October 30th, 2007

time for a beatin'


The walk from the parking lot where I leave my car in the morning to the building where I work is what I call the "Gauntlet of Winos". It takes me past a bum-haunted bus stop, a pair of transient hotels, and a convenience store/stash house, and for some reason, the winos have abandoned their normal amusement of shitting on the sidewalk and turned, instead, to provoking me into fistfights.

The other day, I was walking past the transient hotel, and some crazy old coot was wandering around in front of a parked fire truck. As I went past, his rumblings grew louder and more incoherent, and finally, he wheeled on me, put his finger about an inch away from my face, and yelled "...AND I'M GONNA KICK THIS GUY'S ASS, RIGHT HERE!" I stopped for a minute, and gave a beseeching look to one of the firemen, who was loafing against his rig, and who rewarded me with an indifferent shrug. I kept walking and the incident as well as the crazy man was soon behind me.

Yesterday, I was walking past the bus stop, and a different guy, younger but if anything even crazier, was running around like a wild man, kicking pigeons. I don't really care for that sort of thing, even directed at flying rats, so I said, in an indoor voice, "Hey, hey, man. Easy." He started shrieking at me and then ran towards me in his pigeon-kicking posture; I instantly assumed a defensive position and dropped my hands, thinking I was gonna have to clock the guy. At the last minute, he careened away with a lunatic smile; the pigeons took their business elsewhere, and this too was soon behind me.

Now, I happen to think that there is a time and a place for everything, including beating someone's ass right into the gutter. But there is nothing to be gained from whaling on some unfortunate bum who's probably being directed by a powerful combination of alcohol and insanity. I would feel no sense of accomplishment in laying out some hapless, homeless crazy. The better angels of my nature bid me leave them be, no matter how kooky the provocation.

But here's the thing: the better angels of my nature haven't been sleeping much lately, and half the time, they're armed. Pray the rosary for me to stay off the nightly news.
baby demon

A hero ain't nothin' but a guitar

Guitar Hero III came out on Sunday, and by Monday, some people on my friends list, and some friends of friends, were already talking about playing it, or even beating it, on the "HARD" setting.

What the fuck. Must you people make me feel inadequate even in my amusements?
bizarro am drunk motherfucker

My Name Is Fatty And I Am a Comics Geek

A while back, I "commissioned" calamityjon to draw me a couple of pictures. As I always do when such an opportunity arises, I asked him to sketch me some studies of characters from my own ridiculously ambitious, Dargerian, never-to-find-an-audience personal superhero universe; if I had a million bucks, I'd put the boy to work doing nothing but.

As always, the results were pretty spectac. Collapse )