Me and my Moobs

ABC recently announced that they will be starting to film a new round of their venerable 'After-School Special' series, and I'm getting ready by prepping a script I've been working on for the last few years. It's called 'Me and my Moobs'.

The story follows a young man named Clarence, unpopular at school because he's overweight. One day, after being taunted by the 'cool' kids, he hears two voices telling him to cheer up. To his surprise, Clarence finds that his man-boobs, or 'moobs' as the kids to day call them, have begun speaking to him! Calling themselves 'Lefty', and 'Righty', the vociferous and amusing moobs lead Clarence on a journey of self-discovery and burgeoning self-confidence, showing him that even the 'cool' kids aren't sure of themselves. The moobs help Clarence by prompting him in tough situations, using voices only he can hear.

There are times when Clarence fears for his sanity.

The wackiness culminates at the school dance, which Clarence is attending with Thelma, the prettiest girl at school. But Clarence suddenly discovers that he's on his own, as his increased confidence has kept him from overeating, meaning that 'Righty' and 'Lefty' have become too small to be helpful. Clarence manages to make it through, and ends up telling Thelma about how him moobs had helped him over the last few weeks, and how he'd been scared without them, but now knew he could make it on his own. Thelma is proud of Clarence, but tells him that, secretly, she'd always thought he was cute as a big guy.

This leads Clarence to ask, "Wanna go get some cheesecake?", after which he and Thelma head to a diner while the credits roll.

God, I can almost taste the Emmy!

"Demons shall rend your flesh"

Just to round out the week in style:

http://weirdfortunecookies.com/

Enjoy!

I give up. Let's just go ahead and call this 'Random Link Week', shall we?

Say, do you want to take over the world? Have the leaders of the free world grovelling at your feet? Show that 'super-agent', the one that looks like the guy who used to beat you up in high-school, exactly who's boss now?

Sure, we all do.

But have you considered the actual logistics of it all. In our daydreams, it's all hunky-dory, a piece of cake; after all, your Magma Detonator is almost finished, out there in the garage, and once it is, who's to stop you?

C'mon, use your head! World domination is just about the threat of massive destruction if your petty whims aren't catered too, it's also about style! You can't call the President and demand huge sums of money while wearing a bathrobe and eating Fruit-Loops! Nobody's going to take a super-villain based in suburban Portland seriously, no matter how powerful his Earthquake Machine might be! You need to show them you mean business! You gotta have a lair, henchmen in matching outfits that you can randomly murder to make a point, a slinky assistant, robots, lasers, all kinds of stuff that says, "Kneel before Zod!" in no uncertain terms!

But where can you get all of these things? I'm glad you asked! VillainSource.com is here to help!

Lairs, traps, henchperson gear, small, medium, and heavy arms, super weapons and powers, doomsday devices, VillainSource.com has it all! Whatever you need, provided in one convenient website, and designed and built by such respected names as Scaramanga and No S.A., Evil on a Budget Inc., the Arctic Nazi Consortium, Syko-Systems Inc., and The Sharper Image. Anything and everything you need, all with convenient and obvious self-destruct mechanisms.

VillainSource.com, the successor site to VillainSupply.com, is open and ready for business. Run by the always helpful Preserved Brain of Josef Mengele, these fine homicidal maniacs are ready to help you, yes, you, TAKE OVER THE WORLD! BWAH-hahahahahahahahah.....

http://villainsource.com/ -Don't be a wuss!

This thing is killin' me...

I started this entry last month, and just finished it today, and the blog insists on publishing it on the day I did the first draft... So I gotta link to it... Gonna go lay down now...

http://carterlee.blogspot.com/2008/04/intelligent-design.html

Click the link!

Hands down, one of the greatest documents ever created by the hand of man.

http://www.nelsonrocks.org/disclaimer.html?Active=1

I can rap!

It ain't about the bitches and the ho's
but those who chose
to oppose
the same old status quo
to strike a blow
for the average joe
to give hope
to the average mope
to give scope
to the average dope
to give 'em the key
to something transcendent
put a song in their heart
that can't be ended
lift up their soul
and help 'em to mend it
for you see
that's the key
to all artistry
you can say I'm wrong
but that's just me...

Dad and the Dome

People really can surprise you, especially those you think you know best. I just recently found out a good friend of mine, an old circus pal, is a Republican. I don't hold it against her, not at all, these things do happen, however inexplicable they may be.

Take my father, for instance. One of the smartest cats I know, always has a tidbit of information I've never heard before, still thinking clearly and cogently about deep things even into his 70's. When I was a young un', and not yet hipped to my Dad's wily ways, he managed to put a sense of wonder into my brother and me that still lingers, just by walking about 60-70 feet.

The family was on a visit to Washington, DC, where Dad had spent a good few years growing up and working his first jobs, most notably at the Pentagon (the world's largest office building). So the visit was a return to old haunt for him, and he showed my mother, my brother Eric, and me not only all of the expected sights, but a number of little things that most people would pass by all unaware.

The cool trick came when we visited the capitol dome. This was back when the hoi-polloi were allowed to simply wander through the building at will. We looked at the paintings, the statues, the frescoes, and the amazing frieze that runs around the rotunda, and enjoyed the odd open feeling that comes from being inside such a huge covered space uncluttered by supports and pillars. After a bit, Dad pulled Eric and I over to a painting, god knows which one.

"I want you guys to look at this picture," he said, "Because there's something wrong with it, and I want to see if you can spot it."

So Eric and I scrutinized the painting, searching it closely, trying to divine what the error might be. After a minute or two of this, Dad spoke up.

"Don't see it, huh? Well, that's all right turn around and look at this."

We turned towards Dad's voice, which had seemed to come from right behind us. But, lo and behold, he was clear across the rotunda. Our faces, all covered in surprise, must have been clear even at the distance he stood from us.

"What's wrong?" Dad spoke innocently, and still it seemed like his voice came from someone within arms reach, not a good stones throw away.

He explained it to us, after he got done enjoying our bewildered expressions. The huge dome acted as an acoustic reflector, carrying sound, clear and unmuted, from one end of the dome to another, as long as you were in the right spots. There are plaques on the floor, showing where some of the famous early legislators had had their desks, and Dad showed us where one crafty politico had his workspace situated so that it stood in the sweet spot to listen in on the plotting of a rival group that gathered on the other side of the dome.

That is still one of the neatest things I've ever seen. Thanks, Dad.

Shame

The way my feelings of shame cling to me never fails to surprise me. Like barnacles on a ship, they seem to crust onto me, constantly slowing me down and inhibiting my attempts to move.

Twenty-three years ago, in middle school, for about a week, I'd sneak over to where the littler kids left their lunches in the hall while they were on the playground, and I'd steal candy from their lunch bags. Twenty-three years, and it still comes up with the rest of the tornado of shameful moments from my life, whenever part of my mind feels like the rest needs a good ass-kicking. One voice among many, saying "Of course you're worthless, you have been since you stole candy from the other kids."

And since this voice was in my own head, it hasn't been until recently that I've thought to doubt what it says. In a way it's always been right. Stealing from the other kids was a thing to be ashamed of. But why does it still have power over me, after so long?

Steam

At the Circus, when it's time for the tent to come down, the tent comes down. I can only remember two or three times in the year or more I travelled with the show that weather did more than slow down the work. January's in New York could get cold enough that work might stop for a couple of hours, or a day, and when we were setting up in Boston near the Atlantic, the wind was strong enough that, when the tent was unrolled and then lowered to have the seams joined, it would lift the tent fast, and a couple of people got thrown around pretty good.

But mostly, things like rain and wind and cold just slowed the process down, and not much at that. You'd look around on a cold night, everybody running around in t-shirts, and realize why everybody was working so hard: if you slowed down, you were gonna freeze to death. As long as you were working hard enough, you were warm enough.

The coolest times, though, were when the air was just cool enough, and you were just warm enough, that steam would start to rise. You'd see something up at the top of your field of vision, and flick your eyes up, in case it was something falling, and you'd just catch sight of it. Then you'd take a moment and look around, and see that everyone, while scurrying around doing the thousand and one jobs that taking down a circus tent involves, had a halo around their heads, rising from the top of their skulls. Steam would be rising, just a couple of inches above sweat-soaked hair, then vanishing. On everyone.

Then you'd put your head down and get back to work, because your sweat would start getting cold, and you didn't want to freeze to death.