Zapp: "Whatever it is, I'll place wave after wave of men at your disposal. Right, men?"

(pause)

Anonymous Crewman: "You suck!"

Here's the skinny: I'm a loser. There's no way around it. I live with my parents and have not had a job for a month. My mom knows it. My dad knows it. My brother knows it. (I don't think my sister cares one way or the other, it isn't her field of interest.) But I'm cool, because I won't always be a loser. All I need is a plan, and not even a good one. My mantra, that one phrase by which I sustain myself, is from Alfred Bester's The Stars My Destination, "He was one hundred and seventy days dying and not yet dead."

Apparently, Friday was religious weirdo day here in the GB. Both the Jehovah's Witnesses and the Mormons came by the house, trying to sell salvation. I'm Roman Catholic, kids, I've got all the religious weirdness I can handle, thanks. I feel bad for the Mormons, though, because for the two years of a Mormon's mission, he is not allowed to use his first name; he is referred to as Elder. For instance, Daddy Dylweed was Elder Haney. I, were I to join that odd little cult, would be Elder Wilson. Hey, jackasses, a person's first name was archaically called their Christian name. How does it serve Christ to take away a boy's Christian name for two years? Still, one of the Jehovah's Witnesses was a really hot blonde girl. I hate hot religious girls, because you can look all you want, but you can't touch unless you marry one, and that's way too high a price to pay. Don't be drawn in by her hotness, it's a trick!

I hung out with the Mountain last night. By Jove, I miss that little punk!

"Hey, Bender, where's your bathroom?"
"My bath what?"
"Your bathroom."
"My what room?
"Your bathroom."
"My what what?"

I love the fact that robots need to drink constantly in order to be sober. It never gets old.

Family history can be cool. As proof, I cite the inscription on a trophy found among my late Grandma Wilson's things:

The Simla Open Tennis Tournament
1913 Men's Doubles
1st PRIZE
Presented By
RAJA SIR HARNAM SINGH K.C.I.E.
Won By
E.R. Gray
G.M. Coates

Dr. Ernest R. Gray, a dentist, was my great-grandfather, Great Granny Gray's husband. He died long before I was born. Great Granny Gray was my closest foreign-born relative, hailing from England. Ernest Gray was an American, but lived for many years in Imperial India, where he met, courted, and married Maude Pudaphott, the future Great Granny Gray, and also where they had my recently departed Grandma Wilson (born Priscilla Gray). She was a stubborn New England Yankee, but she'd been born in India. Perhaps I am so fond of Kipling because my family is only two generations removed from the Empire?

It's quite the contradiction: I am fiercely proud of my Irish Catholicism (hell, my name is Michael Patrick), but also fiercely loyal to England. England may have turned her back on Rome, but I cannot turn my back on her. "There'll always be an England"

I am uncertain as to for what K.C.I.E. stands, but I would guess Knight Commander of the Indian Empire. I wish I was a raja. (As the BTW boys know all too well, in Risk the Black Raj is to be much feared.)

On the phone earlier, Never Girl's voice took on a protective, almost fearful tone. She seemed concerned that there are things in my life going on without her knowledge. What exactly have I done to give rise to such suspicions?

Watch the new show I'm With Her. It doesn't seem to be anything extraordinary, except for the priviledge of seeing Teri Polo each week. You don't know Teri Polo? She played Rebecca Welles on Sports Night. You don't know Sports Night? You can go to Hell.

You know, in a way I like Futurama even better than The Simpsons. It's the sense of humor from the golden age of The Simpsons (circa seasons four through nine) combined with science fiction, one of my true loves. In my eyes, it's the perfect show.

Big O
Big Duo
Big Fow

What is the secret of the Bigs? The Big O appeared in the first episode (Act:01) of The Big O, "Roger the Negotiator." Big Duo, teamed up with Schwarzwald, attacked in Act:12 "Enemy is Another Big!" Big Fow appeared in the shadows of Act:20 "Stripes," but was not properly seen and did not see action, teamed with Alex Rosewater, until this week's Act:21 "The Third Big." The Big O is great; kudos to Cartoon Network for financing the second season.

Lot's Band
Yesterday, I was listening to The Hippos. The Hippos have broken up, yet Dave Matthews Band is quite possibly the biggest band in the world. We live in a musical Sodom and it becomes harder each day to find the two good bands needed to stay the Lord's wrathful hand.

See, that's the thing about secrets: if they are central to your story, they have to work. The alien at the end of Alien? That worked, and the film has become a classic. The alien at the end of Alien Resurrection? That piece of crap failed utterly, and thus so did the film. The conspiracy at the heart of The X-Files? Didn't work, because it never fucking happened; I watched that show for years, but eventually I'd had my chain yanked one too many times and decided that the big secret wasn't worth the price of sticking around.

I love the phrase "the secret of the Star of Canberra" as a driving force behind the Space Pirates Project, but I have no idea what that secret might be. Partially because we have little idea where the show is going. It has been decided by informal majority vote to make it an infinite show, i.e. no predetermined end, but rather we'll just follow the story wherever it takes us. Okay, so where do we go? In the first season, the stars of the show - the three friends who suddenly find themselves as space pirates - wrestle with the dilemma of not wanting to hurt anyone or steal anything. They wanted the adventure of being space pirates, they didn't want to kill anybody. But if they don't toughen up they are going to get killed. How do you survive in a cutthroat situation without losing your soul? Okay, there are lots of possibilities there, we can make that work. But where do we go after that?

It is in my nature to work backwards. Once I establish a character, my natural inclination is to discover how exactly they came to be that person. You could say then that I'm better at endings than I am at beginnings. I feel a compulsion to know how it all ends and right now that's simply unknowable, which I find crushingly frustrating.

Also, you know, I wouldn't have to work on playing nice with others if I naturally played nice with others.

Having recently been exposed to the glory of Anthony Burgess's novel, this afternoon I watched the film version of A Clockwork Orange. Sweet merciful crap. The only rational reaction is the massive and sudden application of violence; however, since that hack Kubrick is dead, I have no other recourse than to desecrate his grave. A real horrorshow novella was made into a malenky stinking film, one which I sincerely wish I had never viddied. By old Bog, it was awful.

A memorable quote from Saturday, at the depths of my misery, "Never love anything, it'll only disappoint you." A perfectly valid argument could (and has, many times) been made that I should not care so deeply about college football; nay, I say, for how can one feel unreasonable joy if one does not feel unreasonable anguish? Better to live a life of extremes than risk the sterility of feeling nothing. Love with all your heart, hate with all your soul.

The Space Pirates Project is moving along nicely, with a solid creative team of The Professor, the Guy, K. Steeze, and Your Humble Narrator. I wish the Mountain would contribute, but honestly this stuff isn't his preferred bag; he's never held that much interest in "universe creation," outside of a few exceptions. We've decided upon a medium, animation, and the "cast" is falling into place at a satisfactory pace. If you are interested, please check out the Forums; ideas are always welcome, email them to me at my Yahoo account, rebelblackdot@. Both to stir the creative juices and because I greatly enjoy it, I am rereading Treasure Island. Arrrh!

As I watch this debacle, the only possible conclusion is that the Michigan defense did not spend a single minute preparing for this game. If they didn't practice this week, which they clearly didn't, what did they spend their time doing? I would like to suggest that they spend the last seven days circle jerking. So, fuck Jim Herrmann for not doing ANYTHING to prepare his squad, fuck Braylon Edwards for dropping that last pass, fuck John Navarre for playing like John Navarre, and fuck Lloyd Carr for doing such a piss-poor job of getting his kids ready for this game. This may be our only loss of the season, but only because the Big Ten is weak this year. If we're the best team in the conference, it's a pussy conference.

During Braylon Edwards's freshman season, I said he should be cut for dropping too many passes. I stand by that today. (As I type this, Navarre just threw a picture perfect interception. Good job, Johnny!)

With 10:30 left in the second quarter of the Michigan-Oregon game: Fuck. John. Navarre. Two high passes and he missed an open man on a critical third down. Also, the defense looks porous. My prediction: Oregon 34, Michigan 17.

Wait, Oregon just scored, let me revise that: Oregon 42, Michigan 13.

It's the first mildly chilly day of the Fall; so, today is of course the day my mom chose to clean the windows. It's nice and chilly in the house, allowing me to break out my very favoritest piece of cold weather clothing: Plain Black Sweatshit! I love Plain Black Sweatshirt; even if it faded from true black to gray many years ago, Plain Black Sweatshirt has not faded any more than that! So warm, so comfortable, so able to be worn every day of the week without acquiring an overpowering funk. Hurrah!

"The ports ye shall not enter,
The roads ye shall not tread,
Go make them with your living,
And mark them with your dead."
--Rudyard Kipling, my favorite poet

Beneath the unfortunate racism in Kipling's "The White Man's Burden," there is an oft overlooked generosity. We, the self-proclaimed civilized world, have an obligation to help the less fortunate. We have an obligation to bring medicine to the sick and freedom to the oppressed. We may debate how best to improve the lot of the poor and I detest those who say we "owe" the developing world; this is not an obligation of the laws of Man, but an obligation to our own ideals, to the people we hope we can be.

Many young South Koreans wish American troops would leave their peninsula. The French oppose us often simply for opposition's sake, and to soothe their own bruised national ego. Does this mean we should have given the South Koreans over to the depraved cruelty of the North Korean Kims? Should we have left the French to rot under the iron heel of the Nazis? No, never. True virtue is its own reward, and expected thanks, even when deserved, is not a good enough reason to do the right thing.

It's three in the morning. I'm going to bed.

Sweet, I'm getting married to a freaky girl named Aisha with a Ryoko tattoo! Fun fact about Aisha: in high school, I asked her to the Prom senior year and she said yes, but the next day told me she couldn't go; so, I took good ol' Lauren G. instead.

On the Space Pirates Project, Steeze thinks I'm putting too much time and energy into the backstory at the expense of developing story arcs. I disagree. Without knowing our characters nor the world they live in, I find it impossible to say what manner of adventures might befall them.

Working on the space pirates project (until we have a title, I think I'll just call it the Space Pirates Project), I'm forced to stare right into the face of the fact that I don't work well in groups. Other people have great ideas, but it is so hard for me to accept that their ideas are better than mine, even when they are. I have to constantly rein myself in, lest I say something I don't mean. What's worse is that sooner or later we'll run into a situation where I say something incredibly cruel, because at that moment it is exactly what I mean, and I don't want to do that to my friends. So, I'm going to take this as an opportunity to work on playing nice with others.

The biggest problem we've run into is how to give our heroes possession of the Scarlet Narwhal. We're got a card game situation (an intentional parallel to the Millennium Falcon) and a police raid gone bad/chaotc situation. I'm a fan of the first, though I admit it needs work; The Professor and Steeze are fans of the police raid scenario. There are problems for both; so, we may require a third scenario. But what? We're also debating Earth's stature in the interstellar community and the number of different alien species we're dealing with, but those are pretty preliminary discussions. I've just posted my latest version of the cast on the Forums (topic: "Space Pirates!", genius) and I'm eager to see reactions.

The Mountain has yet to chime in, but that's because he is ridiculously busy during the school year.

{Deep Space Piracy For Fun and Profit}
My plea to make the space pirates a pan-BTW experience seems to be working. So far The Professor and K. Steeze, my co-creators, have contributed, as well as the Guy. Admittedly, all of this was only as a direct result of a plaintive distress call, but I am optimisitic. I have stated a topic on the BTW Forums for Kevin's comic book, Serma 6; so, I hope a healthy exchange of ideas for both projects will soon be underway.

What's in a name? Quite a bit, to my way of thinking. Yes, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but John Kennedy would not have the inflated reputation he does if he had been born Horace Oglethrorpe. (Truth be told, though, I like the name Horace, at least for a character. Or maybe the Egyptian Horus....) By the same token, I am more likely to watch a show with a respectable name like Stargate SG-1 than it's internal parody Wormhole X-treme!; so, the space pirates idea needs a good name. To this point, the only suggestions are:

Space Pirates - Kevin

Deep Space Piracy For Fun and Profit - Your Humble Narrator

To my way of thinking, I'm not certain that either is acceptable. Space Pirates is far too anonymous, it could be referring to any number of shows. And Deep Space Piracy... is, well, both long and weird. The length is a bigger problem than being weird. Weird is good. Example: Cowboy Bebop. True, bounty hunters - Bebop's protagonists - are called "cowboys" in their world and music, though not necessarily bebop, is a huge part of the show, but still that combination of words, Cowboy Bebop, is weird. Because it is, though, it makes an impression, even before you realize just how damned good the show it.

Brainfart, this is just me writing down ideas as they come to me:
Pirates of the Stars
Piracy For Amateurs
All I Ask is a Tall Ship and a Star to Steer Her By
I'm a Pirate!
Pirates of the Scarlet Narwhal
The Dread Pirate Jason?
The Stars Are For the Taking
The Voyages of the Scarlet Narwhal
Scarlet Narwhal

And now, we bring to a close our triumvirate of triumphs trumpetting the birthdays of a trio of tantalizing temptresses, Her Noir-Hearted Majesty Queen Skeeter, Mrs. Ham 'n' Eggs Blinky, and the oft overrated Never Girl: Happy Birthday!

***Seriously, when I posted the above, I thought it was Monday. The birthday is the fifteenth, not the sixteenth; I thought I was posting on the fifteenth. I'm so sorry.***

I'm taking a break from preparing my KSAOs (Knowledge, Skills, Abilities, and Other characteristics) statement for the National Archives. Under pressure from my mom, who is ignoring my lack of qualifications, I am applying for a job at the Gerald R. Ford Library in Ann Arbor. Mom, exactly what experience do I have preserving historical documents? But, as I live under her roof (and subtle iron boot), her wish is my command. Note the difference between "her wish is my command," which signifies obedience, and "as you wish," which signifies fealty.

Of course, my mom is quite right, I really do need a job. Sigh. My post-graduate year in Ann Arbor may have been financially irresponsible, but by Jove it was fun.

My sister is in Spain today, having finished up almost two weeks of holiday in Germany. When she returns to D.C. - in two more weeks - she'll start a job where she will earn over 400% more than she did last year. Meanwhile, I live with my parents.

Suicide looks better every day.

Everybody knows the Real Can of Yams smash radio hit "Lobster of Truth (Wanted Me For Him)," but you may not know the whole family of Aquatic This of Thats:

Lobster of Truth (inspired when David and Kevin say a wacked out episode of Farscape)
Salmon of Doubt (courtesy of the late great Douglas Adams)
Trout of Blame
Oyster of Deception
Jellyfish of Insecurity
Brine Shrimp of Good Intentions
Starfish of Self-Loathing
Sea Otter of Crippling Emotional Problems

Also, don't forget to check out my excellent proof THE BIG O is the Japanese BATMAN, available for your reading pleasure below.

THE BIG O is the Japanese BATMAN
The Big O, an anime produced by the fine folks at Sunrise and Bandai (the geniuses behind all things Gundam), stars Roger Smith, who is the Japanese equivalent of Batman. How can this be, you ask? Roger Smith "teams up" (his words) with the giant robot called the Big O. Bruce Wayne, the Batman, stalks the night in tights with his underwear on the outside. The Big O has laser beam eyes, hidden missiles, a compressed air megapunch, and is the giant freaking robot! Batman has a utility belt, an attitude, a small army of loyal zealots, and is the world's greatest detective. Obviously there are going to be differences, both because Bruce Wayne was created in 1939 and Roger Smith in 1999 and because there are vast cultural differences between America and Japan. But sit back, read on, and I will explain all...

Roger Smith = Bruce Wayne Bruce Wayne lives in an enormous mansion - stately Wayne Manor - joined only by his balding, loyal manservent Alfred and a succession of young sidekicks/apprentices; Roger Smith lives in an approximately twenty story former bank building joined only by his balding, loyal manservent Norman and his young sidekick/apprentice, Dororthy. Bruce Wayne, fueled by the trauma of his parents' brutal murder, fights a one-man war on crime and injustice; Roger Smith quit the inadequate Military Police when it became obvious they were tools of the Paradigm Corporation and now wages a one-man war on evil and injustice with the Big O. Batman does not use guns nor allow anyone around him to use them; Roger Smith refuses to carry a gun, despite a life of constant peril and Angel's frequent incredulity. Bruce Wayne usually wears black; as a rule of Roger Smith's house, which even the master observes, everyone wears black. The Batmobile is a powerful, black car equipped with armor and all manner of sophisticated devices; Roger Smith drives a powerful, black sedan equipped with armor, missiles, machine guns, and a sophisticated communications system. Batman carries grappling hooks and other tools in his utility belt; Roger Smith summons the Big O through his watch, which also contains a small grappling device and a laser cutting torch. Very few people know that Bruce Wayne is the Batman; very few people know that Roger Smith pilots the Big O.

R. Dorothy Wayneright = Robin Both Dick Grayson and Jason Todd, the first two Robins, were orphans, taken in by Bruce Wayne and given a purpose in life by the Batman; Dorothy is an orphan, both of her fathers - the man who built her and the man for whom she was built - having died in the first two episodes, and she has been taken in by Roger Smith, to whom she has recently expressed a desire to be, like him, a Negotiator. Robin (true of all three Robins) is a trained martial artist and detective, as much an asset to Batman as a sidekick; Dorothy, being an android, possess great strength, speed, and stamina, as well as a keen eye for observation and sharp wit, and is often a great help to Roger Smith.

Norman Burg = Alfred Pennyworth Both men are British, balding, and expert in the use of weapons and the maintenance of sophisticated machinery. Both men serve a solitary, bachelor master set upon waging a one-man campaign for justice, until a little light is brought into both masters' lives by a teenaged orphan. The only difference is that Norman has an eyepatch.

Colonel Dan Dastun = Commissioner Jim Gordon Jim Gordon's best friend is the Batman, even though he does not know it is billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne beneath the cowl; Dan Dastun shares his frustrations and suspicions with his friend Roger Smith, even though he was hurt when the latter resigned from his beloved Military Police. Gordon goes outside the official channels of the GCPD to bring Batman in an difficult investigations; Dastun consults Roger when he thinks might arise a situation beyond the powers of the Military Police, necessitating the intervention of the Big O. Gordon believes in the law, but knows that justice is more important; Dastun believes in the Military Police, but knows that protecting the citizens of Paradigm City is paramount. Both Gordon and Dastun utilize their extralegal allies when needed, but resent the fact that they are needed in the first place.

Big Ear = Oracle {This is my least favorite, but it still works.} Brabara Gordon, the first Batgirl, was paralyzed by The Joker. Determined to keep fighting the good fight, she became Oracle, the world's greatest hacker and finder of information. When Batman needs records accessed or obscure clues looked up, he turns to the seemingly omnipotent Oracle; when Roger Smith needs information, he journeys to the bar called the Speakeasy and consults the man in the back called Big Ear. We don't know where Big Ear gets his knowledge, but for a roll of twenties he'll answer your questions and point you in the right direction.

Angel = Catwoman Catwoman isn't a good girl, but neither is she a serious threat like The Joker or Two-Face; Angel isn't on Roger Smith's side, but neither is she working against him. Catwoman is a thief, but most often she steals from mobsters and rich fatcats, never from the disadvantaged; Angel works for the evil Paradigm Corporation, but she also seems to be trying to take it down from the inside. Catwoman is the only woman to whom Batman seems attracted; though Roger Smith is a connoisseur of beautiful women, no other fascinates him as does the woman who calls herself Angel.

Beck = The Penguin The Penguin is a mobster, a criminal and a murderer, but not a deranged mass murderer like the Scarecrow; Beck is an extortionist and kidnapper, but not a sociopath like Alan Gabriel. The Penguin runs his criminal empire out of a legitimate nightculb, he's a run-of-the-mill gangster with a weird nickname; even when Beck had access to the Megadeus Dorothy II, he didn't try to level the city, but rather tried to steal the printing plates from the city mint.

Schwarzwald = Two-Face Before he became Two-Face, Harvey Dent was Gotham City's District Attorney and an ally of both Jim Gordon and the Batman; before he became Schwarzwald, Michael Seebach was a reporter working to recover Paradigm City's lost memories, making him a tangental ally of Roger Smith. Depending on the flip of a coin, Two-Face acts as either a villain or a twisted version of Harvey Dent; though twisted and malevolent, Schwarzwald's goal remains the defiance of the Paradigm Corporation's wishes: the reawakening of lost memories.

Alex Rosewater = Ra's al-Ghul Ra's al-Ghul is centuries old. He controls a vast, shadowy empire dedicated to culling the human population and restoring nature; Alex Rosewater, as the head of the Paradigm Corporation, controls Paradigm City - the entire known universe - though he seems intent on reviving enough memories to destroy everyone outside the domes. Ra's al-Ghul possesses almost unique knowledge of the Lazarus Pits, the means by which he sustains his immortality; Alex Rosewater seems to possess almost unique knowledge from before Paradigm's mass amnesia of forty years ago.

Alan Gabriel = The Joker The Joker doesn't want money, power, or revenge, he just likes killing people; Alan Gabriel, who is a new character in the second season, seems to do very little other than menace Roger Smith at Rosewater's behest and execute androids. The Joker had pale skin and the world's creepiest smile; Alan Gabriel has pale skin and smiles just enough to make you uneasy.

Giant Robots and Androids
Of course, there are differences. Gotham City is the quintessential picture of American urban decay; after a cataclysm forty years ago, all memory and record of the past was erased from Paradigm City, which seems to be all that's left of the entire world. Bruce Wayne travelled the world honing his body and mind to the limits of human potential; Roger Smith teams up with a giant, heavily armed, possibly sentient robot - a Megadeus - known as the Big O. Batman's apprentices possess no super powers, but instead rely on their superb training; the unflappable R. Dorothy is a sarcastic, piano-playing android. The Batman franchise has been going for sixty-four consecutive years; the original season of The Big O was thirteen half-hour episodes. Batman is a classic piece of Americana; The Big O is a slick, stylish Japanese anime. Still, it's undeniable that Roger Smith is the Japanese Batman.

Two years. Two wars. And in very real terms, nothing has changed. Arguably, the strength of America is reflected in the pettiness of our politics. A United States Senator says that he voted only to "threaten" violence against Iraq. The President of the United States pushes for massive tax cuts at a time when we require increased defense spending and a commitment (for the first time ever) to homeland security. Why? Because our greatest threat is a private organization armed with RPGs, car bombs, and box cutters. Al Qaeda is a threat to American lives and peace of mind, but al Qaeda is not a threat to America. We forged this nation across the length and bredth a continent, and as a nation we withstood the mortal threats of the Confederacy, the Nazis, and Communism. We shall withstand this trial, fear not.

I must confess to a certain frustration with the so-called 9/11 families. I sympathize with your loss, but just because someone you loved died in a terrorist attack does not make you a policy expert. It does not make your opinion on what to do any more valid than that of anyone else. You are not special and exceptional. I am not asking you to get over your loss, I just want you to get over yourself.

God bless America.

Hey, I hope this works. By and by, I think it was the light pink hair answer that produced this result. What can I say, I've had pink hair before and it looked damn good on me.


You are Guu! You are a very strange young
girl that can eat anything, and you grant
wishes and dance the disco. You are confusing
yet wise and very powerful, but do control your
chest hair afro fetish, and try not make your
friends spaz out.


Which Jungle wa Itsumo Hale nochi Guu character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

The only thing better than Jungle wa Itsumo Hale nochi Guu is Jungle wa Itsumo Hale nochi Guu Deluxe. All together now, DELUXE!

Continuing with the triumvurate of birthdays for lovely lasses, all of them turning twenty-four: Happy Birthday! Somewhere, I hope someone is playing "1979." Birthwise, it was a hell of a year.

The new season of Enterprise premieres tonight and I am very excited. Both DS9 and The Next Generation made quantum leaps in quality during their third seasons; here's hoping that pattern continues on Enterprise. You know, one of these days I really should finish Odyssey. In more Star Trek news, Zach Nie! has returned my first season DVDs and is now plowing through DS9's second season, courtesy of the Mountain. This is excellent news.

Can someone please explain to me the big NPR hard-on for Pinochet? The man was an undeniably brutal dictator, but they speak of him as if he were the greatest villain of the 20th century. Hitler? A bad seed. Stalin? He had issues. Pol Pot? Not a nice fellow. But Augusto Pinochet? This was the worst human being who ever lived! How is it that Pinochet is a bad guy and yet Che Guaverra is treated as the gentle champion of the people? Oh, wait, because Guaverra was a communist and violence carried out in the name of left-wing ideals is somehow inexplicably palatable to the otherwise dovish folks on the left.

And now we begin a triumvirate of birthdays, those of three lovely ladies, all between today and the 15th: (in the order that I met them, not the order of their birthdays) Mrs. Blinky (circa 1985), Skeeter (1993 or 1994), and Never Girl (2001). Happy Birthday!

Trivia Night at Conor O'Neill's last night, the team of the Not-So-Bald Mountain, Guy Zach Nie, blast from the past Chris Motel (Zach's amigo), and yours truly. Wonderment of wonderments, we finished in 2nd place, the only time we've ever placed, thus winning $20! We hit up the Fleetwood and on the way to the Back Room, to sate Chris's jones for pizza, he found another $20. Holy Toledo, Batman, talk about improbability! A good time was had by all, even David, who suffered through his first and very likely last Guinness.

I reading Chuck Palahniuk - Lullaby - which means I really wish I had a hippie handy. Admitedly, solely for the purposes of smashing his face in with a brick, but still there's just never a hippie around when you need one.

K. Steeze and the Professor will soon be gone. Things around here are about to become incredibly depressing, especially since both the Mountain (Ann Arbor) and the Guy (East Lansing) are a) busy with school and b) at least an hour away.

I'm starting to hate the cat. Look, asshole, I'm trying to pet you, but I fucking won't if you walk away, sit down, and then come back two minutes later expecting me to pet you. I loved the old Sam, the surly, rat bastard of a cat who didn't have any use for us except feeding him and letting him out on demand. I loved that self-centered, cruel son of a bitch. To me, cats are supposed to be mean. That's their charm.

{Deep Space Piracy For Fun and Profit}
I keep working on the space pirate project, unsure how to proceed. Do I continue to consult with Steeze and the Professor (and possibly Zach Nie!), making all decisions by consensus? Or proceed on my own, in whatever direction strikes my fancy? Or perhaps two very similar, parallel projects, one developed with the group, the other on my own. It is critical to agonize over the details of a television show that will never get made. Critical.

{Anyway, here's an extremely preliminary cast}
Our Hero - a college kid who wins a pirate starship in a card game and realizes his lifelong dreams of instersteller raiding and pillaging; Jason or Sean, maybe...
His Best Friend - his best friend, along for the ride, probably a fat kid named Toby...
Their Other Friend - not as close a friend, but up for the adventure, he desperately wants to steal Our Hero's girlfriend, who has been left behind and all but forgotten...
Girlfriend Back Home - still in love with Our Hero, even after he becomes a pirate; Tawny, perhaps...?
Toll Booth Girl - the "victim" of the crew's first raid, who enthusiastically joins up; she's only 16, but disturbingly hot; Alex, Parker...
Old Engineer - the only remaining member of the old crew, "Old Nick" doesn't have enough money to retire with his comrades; once the master of the Scarlet Narwhal, now he's the drunkard of an engineer; the Professor describes him as essentially a seventy year-old Nick Neu...
Snobby Alien - his (his? do they have genders?) race is a bunch of uppity jerks and while he's more tolerable than most, he's quite crabby about being stuck on the ship; Lorix? maybe they're all named Lorix? naw...
Robot - what's the point of making sci-fi if you don't have a robot running around? Pewter, who really keeps the ship running...
Pilot - do you know how to fly a starship? Because I certainly don't. Aditi, a devil may care Texan beauty, maybe ex-IASA (which is the united Earth space force?)...
Indie Pirate - the shaddiest member of the crew, he's the only one who knows what's going on in the pirate world; perhaps a 1/4 Sirlakin, beneath his gruff exterior be he friend of foe...

Once one thinks about it, the chances of the crew of the Scarlet Narwhal doing any actual pillaging are pretty slim. These are, well, at least Our Hero and his two friends are, ordinary kids who stumble into something extraordinary. They aren't theives, much less bloodthirsty killers. Yet, here they are on an armed pirate ship, wanted by the law - for allegedly kidnapping Toll Booth Girl - what are they to do? I think they'd start playing Robin Hood, raiding pirates and protecting the innocent, in their own incompetent way. Plus, searching for the nigh-mythical pirate ship the Star of Canberra.

I'm bleeding from three different spots and I have grease and dirt in two of my wounds, but at least the Mousemobile has new brake pads and rear shocks.

As far as the space pirates are concerned, so far these are the three leading candidates for the name of the ship: the Scarlet Narwhal, the Bloody Narwhal, and the Jakarta Narwhal. Other names considered include the (insert modifier here) Shark or the Soyokaze. The latter is a reference to the hilarious anime The Irresponsible Captain Tylor, which takes place in space, but features no pirates.

Which spelling is preferrable for an alien race: Sirlakin or Sirlaken? As in the Sirlakin/Sirlaken Plague. I think Sirlakin. Yeah, definitely.

Ooo, Sirlakin or Sirlokin?

I want to have space pirates on the brain. The Professor, Steeze, and I came up with an embryonic idea for a TV show about space pirates. We haven't yet decided what kind of show it will be, and by "kind" I mean in what medium we'll produce the show: live action, cartoon, or anime. Personally, I think faux anime would be the best, along the lines of Teen Titans. We aren't Japanese, we don't speak any Japanese, and we are on the opposite side of the world from Nihon, all of which might be genuine obstacles to making an anime show, but I'd like it to be less episodic than American animation.

So far we have sketchy details of five characters: our protagonist, a naive, wannabe pirate; his loyal best friend; less close friend with designs on our hero's girlfriend back home; a girl they kidnap from a toll booth; a snooty, hyperintelligent alien; and the old drunkard of an engineer. The characters don't have names, backgrounds, anything. Still, there is great potential. I did have an idea for the ship, though, let's call her the Nick Neu.

The Anniversary
Mom and Dad have been married for thirty-two years today. Wow.

Who would have thought that of both my parents, my mom would be the far more annoying of the two. I've been here two weeks and she's driving me batty. You know the old song, "I want a girl just like the girl who married dear old dad"? Yeah, I'll shoot myself in the fucking head before I marry a girl remotely like my mother. She lives her life exactly how I do not want to live mine. I live at home, I'm allowed to whine about boring shite like my parents.

And now a drooling kitty is obstructing the keyboard.

Okay, I guess at seventeen there is no way Sammy comes close to qualifying as a kitty, but "a drooling kitty" sounds better than "a drooling cat." And sweet merciful crap, his drool isn't watery, it's this godawful syrupy horror. Ewwwwww.

"The Hour In 30 Seconds" words by M. Wilson
"Drink drink drink
As fast as you can!
Drink drink drink
Be you woman or man!
Sure you'll puke
That's part of the plan,
Drink drink drink
The Hour's at hand!

Drink drink drink
As fast as you can!
Drink drink drink
There'll be 'Puking, man!'
Hawai'ian Punch:
The sacred brand,
The Hour That
Nobody Wanted, man!"

If you haven't experienced The Hour That Nobody Wanted, man, you haven't lived. Nothing makes you appreciate what's really important in life like watching your brother drink four Liters of Hawai'ian Punch in ten minutes or watching little Liz Ele fight her way through the power squat.

Grand Funk Forever
Happy birthday (Wednesday, in my mind it's still Wednesdya night) to Grand Funk Railroad's Don Brewer, known to me primarily via Homer Simpson. "You kids don't know Grand Funk? The wild, shirtless lyrics of Mark Farner? The bone-rattling bass of Mel Shocker? The competent drum work of Don Brewer?"

The Steeze and I finished "Hyperintelligence," last night. Words by M. Wilson, music by K. Stermer. I'm also helping him with words to a song for which he has already written the music, "Instantation Teleportation." Brand new Real Can of Yams, coming soon to a Virgin Megastore near you.

Also, two-man Risk, even when you are victorious in three of three games, is highly unsatisfying. Of course, I bet losing three of three highly unsatisfying games is even worse.

Watch the brand-new custom-made second season of The Big O on Cartoon Network. It's not what you think, you gutter-brained cretins, it's better.

I watched a lot on TV in Ann Arbor, I watch a lot of TV in Grand Blanc. I love watching TV.

From an unfinished song about Never Girl...
"The part that makes me question why,
The part that makes me want to cry,
I'm standing shaking my fist at the sky!
Because the worst part is I still like her,
The worst part is I still want her,
The worst part is I let her under my skin...
The worst part is that I let her win."

Yeah, I've got nothing. It's raining and the only tasks I have been assigned are outdoors; so, I can't do them, but I can still tell my dad's a little resentful.

I think I want my kids to call me Pop. I've always called my dad Dad; so, that would be fine, too. Father and Pa are entirely unacceptable. Da would be fine, but a little poserish (unless their mom is British, which would be awesome). By the way, I would love for their mom to be British, because then they could call her Mum and have slight accents. Plus, a beautiful British girl is beautiful in a way no other kind of girl can match. Examples: Rachel Weiss, Keira Knightley, Naomi Watts.

From Pop to Naomi Watts in one paragraph. I love blogging.

The single best indictment of blogging every written? By Ed Brubaker, of course.

There's this Aussie twit who has titled his blog "Wilson's Almanac." Notice how this site is so forgettable I shall not even bother hyperlinking to it. Trust me, were a true Wilson to have an almanac, it would rule.

On that note, it's almost too bad my last name is Wilson, because I think it makes a pretty sweet first name.

Saturday night, it was Guy Zach Nie!, Sarah, Steeze, and me at the world famous BJ's, home of "Dancing Sandwiches." We played euchre (because we are Michiganders) and then returned to my house for Risk into the wee hours. I defeated Steeze, somehow the best Risk player I know, to win the game. I had neither the Black Raj nor my beloved African continental bonus, but I pursued a combination Australian Gambit/Asian Simmer to victory. There were several nasty knife fights in Caracas and Zach died chasing the elusive North American Dream.

Via Mr. Bell's fantabulous invention, I spoke with the Mountain twice and also Sardine.

I have determined that my mother has no sense of humor: 1) she finds both The Flintstones and Happy Days funny, 2) she dislikes Jackie Gleason... Mom, your beloved Fred fucking Flintstone was a cheap rehashing of Gleason's Ralph Cramden, and 3) she doesn't like Futurama, not at all, not even a little bit. If you can't laugh at "the lost city of Atlanta," man, why even get out of bed in the morning?

"You were a loser in the year 2000 and you're a loser in the year 4000."
"Yeah, but in the year 3000 I had it all: several friends, a low-paying job, a bed in a robot's closet. I envied no man."

Also today, I operated a chainsaw for the first time! I'm a big boy now.

Two three four? That's awesome!