The Demonweasel Speaks

I had a title that was going to be perfect. *perfect* And I lost it.

This has been happening to me a lot lately, it seems. Forgetting names, getting an idea and then loosing it, calling people by the wrong name. And I haven’t even smoked drugs. A couple of weeks ago I was walking downtown and I saw my Lit professor from college walking ahead of me, and I wanted to call out and say Hi…but I had forgotten her name. I’ve known her for almost a decade and I forgot her name. I took three classes with her, fell asleep in one of them (ah, my academic follies) and see her on a pretty regular basis. It’s a “J” name…Joan? Her last name begins with a “G”…oh geez, who is it? I didn’t remember until a couple of hours later.

Y’know, maybe I should smoke some drugs.

Sent off another batch of presents today. Made me feel like a good person. Well, we can’t have that, can we?

In other people’s news, Chris has a girlfriend; my friend Diane, whom I had a very vivid and disturbing dream about several days ago which woke me with a feeling of total dread, wrote me an email saying she is neither dead nor maimed (I typed “mailed” there for a second…heh, mailed); Katie saw Katie Holmes at the Panera she works at today (or should I say Original Recipe Katie saw Former Dawson’s Creek Star and Toledo Alumna Katie); Laura is moving out of Toledo. Other things, I’m sure, have happened to others of you that read this. I’m sure of it, I just don’t know what those things are.

I’m eating my last Lemon Poppyseed vegan cookie of the year. Yes Jen, one of them lasted that long. I’m so loosing my touch. She gave me several vegan cookies, as she hasn’t adjusted the buying to accommodate the absence of my voracious appetite for cookies. Mmmmm god, it’s so good. And she also bought me season one of Chappelle’s Show on DVD. Because she’s awesome.

I was going to write a haiku about the snow that totally rolled up on us today, but I can’t tell if lightning has two or three syllables. Clearly, I’m all looks and no brains (which I misspelled, for those of you keeping score at home). The point is, we got about 6-inches of snow today and it’s not really letting up. They are using the “B” word (which is not the element Boron, which to this day Is till know gives away all of its electrons in chemical reactions, because in high school chemistry I drew a little Boron molecule with a mohawk going “Give it away, give it away, give it away now!”).

Is it okay to tuck in a t-shirt? I don’t often do it, but usually I do when I’m wearing a button down shirt unbuttoned over a t-shirt, and then I wear a belt or something. Well, there’s no “or something.” I wear a belt, the only one that I have, because I’m the kind of guy who now, apparently, wears a belt all the time. What has happened to me? I mean, I was never cool in the first place, but damn…but really, is it? I need to know.

I felt bad today for my friend/employee Steve, who confirmed for me that they did indeed use an idea he had been kicking around on the Venture Brother Christmas Special, which is the Germanic Legend of the Whompus, a horrid troll creature that gets to run around on Christmas and beat the asses of kids that are bad. No, no one who speaks German can be bad. It wasn’t a new idea, obviously, but when he told me about it, perhaps as long ago as last Christmas, I had never heard of it, and he wanted to do something about it. I heard an idea that Alan Moore had posited about “idea space,” a place where all the ideas that people have go and hang out until someone visits there and plucks one out of thin air, and sucks to be you if it’s one of yours.

“These ideas are just in the air, out there in the air.” “Well, if that air is coming out of this face, then it’s my idea.”

One of my teenaged employees was sorting the Presidents section at the store a couple of weeks ago, and she told her sister (who related the story to me) that that at one point she was really confused and kept going through this book over and over again, but no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t figure out when Oswald was President.

In should just take the “Best Comics of the Week” thing off the sidebar, because I haven’t updated the sidebar in weeks, weeks being overly generous. I should do something about that.

Not going to do anything about that, I remain…

So December has been quiet. Ooooh, quiet.

It’s good quiet, though. I’m getting more work done (hopefully begin editing chapter 13 when I’m done with this) and being over-all happy. You can egg my car, but you can’t egg my dignity. Well, maybe if you threw them really, really hard.

Allie has started her winter break, and for some reason, it feels like I’m on vacation, not just here. Granted, it’s just my normal weekend, but something about it feels different. Maybe it’s just the schedule change, who knows. Yesterday I was at her mom’s house doing laundry, which really was an all day event. Finally, I can stop sleeping in my own genetic filth. While there I watched “Mean Girls” and the new “Peter Pan” movie. Both were quite good. For some reason, I was overly skeptical about the Peter Pan movie, but it seemed to me to be a remarkably close adaptation of the original work. Of course, I’ve never really read the original work. And for those keeping score at home, I did get weepy when they all began to chant “I do believe in fairies.” Sue me, I’m a pansy. PP has also become Allie’s favorite movie, which is cute. She used to watch movies all the time, but now I think she does to a much lesser extent. Yesterday also marked the first time, that I’ve ever been aware of, that she was left home by herself, as Melissia left her there when she came to get me and my laundry. I had a “Awwww, our little firl is growing up moment.” Very cute.

I also bought my Christmas tree yesterday. Well, Christmas shrub is a little more like it. We drove out to the Christmas tree place by Young’s, but it was closed, so we ended up going to Wal-Mart. *shudder* We couldn’t find any trees and my patience was waning quickly, but there were these little, two feet tall Euro Christmas ferns, or whatever the hell they are. The point is that it’s small and alive, two things absolutely necessary. My posse doesn’t truck with fake trees. Ew.

So Stanley the Christmas Shrub is up, my lights are on it, and Allie and I decorated the rest of it today. It’ll be nice because it comes in its own little pot, so it will live far beyond Christmas, perhaps even to next year. If I don’t somehow kill it with my dark, withered heart. Also on the tree is Carlos the Christmas Monkey, because really, how is it Christmas without a monkey? That’s right, it’s not. I also bought for the top of the tree a Santa hat, because hey, a tree needs a hat like everyone else.

I will have pictures, I suppose, once I get batteries for my camera. So I can spread the joy of Stanley.

So my Christmas is looking a-okay. Granted, I don’t get to see my family, but I get to spend Christmas morning with Allie, and we can open our presents and be all sweet, and then I can sit back and watch the Heat deliver a Christmas beating on the Lakers. Mmmm, Christmas basketball. That’s good soup.

Speaking of, the Venture Brothers Christmas special was nice. Very, very funny.

Yes, most of my Christmas shopping is done and most things are in the mail. Some of you, perhaps, won’t get things until after the holiday, but that’s why it’s the Holiday *season* right? It’s a whole season. I am, of course open to getting presents as well.

Because it’s the season for being a greedy bastard, too, apparently.

Seasonable, unreasonable and de-monter-able, I remain…

So I was reading on Newsarama that Orson Scott Card will be writing a six-issue Ultimate Iron Man mini-series. This is cool, because I’m always for established authors doing work in the field of comics and making great work.

Then, one of the people on the discussion thread posted a link to this article Card wrote about gay marriage. Specifically, why it’s wrong and bad an evil and how it’s part of the downfally of civilization.

It includes such gems as:

“In the first place, no law in any state in the United States now or ever has forbidden homosexuals to marry. The law has never asked that a man prove his heterosexuality in order to marry a woman, or a woman hers in order to marry a man.

Any homosexual man who can persuade a woman to take him as her husband can avail himself of all the rights of husbandhood under the law. And, in fact, many homosexual men have done precisely that, without any legal prejudice at all.

Ditto with lesbian women. Many have married men and borne children. And while a fair number of such marriages in recent years have ended in divorce, there are many that have not.

So it is a flat lie to say that homosexuals are deprived of any civil right pertaining to marriage. To get those civil rights, all homosexuals have to do is find someone of the opposite sex willing to join them in marriage.

In order to claim that they are deprived, you have to change the meaning of “marriage” to include a relationship that it has never included before this generation, anywhere on earth.

Just because homosexual partners wish to be called “married” and wish to force everyone else around them to regard them as “married,” does not mean that their Humpty-Dumpty-ish wish should be granted at the expense of the common language, democratic process, and the facts of human social organization.

However emotionally bonded a pair of homosexual lovers may feel themselves to be, what they are doing is not marriage. Nor does society benefit in any way from treating it as if it were.”

It frustrates me, because while Card is a good writer, I’ve for quite some times that his politics are shit. It’s always sad when someone who you think of as an idol or someone who’s work you look up to turns out to be someone who’s veiws you find a complete anethma. With writers it’s doubly hard because so often our personal beliefs bleed into what we’re writing. I mean, I kind of find it hard to believe that Mr. Right-Wing Mormon is going to be able to write a version of Iron Man that’s been consistently portrayed as a liberal, martini guzzling, supermodel screwing, billionaire playboy. Sure, the man is a great writer, but still…

Other than that, things are going well. I had a great weekend, Kenzie bought me Buffy season 3 for Christmas and we watched that, and most things are looking up. Well, someone egged my car. Just mine in among a whole bunch of other cars that are parked on my street, so it’s clear that it’s personally motivated. Does it bug me? Hell yes it does, but there’s not much I can do about. People that egg cars, or get thier friends to egg cars, or suport car egging, or are pro-car egging and anti-family, or what the fuck ever, are just fucked up. There’s not much else to say but that. Ooooh, you egged my car, that’s really showed me. Now I know better.

Speechless, in a bathrobe, almost late for work, I remain…

So it’s been brought to my attention that I haven’t made a post in a million-gajillion years.

So here we go…

I’ve been bored, mainly. Not in life generally, but really, I didn’t have much to say that I wanted to say on here. Stuff that I *could* say? Oh *snap!* But no, not saying.

And I’m just doing that because I want to act like a cranky Carcharodon Carcharias.

I don’t think the Giants are going to make the playoffs. I know Manning the younger is a good investment, and we’ll be lucky to have him one day…but seriously dude. Not to mention the laizzes faire attitude of the rest of the team. And there’s no laizzes faire in football. That’s too french.

I’ve barely been watching basketball, but I am excited for the Christmas Day match-up of Shaq’s Heat and Kobe’s Lakers. Flash Fact: did you know that every time they say “Kobe got a triple double for the game…but the Lakers still lost” an angel gets his wings? Flash fact.

I have been writing, including going back and spackling the hole in the book that was Chapter Six. Y’know, the part where I just left out some shit because I didn’t want to write it without doing research. See, I wrote it without research and the world didn’t end.

And if it did, I’m sorry.

Buy me things! Buy me things! Buy me things! This is a link to my Amazon wish list, because I’m crazy, and greedy, and like things, and I’m almost done with my own Christmas shopping, so there. Or you can get me a gift card for Target, because they have nice clothes and I need to look sex(ier). Or even more or, check out this shirt. Is it not the most hysterical thing ever? God Bless you, T-Shirt Hell!. And if you want to buy Allie something, books or art supplies are the way to go. She has enough dolls.

Speaking of buying, and selling, I sold a bunch of unwanted graphic novels to the �Star and got just enough in trade to buy my copy of Spider-Man 2 and a sexy-ass Fantastic Four T-Shirt, although mien is so Navy it�s practically black, but that�s cool. I love those logo/symbol t-shirts. I�m so lame, I went through and picked out all the ones I want, and ended up with 21 t-shirts. That�s a lot of dorky.

There’s a new Chinese Restaurant in town, and they are yummy. They don’t deliver, but if you hang out there enough, you can hear the couple in the back argue in Chinese and English. And then you can order the “Happy Family” and see if they get the irony.

I went off at work the other day when someone mentioned the whole Terrell Owens/Desperate Housewives Monday Night Football fiasco. Because god forbid a black man get to see a white woman naked, and suggest that they may have had inappropriate sexual contact, at 9:00pm (in the important time zone). No sir, not in my America, not in George Bush’s America, noSIRee. I mean, we’d round up the brown skinned, the yellow skinned, the fags and the liberals and put them on trains and send them to camps, but really, that’s just tacky because it’s been done before. We need to come up with 21st century solutions to 19th century problems, like killer robots or orbital space lasers.

Speaking of decency in the new America, here’s another Flash Fact:
In an appearance before Congress in February, when the controversy over Janet Jackson’s Super Bowl moment was at its height, Federal Communications Commission chairman Michael Powell laid some startling statistics on U.S. senators.

What Powell did not reveal — apparently because he was unaware — was the source of the complaints. According to a new FCC estimate obtained by Mediaweek, nearly all indecency complaints in 2003 — 99.8 percent — were filed by the Parents Television Council, an activist group.

Read more about it here

Now, if they media is going to be controlled by crazed, elitist assholes, can’t they be me? I mean, seriously, I’m crazy like a gorilla and twice as sexy.

I had a conversation with someone I haven’t spoken to in years, and then said “Ooh, ooh, I did this hysterical thing where I put my face on a baby in a monkey suit!” and she just sighed and said “I know, I saw. It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed at all.”

So maybe they have and maybe they haven’t. If you don’t think I have your address, send it to me and I will give you the hook up. What, exactly, I’ll hook you up with, I have no idea, but it’ll be fly. For realz. I’m spending Christmas with just Allie and I here in Ohio, unfortunately, but at least we get to have a little tree of our own, open our presents, I can attempt to make Christmas dinner (mmmmmm, destroyed goose) and we can live grand little country lives. New Years, though, I’m going to party like it’s 1899, then like it’s 1799, then like it’s 1699, and keep going backwards until I pass out from time travel madness.

Hey, maybe that’ll b a new years resolution. No, not time travel, but being a better cook. Because at some point, eating garbage scraps just becomes tacky.

All of the problem, none of the solution, I remain…

PS. I did a drawring. It lives here…

P.P.S . In this entry I managed to misspell �Carcharodon carcharias,� �Restaurant,� �laizzes,� and once, even �skinned.� �Realz,� �drawring,� �dorky,� �Mediaweek,� �gajillion,� and �Shaq� are all made-up words.