For Those About to Rock

It's Angus Young!

Ever since this song came out, it has puzzled me. Sure it's a totally kick ass tune (it has a cannon after all), but what does it mean? What does someone, who is on the very cusp of rocking, but has not yet rocked look like? I always pictured some dude with long hair and a Kiss T-Shirt, head thrown back, ready to swing forward and bang into something - or perhaps Angus Young leaning back, arm raised high, pick in hand contemplating his next power chord.

About to rock, but not yet ... rocking.

Moreover - why just about to rock? Why not for those who have rocked, or typically enjoy rocking? Why not salute those dudes?

For a long time I assumed that it was just based on syllabic necessity, until I read this post from +Will Robinson. It was then that I realized that there must be some instant, just before an event of calculated madness that one perceives the totality of the moment they have chosen. Plan in mind, hand on doorknob, and a sense of propriety admirably absent. This is what it means to be about to Rock, and while fleeting, it seems only reasonable that the moment should be marked with cannon fire.

Will Robinson originally shared this post:

Just ran across the gale-force windy seafront in a t-shirt and jeans singing "POLYAMORY!" to the tune of the Balamory theme. Got spun around twice, pushed into the road repeatedly, almost knocked over, and am now in adrenaline comedown

The Wayback Machine: October 31st 2012

Name is Cthulu, natch...

Given that last year on Halloween I feigned madness I decided this year to embrace it. It was either that or provide a double tap to my own skull (hey, don't knock trepanation until you've tried it) and since there are too many people that need me to pay their bills I'm forced to keep the mortal coil unshuffled as it were.

So once again as darkness fell I donned my traditional garb, turned on the porch light, and sat down in the entry to wait.

It didn't take long. When the bell rang I threw open the door and before the assembled fiends could say anything I shouted

"Knock! Knock!" leering, as they collectively stepped backwards - taking it all in - the underwear, the tattered bathrobe, the clenched fists.

The spittle.

"KNOCK! KNOCK!"

Given that American children are remarkably well trained in this particular form of challenge/response the greedy charlatans inevitably shouted back

"Who's there?" Hopeful. Tentative.

"Aha!" I cried. Accusing. Stabbing a quivering and gnarled index finger at the sky and making them jump.

"WRONG ANSWER!" and then I would slam the door and snap off the light.

I did this routine for about an hour, and it was quite satisfying as you might imagine, but the little devils just kept coming and I grew weary. I had to do something different, and in a move surprising to myself I began to behave in a very unexpected manner.

Instead of providing a baffling and moderately depraved glimpse into the horror and depth of the human condition I decided to just go along to get along. As the screechy little monsters called out "Trick or Treat!" I would coo over them, offering them candy and traditional platitudes like I've seen other adults do on TV.

"Oh what a cute little witch!" I would say throwing freshly wrapped little candies into their outstretched hands, and "Oh my, how adorable, what are you supposed to be little friend?"

As their cheerful little upturned faces lit up with gratitude and pleasure I found that I was quite enjoying myself...

It's over now; they've all gone home. But I'm all conflicted and stuff. Where's the joy? The terror?

What is to become of me?

Great News!!!

Billy, and Ray Ray. My buddies...

I finally settled my lawsuit with those idiots at Acme Cutting Lasers - they have to subsidize and build a series of completely new shark tanks in my underground grotto! Yay!

It's going to be pretty sweet and I'm going full lux on the installation. It will have multiple 'dipping' chambers, a submerged passage leading to an enclosed outdoor lagoon, and a sweet little underwater viewing lounge complete with LED mood lighting, a fully stocked bar, and Italian designer furniture.

I'm going to have to cover the costs for a lot of the incidentals myself, like the trapdoor in front of the desk in my office that will lead to the tanks, but I really don't mind. It's been toooooo long since I've been able to mete out fishy sharp toothed justice to those that oppose me.

Once the build out is complete I'm also going to have to do a lot of testing to make sure that the mechanics are all up to snuff, and that the sharks behave as they should. To that end I think my neighbor Barry should prove to be the perfect subject for this quality analysis. He's pretty rugged and should be able to survive complete multiple test runs as we tweak things. He successfully fought off a pack of wild dogs once (my bad) and can speak Esperanto underwater (we train the sharks to respond to commands in Esperanto).

This is going to be great!

Also, can anyone out there recommend a good shark broker? Our last guy turned out to be a bit of a disappointment so we had to turn that dude over to the DPRK. :(

Don't Tase Me Bro!

Unnamed jerks...

One sure fire way to get into trouble at the Natural History Museum is to go there wearing a turtle shell as a hat.

I thought it would be all cool, kind of like wearing an american flag as a cape to a tea party rally, but nope!

Turns out they take that kind of thing pretty seriously there, and I cut my hand on the taser wires trying to pull them out... :(

At least it's not Monday!

The Wayback Machine: October 31st 2011

This boy's name is Devin...

WTF?!

Oh my god! What a night! All night long kids have been coming round and demanding candy; all dressed as fiends. Is there no peace?

By the end of it I was standing on my front lawn in my underwear shaking my fist and screaming

"Just leave me alone! Why won't you all just leave me alone?!!"

The children are fleeing in mortified tears and there are a couple of adults in the street who keep yelling "Turn out your porch light! Just turn off your damn porch light!!"

And I'll tell you what: if this weren't so much fun I would just turn out the light and be done with it. But I really think I hit my stride this year - there were some genuinely frightened faces out there tonight! :)

Postcards From the Edge - Phantom Limb

His name is Hamilton G. Fantomos...

-Sent to my daughter at summer camp-

Hello sweet peanut!!! I love you and miss you!

So last night my right arm fell off and started crawling around the house and banging on all the windows and stuff. It took forever to catch and stick back on, and by the time I did the stupid thing had managed to break a flower vase and hide my utility knife under the couch. WTF?

Also, there is now a bat living in your bedroom. I named him Larry and he hates cat food. I'd like to teach him to play the banjo or something, but I think he's kind of stupid. So we'll see...

Have fun, and be safe!!!

xxxooo - Xix

The Problem With Pigeons

Fights for our side now. Agent 63...

Yesterday +Michael Penick and I were discussing the very real scatological threat posed by city birds, and it quickly became apparent that something far more sinister was at work than just a bunch of inconsiderate flying rats. They couldn't possibly be acting alone.

To that end:
At 2300 Zulu yesterday a small team was dispatched from our headquarters in Nepal to New York City. Their mission was to capture as many birds as possible and return them for interrogation. This crack unit successfully detained and exfiltrated 73 live pigeons, and one who died on the table. Apparently the birds fought like champions, but of course we overcame them with superior intellect, technology, and insightful strategy.

At this very moment we are placing them in the modified surgical interrogation rigs that were previously used for the koalas (the cutest infestation ever!) and are calculating the appropriate anesthetic doses.

The basic plan involves using Directed Quantum Therapy to change the harmonics on 3 of the dimensional strings at the center of each atom in their little bird bodies. This will allow them to process information like a human. At this stage they will be taught simple linguistics (think esperanto for first graders) and subsequently questioned.

Hopefully we'll be able to get to the bottom of this and rid ourselves, and the pigeons, of whatever dark force holds them in thrall and makes them act like total jerks. I suspect they don't like it any more than we do.

Of course any bird who chooses to cooperate will be given their choice of freedom or minion (to be sent to +Colin McK to reinforce his homicidal librarian - who hopefully hasn't gone rogue or been destroyed). Any bird who chooses not to cooperate ... well ... the term surgical interrogation rig does have a rather specific meaning...

When it comes to the problem with pigeons, the beak is stopping here.