Saturday, April 28, 2012

Apologies, Aliens, and Other Words that Begin with 'A'

I would like to apologize. There is at least one person in the world who at least lies about reading this blog, and if she--my mom--had tried to find new content here for the past week or so, she's been disappointed. My excuse is that I've been busy around the house. It's the time of year when the garden must be tended, fence post holes must be gouged into the solid granite that is my back yard, garages must be cleaned, and fetch must be played, and played, and played.

Posting should be regular for a while, but may become sparse, temporarily, in the near future, as I think I'm going to build a:


So that we can have these "on tap:"

Hannibal, laid by Hennible

Until that happens, however, I'll be here, supplying the internet with the drivel it so desperately needs.

A woman came to the door of the bike shop today and leaned over so that she was visible but her bike--or whatever she could've been holding, like sloth on a leash (I've seen weirder things in this part of town)--was not. She said, "If you make fun of my bike, I'll leave." This made me a little bit sad, and after I assured her that if her bike served her cycling needs well, I would believe it was nothing but a good bike. She began to push it into the shop, and I couldn't wait to see what was for sure going to be some kind of atrocious Frankenbike or rust statue or whatever. However, it was just an old bike. Not ridiculous in any way. I was saddened all the more. 

There are people who stand by the theory that we should ridicule the obese, the smokers, the sunburned, the people who feed their kids fast food, etc. Their theory is that if ridicule can bring an obese person to the point that they resolve to loose the weight, then the ridicule is good. The end justifies the means. I'm convinced that this kind of ridicule--let's call it the "best" kind--is nine parts snobbery and one part rationalization; it's the ridiculer dusting off his ego because he has a shiny bike or has a thirty-inch waist or lays eggs that are not cannibals.

I used to be a big fan of judging people silently, but I have so many opportunities to judge in the course of a day that each judgement is like a little toxic egg:

And we all know what will hatch from those eggs in act two. So now I use all of that pent up judgement energy to build chicken coops and garden boxes.

Speaking of space aliens, this is what my dog looks like after he runs alongside my bicycle.

Hahaha. What a dork. There, I can ridicule him for no reason and feel fine about it.

So, to recap, hopefully posts won't be so sparse in the near future. That said, you should know I'm going to a birthday party tonight at a pub where the beer is cheep, so don't look for another post tomorrow. 


  1. Son, You are correct. I HAVE been checking your blog this week but was not disappointed this a.m. Fence looks good and I like those raised beds. Dad's garden is still in pots but doing well. Also, I have 1 pink, 1 blue, 1 turquoise and 1 yellow chicken to donate to your new "herd" of chickens. When would you like them delivered? (Don't believe you'll ever get an egg from my cuties.) Love, Mom

    1. Well, my chicken book says pink, blue, turquoise, and yellow chickens never expire, so you can deliver them whenever it's most convenient.