XM radio “Sweet Caroline” by a young new artist named Neil Diamond. You’ll be hearing more about this new talent . . . no, wait, it’s the 60’s station on XM Radio. Any-woo . . . I’m in my office, my Fortress of Solitude. Reason: Savannah’s 10.5 birthday party/sleepover is in full effect. Eleven 10/11 year old girls are in my house, and I’m hiding out in the office with the door closed, typing words and playing video games and listening to (now) James Brown, “Mother Popcorn!” Listen to me white people: Get yourself some James Brown in your collection and get your groove on. It’s okay, it won’t hurt. I promise. James Brown kicks ass.
Earlier today, we split the kids into two groups for a Scavenger Hunt. I had to escort one group around the neighborhood, Deb escorted the other group. Deb’s group won, but on a misunderstanding on the rules. I thought she said we could only get ONE item per house, Deb’s group got as many of the 18 items they could from each house. Needless to say, they won. After the mistunderstanding, it was declared a tie and both groups jumped in the pool for a victory lap and had a great time.
(Kenny Rodgers, “Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town”)
After that, I fled to the Hideout Brewery.
The Hideout is the greatest bar in the world (within three miles of my house) and they have great beer that travels less than ten yards from the spot it was brewed. I talked with another patron, Jeff, about old cars, car audio, and we watched Texas Hold-em’ on the TV. I smoked a cigar and had a few beers and relaxed after a relatively slow week.
Check out my new Ted Stevens Explains the Internets page. It kicks ass, and shows you that some of our congressmen are really, really f!cked up. Jesus H. Christ, somebody put this old man in a headlock and take him to the old-folks home already.
(Blood, Sweat & Tears: “Spinning Wheel”)
Any-whoo: I got an appointment tomorrow to fix somebody’s Outlook Express. Yah-hoo.
Luckily, I’m writing again, with a vengeance. My prose are all powerful. My rewrites are astronomical. I am the Lyrical Jesse James. . . . not.
The story I’m writing is pretty good. It’s about demons who tailgate in Dodge Ram pickups, and the guy who “exercises” them out of existence. Uh, that’s a terrible description. Got to read it. When I sell it, I’ll tell you what magazine you need to buy.
Peace in the Middle East Motherf*ckers! Got to go, the fake-ass Wolfman Jack show is on.
About Me
- dan
- I am the author of 5 books: Android Down, Firewood for Cannibals, The Cubicles of Madness, Robot Stories, and most recently, Various Meats and Cheeses. I live and write in Michigan. My website is at danmanning.com
2 comments:
It's a series of tubes!! what dont you people understand!!
-Bri
.
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. Whoami
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."
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