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Self Portrait

This was rendered in SketchMee 2.

I  really dig the line work.

I know there are a lot of people who don’t like to use filters and things of that sort, but I will always use any digital tool at my disposal to get the image I’m after.

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A Dude’s Duty

A dude and his duty…

 

to sup on

the stuff

of life

 
and drink

deeply from

the cup of

awesomeness

 

 

(See, I think that

“cup”— because of

“sup”— works better

than “well.”

What do you think?)

The Professor’s Story



My old friend, the professor, sat down at my table. He looked up at the attentive waitress, offered her a gentle smile, and ordered a glass of the house merlot. We shook hands, exchanged our customary pleasantries, and got about the business of enjoying each other’s company. It had been several months since our last visit, and there was serious catching up to do.



As always, our conversation moved seamlessly from one subject to another. I don’t remember what triggered the professor to tell me this story, but it instantly became one of my favorites…



It was just another day at Chester A. Arthur High School. I got this message to come to the office right away.

In my experience, this was never a good thing.

I went to the office, and the principal was waiting for me. He looked at me the same way a store owner would look at a suspected shoplifter. He sniffed and stated, “Your parents want you home…now.”

I walked home with great uncertainty. I had no idea what this was about.

When I entered the house, my parents were at the kitchen table. They looked perturbed and suspicious. I tensed up immediately. Then I saw my old army surplus ammo box. It lay on the table, open, with its contents revealed. “Uh, oh…” I said to myself.

My mother pointed to a small pile of grade-A weed I’d scored from friends who had found a reliably periodic connection to a source in Mexico. Usually, I kept the box locked. I’d gotten sloppy and careless. Going into my room to put away freshly laundered clothes, she’d made the discovery.

Also on the table was a public service booklet for parents on how to identify marijuana. It hadn’t helped much, as they were still uncertain as to what the unidentified, dried-out vegetation was.
“What,” my mother asked, “is this?”

Without hesitation I replied nonchalantly, “rabbit food.”

“Rabbit food,” my mother repeated dubiously.

“Yes,” I explained, “I ordered it through the mail. It’s highly nutritious, organic, and grown specifically for domestic rabbits.”

“Really?”

I nodded. I looked at my father who took a step back from the table, as if the stuff could bite. He was satisfied to let my mother handle the interrogation.

“Fine!” stated my mother. She picked up the weed and handed it to me. “Let’s just see how well your rabbit likes it.”

I lead the way to the rabbit hutch in our backyard. Our furry pet was a large gray, lop-eared bunny named Samson. I lifted the lid of Samson’s cage and dumped the pot into his food dish. He pounced on it immediately and began to devour it as if he hadn’t eaten in a week.

My parents watched Samson silently for a few moments, then nodded with some relief “Well, I suppose it is rabbit food after all,” my mom acquiesced.

We left the yard with Samson still munching away at top speed.

Once back inside the house, the very moment I was certain that both my mother and father were off my scent and back to business as usual—I sprinted to the rabbit hutch and scooped out the remaining weed, and cussed out the rabbit for being a glutton.

Samson didn’t move for three days.

Tech Decay


once state of the art

only picked-clean bones remain

the fate of all tech

Found Objects


old spur and holster

silently spin tales of yore

eloquent earth tones

Batman Joke Circa 1967


I once heard a joke in my fourth grade classroom. The story around this joke, in its entirety, is embarrassing to me, but the amusement factor is such that I’m going to post it anyway.

 

I begin with some background…

 

I have always been a fan of super-hero-related TV shows and movies. It was no surprise that I enjoyed Batman, starring the late, great Adam West. I was too young to understand the campiness of the program. I was annoyed if my father made negative comments. To me, it was high drama, and bringing bad guys to justice was serious business, and I bristled at any disrespect shown towards the caped crusader. Every week, I dutifully tuned in to the same bat-time and the same bat-channel.

 

The other thing I want to say is this: the era in which I attended grammar school was before sex education, yet ironically I got most of my information at school. And details, and by that I mean ”accurate“ details, were sorely lacking in what was disseminated amongst boys on school playgrounds of the 1960s.

 

I was painfully shy, very nearly special-needs-level naive, and at the very bottom of the informational food chain. And the tidbits of data I accumulated were gleaned mostly from dirty jokes. 

 

So, here’s what happened. One day, in fourth grade, while lining up for lunch, a new joke moved through the line of kids like proverbial wildfire. 

 

Here it is:

Batman and Robin are in the batcave.

Batman: ”Robin, Batgirl is pregnant.“

Robin: ”Holy rubbers, Batman!“

Batman: ”Right again, Robin.“

 

Key the uproarious laughter.

 

I joined in, however, I didn’t get it. At all. 

 

What the hell did “rubber” have to do with Batgirl being with child?

 

At the earliest opportunity that presented itself, I asked a friend—who I was fairly certain wouldn’t turn town crier and announce my ignorance to the entire student body of Emerald Foothills Elementary School—what ”a rubber“ was. He matter-of-factly told me that it was a product used to prevent pregnancy.

 

Of course, I knew what the substance ”rubber“ was, for crying out loud, but the only examples I’d ever seen were bicycle inner tubes, tire patches, and the like. My imagination ramped up, trying to figure out how to wrap a hunk of rubber around the business end of the urinary tract. How did that work? Perhaps rubber had some sort of magical/medicinal properties that, nah, I was stumped. 

 

Thus began a quest to understand what this product was in order to understand what must be a truly hilarious joke.

 

And then, after transferring to Saint Genesius’ Parochial School, I came into the sixth grade classroom one day with some buddies and found a crudely drawn illustration on the blackboard. Though primitive, it came complete with labels. Mystery solved. Always a visual learner, I suddenly understood the structure of the product and its function. Armed with my newfound enlightenment, I analyzed the joke. Robin was saying that had the use of this particular product been implemented, Batgirl would not be in her current situation. Thus Batman’s reply, ”Right again, Robin!“ made perfect sense. 

 

So, I thought, I now get the joke; however, disappointedly, it was not very funny. 

 

As the years went by, every once in a while, I’d dust off the old memory and replay that joke in my head. It never got any funnier.

 

Fast forward to about three weeks ago. I was regaling my sons with tales of my youth—you know, “the olden days.” And I told them the Batman joke. Nathan paused a moment, then said, ”Oh, I get it. Holy rubbers! Ha ha ha!“

 

Boom! I got the joke.

 

Fifty years later.

 

All I can figure is that as a boy, I put all the emphasis and effort into understanding what the item in the joke was. That became my sole focus—not plays on words, double entendres, or anything of that nature. And through the years, when I’d think back on the joke, I continued to hear it as a child. But when my son repeated the line out loud, I heard it for the first time as an adult.

 
Or it could be that I’m incredibly slow. And I mean slow to the point where it could be considered a super power.

 

Regardless, the whole thing is wacky.

 

To be more precise…bat-wacky.

 

 

Post-it Note Gallery #3

At work, we have a Post-it note art contest approximately twice a month to coincide with our department meeting. Our boss suggests a theme each time, and we paste our note onto a little ready-made frame that hangs on the wall outside the meeting room. Occasionally, I think my offerings are blog worthy.

 

The theme for this one was: 

Create your own candy bar.