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12/10/2004: "Big Assed Weekend Edition (My Kid Could Do That)"
Around 5am this morning, Vienna woke me up to inform me that she thought
she heard someone breaking into our house. Since our home is more secure
than Dick Cheney's bunker (Hey, if you received some of the "fan" mail
that I get, you'd live inside a veritable fortress, too), I wasn't really
all that worried.
"Unless you can convince me that the Army Corp of Engineers is so
desperate for pocket change and Dead Milkmen CD's that they've tunneled
into our basement from Fort Billy Bragg, I'm going back to sleep. "
"But the cat heard it, too"
Gentle reader, my cat is, for lack of a better term, crazier than a
shithouse rat. She's a stray that Vienna found living in the alley behind
our old apartment and, against my pleas, took in. Having had lived a
somewhat feral existence, the cat suffers from a sort of Post-Traumatic
Stress Disorder that's normally only seen in War Orphans, Disaster
Survivors, and former members of the Australian Nu Wave band Men at
Work. To be blunt, the cat sees and hears shit that just ain't there
at least eight or nine times a day. Felis mala!
Now, if my wife were not an attractive woman, I'd be sitting in a jail
cell, right now, telling the rest of this story to my cellmate/life
partner, Bald-headed John (He's almost two kilometers tall). Since I'm
married to a fine looking woman (There's a lesson, here, guys), I felt it
incumbent upon me that I crawl out of bed and spend the next 10 minutes
making sure that some super villain had not dismantled our electronic
security system, or catapulted over our eight-foot-high barbwire topped
garden wall.
5:10 and all is well. Except that now I'm awake. Well, at least
Gothic was on Flix.
If you've never seen Gothic, don't feel like life has passed you by.
Don't get me wrong, it's not a bad movie. It's just not film that would
cause you to burst into tears if you'd discovered that you'd forgotten to
set your TIVO to record it.
I watched it mainly because I feel that I owed director Ken Russell
something for getting Amanda Donohoe to get nekkid in The Lair of the
White Worm. Moving right along…
Gothic tells the story (as only Ken Russell really can) of the booze
and drug fueled party at Lord Byron's vacation home which lead to Mary
Shelley conceiving Frankenstein (wastes a minute of Conan O'Brien's time)
and Dr. John Polidori penning The Vampyre (Which would later inspire
Bram Stoker to write Dracula, which , in turn, inspired the good
people at General Foods to create Count Chocula - a cereal that was
enjoyed with much relish [and even more sugar] by Johnny Wurster who plays
the role of Frankenstein on the Conan O'Brien show. Ouch, my head. ).
Fans of Gothic Literature seem to find it almost impossible to zip up their
collective pie-holes about this fabled evening. "Frankenstein and Dracula
were born on the same night" they slur from behind their pewter goblets of
absinthe.
And I'm supposed to be impressed, why?
When you consider the amount of wine and opium consumed at that bash and
then toss in the presence of the nymphomaniacal Shelley sisters, it not
surprising that they came up with Frankenstein and Dracula.
What is surprising is that they also didn't come up with Freddy Kruger,
the Terminator, and six volumes of Letters to Penthouse. Bunch o'
underachievers.
Speaking of Lord Byron and underachievers, a while back I happened to catch
on episode of PBS's Regency House Party. Not many people caught this
series when it originally aired because PBS did a pretty crappy job of
promoting it (Probably for the same reason that ODESSA failed to publicize
its efforts to sneak former Nazis out of Europe and into South America).
Anyway, on the episode of what has got to be TV's strangest dating show
that I saw, the producers had some actor portraying Lord Byron drop by for
dinner.
Now, I don't mean to critical (what I mean to be is cruel), but the guy
portraying Lord Byron did a rather lousy job. Note to all of you aspiring
actors out there: if someone is paying you to be Lord Byron, then - for the
love of Hubbard - be Lord Byron. Get drunk, knock up a scullery
maid or two, and, if anyone calls you to task for your behavior, have them
whipped - or, better yet, whip them yourself.
_ . _
If you caught Wednesday's Paul Kircher show (if you didn't, you can listen
to it here) then you were probably almost as surprised as I was to learn
that both True Crime author Ann Rule and I graduated from the same High
School. Trust me on this one, people; nothing could prepare a person for a
career as a True Crime writer than a stint in my old High School.
Inspired by this strange coincidence, I have embarked on creating a series
of True Petty Crime novels. You'll want to keep your eyes peeled for
such upcoming titles as The Shoplifter Beside Me, The Hillside
Loiterers, and The California Night-Streaker.
_ . _
paidion - child; slave.
If the above word looks like ippojshit to you,
then you need to go here
and download the SPIONIC font for either MAC or PC. Dude.
tamen - however
