on September 7, 2007 at 3:20 pm  Comments (2)  

Why I Don’t Watch Letterman Any More

Letterman… (sighs, lights a pipe and stares into the distance with old eyes)

First of all, my name may be listed here and elsewhere as Don, but my first name is really William… I’m Bill Gates, dammit. Think about all the crap I get for this. Anyway…

In the summer of 1999, I was at my parents house one day when the phone rings. The girl on the other end asks to speak to William Gates, and my mom asks “Which one? There’s two here, father and son.” The girl says “Whichever is available”, so my mom puts me on the phone, as my dad was away.

She identified herself as calling from the offices of “The Late Show With David Letterman”. I’m freaking out quite a bit, but soon realize it’s the real deal (she gave us several numbers, and we called them all- they were legit). It seems that Dave and his writers have cooked up a little routine where famously named people are selected from random phone-books to come on for some kind of routine (I think it was a top-ten list, but can’t remember now). I have been selected to be “Bill Gates”, and if I was able to Fedex and fax criteria to them (photo, proof of ID, etc.) they would fly me to NY to tape the show. We double and TRIPLE checked the authenticity- everything was on the level.

I got this call at 4:00, they needed to have the fax by 5. My parents lived in the woods, so I proceeded to bust my ass getting to town to do this stuff.

I got it done, then waited by the phone in my apartment. No call that night. The next day, there still hadn’t been a call, so I called them after work. They had received the faxes and overnighted stuff, but had no definite word for me. They would call tomorrow.

The next day I had to call them again. Dave had been debating over whether to use “Bill Gates” and “Steve Forbes” or “Mark McGuire” and “Sammy Sosa”. Dave, being the sports-nut he is, chose the sports-duo instead of the millionaire-duo, leaving me and a “Steve Forbes” crushed and devastated.

I still have the paper, with all the addresses and phone numbers `and names pertinent to this… the word “FUCK!!” is written across it. This was done at the exact moment of letdown.

I was a big fan of Letterman until then. I haven’t seen a single minute of the show since.

Published in: on August 7, 2007 at 2:33 pm  Comments (4)  

Time-Bomb

When I was a kid, my walls were plastered with posters. As I grew older, my tastes changed and these posters reflected that. My parents were…quietly understanding when it came to puberty, so when I put up the occasional babe-in-a-bikini poster, there was no uproar. My mom just didn’t mention it, while my father tended to linger if he came into my room for something. These posters, along with the others, were packed up and forgotten when I left home, destined to sit, forgotten, in a sealed box in the attic of my parent’s home.

When my folks moved to Canada recently, it came time to get all those boxes of toys and various junk out of that attic and into my house, where I’ve been going through them, throwing some toys away while keeping others. I had a huge toy collection, so it’s been a slow- and surprising- process. I had a Chuck Norris action figure? Really?

Anyway, when we got to the poster box, the Mrs. and I went through it with the usual interest reserved for the other boxes. Each poster was a different walk down memory lane.

Here’s a poster of a Lamborghini Countach, a car that seemed so futuristic in the ’80’s.

Tick.

And here’s a poster of an Sr-71 Blackbird. Man, weren’t they neat?

Tick.

And here’s a poster of The Tick, bought shortly before I moved out.

Tick.

And here’s a poster of a busty blonde bimbo.

BOOM!

I held it in my hands, my wife behind me gazing upon it. It was from the late 80’s I guess, a blonde girl in some kind of ridiculous bikini-shorts-mesh shirt-fingerless glove combo. I probably got it at Spencer’s or somewhere like that.

It was during puberty, dammit! Who are you to judge me?!

Anyway, this photographic time-bomb opened that classic Riddle of The Sphinx that females since the dawn of time have been asking of us men (and most of us here at this blog are men, or something close):

“Do you think she’s pretty?”

(There are variations, but it’s all the same question essentially… a question which has no un-booby-trapped answer. Hehe… “boobies”.)

The sweating started. “No.”

“You liar!”

“Well, I thought she was pretty, back when I got the poster.”

Silence.

“Well, I guess I thought she was pretty at the time, but not now. Look at her, she’s got feathered ’80’s hair. She might as well have been in Whitesnake.”

“You thought she was pretty? Look at her. She’s hideous.”

Truthfully, she wasn’t attractive to me, not now. My tastes have matured. I prefer redheads and brunettes over blondes now. I grew to prefer character and personality in the faces of who I’m attracted to (this leads to an ongoing thing between my wife and I: how could I have ever found Gillian Anderson sexy? My answer:

Giggity!)

Anyway, it could have turned into a full blown thing, with many variations: “If you think she’s pretty, and she’s ugly, and you think I’m pretty, then I must be ugly too if you find ugly women attractive” (got that?), or “How could you find me pretty when you like girls built like that and I’m not”, etc. It’s a classic male-vs-female struggle that will rage until the earth falls into the sun.

But it didn’t turn into that. I defused it. I told her, with all honesty, that without a doubt no one is as beautiful to me in the world as she is. She’s the new measuring-stick for beauty in my eyes. I didn’t know what beauty was before her, and no one is as beautiful in the world as she is to me, and no one ever will be. For once, the argument didn’t rage and go on for a while, and that poster, and the others, are in the garbage.

(Thank God I threw out the Playboys years ago.)

Published in: on July 6, 2007 at 8:57 pm  Comments (4)