01 September 2005

"We could call her... BONECRUNCHER!"

I chews my bones and I crunches my kitties.

Further proof that developing an internal editor is KEY:

Me: What details did the author give us about her cats?
Class: Age, where she got them, their names.
Me: Do you feel she sufficiently supported her topic?
Class: Yes!
Me: You wouldn't want any more details?
Class: No! She did a good job! I love kitties!
Me: Okay. Let me tell you a story.
Class: Yay!
Me: I don't have a cat, but I used to. He was a big, black, shaggy cat, and he adopted me. I didn't even want a cat, but suddenly this cat starts following me around everywhere. I go to the library; the cat sits outside waiting for me. I go to a party; the cat waits on the porch.
Class: What was his name?
Me: Griffin.
Class: How'd you pick that name?
Me: One day I was reading in the living room, and the cat was in the window staring at me. I looked up, and the words "My name is Griffin" appeared in my head..... wait, you can't say that. Um, he named himself. NO. Um...... he told me.....
Me: Um, I don't know.
Class: Okay.
Me: Anyhow, Griffin was kind of spooky. He wasn't allowed inside the house, but would sit on this table on the porch and stare at me through the window.
[I mime being watched, slowly widening my eyes and glancing behind me nervously. Class laughs.]
Me: Also, there was something about Griffin -- he was, like, MORE than a normal cat.
Class: How?
Me: Like the time I was so stoned, and Nadia held up her hands and said, "Give me five," and I totally thought the cat would do it. Wait..... Okay, like when I was drunk, and would come home from the pub and sit on the porch and talk to the cat.... shit, not that either.........
Me: Um, I can't really explain it. Anyhow, after a while, Griffin decided he didn't want me to be his human anymore, and he left. And that's the story of Griffin. Do you see how my story is different from this other story?
Class: Yes! You gave lots of good details.
Me: You have no idea.....


Gas was at $2.95 at the Chevron on the hill last night, $2.99 as I drove home from work today.

I can't be optimistic about this. Whether or not high gas prices will ultimately help to reduce the demand, thus dropping the prices, or will encourage the world to seek alternate forms of energy, thus reducing the need for oil, the real problem is that the high gas prices are fueling the hatred and jingoism among our fellow countrymen.

Exhibit A: A teacher at my school, yesterday in the teacher's lounge.

"What we really need to do is turn Iraq into a parking lot and take all their oil. They shouldn't have a choice any more. We're in there, saving their butts, and they're gonna charge us $50 a barrel? That's bullshit!"

It breaks my heart.

Dan: So I was reading your new blog....
Me: Is it too pink?
Dan: No, it looks good.
Me: Okay, thanks.
Dan: But here's the thing. You know the story about the boy and the dog?
Me: Yes?
Dan: Well, I just finished reading Neil Gaiman's Good Omens, which is about the antichrist who's given to a normal family at birth, and is growing up as a normal kid in a normal family....
Me: (suspiciously) ...and?
Dan: And when the antichrist kid is about eleven or twelve, this dog shows up, like a demon dog, and the kid names it Dog.
Me: .....
Dan: So I just wanted to let you know that you might have the antichrist in your homeroom. Me: You know... that would actually explain a lot.....

UPDATE: this morning, Potential Antichrist Kid (PAK) said (and I quote), "Can I write about a satanic dog?"


...and speaking of hellhounds...


Videos by Professor Howdy said...

We work like a horse.
We eat like a pig.
We like to play chicken.
You can get someone's goat.
We can be as slippery as a snake.
We get dog tired.
We can be as quiet as a mouse.
We can be as quick as a cat.
Some of us are as strong as an ox.
People try to buffalo others.
Some are as ugly as a toad.
We can be as gentle as a lamb.
Sometimes we are as happy as a lark.
Some of us drink like a fish.
We can be as proud as a peacock.
A few of us are as hairy as a gorilla.
You can get a frog in your throat.
We can be a lone wolf.
But I'm having a whale of a time!

You have a riveting web log
and undoubtedly must have
atypical & quiescent potential
for your intended readership.
May I suggest that you do
everything in your power to
honor your encyclopedic/omniscient
Designer/Architect as well
as your revering audience.
As soon as we acknowledge
this Supreme Designer/Architect,
Who has erected the beauteous
fabric of the universe, our minds
must necessarily be ravished with
wonder at this infinate goodness,
wisdom and power.

Please remember to never
restrict anyone's opportunities
for ascertaining uninterrupted
existence for their quintessence.

There is a time for everything,
a season for every activity
under heaven. A time to be
born and a time to die. A
time to plant and a time to
harvest. A time to kill and
a time to heal. A time to
tear down and a time to
rebuild. A time to cry and
a time to laugh. A time to
grieve and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones
and a time to gather stones.
A time to embrace and a
time to turn away. A time to
search and a time to lose.
A time to keep and a time to
throw away. A time to tear
and a time to mend. A time
to be quiet and a time to
speak up. A time to love
and a time to hate. A time
for war and a time for peace.

Best wishes for continued ascendancy,
Dr. Howdy

'Thought & Humor'

P.S. One thing of which I am sure is
that the common culture of my youth
is gone for good. It was hollowed out
by the rise of ethnic "identity politics,"
then splintered beyond hope of repair
by the emergence of the web-based
technologies that so maximized and
facilitated cultural choice as to make
the broad-based offerings of the old
mass media look bland and unchallenging
by comparison."

{Please note that this letter about your
esteemed site promotes no merchandise -
but is simply a missive of good will to you.}

Anonymous said...

Is the kid's name Adam? That's the kid's name in Good Omens. Which is an excellent book, incidentally, written jointly by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchet.
Freaking HI-larious.