Don't Heckle The Supervillain
...No Mr. Bond I expect you to die. Transmissions from a criminal mastermind in the making.Thursday, April 15, 2004
"Listen, when you get home tonight you're going to be confronted by the instinct to drink alone. Trust that instinct. Manage the pain. Don't try to be a hero."
Courtesy of The West Wing.
Also, there's something to be said about knowing your limits, hence the holy line of demarcation.
That is all.
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Monday, April 12, 2004
Fry's assassin, Fry's assassin's assassin.
Futurama. That's just funny.
That is all.
Sunday, April 04, 2004
As I was getting my things in order this evening I noticed my softsided briefcase is getting a little worn. I remember when I ordered it; living in Chicago and badly needing a lucky break at an interview. Something, I needed something to turn around this string of bad luck. Dozens upon dozens of interviews and not one job. A serious funk setting in on my life, a depression brewing in my soul. Hoping for a change in my fates I ordered a new bag, my mind straining against logic hoping it would be imbued with a fortune better than my own. Trading lucre for luck. Sadly, the bag brought no mystic change in my fortune. I packed up and moved back to Beverly (Virginia actually) where a friend finagled me temporary accommodations which finally led to permanent gainful employment. My bag is still with me, it has seen me through hard times and as I contemplate buying a new one I wonder if I should. It seems almost insulting to this item which saw me at my most desperate hour (no exaggeration) and has seen me, like a storm tossed raft, into safer waters. In deference to IKEA I know it is just a bag and has no feelings, yet I cannot seem to purchase a new one. Perhaps it was foolish to hope it might posses magical properties when it arrived, perhaps it had to gain them over time and with great effort. Maybe these things require us to pour a little of our souls into them before they can give back to us. I know that is true with another of my possessions. I have owned them (it seems so wrong a term) since my birth, they are perhaps the first pieces of property I might call "mine". I love them. Never will I give them up and I truly believe they are as much a part of me as any of my organs, limbs, blood or bone.
That is all.
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