January 5, 2012

  • THE BATMAN OF GOTHAM

    Cast of characters:

    Bruce of Wayne Manor
    Alfred, his butler
    The fair maiden
    Sheriff Gordon
    Mayor Westfordchesterhampshire
    'ardie
               two ruffians
    'enry/
     
    And assorted ruffians, brigands, n'er-do-wells
    and others, whose revealing at this time would
    negate the suspense due upon their subsequent
    appearance as our story unfolds. 

     

     

    Night falls on the city as quickly as doth drop a maiden's dress when stands she before Zeus, the Olympian God of gods, who, in guise as a mighty horned beast, contemplates her ravishment. And as the eve grows dark, darker still grows the hearts of those who trod the unlit streets, seeking prey from whom to wrest unearned wealth. Aye, even to dishonor fair maidens, such as the one running warily down the center of the muddy boulevard, avoiding the shadows of doorways and alleys....

    Fair maiden: Oi! Announcer, hast thine own feet ne'er trod these avenues? On the good streets, it's muddy. 'ere, muddy would be a compliment. Yech!, Say I. At least I had the foresight to doff mine shoes and carry them in me 'and...

    {A voice from the shadows}: And a fine pair of shoes they are, fair maiden. Do be kind and toss them over 'ere, lass. Make us walk through the muck to get them, and more than the hem of your dress will be sullied. {2nd voice from the shadows} And your handbag, while yer at it. 

    Fair maiden: Wot? Be ye ruffians then, come to take me shoes and, perhaps, me honor? 

    'enry: {Stepping out of the shadows] and the purse, dear lady, Dost thou value it more than thou dost thine honor? 

    'ardie: It is my certain belief, that perhaps others, more spry of foot, and less keen of sight, hast relieved the scow of her honor ere we saw her.

    Fair maiden: A scow I am then? Nay it is the light, or rather, the poor quality thereof, that doth little to flatter me features. Walk with me to yonder tavern, where over a drink and candle we can discuss me charms.

    'enry: Nay, we shall take thine shoes and thine purse, and leave thee with thine honor.

    'ardie: Aye, for the night has just been aborn. It is fair possible that a fairer, Much fairer maiden be just around the bend. {struggles to take shoes from the Fair maiden]

    {Voice from above}: Halt thine brutish activities, varlets!

    Ruffians {in unison}: we saw 'er first!

    'enry: Find thee your own unprotected wench or other commoner, or, shouldst thou be so fortunate, a wayward nobleman, in search of low pleasures and void of retinue, but not jewels and finery.

    {voice form above}: Art thou dense as the Stones of Henge? Stop attacking the woman, or prepare to face my wrath!

    'ardie: 'ose bloody wrath?

    [A figure swings down form the rafters of the theatre, alights in front of the astonished trio.]

    Batman: The wrath of I, the Batman!

    'enry: {snickers}: Ardie, look at this one 'ere, would yer? A batman? So yer a cricket player. Of what team might ye affiliated?

    Batman: No, you doer of evil. Batman, like the creature of the night. I did pick the name and guise for the fear it strikes into the hearts of men.

    'ardie: 'enry, oim not afraid of a bleeding bat, although I don't loik them much.

    'enry: I am of loik mind, 'ardie. Man of the pointed ears, daresay tell us how thou dost breathe in such tightly fitted garments?

    'ardie: Aye, and look at the size of the codpiece. He art deformed in his privates. {the ruffians start snickering, then belly-laughing. The fair maiden, ignored, sloshes away from her attackers and towards her would-be rescuer. The ruffians recover their composure, size up their opponent, he being of sturdy nature, turn, and stride off disgustedly}

    Fair maiden: Oi, that was close! Thank thee, stranger of the odd garb. I can only imagine, later on this eve, when alone in my quilts, what may have transpired had you not spared me!

    Batman: It is what I do, fair maiden, fight the forces of evil on their own field of battle, the dark streets of this Gotham, striking fear into their wormy hearts, flushing this human waste from its holes, driving them deeper, ever deeper, into the bowels of the city, where they can only prey on one another....

    Fair maiden[touching his arm]: Perhaps, my mighty-thewed savior, you could find time to do battle with the fire that rages in me skivvies, a furnace of passion that Vulcan himself would eye warily.

    Batman: I cannot comply, for I am true to one lady, and one lady alone. {The Batman looks to the night sky} Justice is her name. {the Fair Maiden follows his gaze, looking puzzled, then turns to her masked rescuer}

    Fair maiden: Yer a poof, then?

    Batman: I must be going, others will be in need of my services, for evil never sleeps at night. Comely wenches, orphans, honest merchants, peat sellers, collectors of night soil....

    Fair Maiden: A bloody fop, you are! Begone then, go and offer succor to a night watchman, or a drunken sailor, whose inebriation makes them less particular about with whom they dally....don't turn thine back to me! {Batman swings into stage left and is gone}. A fine thing! Mother was right, the good ones are either already bridled or have need of a saddle I will not provide. [curtain]

     

     

    Act Two, scene one 

     

    Wayne Manor, sunrise. A black, low-slung coach, with no visible driver, is pulled past the two footmen by a sextet of black steeds. The footmen close the gates behind the odd vehicle and return to their positions on either side of the driveway leading to the home of Bruce of Wayne Manor, gifted host of elaborate balls and other soirees, and a danger to the ladies, not that they saw it as such.

     

    1st footman: {Looking ahead, talking out the side of his mouth} Odd thing, is it not? This Batman, visiting the master near every morn?

    2nd footman:{also without turning his head} Not really, such close friendships are the stuff of legends and poetry, even in the low art of theatre, plays doth feature such stories.

    1st footman: Aye, because of the rarity of such an occurrence. And furthermore, how is it that the twain are ne'er seen together, by either house or yard staff?

    2nd footmen: Wot? Are you saying, and I be daft for speaking it, that Master Bruce and this Batman are...not really friends?

    1st footman: From what height unto the cobblestones werst thou dropped headfirst as a child? No, my comrade in service to the Master, canst not thou thinkest of another reason that either the Master or the Masker is present, but never both?

    2nd footman: That the Batman Is the Master? That he roams the night, smiting evil, and not, as his reputation would have it, gallivanting with the ladies of the court?

    1st footman: Finally! Thou hast formulated for thineself a cogent thought!

    2nd footman: Though intriguing, my friend, it cannot be

    1st footman: And mayhap would thou enlighten us as to how you deduct this conclusion?

    2nd footman: It is quite simple, my good man and fellow thinker, for the Master has not pointed ears.

    1st footman:  {turns head and looks at his fellow footman}

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    Act II, scene two

     

    Library of Wayne Manor. Alfred, the butler, is dusting a globe when Master Bruce enters the room.

     

    Alfred: Master Bruce! The angels rejoice at your safe return, and the ladies of the court would be e'er grateful, did they but know why you fail to arrive at so many dalliances these days. So, how fared the night?{Alfred removes the cape from his Master as Bruce talks}

    Bruce: I didst well, friend and butler. The virtue of a woman was saved for another day, I did run off thieves who were beating a night watchman, saved a drunken sailor from a band of brigands, and did battle with thieves attempting to make off with a carload of nightsoil.

    Alfred: An odd thing, that. Nightsoil thefts are on the rise, according to the Crier. Of all valuables to steal, and the least valuable of all becomes the swag of choice.

    Bruce: Could it not be that, being of such malodorous material, and bearer of such stigma, that it is among the least protected of substances? 

    Alfred: But Master! The populace pays to be rid of the matter, not to accumulate it. And it would appear, from your own experience, Master Bruce, that members of the Ruffians Guild are behind this curious wave of criminal activity.

    Bruce: The Ruffians Guild? And I hear they have a new leader, one whose qualities of mercy stay well hidden. Well, Alfred, after tea and a sporting encounter with Lady Vale, I shall give due consideration to this affair.

     Alfred: Shall I summon the string quartet? 

    Bruce: Yes, Alfred, and instruct them to play something adagio with a building crescendo. M'lady Vale doth make announcement of passion's peak with a hearty voice indeed.

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    Act II, scene three

    The headquarters of the Ruffian's Guild. A man with his back to the audience, sitting at a desk, listens as Guild members voice their complaints.

     

     

    Ruffian #1: And so I left the cart behind...

    Voice: Because a masquerading fool stands in your way, you come to me empty-handed?

    Ruffian #2: 'e was a big guy, guv'nor.

    Ruffian #1: And angry, when he talked in that deep voice....

    {The man behind the desk jumps up walks around the desk, revealing his own masked face, pale make-up, exaggerated lips and painted ghastly smile, and greenish hair}

    Ruffian #1: Jester! Please! We will go get the cart posthaste!

    Jester: Do that, my fine fellows. {As the two journeymen ruffians leave, the Jester paces the room alone}

               Bodkins! This Batman has become a minor nuisance, and I laith a nuisance, tha more minor  'tis. I hae grand plans for the city, my focus must nae waver.

                Howsomever, as my men seem incapable of stemming this one-man do-gooding force for right and justice, mayhap 'tis time to demonstrate to these short-memoried

                louts just why I am the head of this guild. "ardie! "enry! Hie unto me posthaste!

    {The door opens and the two would-be shoe thieves enter the office}

    Jester: 'ardie, tell me again. You two did not run from him, nae, but did laugh at his garb?

    'enry: 'at's right guv, 'e looked loik a gargoyle come to life. I

    {The jester slaps 'enry 'ard, I mean hard}

    Jester: Speak not unless thou hast been in turn spoken to. 'ardie?

    'ardie: yah, 'e was right poofy-looking, but 'e 'ad some size to 'im, tha' he did.

    Jester: But fear him? Nae, you did not engage a troublesome fellow because, well, it was only shoes, right?

    'ardie: Tha's roit guv, 'e wasn't worth the bother... {The Jester slaps him, twice, because he likes this one}

    Jester: "Ardie, 'ardie. You fail to look at the whole canvas, all the elements of a picture must be in harmony

    'ardie: So we're going to knick a painting then?

    {The Jester slaps his minion once more}

    Jester: Never mind the big picture, oaf. This spoiler o' thievery could unite the masses against us. We must keep the respect and fear o' the citizenry. On this eventide, I shall join you two, my bravest men. We sha' create mayhem until this Batman doth show his face. {The Joker laughs, an evil cackle. The two henchmen join in, until a look silences them.}

    [curtain]

     

    Act III, scene one

     

    {the town commons, a week later. }

     

    Town Crier: hear ye, hear ye! The Batman has struck another blow to the forces of night, foiling the unlawful takings late last evening of Lord and Lady Hemphill's coach and horses. He did throw a wooden bat from on high, which strike the lead culprit on his pate, and a subsequent bat figurine did bruise his hand, whereupon he did challenge the thrower of bats to come down from the rooftops. The Batman replied forthwith with a flurry of flying bats, irritating the brigands and startling the horses which did bolt from the scene. Lord and Lady Hemphill wish to thank the Batman and ask of him to appear at their next soiree. 

                      Hear ye, The King has announced that he will sound the bell that signals the collapsing of the old water tower, which stands behind me, as it has stood there for 203 years.

                      Hear ye, The kind benevolence of the Tiger's Tail Tavern hath been essential in these cries being made available to you. Their ale is pale, their lager warm, and the mead thick and hearty.

    Mayor Westfordchesterhamshire: The populace is more interested in the escapades of this Batman than in His Lord's impending visit to our fair Gotham-on-the-Tertiary, sheriff.

    Sheriff Gordon: He has given the people hope. Hope that the night can be taken back from the crime guilds, whose power overwhelms my own limited department.

    Mayor Westfordchesterhamshire: Would that be another implied plea for an increase in the department's funding? Be lucky that thine funding has not decreased. These foreign wars, colonization, and the building of my second summer castle hath drained the treasury to an alarming degree. {sighs}Ah well, I may have to require more tribute from the guilds, as the Ruffians have raised their own contribution to me. And Gordon, please tell me that this Batman gets no support from you or any in your department, for those funds must keep coming. 

    Gordon: He is a vigilante, Mayor. I have nothing to do with him.

    Mayor: Keep it that way. if he becomes a problem for us, you may have to write his pass for a trip on Charon's boat across the River Styx.

    Gordon: The guilds pay those tributes by committing more mayhem, Mayor.

    Mayor: It is how things are done. Yet, odd it is that this ruffian's guild would be the spur to the increase in tribute, as their new Guildmaster has no reason to enjoy the giving of a share of his tribute to the King.

    Gordon: Right you are, Sire. I heard he made veiled threats against our Lord when he was relieved as adjutant Jester at the court, due in the main to a paucity of humor. And that a fire, which some say he set, at the court did fuse his make-up to his face, creating a ghastly visage.

    Mayor: Aye, but his ire must have waned in the ensuing years. Why, he has even requested that his men be added to the security detail. What say ye to that, Sheriff?

    Gordon: Sire, It is an idea that creates great consternation in mine breast, I'm afraid. 

    Mayor: I, in turn, am afrighted that thine opinion matters not. Your men would be thus free to patrol the crowd, seeking out the pickpockets, whose guild payments are in arrears. The ruffians, for their                    suggested duty, shall keep the crowd at a safe distance from the tower, should it deign to perform its part ere its own festivities have begun. 

               Oh, and do extend my gratitude to Bruce of Wayne Manor, for the invitation to his home for dinner, which you will attend in my place on the morrow.

    Gordon: I shall consider it an honor, sir. {exeunt, opposite ends of stage}

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    ACT III, scene two

     

     Ruffian Guild headquarters--The jester is alone, brooding. The door opens, and a young kid walks in.

     

    Jester: Robin! My protege and heir, did ye perform tha task I requested of you?

    Robin*: Aye master Jester. The mayor has his tribute, and we have but little left. And night-soil thefts have yet to affect the ledger in a positive manner.

    Jester: And that is nae its purpose, as you well know. As to tha dwindling funds, a scheme has hatched in me brain. 

    Robin: Master, I never doubted not even for a moment, that you would solve for our favor in this matter. 

    Jester: Bruce of Wayne manor is having a dinner to raise alms for the poorhouse, there will be purse's a bulging with ill-gotten coin looking to make amends.

    Robin: Is this perhaps the wrong time for such a move, Master? Bruce of Wayne Manor is close to the mayor, whose favor thou seekest.

    Jester: Correct you are , my adopted son, and were anyone connected to the guild involved, it would ruin that cozy friendship with the corpulent, big-pocketed, pig-eyed, buffoon. So I have contacted some lads from me home town of Glasgow to do the job.

    Robin: Beyond clever you are, like a master of chess, you see three, maybe four moves ahead.

    Jester: And never forget, my sycophantic toady, the goal of the game. {evil laugh}

     

    *I have always hated Robin, thought his outfit faggy, and the relationship a little weird, so I made him the bad guy's partner. Hey, it's my story. 

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     ACT III, scene three

    Wayne Manor, night of the dinner party. Guests mingle after the dinner, and wait for the pitch for charitable funds

     

    Sheriff Gordon: An excellent repast, my good man, one the chefs on Mount Olympus would have trouble matching.

    Bruce: I have an unfair advantage, sheriff, since the Olympians have not our eel and kidney pies.

    Gordon: an excellent point{lower voice} It is fortunate that the Mayor chose me too replace him at this dinner, as I have news for our friend.

    Bruce: I shall see him soon, he will be glad of the communication

    Gordon: The Mayor sees the Batman as a possible danger to civic harmony. To wit, you are upsetting some of his supporters

    Bruce: Good of you to tell me, Sheriff, this is valuable news

    Gordon: I wish I could have told you sooner. we need some way to get your notice

    Bruce: Aye, a signal of some sort

    Gordon: a light, shone on the smoky clouds

    Bruce: With a silhouette of... {The front door breaks in, six men in kilts, wearing burlap over their faces, enter the room, brandishing clubs and daggers}

    Scot #1: Dinna a body move, or fair sound'll  be yer thrashin'.

    Scot#2: Wae ta tha man wi' bannocks n barley ta resist

    {The intruders wave their knives and cudgels before them, and push the cowed partiers to the back wall. Gordon looks around, but Bruce has vanished.}

    Gordon: What is the meaning of this effrontery? Dost thou not know who I am?

    Scot #1: Tha first ta meet tha Maker, if ye don't hie ye back o' the wall!

    Scot #2: Na, eens ta front an ears on ma words. Fair quick wi da coin ere an purses ere, in a jimply manner, better fa baggin an takin, eh?

    {Nobody moves}

    Scot#2: Tent me mind, southies, i nae gad all dae.

    Scot #1: We'd be nae laith ta drain your dearest vein, shood ye nae complae

    Gordon: We would gladly complae, eh comply, were you to tell us in the King's tongue just what the bloody hell you want.

    Scot #1: Your coin, sir, your jewelry, those nice shoes on your feet, too, nae get ta 't!

    {Behind the lead thieves, black-gloved hands reach out and pull the other Scots into the wings, one by one.}

    Gordon: {smiling} Good Scottish sirs, perhaps you should attend to a matter that is transpiring at your backs as we attempt to make sense of your brogue

    Scot #2: Danna try tha ol trick, nae on this canny highlander, gad eens inna bak o me hed, me ma's boy does.

    {Batman pushes the second Scotsman into the first, and quickly ties them up with a strong cord.} 

    Batman: Bruce of Wayne did bravely seek my aid, at his peril.

    Gordon: Fantastic bit of work masked man. {walks up to the lassoed men} Care ye to make this easier on you? A word, maybe two, will give me your employer's name, and you a year off a horrible sentence.

    1st Scot: Fie! ta ma tom' go I 'for a tellin!

    2nd Scot: An' dubble fa me, tha! The jester wi' reward us fa...shad!

    Gordon: The Jester, did you say?

    2nd Scot: nae, sneezin', I wa'.

    Gordon: O, how worse were the world to be, if those of greater intelligence than these e'er turn to crime. 

    Batman: Right you are, Sheriff. I shall patrol tonight, seeking an audience with this Jester. But now, i shall see what is keeping the master of Wayne manor from his own party. [exit]

    1st Scot: Archibald, I wi' make o' ye one fine haggis, wan comes tha chance.

     

    {curtain}

     

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    >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> INTERMISSION<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

    Town Crier: hear ye, hear ye! The Loyal Order of Nightsoil Carters, local 341, has declared a work stoppage due to unchecked ruffianism and brigandry upon their members,...{hands reach through curtains, pull crier back through them. Shouts and thudding noises, the curtains billow, and the crier is shoved back into view

    Town Crier: hear ye, no brigandry was afoot, as your Crier has been kindly informed here of late by the Guild of Brigands & Vandals , only ruffians were involved in the outrageous...{hands pull him back behind curtain...shouts, thuds, shove}

    Town Crier: (somewhat disheveled) Hear ye....hear ye...Your crier has made an error, as only the lowest of yobs, punks, and the like...{Curtains, shouts thuds, whimper, Crier crawls back out on stage}

                     Hear...ye, The Federation of Punks, Gobs Ouch! Sorry! Yobs, and the Like, would like me to announce that they are innocent of these crimes and that Ruffians are (sob!) Little girls....Nooooo! hands pull him back behind curtain}

     

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    ACT IV, scene one

    That night, on a dark and foreboding street. A lone, rather broad-shouldered figure wearing a dress and a hooded cape, walks down the middle of the mucky avenue

     

    Lone figure: Oh alas!...that I, a poor and frightened young woman, should be alone, ...all alone....alone....

    {a whisper from the shadows}:  and unprotected

    Lone figure: and unprotected.....

    {whisperer}: I am weak and frail

    Lone figure: Oh, sorry to 'ear that guvnor! 'ave you tried those powders that some apothecaries keep in stock? They make yer..

    {whisperer}: 'ardie, you moron, that's your line.

    'ardie: O....just 'that's your line'? Or the 'you moron' part, too?

    Jester: {not whispering anymore} You incurable dullard! {runs out on stage and commences slapping and kicking his henchman} 

    'ardie: Ow! guvnor, oim sorry! I'm weak and frail! right! {Jester keeps kicking him}

    Jester: Right! {grabs 'ardie by the throat and pulls 'ardie's face close to his}And 'enry will attack you and the Batman will try to save you and... Ow! What hit me? Ow!

    'ardie: piece of wood, sire, looks loik a bat. 

    Jester: Ssh! Talk like a maiden!

    'ardie: {in high voice} I said it looks loik a bat, sire!

    Jester: {slaps 'ardie, another wooden bat flies down, hitting him in back} Fie on thine toys, Man of the dark, fly thee to me and fight, not as a bat, but as a man.

    Batman: {swings down and knocks the Jester to the ground.} Offer accepted, guildmaster Jester

    {'enry runs onto the stage and hits the Batman in the head with a length of wood. The Batman falls to the ground unconscious.}

    Jester: Well, at least one a ye can think on his feet. 'ardie, wouldst thou help your more capable friend here hoist this inert form, this legend a-borning no more, like a rosebud that opens too early and is killed by a late frost, nipped ere his promise could be fulfilled, into that cart and taketh him to the quay on the south end of the city. That should keep him from getting back across town ere my plans have borne their own fruit.

    'ardie: Can't we just kill 'im and be done with 'im?

    Jester: {reaches a hand out to 'ardie's face. The Ruffian flinches, but the Jester just pats his face affectionately} My dear fellow, we are ruffians, not pickpockets, not highwaymen, and especially not killers. The Assassins Guild would be up in arms if we dared encroach on their enterprise. I will take on the King, that bitter, humorless man. But I have not the heart, stomach, nor any other major organ for a battle with the guild that kills for a living, nor do I wish to spend the ever-more rare funds we possess on killing this oaf. {Jester exits}

    'enry: {quietly, to 'ardie} Maybe if we were 'oarding corn, or cotton, we could 'ire a 'it man. Oof! 'e's 'eavy.

    'ardie: noitsoil, I don' know. No one needs more. I 'ope the master knows what 'e's doing. Wot? did you 'ear a whistle?

    'enry: I thought it was you, passing foul.

    'ardie: twasn't me!

    'enry: Oi think it was. {the pair pushing the cart disappear in the wings stage left. A moment later, a driverless black coach pulled by six horses crosses the stage right to left.}

    {curtain}

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    ACT IV, scene two

    {later that morning, at the site of the old water tower being guarded by the ruffian's guild. A line of ruffians carrying buckets passes by the Jester, and they hand the buckets up to others on a ladder that goes up to the top of the tower.}

     

    Jester: How much longer until the tank has been topped?

    Robin: In one hour and twenty minutes, well before Phaeton's chariot has begun his fateful ride.

    Jester: Eh? When is that?

    Robin: Ere Re, the Egyptian God of the Sun, flies from East to West, lighting the earth with his fiery head.

    Jester: Stop thine discoursing in similis that incorporate ancient myths and legends. Nobody talks that.

    Robin: But....all right

    Jester: And the gunpowder we heisted from the armory?

    Robin: it is in place. O, what a spectacle, Pompeii's name shall hitherfore not be sung alone. Nay, that burned, buried, storied metropolis shall have a twin, in scope and vision, if not...Ow! Forgive mine enthusiasm, Jester.

    Jester: Understandable, I suppose. {to audience} it is a brilliant plan, one that twines revenge and profit in one sweet package. As the King makes his speech, and pulls the lever allowing water from the new tower to fill the sluices, I shall light the trail of gunpowder that leads to the charges strapped to the supports of the old tower, causing it to topple, and the malodorous contents will inundate the royal reviewing stand with the commoners' nightsoil. Who will speak against that as being the jape of the epoch? I, whose very name means 'one who is employed to tell jokes and provide entertainment', not funny? And, in the ensuing confusion, my men will be at the ready to seize jewels, furs, and other finery from the fleeing royalty, and whatever other booty avails itself of the taking. I, the Jester, will be the most respected guildmaster in all the Underworld! And the richest, for no one will dare empty a chamber pot, if it doesn't go into a bucket that gets emptied into a cart that is pulled by a carter that pays tribute to me. And I will collect tribute from... Everyone! For there are no exceptions to the necessity of my services in a modern, bustling metropolis built with no thought as to sewage disposal and treatment. Eh, what is it lad?

    Robin: Forgive me, but whilst thou soliloquized, the King arrived, and the moment draws near.

    Jester: Make haste, then. Get the men into position, for although the panic in those royal breasts will hasten their stride, we must be swift in relieving them of their heavy baubles, as that much fleeter of foot will they be in their race against the tide. {Evil laugh} Ow! What was that?

    Robin: A piece of wood, oddly carved, thrown from above as if a thunderbolt hurled by the great Zeus hims...

    Jester: A wooden bat? But how....

    {Batman swings down on a rope, landing in front of the startled crime boss}

    Batman: Easy, Jester. my team of horses I hath trained to follow me at a distance both safe and discreet when I give a secret whistle. When your men left me on a deserted dock, I gave another whistle, and the team approached the cart in which I was bound. I did manage to free from a pouch on my belt a lump of the sugar I feed them. I succeeded in rubbing the sugar on my bonds between my wrists that Budgerigar, my lead horse bit the ropes in twain. Once freed, I did hasten to arrive here ere your mischief, was begun. And what mischief! O, what evil lurks in the hearts of men, that such a scheme could even be imagined, much less brought to a point of fruition. It is because of this rampant wickedness that I realized I could no longer be a spectator to the pernicious evil that threatens to...

    Gordon: Batman! The Jester has a torch!

    Jester: Yes Batman, your soliloquy, stirring to the heart though it was, gave me the chance to save my scheme from your meddling. Good of you to call Sheriff Gordon, another witness to my evil genius! And when I touch this fire to this gunpowder, it will write my name in history!!!

    Batman: reaches under his cape} Not yet it hasn't!

    Jester: Another wooden bat? My hero, throw it, lalalala! It doesn't hurt!

    Batman: {throws object} not for long, anyway

    {The jester is struck by the object. He drops the torch, and falls to the ground, unconscious}

    Robin: {runs up to the Jester's inert form, picks up what was thrown} A cast-iron bat! This Batman has more advanced technology than we had anticipated. Perhaps it is time that I took stock of my situation, one which does not look fortuitious in the slightest as long as I am assumed to be a part of the jester's crew. {Robin kicks the torch away from the fire as Gordon and Batman run up}

    Robin: Aye, that was close, a spark, a chance wind, and the metres that separated the torch from its intended duty would have mattered little. Closer than Daedalus to the sun with his waxen wings flew and to a death most sad, and viewed by the father who saw his first breath be drawn.

    Batman: Yes, you acted in a manner both swift and daring. Who might you be?

    Robin: I am Robin, a prisoner of the Jester these many years, saved from worse than scrivening drudgery by my natural aptitude for numbers and scientific inquiry, skills which I have longed to put to good use.

    Gordon: Batman, I must warn you, this fellow...

    Batman: ...has been through a lot, Sheriff. I will assume responsibility for him. Now come with me, lad. I have a nice place where you can try to put yourself together again, release from your mind those awful memories.

    Robin: O, I do hope your beds are feathered with eider-down, goose-down can be so bunchy sometimes. {They walk off stage right, Batman's arm around Robin's shoulder. Onto the stage from the left wing comes a figure.}

    Fair maiden: Oi, the King, e's a long-winded one. Glad oi was of a chance to 'ave a smoke. {Spies the Batman walking off with Robin.} There y'go, oi knew 'e was poof, and 'e's got 'im a young one. {Draws on her cigarette} Bah, seeing that handsome man walk away is tragic, Oi could 'ave 'ad 'im, oi could. {The Fair Maiden throws her still-lit butt onto the ground, and it lands, of course, on the trail of gunpowder} If only something would happen to take me mind off me romantic difficulties.

    {Curtain}

     

    The End?

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

December 28, 2011

  • UNDEAD PRESIDENTS

    January 12, 2014

     

    Nation's 1st Vampire Pres Assesses 1st Year in Office

    " ....and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God".  And with those words,  a year ago today, America became the first nation to have a self-admitted Vampire as President. His address to the Congress later in the week will emphasize how little has changed, and how the fears of some were, for the most part, unfounded.  The 'blood tax' is an ugly term for a worthy cause, namely, tax breaks for blood and plasma donors. "I don't care much for plasma," The President said, "Too thin for my taste."

    Promising to be "A President for all the people, living or dead," and to bring "change, real change, to Washington",  the President has indeed upended the status quo, with his midnight press conferences, his energy-saving ideas, most of which concern turning off streetlights and encouraging Americans to "get out and walk more, take in that healthy foggy night air."

    The President, whose hobbies include chiropterology*,  hunting,  and 'making new friends', acknowledges that his election, while a great step forward for hemophagic-Americans, has not ended the prejudice and ignorance with which many Americans still view Vampires.

    "They shrink from us," Said POTUS 45. '"They call us bloodsuckers, they call us the undead, evil, monsters, Fang Boy. Can you imagine the pain such harsh words, spoken in ignorance and fear,  induce in the breast of a young school-age vampire, who must endure such hatred for the rest of his life, as vampires don't age?"

    The President, who rode into office on a wave of  'Anyone but Obama' hysteria, got off to a rocky start with his insistence that he personally carry out all executions in federal prisons, although his critics on the right were delighted with his solution for emptying the prison at Gitmo of the "problem detainees".

    "They were no problem at all,"  Said the President. "in fact, they were quite delightful"

    Then came the awkward 'Pardon' of the White House Thanksgiving turkey, the video of which was the most popular one on YouTube this year, with 3 1/2 million hits.  The President has apologized  to all the children present for losing control and stressed that the bird felt no pain whatsoever.  The nation's restaurants balked at the new requirement to carry at least 3 blood types on their menu, but Pundits point out that attacks on other patrons have dropped by 13.2% since the law was passed, and the latest Rasmussen poll shows that Americans from ages 20-35 would rather have a vampire for president than one who doesn't know how to text.

    Asked about his plans for his second year, the President ticked off items using his fingers.

    "One, we are still pushing for a Secretary of the Night. Two, a blood czar, to co-ordinate transfers of stored blood from banks to disaster sites. Giving the FDA inspection power over the nation's blood supply makes sense. If some Americans use blood for food, shouldn't they be able to trust its safety? I plan to ask Congress to fund research into eliminating blood stains from clothes, curtains, and bedding. And we're pretty excited about the advances being made in creating a cheap, safe, artificial blood."

    When asked if his agenda wasn't a little narrow, the president, usually cool as a corpse, got a little hot under the cape. "Hey, It's called focus. I get this all done, then we can concentrate on jobs, the declining dollar, terrorism, war, meth addiction, worsening schools, moral decay, crumbling infrastructure, and air and water pollution. First things first."

    *study of bats

  • Mel Cries Uncle, But In A Good Way

    I took one half of my sister-in-law-s brood on a hike along the Econfina. Our twin goals were to to see if the rain had prompted any growth of edible fungi, and whether that same rain
     had caused the River to run harder. Yes to both. And yes to the unasked question, dese kids sure got hiking moxie, yah!


    The water had risen about a foot since my last visit, still too low for decent kayaking

    From Left to right, and chronologically arranged as well, Sara, Daniel, and Beka, the youngest,......

    .....and the most energetic and curious. but all three were great companions, all very observant and helpful

    Daniel carried the backpack, and all the water



    Billy and Jackson were also enjoying the day

    I have yet to identify this fine-looking specimen


    The above are Pleurotus ostreatus, or the Oyster Mushroom, this fruiting would cost $5 in the grocery store.

    The day ended tragically, when Daniel's curiousity drew him too close to a dreaded strangler root(Plantus fictitious)
    We texted for help, Danny boy, you should be safe by now. Let's do this again, whaddya say?
     
     
     
     

December 24, 2011

  • Poetic Sell-Out

    {Look, parodies just don't pay the light bill, limericks (all of them, put together) and a dollar seventy-eight will get me a cup of coffee, and poet laureate work is hard to come by. My only choice is to use my phenomenal talent to feed my family. How else am I to do that other than using my innate understanding of the human psyche to pen compelling verse-based propaganda that bypasses the conscious mind and enters the purchasing gland unfiltered by religious or societal restraints?}
     
    Flowers don't last, and chocolate gets eaten
    diamonds get lost, a book's good for one reading
    Just one more reason, in these desperate hours
    To give a  gift that will last, to say "I love you' with flour.
    Or seed corn, or salt, dried milk for that  matter
    The world's going  crazy as a mercury-mad hatter
    Give your love canned water, Vitamins C and the B's
    And about 6-month's worth of  dried fruit and MRE's*

    For the Survival-Foods and Industry Trade Group

     
    Freedom's hand might hold a torch, the better to light the way
    Freedom's hand might hold a gun, if that is the only way
    Freedom's hand might hold a hammer, the better to sound the bell
    Freedom's hand might hold a microphone, in order its story to tell
    And if by gas, nightstick, and fire freedom's voice is  sorely choked
    Refresh that voice with an icy-cold can of freedom-loving Coke™.
     
     
    Money can't bring a deceased loved one back
    grow an arm or leg, that's just a natural fact
    and Money's no good for keeping one warm
    or for building a wall to protect one from harm
     
    For something to eat money's quite easily beat
    And most materials make for a much softer seat
    But those things were bought with money you earned
    before you crashed, got poisoned, hit, delayed or burned
     
     
    Money's roots might be evil, but a rose grows in crap, and
    So will your money, when a good lawyer starts rapping
    Money can be a blessing, sometimes a curse, it's true
    But who better to find out, the defendant , or you?**
     

    ** for The American Trial Lawyers Association


December 19, 2011

  • Mobile, But Still

    You wouldn't know it from these pictures, but we are going weatherbound in Mobile, Alabama. A cold front should come through tonight and tomorrow, and we did have red sky in morning, so here I am, finally posting something.

     

    Looky there, a White Pelican! He didn't come near me once I had the camera at the ready.

     

    I took a hundred shots of the sunrise this morning, only a few made the cut

    My good friend George and I took the arduous journey to the bluffs overlooking the Appalachicola River

December 11, 2011

  • The Mitt Romney Samba

    Frank and Jobim doing the song the right way 

     

    THE ROMNEY SAMBA

     

    Tall and tan and dressed impeccably, Governor (R-mass) Romney is talking

    and when he speaks each listener thinks, 'what an ass!'

    His health bill is like Obama's it only works when you cook the numbers

    But arms got twisted, the bill got listed, and passed.

     

    Oh, Mitt's a whiz on debate night, and he polls good against Barack, right

    But the right wingers won't give him a go

    They say he's just an attractive RINO 

     

    Cain has a history, Gingrich does too, Bloomberg's too smart, and Bachmann's cuckoo

    No one else can win, but Mitt Romney

    What about me? Ron Paul here!

    Has to be Mitt

    I know what is wrong! I can fix the country!

    It's Mitt Romney

    Dammit! Listen to me!

    It can only be .....Mitt!

     

     

     

     

December 3, 2011

  • Ashton's Song

    Demi Moore was the greatest love I ever had
    I threw our love under a bus, my bad
    Having a trophy wife was not enough for me
    I have to knock a piece off every chick I see
     
    Demi Moore is so much older than I, and I'm such a studly guy 
    what i did was crappy but I sure made a lot of girls happy
    Lawyers will argue for a long, long time, mine says she doesn't deserve a dime
    She kinda mentored me, that makes her a parent to me
    So its a case of child custody
    {musical interlude}
     
     
    Demi, more friends than you'll ever know have given me the heave-ho
    They call me cur and creep and Bruce's scolding left me weeping
    The magazines have all called me slime, some say I should be doing time
     
    People tell me where to go, because i was so damn shallow,
    But she had flaws to, a potty mouth and a wrinkle or two
    Hey what kind of stud stays twined with a lady past her prime
    When my looks are, for a couple more years, still fine?
     
     
     

November 30, 2011

  • May, 2011 ARNIE'S SONG

    I am either writing a musical, or doing my year-end review
    in poetic form, one per month. Or both.......


    Yah, you know I never did think
    My popularity would shrink
    For doing the maid on the sink
     
    My love for Maria did not run deep,
    Way down inside I think my soul sleeps
    It's a bummer trying to sleep in my Hummer
    How much of my money will she keep?
     
    Yah, this sure did get messy
    I took out my own legacy
    By acting like the wrong Kennedy
     
    Now women look at me like I'm a creep
    From old friends I don't hear a peep
    So Cal-lee-for-nyah goodbye, big deal, I lied
    And my love for Maria did not run deep
     
    The public has this bad image of me
    I'm just a celluloid entity
    Another star without a sense of morality
    I don't have time to ponder and rue
    production starts soon on True Lies 2
     
    Now, I'm just supposing
    because the help I was hosing
    From my kids' life I'm frozen
     
    My love for Maria did not run deep,
    Way down inside I think my soul sleeps
    It's a bummer trying to sleep in a Hummer
    How much of my money will she keep
     
    Thanks to the Box Tops for the use of the melody to "Soul Deep"

November 24, 2011

  • parodies in progress

    GUESS THE SONG, pt 2, soon to be a major motion picture
     
    { People ask me (no, they don't, no one cares) just why I, a prog-lib reddish pinko type, keeps putting down Obama
    . You remember the Seinfeld show,? When a performance artist with Jerry had broken up made her whole skit about him?
     Why did she do it? My motivation is different, I am disappointed in his leadership, but I don't miss his kisses}
     
    Got an e-mail just this morning, from President Barack Obama
    promising jobs, and higher wages, and eventually nirvana
    Better schools and faster airplanes, 
    and greener cars that we can ride
    But none of it has come to pass because he never really tried. 
     
    He comes on TV, grinnin' and reassuring us all that
    we're in trouble now and he's the hero, he just ain't saved us yet
    well the younger generation might believe in what he says
    But I'm missing the latest CSI, so please just go away
     
    We know we're in a mess, discuss that with the press
    I took a cut in wages, and I had to sell my car
    Now I drive an antique Geo, I'm the butt of co-workers' jokes
    It can barely make it up a hill, and, like me, the heater's broke.
    I know that you can't do much, you're just the freakin' President
    But it wouldn't hurt none just to tell us where our money went
     
    Some stimulus, what'd it do for us?
    Which street really matters to ya, Main or maybe Wall?
    It would've been nice to have some say in what you did with our dough
    we had to ask, how could you be worse than that dog and Cheney show?
    At least Bush had some backbone, whatever he wanted he always got
    You play golf with the enemy, And blanks is all you've shot
    ----------------------
     
    {People ask why I still pick on poor ol' Dubya. I am being nice to the guy, 
    he is a traitor, as far as I am concerned, lying us into a war and getting 
    his friends off the hook for it}
     
    Dubya's arriving tonight on a plane
    I can see him now, passing out nicknames
    We see him in line now, very near to the last
    He thinks he's cool, but we think he's an ass
     
    He's been called a dunce, he's been called mighty lame
    But he doesn't read much, so he doesn't know the family name
    took a hit to the gut during his tenure
    I swear even Barbara is of his parentage unsure
     
    Oh, George my brother, because you're older than I
    Dad's friends gave you the crown, now our debt is sky-high
    You fought two wars and couldn't catch one man
    Who's dumber, you, or those who voted you in?
     
    Dad, I love my brother, and what's done is done
    But why in hell didn't you choose me, or your philandering son
    Daddy, you goofed big-time, but your friends say thanks
    because they pay less in taxes, and you saved their banks 
     
     ----------------------------------------
     
     

November 17, 2011

  • Guess the Song

    1)___ __ ______ _ _____ 
    Inna da park called Zucotti people
    were protesting against the man
    Inna da park were a lot of people 
    who didn't care, didn't give a damn 
     Oh doncha pretend to me, that you understand 
    You just wanted some drugs for free 
    And some strange poontan-ahn-ang 
    in between exa-ah-ah ahh-ahhmmmms!
    --------------------
    2)_______________ __________
    Wake up Mama, this policeman has something to say to you
    It's late November, And I guess I shouldn't have skipped home school
    But I'm tired of the abuse, and I study but it's no use
    All you want me to learn is chemistry
    You keep me out of school, and I do obey your rules
    Manufacture meth, a kilo at once or more
     
    All I wanted was a normal happy childhood
    But you married a loser and mother what a loser
    We had to leave town
    Mostly he just messed with our heads, but when you caught him in my bed
    Oh Mama there wasn't enough left to bury in a can
    And so we had to leave our flat, but I gave him one more stab
    You try not talking about it, when you own a meth lab 
     
    ---------------
    3)
    Votin' for a girl with brains under her hair
    Votin' for a girl who has money everywhere
    She says Obama's not from here.
    I'm voting for a republican girl

    Voting for a girl who's new to politics
    voting for a girl who's into term limits
    we hate seniorities
    So we vote for republican girls

    Votin' for a girl who doesn't really care
    for the poor and their lucrative welfare
    Her wind billows gucci underwear
    Voting for a republican girl

    Voting for a girl who used to be a witch
    Hoping that she wins us a demographic niche
    The other party really hates this bitch
    She polls higher than democrat girls

    Voting for a girl one fine election night
    most precincts reporting not even a close fight
    Less than half the voters got it right
    Better luck next time, republican girl.
     

November 15, 2011

  • Presently Occupied

    http://townhall.com/tipsheet/guybenson/2011/11/08/gross_hair_and_body_lice_outbreak_at_occupy_portland

    Transcript portion from the nightly news at WEAK-TV

    ....And well have More of the latest Herman Cain news at eleven. 

    Now, we turn to the unfolding story on Wall St., where the occupiers have still not issued their demands, but their numbers grow every day. For the story, we go to Clu Lesley, Clu, has there been any change in the situation since 5:15?

    Clu: Uh, No, Morava, there has not. But tempers are rising, as the occupiers' numbers grow ever larger. The crowd on the streets of....on Wall Street is becoming restive, demanding action. I have here one Ted "Bozoman" Bozeman. Ted, can you you tell us what the demands might be, and when we might hear something?

    Ted: {scratching self} Dude! You're the news guy, you tell me. They just keep itching and crawling and they won't stop, man! I need to blaze a bud, dude, outta here.

    Clu: Head and Body Lice. They are making their presence known on Wall st. home of many banks whose questionable practices led to the spontaneous demonstrations by students from all over the country. Head Lice. Body Lice. Reviled by many, understood by few. They live on the bodies of warm-blooded animals, feeding on the bood of their hosts, and laying their eggs on the hair follicles of the host. When the eggs hatch the cycle is complete.

     Clu:But, What do they Really want? Why are they occupying the heads and, of course, the bodies of these innocent youngsters? And what to make of the allegations by fringe elements that the people so                infested brought it themselves, through the practice known as 'poor hygiene'? And night falls, Again without bringing any new answers, the lice feed and lay their eggs, the kids scratch and curse. And so the mystery remains.......unhh, a mystery! Now back to you, Morova.

    Thank you, Clu, doing a great job out there. That wraps up the six o'clock hour, I'm Morova Lissner, reminding you to stay tuned for "So You Think You've Been Sexually Harassed By Herman Cain."

     

November 10, 2011

  • Parodies of Matchstick Men

    SONG FRAGMENTS

    I'm an old cowhand, I-Pad in my hand
    I find lost calves with my search engine
    I'm a cowboy who knows his way around the web
    my start-up went public, and I bought this spread
    It didn't cost me a sixth of the bread
    That I got from my IPO

    --------------------------------

    Did anyone here see that wing- nut Rick Perry?
    High as a kite, he carried on
    He's sure not to be the front runner
    'less he gets off what he's on
     
    Anybody here see Herman Cain take a tumble
    when one gal claimed he done her wrong?
    Cain says that he merely stumbled
    When his hand slid into her thong
    -----------------------
    BIGGER FRAGMENTS
     
     
    They're strugglin' in France and Germany's funds are low
    And there's no chance that Italy's premier won't go
    When the pound is going down
    and no dollars can be found
    well, whaddya know?
    it's China we owe
     
    And it's all because your money's no good
    And you gotten rid of your gold
    Your nickels are wooden and
    the dollars' sunk mighty low
    There no use Greecin' palms
    and if you're seeking alms , just wherdyago
    Not Portugal!
     
    Now the Chinese say
     that today they'd rather buy the yen
    They claim the USA
    was a much better place back then
    bankers were more human
    And the only worthless bucks were Indian
     
    And it's all because
    you're off the gold standard
    and you spend like a drunk intends
    You save your christmas cards 
    but your money you think won't ever end
    I warned you, friend
    --------------------
     
    Get your Tercel started
    back out of your driveway
    Don't go past the Stop sign
    Until you've looked both ways
     
    Yeah I gotta go earn a living
    10 per cent to the IRA
    put some in the son's fund for college
    Sure hope he keeps up his grades
     
    But all that crap's forgotten
    when the overpass I'm under
    and some jerk slows down and blocks me
    He should pay me for that blunder
     
    If I wasn't so short and skinny
    I'd be right there on his chrome
    I'd follow him and then I'd kick him
    Make him wish he'd stayed at home
     
    I'd thrash him real good
    If only I really could
    I'd bruise him to the bone
    if weighed more
    Than nine stone
    I've got a mean inner child
    Please don't get me riled
     
     
    -------------------
     

     

November 7, 2011

  • HERE, THERE, THEN ANOTHER THERE

    I cross the Bailey Bridge almost every, but it was not until recently that I took advantage of the excellent views from the old bridge that still stands beside it, and is used as a fishing pier.

     

    From the south end of Bailey Bridge, looking west into the setting sun

    Regular readers, you two should recognize the Escher Museum, on the waterfront in Mobile, Alabama

    The Bulk Terminal, in Eastern New Orleans, is a popular model of mine. good thing, because the weather will keep us here for several days.

     

    These guys let me get closer than usual, I think because I had the sun behind me.

    But when I took one more step......

    There are some beautiful spots still left unspoiled in Bay County, and if you obey the signs and stay on the trail, you will never see them

    If the Park Ranger sees me off the Trail, I will run up to him, crying, "Thank God, you found me!

October 30, 2011

  • LAMENT FOR LINDSAY LOHAN

    You Have lost Your Way, Lindsay (to the tune do you know the way to San Jose)

    What the hell is wrong with you, Lindsay?
    You started out so hot, then somehow, you went astray
    I ask you again, double-u tee eff, Lindsay?
    Rare is the day we don’t hear about some dumb escapade

    Lindsay you should wear a bracelet,
    one that reads What Would The Judges Say?
    In a week or two you won’t have to ask
    the weeks inside are slow to pass
    And you will find, hope you don’t mind
    There’s other ways to show your ass

    You aren’t bad, but you’re no Meryl Streep, either
    Downey was welcomed back because he can act, that’s a fact
    Nice mug shot, Lindsay! Congrats, you over achiever!
    You’re supposed to wait until you’re great to become a diva

    Lindsay you can’t go on this way
    wrecking cars and trashing bars
    Even though it’s true what they say
    That when you dare to misbehave
    and wear no undies to premieres,
    if you live, you’ll get more pay

    You have lots of friends, Lindsay
    Will they be there at the end, Lindsay
    Stop acting like your Dad, Lindsay
    (fade out)
    apologies extended to Burt Bacharach

October 27, 2011

  • Wall Street or Occupied, Try Next Stall

    ODE TO A WALL-STREET OCCUPIER*

    There's turmoil on Wall Street
    lots of people getting beat
    and that's just the fights
    about who gets to hold the signs

    And the ones who spur you on
    wear suits made in Hong Kong
    and watch you scream and bleed
    on their suite's wideass-screen Samsung

    When they tell you to jump you say sirs just how far
    There aren't ten of you who know what you're here for
    You toke and grin at the scene all around
    Pick up a brick and throw
    Like a yippie in Chicago
    And just like in '68, you know
    You've screwed the dems again

    It sounded like a real good plan
    Take the fight right to the man
    get in his face in front of his very own bank

    And the men who did us wrong
    should be in jail before too long
    And we, the unwashed, will be heroes of the first rank 

    But the guys in the suites misread the nation's mood now
    They were wrong, but its you being carted to the hoosegow
    Daddy, help! Where are you?
    Sonny bit off more than he could chew
    We need enough for Jenny's bail too
    The lefties screwed the dems again.

    Reporters are trying to keep the protest alive
    they ordered pizza for one thousand and five
    They fill their papers with lie after lie
    The readers are hypnotized and don't mind

    It's been a month, and you're kicked out of school now
    A week since you bathed, combed, brushed, or wiped now
    Stand downwind, you smell like a dead cow
    You and your friends made quite a scene
    Go home now and get clean, no Obama in '13,
    You've screwed the dems, Again!

    Sung to the tune of Won't Get Fooled Again, by Pete Townshend

October 25, 2011

  • THANKS A BUNCH, MATT!

    The @godfatherofgreenbay tagged me as part of a xanga chain-letter type thingie, wherein the taggees relate 7 interesting things about themselves, and tag 7 others to do the same. Well, I was tagged, that makes me It, I gotta do it. Go on dawgs, I'll get witcha later:

    1) I will take this opportunity to tell you all that I am one of the Lesser-Known Poets of the early 21st Century, an achievement that would not have been possible in the late 20th century because I wasn't writing poetry then, and it wasn't the 21st century yet, Duh!

    2)There is a vein on my heart that gets squeezed shut every time my heart beats. It doesn't need to be open at that time, so it does not affect me. Should it ever stay shut, about 30% of the blood flow to my pump would be cut off, and I would feel some pain and dizziness. so they say. Then we would have to cut daddy's chest open. This is officially an interesting thing about me, because my doctor sent a dvd of the phenomenon to the Mayo clinic and Emory University. Last time I checked, you could get a copy at Wal-Mart, look in the $1.98 bin.

    3)I can mimic five different regional cajun dialects; Dulac, Venice, Opelousas, the West Bank, and Gentilly, but they only sound different to me.

    4)I own a gun that was used to shoot a guy. That's all I'm sayin'

    5)My cousin by marriage was implicated in the murder of Professor Backwards. Supposedly, his last words were "Pleh! Pleh!"

    7)I have trouble keeping things in numerical order, a relic of my anarchic activity in my teens.

    8)I am throwing in an extra fact, because this just seemed to end too soon: I have NEVER, ever been in a fight. it isn't cowardice; I have jumped into the middle of a fight between crew members to break it up, and I have stared down a couple of deckhands who got in my face over orders I had given them. But I am a fast talker, a faster runner(maybe some cowardice, but he was mean for a little guy), and I weigh 215 lbs and stand 6'4", so I can loom when looming is called for. Plus, I don't give a rat's ass if FSU sucks or not, if you look at my girl, or that you think all libs are faggots, so that eliminates most opportunities for physical confrontation.

    Re: #5- All right, all right! My Dad sold a canoe to a guy in Key West back in the late seventies, and Max shorted Dad $20 bucks. Max bought a bottle with the twenty, and drank it with Dad after the sale, so why it mattered so much is a bit of a mystery, chalk it up to the wonders of alcohol, I guess. Dad said that twenty mattered more with each sip of whisky, and he got vocal about it. Max threatened to kick his ass, and he was a big guy, and a bully, there was some weight to the threat. So Dad got his .22 rifle, and ordered Max out of his house. Naturally, when faced with a drunk holding a gun on him, Max charged Dad, who shot him in the shoulder. They were crying and telling each other they were sorry when the cops came in response to Mrs. Max' call. Dad spent the night in jail, but Max refused to press charges. He did, however, file a lawsuit, which Dad lost, and I ended up with no inheritance other than a set of bongos, a giant wooden spoon and fork, the aforementioned .22, and a slide rule.

    Here is my list of victims:

    @jsolberg
    @roscoes_farm
    @gvnuphope
    @joiwinds
    @gnostic1
    @chromepoet
    @doahsdeer