The Beam

Kiela had no words to express the nightmare beyond.
Kethel breathed, swearing, the grip on his hot pistol loosened by shock. But even his reaction fell short of understanding.
They stood in the doorway of Dorn's chamber aboard the dreadnought Saber. There was a sucking vacuum, something orbital, that maintained a fractured perimeter of air and light. At the center of the room, floating and twisting in thin blackness, was Dorn: a mutated infant, the size of a grown man but soft and frail, crowned with a pulsating skull both grotesque and enormous.
His giggles echoed everywhere.
But before Kiela could scream, the shrieking emptiness converged on Dorn. And in that sudden silence, the levitating thing she once called friend dove into her mind and started speaking.
Welcome, welcome! Welcome, old flame! Don't be alarmed. This is just a change. I'm changing, you see, thanks to our red friends below! So much planned...we must be alone to speak. No more of your new friend, just you and me!
She turned in time to see Kethel raise his weapon. Dorn wasn't even in his sights when the General paused, gulping and belching. What could have been a cry of pain or surprise became gelatinous and buttery, like the bones in his face that Dorn was liquefying. General Rae collapsed, hands clawing to maintain the structure of his own head. His hands cupped and cradled and accidentally clawed into his brains, and when he hit the floor the entire mass popped and spread like a balloon full of soft pink cream.
Dorn laughed in Kiela's mind.
She turned back to him, willing herself away from Kethel's twitching stump of a body, mouth agape with sorrow and fear and confusion. She started running toward Dorn.
Stop, dear. Stop this. I've so much planned for us! You've no idea the things I've planned for us! Stop and let me tell you.
Kiela kept running.
Let me show you what I've built here, dear. I know the secrets of the star above! Use these secrets with me...we can remake so many worlds together!
She was close now, fists clenched in full sprint. The tears in her eyes did not keep her from reading his dark patterns. She knew where he was and what he was. Kiela knew what the freak wanted, and she would kill him.
Stop! Ha-ha! Stop now!
And as she leaped, the beam crushed and folded the outer hull of the ship. When she set her curled fingers for Dorn's eyes it pierced the chamber. And before she could dig into his weak, horrible flesh, it struck them both. Dorn was vaporized, every particle of his newly omniscient self razed and sliced by the mental laser. Kiela, however, was enveloped. The warm blue light showered upon her. Memory flooded every sense, every strand of hair, and swallowed her into sweet, immortal comfort. Then the beam plowed onward. On and on, so close to its unintended target. For years of flight, it had traversed the empty space with one unknown goal. Yet when it entered the heart of that local star, Finnis...when it stalled the sun's hot and mysterious clockwork...when the solar gears shifted and reversed, the beam simply faded. It felt peace, for the first time since it illumined the stratosphere of a world left to waste.
Finnis folded. It fell and bled into the surrounding space. When it had leaked most of its strength, there was a flush of crimson light in which the Nim'roh basked and prayed.
From the inner-galaxies, had they dark skies, there was a faint glow.
The news came quickly via Earth Forces Wire that a certain fringe system was lost.
Although being little danger to altering navigation, the various merchant guilds saw no gain in pillaging the exploded area.
And somewhere on Earth, the warm bones of a man and his friend were slowly turning to ash.

In Defense of Dragons

Look, I can't go over it enough. Dragons are an awesome concept. They are like unicorns, except for there is no folk song about how they were too busy frolicking to be taken aboard Noah's ark. Instead, there is a folk song about one dragon who lives by the sea and befriends a boy, but then become bored and depressed when the boy grows up and loses interest in him. AND THIS IS OUR NICEST STORY ABOUT DRAGONS. I remember the first time that a work of art moved me to tears. I was in 4th grade, and the book was Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher. A book that that I can only paraphrase from 17-year-old memories as Sophie's Choice with dragons. So yeah, as a crying 8 year-old, I can now see why I read books about dragons as I approach 25. I don't expect anyone who did not read Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher at age 8 to understand. Whofleck was right, in some worlds the dragons fuck with us, and sometimes that world is our own and we are children in it. So yeah, I like dragons. Even Spyro. Why? Because they touched me as a child.

I Don't Even Know How To Title This

I was recently given a book by a friend.
It is a book, so I am told, in which thrones cut men and wolves are dire and the numerous maps given are not just geographic but spiritual in nature. I am, needless to say, very aroused.
This will be my first adventure into high fantasy in quite some time.
Since my pimpled days of questing through literary landscapes of Northern jungles with mysterious histories and invented myths, most of my fantasy escapades have taken place in video games. I enjoy video games and their lore. I refuse your pity, and submit my sexual activity since puberty as evidence that I am doing okay regardless of my questionably basement-dwelling hobbies. These stories, accentuated by gameplay similar to that of ye olde tabletops, are engrossing...I am engorged by them. They feed me in equal doses of subtlety and extravagnce.
I make devils fall and gods ascend. How cool is that?
The game with the most spectacle in regard to story and universe must be Morrowind. It does not simply break the fourth-wall, you see; it hovers above it in cross-legged divinity. The cosmic and time-altering implications of this one pixelated romp alone are embarrassingly good. I have just linked an excellent study of the game's metaphysics, as well as a necessary short sermon by a divine character in Morrowind who, allow me to paraphrase, fucks the god of rape and then rapes that god and then fucks everyone and everything including time to death until he rapes the essence of rape so hard that he banishes rape from existence.
You stumble upon these short lessons and tomes while playing, completely out of context. They are like gentle slaps to the face by some inter-dimensional fantasy-fist, blessed and cursed, inviting and ruinous. The universe of this game is so frayed yet tangible, so broken yet magnetic, that the characters who inhabit it reference historic instances of time simply shifting and breaking down entirely. They believe that the stars above them are holes where the gods burst through when they accidentally made everything...and they are absolutely correct.
During rants like this, Jaybro is fond of telling me to "stop with the fucking dragons."
The irony, friends, is that...in some worlds...the dragons are fucking with you.




Boy I hope this book is good.

Ohboyohboyohboyohboy

It's Drinkmas Eve, when all the little children gather around the hearth in the hopes that St. Drunk will soon arrive. Oh to drown in the boozy yule fuel! This weekend shall be a mirror to shine upon my ugliest parts, like that time Father Maloney caught me through the emergency exit window on tha back of the school bus. THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT FATHER! STOP SAYING AC-A-ME IN YOUR HOMILIES! I used to think beer was terrible. "Eww daddy beer is gross!" The key to getting your child to not drink is to give them terrible small sips of lukewarm domestic light beer. "I'll never like beer" the child thought, not knowing he was 10 ounces away from experiencing the siren's call of splatterfaced.

Answer the call, children. He can tell who has been naughty and who has made ice.

Jesus Christ! Doc, You Disintegrated Whofleck!

Calm down, reader, I didn't disintegrate anything.
The molecular structure of both Whofleck and the blog are perfectly intact.
Where the hell are they, you ask?
The appropriate question is when the hell are they? You see, Whofleck has just become the world's first time-traveler. I sent him...into the past! Three days into the past to be exact.
And at precisely 11:59pm and 59 seconds, he shall catch up with us and the time-blog.


Seriously, now. I wish not for this to be a cool denial of yet another of my failings.
My founder and sponsor was kind enough to speak quietly on my behalf, but there is a new Whofleck in town. He is an educated man. He is a busy man. But he is not without regret, nor mistakes or short-comings.
This is no place for excuses, so consider this repentance:
I have sinned. I have put the blog behind myself, and in doing so raped any meaning my original oath may have held. I beg, and submit, that I shall live for your forgiveness. Fear not; I am no battering husband. I refuse second chances, just give me your open minds.
Things are going to get weird.

Dear Blog,

I write on you so often, but I write to you so very, very little. I was almost afriad to say this to you, but I knew if I didn't type it here, you would never know how I felt about you. You see, Blog, I've taken you very seriously, and sometimes no more seriously than the nights when, in a panic, I post a music video or a dick joke just to know that I have posted on you. "Why so serious?" some might ask. But I've neglected you these past few days, I've deserted my watch. To think of what terrible wraiths may have stormed your walls while I was off foraging for supplies or bedding the cold mistress that is graduate school makes me shudder. And to think that my negligence spread like a cancer to Whofleck and caused him to lay down his torch (torchdown) and wander off into the desert of UnBlog sickens me. I have no words for him but "It's all my fault". I've abandoned my child, I've abandoned my boy. So Blog, dear Blog, I'd like to come back, if you'll have me. I know there's no way you can ever really let me know. But I hope my return will inspire Whofleck to finish out his term as well. So we can link hands and amble out of this cold wet winter as we began it on December 2nd. You see Blog, I don't plan on stopping this time. The leaden load of looming lent aims to crush me, and you might be the only place I can come to re-create the fever dreams bourbon. So Blog, I have returned from UnBlog, and I need you to take me back. Things are about to get weird around here, I have so much repenting to do.

I give you.....BRUNDLESHEEN!

Everythingwentbetterthanexpected.jpg

I Am Mr. Big

The funniest thing that ever came out of you...was me.

School District of Ridiculousness

So, back in November I got a "job offer" from Ridiculous School District.

Two days later I got an e-mail from the Principal informing me that their HR department filled the position and I was out of a job. /Sorry

Today, I got home to this e-mail from their HR department in response to my sending them some general information back in August. It basically asks me to send them the same things I brought them for my interview in November.

show details 4:10 PM (32 minutes ago)

Good Afternoon:

I have received your application for employment with the School District of Ridiculousness for Teacher of FUNFUN. We are always looking for talented professionals. We hope that you will understand our commitment to selecting the best qualified applicants and the time required for such a thorough process. Can you let me know what your certification status is for the content areas listed above?

The School District’s current hiring practices are in compliance with the requirements of both No Child Left Behind legislation and state law. The School District requires documentation to verify that you possess a valid certificate. In order to secure a position as an appointed teacher with our district, you must be able to provide documentation supporting that you are certified or are in the process of becoming certified. Please scan/email me a copy of either of the documents below in your response to me.

The following documents are acceptable as proof of certification :

1. A copy of your Instructional I or Intern certificate

2. A printout from the Dept. of Education web site (Certification Status) that verifies that you have a Instructional I/II or Intern certificate. (Certification status must be listed as Approved or Assigned on Hand).

If you do not meet either of these requirements, please e-mail me your status regarding Certification.

Additionally, know that we will be happy to assist you with any questions or concerns that you might have.

Best Regards,

Insane Lady

HR Business Partner Office of Really Slow Teacher Finding
School District of Ridiculousness

"Tell me and I'll forget. Show me, and I may not remember. Involve me, and I'll understand". - Native American Saying

I Replied with anger:

Hello Lady,

I am replying to your inquiry into my certification. I currently hold an Instructional I FUNFUN certificate and a SILLINESS program specialist. I am currently working as a long-term substitute until the end of May 2011. I would also like to let you know that I already interviewed with Dr. Old Man at Crazy School in November. While he originally made an employment offer, he informed me via e-mail two days later that Human Resources filled the position he offered me. Both Old Man and Human Resources should have all of my information as I was under the impression that he was sending my paperwork to HR. Please let me know if you have any more questions or need any other paperwork.

Respectfully,

Jaybro

Respectfully?

or disrespectfully???

(we all know which one)

Also- Maybe if I involved them, they'd understand?

I've Killed Myself So Many Times

I don't even exist anymore.

AND YET I CANNOT FORGET IT.
ANY OF IT.



edit:


BECAUSE THEY JUST KEPT COMING.

Forget Science Fiction:

I'M BUSY.

Awww yeaaa, that's it Ching-Li...
Get under the fungus.
Yesss.

I SAID I'M BUSY GET OUT OF HERE!

Worst. McDonalds. Ever

McDonalds Restaurant, San Diego Airport, San Diego, California.

At least four errors committed by the serving staff in the three minutes I was standing there waiting for my delicious, nutritious Double Cheeseburger and 6-Piece McNuggets for the bargain bottom price of $7.92. Airport pricing is bullshit.

These errors included:

- Mistaking an "apple juice" order for an "apple pie." (Though why the woman who ordered didn't just point to the apple juice is a wonder to me. Wasn't she curious as to why her apple juice was taking so long? Did she think they were fresh-squeezing it?)

- Mistaking a "double cheeseburger" ordered for "two McDoubles." (2... = 2.... except when it equals 4? THERE'S TOO MANY PATTIES!)

- Reading the order # "35" as "Three-Oh-Five." Loudly. Over and over again. Louder and louder. Shouting into the airport concourse. And then getting huffy when a gentleman walks over, from right next to the counter, to claim order number "thirty-five." (Though, again, why he didn't jump in sooner to inquire instead of letting them yell into the ether is beyond me.)

Show Me Your Moves!

Big night tonight big night alright gotta get ready gotta focus an---
Hey there whoah there who you think you are huh pussy-face?
You know what I got planned I got a long night banging ladies;
Throwing bills around like a sultan so you better get out of my way mister---
What did you say your name was again?
Listen bro you better stop copying me like I says I got a lot of trim;
Tons of trim and I've got no time for little prim posies to slaughter.
So get on out of here shoo fly don't piss me off or else---
What? What did you say to me quit dancing around and I'll show you.
Let's dance okay you like to dance I can dance shit I need the practice;
For tonight you know oh yea you know take this!

I'm Salty as Hell

Happy Purim?

"Take Courage! It Is I."

And the night whispered, "I'm coming for you."

Narcotics Purchase: San Diego Edition

DUDE: Hey bro.

BRO: Hey dude.

DUDE: So, I was thinking of going and buying some illegal drugs.

BRO: Dude! Great idea.

DUDE: I know.

BRO: Whatcha thinkin'? A little cocaine? Some ecstasy? Maybe a little Ell-Ess-Deeeeee?

DUDE: Nah, bro. I'm thinking some marijuana. Some weeeeeeed.

/record scratch

BRO: Dude.

...

DUDE: Why are you looking at me like that?

BRO: That's. Not. Cool.

DUDE: What's wrong with weed.

BRO: NOTHING.

Catual Encunters

Lady: Hey, mister, can I ask you a question?

Me: /keeps walking

Lady: Please! It will just take a second!

Me: Okay. What.

Lady: Look, I'm really sorry to bother you, and I know you were walking but could...

Me: /turns around and resumes walking

Lady: OH FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU I HOPE YOU GET HIT BY A FUCKING CAR!

This woman was not homeless. And this was the middle of a crowded sidewalk. And she screamed it.

DJ PUSSY POSSE SAYS "NOT COOL"