Posts Tagged ‘ “Bob” ’

Another “Next Big Thing”

2011.08.11
By

“LOOMING” (N): PEOPLE BEHIND STUFF.

Fig. 1.

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Pithyism #3 up, 3 down

2011.08.07
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WOULDN’T YOU RATHER SEE A good game than a great hit?

(Derived from a conversation on a public lament for baseball players on steroids.) (Yes, I said for.)

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And Now, A Moment of Silence

2011.08.05
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Fig. 1.

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Re: 2012

2011.08.04
By

Fig. 1.

I DO NOT TALK POLITICS as a rule, and for a variety of reasons, but I am currently ashamed of my government falling prey to fear and extortion. We’re better than this. So I acted. I logged the following at http://www.whitehouse.gov/contact/ and will call the White House Comment Line at 202.456.1111 between 0900-1700 EDT Monday through Thursday. (I’ll wait.)

If you too are disgusted, act. It’s better than stewing.

Dear Sir,

I have never written to you before, but the recent action regarding the debt ceiling has me more upset with “the American experiment” than I have ever been. Speaking as a disabled American currently negotiating the hell of red tape separating me from my Social Security payments, and with all due respect, sir: I had faith in you, I voted for you, and I respect and like you a lot on a personal level, but if you don’t raise taxes on the wealthiest 400 American families I will be staying home Election Day. (Words partly copied from my friend David Feldman, a noted stand-up comic and fellow former idealist.) If you do redeem this horrible mistake, however, you may happily count on my vote.

(And on a personal note, speaking as a formerly unpopular student who nonetheless survived third grade, one does not appease the bullies by giving them your lunch money. You must bloody their nose. I wish to God we didn’t live in such a world, and pray and work every day toward that goal, but it’s the only thing that made Joey Mulvaney quit picking on me.)

Thank you for your time, and with great respect,

Neal Ross Attinson

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How To Wash The Dishes

2011.08.04
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CLEAN DISHES NOT ONLY LOOK nice, they’re more healthy to eat from. Everyone has their own special method for this daily (or twice-daily) chore, and I’ve found this one to be most efficient in terms of time and water savings:

YOU WILL NEED:
- Large or divided sink
- Drain rack
- Dirty dishes
- Dishwashing soap (I like good ol’ yellow-bottled Crystal White for its inexpensivity and universality)
- Rubber gloves
- Sponge with one soft-scrub side
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Gritty Comfortoir

2011.08.03
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AND AFTER ALL IS SAID and done, and the horrible truth revealed
The bodies taken away, the last question answered
Comes William S Burroughs
(the gravelly graandpa who’s done things the grownups won’t let you ask him about).
“Interdimensional Alka Seltzer,” he says, proffering a grey fizzing mug,
and sits down beside you.
You take the cup.
He speaks volumes with his eyes
(they’ve seen it all, long before you were born)
but his mouth only says
what you wish it always wouldn’t:
“That’s just the way it is, Out Here.”

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Fable, With Apocalypse

2011.07.30
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IN THE MIDDLE OF A flat grey wasteland, under a grey streaky sky, a handful of figures warmed themselves at a snapping fire.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

One of the figures had turned to stare across the waste — a vast landscape of broken dryers and tumbledown swingsets, with here and there half a gas station or bowling alley.

“Don’t do that.”

He takes the gaping figure and turns him tenderly toward the flames to warm his hands again.

“Thanks.”

“It’s why I’m here. And that” — a sweeping arm — “is why that’s there. The wasteland is only for wasting you.”

“Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it. Just keep your hands warm. Even when you’re the last one here.”

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Aside

2011.07.30
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“GOOD GOD, MAN — WHAT HAPPENED?”

“Well, I was on the freeway, and my car stalled right in front of a hurtling semi. Fortunately, the orchestra changed tunes at exactly that moment and distracted everyone.”

“What orchestra?”

“See?”

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HAPPY SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR APPRECIATION DAY! In our case, that would be those wonderful folks at sonic.net, whose founders we’ve known since they built Santa Rosa Junior College’s first dialup Internet host as a class project in 1993ish and without whom there’d be no The Metaphorager (among others). O Gallant Knights of the Cables Etheric,...

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What I Stand, For

2011.07.28
By

HAVING JUST RECEIVED ORDERS FROM Fearless Leader to define my principles in 106 characters or less and then disperse them yea seedlike to the multitudes, I replied as follows:

Clearer thinking. Don’t litter. Say “please” and “thank you” and mean it. And stop killing the children.

Go ye now and do likewise. It’s what he’d want you to do.

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Huh.

2011.07.28
By

THIS IS ONE OF THOSE blog posts where the writer tries to predict, dreads to inspire, hopes to distance himself, and wonders if.
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When The Troll Sweats, Bottle It

2011.07.28
By

Fig. 1.

IN THE STARS MY DESTINATION, Alfred Bester imagines a world peopled (in part) by a cast-off group of future savages who chant scientific formulae during their religious rituals. “Quant Suff!” they chant, in abbreviated imitation of “sufficient quantity.” “Quant Suff!”

At the Renaissance Pleasure Faire, I inhabited a world peopled (in part) by a cast-off group of fannish folk who sometimes chant together after consuming a quasi-alchemic formula during their quasi-religious rituals. “Trolle Sweate!” they chant, in inebriated consequence of quant suff. “Trolle Sweate!”
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Recent Tales

Not Like It Used To Was

Mom in the drug store Called out to her son: “Brooklyn!” Am I getting old?

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Prosatio Silban and the Starving Survivor

A BUOPOTH IS A STRANGE beast: some say it is half-composed of men’s dreams, others prefer not to speculate. But of the little that...

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Prosatio Silban and the Visitor From The Sands

PROSATIO SILBAN WAS NOT KNOWN for nothing as “The Cook For Any Price.” He had long ago foresworn the Sacreanthood and serving people’s souls...

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The Poet

HE COULDN’T TELL WHETHER HE loved beauty or women more until the day he called his mom and said “Guess what? I’m marrying a...

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Storyteller’s Knot

THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF any story is the point at which it’s attached to the reader.

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Celebrating the remaining days:hours:etc until Apophis II. Live it up, Earthlings.

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