The Spell Is Everything

Some Harmony

It had been 12 days since
The last time we had heard
Or seen anyone,
When the Upchurches turned on me.

It isn’t boring.
The Sky opens for me sometimes,
The light plays with the shadow,
Making contrast,
Beautiful contrast,
Thus is created shape,
Distinction,
Perspective, Place
Distance,
Presence and lack.

But sometimes, the paper,
Blank,
Sits too long,
Taking on the curve
Of the manual typewriter’s Reel,
The feel not so straight,
So it gets caught
(stuck)
upon return.

The time before,
The moments past,
They pass.

They pass like the changing, fading
Colors of the sun setting.

Sun, dear sun,
Set,
Please settle with
Your quest to the west.

Go to where this turning
Leads you,
Leaving our side of the globe,
As we leave you,
In turn.

Think twice about thinking once.

Once upon a time,
Of the nights of Guinevere,
The Green Lady,
The nocturnal mornings in your heart.

I dream there too.
Alas,
Harpoons for the Whale.

It’s so nice,
It being still light.

For a second,
I wasn’t thinking about work.

We’re born Falling.

You can’t enjoy something
You don’t Respect.

Eating cookies in your mind.

Splashing your Ink around.

So many Dreams pile up
In the corners.

How can I persist?

I want Love.
I want Peace.
But unfortunately,
I live on planet Earth,
Home of the Humans,
And I am human.

“Oh no, not again.” –Hersh

My Clothes are all stitched
On the right hand side.

I don’t have a problem with words,
Just my Pride.
My Pain has a habit of hurting others.

Welcome to the Read.

I plead for you,
For us, for me.
Cause I can’t seem to find
The time, the pace for Grace.

Let’s live,
Why don’t we?

Good night is only a prelude
To the Morning.

I want afternoon.
I want twilight.
Goodness knows,
I’m good enough for the Blues.

Can’t play instruments well enough,
Except for this typewritten Bluff.

God knows, I’m rough.
God knows, I’m here.
And I fear Him,
As I fear everything,
Inside and out.

And maybe that’s all
I’m born for,
Contrary to personal opinion,
The Polls are reading Low.

Let go,
And ready for the next Blank.

It doesn’t seem to matter,
What wedding or funeral I attend,
I’m not good enough,
Enough to be there.

So this is my own gathering,
Here for you Strangers,
Like lunches made at Home,
I take them with me.

And I can only hope for
Moments of Heroics.

To make Meaning,
To make Worth,
I seek me,
I seek me in you,
As I do Temperature’s effect
On the morning dew.

Damn the questions,
And more so the Answers.

What ever happened to
The simplicity of Violence
And Murder and Reverence and Heroics?

Yes, that physical measure of success.

“I’ve been right here for 37 hours.” –Hersh

I will seek the Stories
I can’t see myself.
I will make the Narrative I miss.
I will find the music for this Rhyme.

I may not see it next to you,
By your side,
Dear heart,
Dear family,
But I will Seek.

It appears so many of us
Are spinning uselessly,
Or maybe that’s just the Internet,
Maybe that’s just America.

It is at such times
That the Hurt comes down,
The Challenge,
The way of less Subsistence.

I Believe,
Never think anything else of me.

I’d rather be building
Kingdoms of the Free,
Lands in time for all of us,
Comfortably.

But I will see,
I promise,
As long as I can
Keep my eyes open.

And I know there’s only
So much time on this Cycle,
But gasp and grasp
I will.

I wish,
I love,
I dish, and
Wipe away.

Exactly

Exactly the game I seem to be stuck playing these days...

District Act

Things we do to distract ourselves,

Messing with the mind grammar,

Shuffling words into conversations.


The nature of the Elements,

Is interactive mutual mutation,

Or some cosmic sharing on whatever scale.


Why are guns and love elemental?


What deities await in the their temples?


‘What?’, like the Brits say.

Is it time to rock out and twist?


Does the whole World need

To get together and talk?

Don’t we already?


Humans evolved to

Over come environmental change,

Quickly.


The answer is not today.

It is still early yet.


Cigarettes are a novelty

That shouldn’t become a habit.

It’s not fun anymore.


Music.

Music is sanity.


A disordered time for her,

And so,

Necessarily for me.



New situations.

There’s no end to the adventures

We can have

If we seek them with our eyes open.


What’s your perspective of ‘extreme’?


Are we gonna break this egg?



You and I

Feel the flesh around our souls.

We know the difference.



Maybe we’ll stop burning off steam,

And start flowing water.


What age is this,

When the fear of pain

Has overcome the fear of death?

[HAWT!]

Record set for hottest temperature on Earth

Scientists have produced superheated gas exceeding temperatures of 2 billion degrees Kelvin, or 3.6 billion degrees Fahrenheit.

This is hotter than the interior of our sun, which is about 15 million degrees Kelvin, and also hotter than any previous temperature ever achieved on Earth, they say.

The feat was accomplished in the Z machine at Sandia National Laboratories.

They don't know how they did it.



The Z machine is the largest X-ray generator in the world. It’s designed to test materials under extreme temperatures and pressures. It works by releasing 20 million amps of electricity into a vertical array of very fine tungsten wires. The wires dissolve into a cloud of charged particles, a superheated gas called plasma.

One thing that puzzles scientists is that the high temperature was achieved after the plasma’s ions should have been losing energy and cooling. Also, when the high temperature was achieved, the Z machine was releasing more energy than was originally put in, something that usually occurs only in nuclear reactions.



-thanks msnbc and Fortean Times

24 Double Header

Tonight, Fox features back to back episodes of 24

It's time to rock... Are you ready?

Do you have beer? Smokes? Ammo?

Do you have your 24 Drinking Game ready?


Have you stashed your special doughnuts with Edgar?
The Shire will burn if you don't.
-right on Mr. Bob



Will you be able to spot the difference between FAKE Jack
(shown above...notice the keyboard behind him?)

and REAL Jack?


One is a deadly patriot with a plastic gun,

the other is a posable plastic doll (kinda like Chiggy Killer).

Maybe CTU could use the doll as a diversionary tactic?
Like throw the doll against the windshield of an attacking terrorist's SUV,
or drop it from the CTU pursuit chopper.... and before they know it's a fake and miniture, the real Jack will have his gun against their temples.


Are you ready???


What do you hear?
Nothin' but the rain.
Grab your gun and bring in the cat.

Forget the wife, forget the kids,
It's time for Jack to bust some caps and lids.


Are you ready???


Will Jack's daughter, Kim return?

Here's a little test to sharpen your Kim awareness senses...

Again, one FAKE Kim, one REAL Kim:




Keep your eyes wide open,
watch for bad guys,

And Kim...



(You'll know if she's the real one by measuring the amount of drool
on your chin for an authentic Pavlovian response.)



Though, she may be wearing something a little different in the show...
we can always hope not!

Heinlein Quiz

ahg! Another silly quiz...

But, indeed one of my favorite books of all time.


You belong in The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. You

value freedom above all else. You would

fight and die for your family and your home.


Which Heinlein Book Should You Have Been A Character In?
brought to you by Quizilla

See The Butterfly

Count your blessings
By the accidents
You walk away from.

“You’re gonna miss my loving
One of these old days.”

Robert Cray

Help me Lord,
For I have sinned.
And I don’t know where
I lost the power
To begin again.

“Early one morning,
When I got out of bed…”

“All because of these things…”

“And the forecast calls for pain.”

Being conscious sucks,
You’re aware of how much you hurt.

I look for your eyes
I look in your eyes and see mine.

All you need is love.

And I’m happy,
If I see you.

I don’t want the other side of town.

Truth lives,
Negotiating near me.

Are we just floating chunks
of the Internet,
Lumps of creative force in a
New Primordial Soup.

Efficiency is the easiest power.

In the distance,
A Venus Pillar.



So cold it is these mornings,
The icicles don’t melt
With the Sun full upon them.

We’re temperate beings,
Sensitive to the speed
At which the world vibrates.

Make fun of what you’re doing.

If our dreams fall short of our insight,

If the footlights catch the stage afire,

If the Television trivialized sight and sound,

Did the computer, and
Automated word processing,
Trivialize the work of document creation,
That difficult discipline of
Our expression surviving ourselves.

Of course,
Difficulty keeps pace with innovation.

And so perhaps the Soul
Can only keep pace with
The lively trials it must experience.

There’s nothing wrong with
Accelerating your choices and actions.
Life will accelerate alongside you on its own.

Fearing change may be
The most detrimental sin,
Not in the biblical sense,
Merely the practical.

Stasis is stolen water.

So dear ones,
Continue your Hunt
For the rattling legends of happiness.

Repeat after me,

I see the butterfly.

Conviction

Conviction: the act of convincing a person
of error or of compelling
the admission of a truth.

I can appreciate the conviction.
That’s what trials are for.

The soul.
Some little ‘s’ in the mouth of Soulzilla.
Algorithms for how water mixes on a convex surface,
But slides off anyway.

Epiphanies of how I exist,
How I love you.
My life,
In the most quiet moments,
Attends you, my love.

Dreams find their meaning as we wake,
Brewing, distilling, enlivening us.

It is about love.
It is about hate.
It is not about any of us.
It is us.

So personal,
So abstract.
Unconscious.
Sublime.

The truth is we lie.
We live to believe some self made dream,
Because it makes us feel,

And feeling is survival,
As much as intelligence,
As much as the mammalian instinct,
The rapid reactions of the brain stem,
The endocrine influence on the mind.

What was the time before mind?
Weird.
Undefined tension.
Some story about opening old safes in a submarine.

transition,
inner-time
(Hearing heartbeats in the ear
to
Monitoring the atomic clock’s Cesium beam)
outer-time,
Transition

Have we forgotten the barbarians?
Have we forgotten the Lucifer Principal?
Forgot that there are those who wait,
To use the depraved means we have forsworn?

Space.
Space in size,
Space in tone,
Space when you know,
Alone.

A shot of Meyer’s isn’t a commodity.

Speak space to China, India, Russ…asia.
America must?
What can any empire do?

Economic volunteerism.
Volunteer a single a hour a day
To the cause of one’s choice.
Donate time to research of clean energy.
An .org. to assemble the Online-Volk.

One hour a day.
One hour of democracy.
American competitive altruistic initiative.
ACAI, the Elective Contribution.

Sometimes it pays to read the instructions.
That’s why wars and love kill me.
There’s no fun in war anymore.

When you get a real lesson for little cost,
That’s a lucky day.

To swim,
You have to get wet.
To rush,
You have to go down the mountain.

Perhaps the past is the only half of life we understand.

After April

After April

You may happen upon this stance,
Taking care first of small realities,
Forgetting again, the cold heart of the world.

You may look to the West,
That easy winter,
That blue-grey sky.

Sometimes we’re not humorous when joking.
Sometimes we’re just brushing our teeth.

Some say, it only rains so long before turning into a desert.

The times may not be linear,
But a compounding progression,
Deepening the effects of expression.

We still wait for another Easter,
After this vision,
After this scene,
After this sleep,
After this cruelty,
After these showers for the flowers.

Into the night, the sky
The dirt, the mountains,
The shadows of the Darkness before dawn,
We throw Relief, this whisper between us,
Knowing ourselves.

We from the trees,
Moved to the savannah,
Walked and aimed with an arm,
Found the Me,
Then the you and me of us.
The Mees with Eyes made something from a tree,
A broom, a loom,
Plantations and the City.

Like reactive action,
Steady stop buzzes the Bee,
Touching flowers for the time Being.

We found fire puzzles,
The strong and weak forces, and
Eggs to be broken open by the sly fox’s grin.

We began by growing,
From subatomic parts outward,
From some old center of gravity,
Tangled by our power to pull, and our successes.

We are a species of guilty blood.

After April,
Of this year our Lord,
What will we see.

Might we feel our way finally to freedom?
What should we know to know this?

Just dumb questions we don’t hear each other asking.
Dumb like tape over the mouth.
Dumb as paint,
Some coughing soliloquy,
Dumb as color illustrations.
Dumb as blindness to the Sun inside you.

What glorious rainbows Spring up there?
Is Light truly half of Dark?
The most sacred days are spread evenly between
Each Solstice, each Equinox.

Life like Light
Proceeds in two temporal directions,
Back and Fro,
Photons carrying the energy and
Information of Time,
Reflecting until finally absorbed,
By you and me, and everything.

Maybe what we see, happens to be.

Maybe after April,
We will believe.

Time Enough for Love

Damn necessities of dramatic presentation!
Why's Jack gotta be so real!?


"Someone call CTU, Jack Bauer went an hour without killing someone.

I blame Audrey (S4GF) and her messed-up face. She forced Jack to waste time in order to analyze his feelings for her and her nose. Jack Bauer's on his way to blow the cover of a conspiracy at the highest level of government that involves the murder of the Former President/All-State Spokesman, not to mention enough missing nerve gas to kill a Kennedy...and S4GF thinks it's a good time to have a relationship chat. Women - can't live with 'em...can't have Curtis torture 'em."

This and more awesome commentary @ Blogs4Bauer.

-----------------------------------------------

ps, "Time Enough for Love".... is one awesome book by Robert Heinlein.

-----------------------------------------------

Ok... let me use the word one more time.... AWESOME!

Bringing Back Stardust

Here's an awesome one for all you spaceheads!


Download the movie.
It's about six megs, but worth it!

"The glowing "head" of this man-made meteor reached temperatures exceeding 4000 degrees F. Inside the capsule, delicate samples of dust collected from distant Comet Wild 2 were safe, protected from the blistering heat by the capsule's external heat shield. These samples are now being studied by scientists at the Johnson Space Center who believe they may reveal secrets of comets and the origin of the solar system. "

Thanks Spaceweather.com!

Follow The Leader

I bet I'm the only one posting this to my blog today. ; >)

More Jack 'N Roll

Jack Bauer got Hellen Keller to talk.

If Jack says “I just want to talk to him/her” and that him/her is you… well amigo, you’re fucked.

Jack Bauer’s family threw him a surprise birthday party when he was a child. Once.

Jack Bauer could get off the LOST island in 24 hours.


Thanks!, justoneminute

Ritual Exploration

(click clack click)


Ritual Exploration,

Noon on Earth
Noon for us,
Noon for Mankind,
And this test of kindness.

Will we be in love?
Will we survive,
This striving morning sun?

Children, we have come from the wilderness.
Will we return to pre-dawn, to licking blood from the skin?
Will it call our name as it called the wolves back to the sea?

Will the afternoon be met with evening?
Drawn back to the twilight of species,
To wait in the waves that divide the ocean from its shore.

May we know when the time is right,
Finally to know each other as ourselves.

May we embrace our sameness,
When comes that day we see the others,
Those new ones, those extra-EBEs,
Those not We.

I've seen them in the sky.
I've seen them digging below our feet.
Crawling quietly, invisible in their hives.

The clouds bring us rain but hide the lies.
The sun is occluded, the truth behind Us painted black.

The song just never remains the same.

It’s so Rock and Roll.

If future is truth,
It is yet innocent in our minds,
The past but a lie, misremembered, mistook, revised.

We smile and cough,
We say we know what's going on,
But we forget,
What lives is ahead,
What's dead, gone.

We know circles,
We know fire,
We know how to build higher and higher.

We've looked around,
Balanced and found,
Relationships with the universe take sacrifice,
Some more than others.

Some chanting words will lead us out.
Some rounds of self same communal feelings
Will teach the children to dream star filled dreams.

Cadets from early on,
May We celebrate Space Holidays
Like "Up-Ships-Go! Day."
Thrilling with rising fire seen from latitude 33.

May We find more than ourselves.

Publicize it.

Begin your book.

Sitting on lunch rock,
You might see a mushroom cloud
Rising over the eastern mountains,
"Gotta take a couple more runs."

I need to get my edges ground.
As the world turns more weird,
I shall get more wayward.
And call the suit of the day,
Fighting for survival,
Doing gigs in The Genes and Memes Inn,
In concert.

Seeking the Inn of immortality,
We Must Fight To Believe.
It doesn't matter if it's
For war or for peace.

Fight to see.
Not the Truth, but the Vision.
The continuum We build, this dream of memes in bluejeans.

Act. Action. Activation.
Make what you see.

We see sometimes I am a monster.
Sometimes fires blind the eyes in me.
When the heart feels like pushing lead,
Not serenity.
But it wants to live,
When it wants to win.

Humans... what explosive suddenness.
Subtle, passionate, then dead.
We bloom.

Ten Old Bits of Wisdom, One New Button Under The Links

Important Safety Tips From The Premiere of 24
-thank you, Blogs4Bauer!

1. Do Not Assassinate Friends of Jack Bauer.

2. Do Not Threaten to Kill Friends of Jack Bauer.

3. Do Not Taunt Jack Bauer.

4. Do Not Chase Guys Who Look Like Terrorists Into Airports Behind Jack Bauer.

5. If You Are a Friend of Jack Bauer, Consider the Remote Starter Option Now Available on Most Autmobiles.

6. If You Encounter Jack Bauer and Lots of Smoke in an Open Area, Leave Immediately.

7. Do Not Stand Between Jack Bauer and a Crime Scene.

8. Do Not Stand Between Jack Bauer and the Exit Route From a Crime Scene.

9. Do Not Sit Too Close to Jack Bauer's TV, Especially if Jack's team just received a bad call and Jack reaches under the cushions.

10. It is usually a good idea to get Jack to promise not to let anything happen to you... unless your name is Behrooz.

GO BRONCOS!

BEAT THE STEELERS IN THE AFC CHAMPIONSHIP!

ReChanted

ok, fictional fans:
I'm back from under Colorado.
Here's another shattered collection from the type-clack writer-click,
(click clack clack clack click click) -thank you ltl<>mike.



Hibernation's over.
I just found a four-leaf clover.
Burns like Phosphorous in my sweaty hand.

Can you wrap around the thought,
Of this solar system,
This seven billion,
This ball of hearts,
This E -crowded- motion?

It's not the money.
There's not a lot of activity,
No liquidity.
He knew I was pissed off.

We're in the bermuda triangle, between the river and the city.
Vertices designated/distanced by love, time, light.
Equating matter, we think, we compound yet reduce the complexity,
Like light squaring the electricity in Einstein's mind.

The Pass is a great thing!
Only 250 bucks!

The things we have seen but have yet to see.

I've gotten pretty far into F.E.A.R.
Found out where the little girl comes from.

Somebody turn off the phone!

And you wonder why old people bitch.

I'll talk to you on teamspeak.

I look at you and I see your face.

Sixteen seconds since I saw you last.
Wishing this eternity would fall down.
Love the sound of something sweetly found,
Like Emma did say, the song is infinite today,
Like making you laugh out loud.

Move all the clouds,
Clear this sky above us.
Hexico, a newer mexico.
Empty, the spaces radiate some strange fullness,
Coolly, energy in the shadows override, overwhelm

Taos is a ghosttown.
The tourists ride in and out,
Ghostly gliding through the adobe siding.

Hundreds pass through your window,
Cigarettes, smiles and miles.
And miles.


And miles...

Who's to say what life will bring us?
Hopefully the end of this fucking week!

Hmmm, Buckypaper

Hello world,

This stuff looks interesting:



Among the possible uses for buckypaper that are being researched at FAC2T:

• If exposed to an electric charge, buckypaper could be used to illuminate computer and television screens. It would be more energy-efficient, lighter, and would allow for a more uniform level of brightness than current cathode ray tube (CRT) and liquid crystal display (LCD) technology.
  
• As one of the most thermally conductive materials known, buckypaper lends itself to the development of heat sinks that would allow computers and other electronic equipment to disperse heat more efficiently than is currently possible. This, in turn, could lead to even greater advances in electronic miniaturization.
  
• Because it has an unusually high current-carrying capacity, a film made from buckypaper could be applied to the exteriors of airplanes. Lightning strikes then would flow around the plane and dissipate without causing damage.
  
• Films also could protect electronic circuits and devices within airplanes from electromagnetic interference, which can damage equipment and alter settings. Similarly, such films could allow military aircraft to shield their electromagnetic "signatures," which can be detected via radar.

More Details.

Anyway... everyone have a great weekend!

I'm heading to Taos,
land of giant rabbits and frogs, and interesting mexican food.
(I'm more of a tex-mex boy, so the New Mexican cuisine is always a fun change of pace.)

And I'm coming back with four fucking cases of Australia's Sheaf Stout:

Some bean counter decided not to distribute Sheaf to Colorado anymore... and since the stuff is the best damned stout on earth (it puts even Guiness to shame), every time someone heads to NM they are morally bound to return with boxes of the bottled black gold.

Oh, and I'm traveling with a most beautiful woman.

That is all.

Still Bouncing Off The Wall in 2006

Adaptation.

To survive would be cool.
You have to work to survive.
Fuckin' A fusion, we're we're whirl.

Have to celebrate death, the unknown.
Clark Kent was a journalist.
Whole oceans feel the ripple started in a pond.
Typing is almost like paddling the water from a canoe.



"Who is it?"
"It is CANU."
Communication-Active Nautical Unit.

--------------------------------------------------

Time B?
Top Dead Center, between the future and past.
A line of knowing, guessing, a cutting separation like Panama.
A line of certainty, between enriched life, and depleted death.
The flow inside us, from coming to loss.



Two shades of light, ahead and behind.
Long reds trail back, short blues bunching before us.
Beginning to see things drift, dilate.



Time's wet upon wet river.
No need to rush, or move with hellish flush.
See the eye in your head.
Feel the world's fingers in your stew.

Wonder why you're breathing and reading,
Of the Canoe.

--------------------------------------------------



Talking stories.
Talking plot lines.
Talking about what happened in the tunnels of Celand City,
15,000 fathoms below the icy ocean surface of Europa.

Jed was an ice farmer, swinging 'round Jupiter.
The colony had needs.
Not everything could be shipped from the Mars Position.
And nothing from Earth. Not for four generations.

Jed got up from his jelly mattress.
The mattress was made from the local life forms of the big 'E'.
A curious geothermal heated water-species that appeared
To have gotten its start as sugary, brightly colored bacterium, like jelly beans.



They hadn't progressed far during the life time of the solar system.
But they made good mattresses.
And you could eat them, harvest them.
The cold jelly beans of Europa.

Jed remembers, and recounts for his young ones.

The day the beanstalk fell on Earth,
The beginning of our necessary self sufficiency,
The orbital tether was destroyed by the Red Sand,
The most radical faction of the Mars-Belt economic collective, the Concentration.

There had been various political actions for decades,
In the form of shipment slowdowns, and shocking hijackings that always ended with slaughter.
The Belt's adolescent emotional, political venting,
Hurling giant asteroids into the Sun, for all of Earth to see.



A serious disagreement had arisen between Earth and her offspring.
The rift began with the formation of the Concentration.
Finally, war came, the moment Earth looked to her neighbors, her progeny,
And they declared their independence and their disdain.

It had began with threats of rocks and rockets.
One for the other, elements of destruction falling and climbing.
But Earth sat lower in Sol's gravity well, and would succumb to the cheapness of throwing rocks down versus hurling bombs up.

The war raged on.
The 2300s spent fouling the nest of Mankind.



But time past, people survived.

Not just below the crackling malevolent skies of destruction pocked Earth,
But also above, in tacked-together rock bubbles and improvised ships of the Belt.
And in the sand storms of Mars, footprints were repeated, not blown away forever.

Like a sunrise in your gun.



"Papa Jed, what's a sunrise?"

Human-Made Species

Work on the world's first human-made species is well under way at a research complex in Rockville, Md., and scientists in Canada have been quietly conducting experiments to help bring such a creature to life.

Several scientific groups are trying to make genes that do not exist in nature, in hopes of constructing microbes that perform useful tasks, such as producing industrial chemicals, clean energy or drugs. Dr. Venter and his colleagues are pushing the technology to its limits by trying to put together an entirely synthetic genome.

The Venter team is starting small, working to construct a simpler version of the bacteria known as Mycoplasma genitalium, a common resident of the human reproductive tract. They hope to determine the minimum number of genes required to breathe life into an organism.



M. genitalium is a single-cell bacterium with just one chromosome and 517 genes. But the Venter team is paring the recipe down and believes their version will be able to survive with as few as 250 to 400 genes -- each of which they are making themselves, one chemical piece at a time.

(Editor's Note: for more information on M. genitalium, see this week's feature on that most eminent scientific journal, Bubblegum Meltdown.)

"I grew up doing that with cars and clocks and radios and things like that," Dr. Venter said. "You take them apart to understand them and then you try and see if you can reassemble them."


Aspiring Mad Scientist, Venter
(Igor featured in background)


Dr. Holt, a Vancouver native who worked in the United States with Dr. Venter until 2002, described it as a "chicken and egg" problem.



"You need an egg to make the chicken, but you also need the chicken to make the egg," Dr. Holt said. "I thought this was one of the most important problems and one that we should get working on here."

The Sordid Details

Yule!

Ok... December Post

Alright God damn it!


Let's all gather around now, children. Uncle Helskel is gonna tell you a story.

*children gather around in eager expectation of wonderful story telling*

"It all began with a broken spoon. You see there was this old man. Let's just call him Old Man. Ok. Everyone agreed? Old Man? Ok. Old Man was well... old. He'd been living for quite some time already. I mean, he was old. He wasn't a young man you see. I mean, I wouldn't name him Old Man if he was a teenager, now would I? Ok. Back to the Old Man. Old Man had a cat. The cat wasn't as old as Old Man. The cat would be mumified by now if it was as old as Old Man. So we'll call this cat, Old Man's Cat. Everybody still with me?"

*the children exchange looks with each other, and begin edging away*

"Ok. So Old Man was sitting in his house one day with Old Man's Cat. Old Man's Cat was purring because Old Man was petting Old Man's Cat. Ok, let's just call Old Man's Cat, OMC. Ok? Good. Now OMC had been having some urinary problems lately. OMC would kinda piss wherever. When OMC felt the need, OMC let it flow. In fact, OMC was relieving itself right there in Old Man's lap. Old Man knew OMC was pissing on him, right there on his lap. But Old Man didn't mind, because Old Man kinda had the same problem, and so had a lot sympathy for OMC's condition. Now you can imagine Old Man's house had a bit of a smell to it. That's what this story is about kids, the smell of Old Man's house. Let's call it the SOOMH for short, ok?"

*Uncle Helskel looks up and sees all the children have left*

What! What? Not such a good story eh? Well, fug it. There's your December post.