Etherhuffer's Synaptic Chasm

Sarcasm's Rainbow

"Why would you simply grant that which someone has simply asked for?" he said to her.

He turned and walked away and his tears poured out and flew straight up into the sky.

Precipitous Problems in Seattle

Well, it was more than horrible last night. Our weather done gone to hell inna bushel basket. Here in West Seattle ma and I barely got the cows in the barn in time. We had a rope all tied up between the barn and the house and I was nearly blinded by the blowin hay and leaves. Ma's skirt got all blowed up around her head and seein she been watchin Paris and Britney I had to fight my way backed to safety watchin her bivver since undies ain't on her list no longer. Got back to the house to find giant Madronas driven through the windows and neighbors' pets bouncin off the skylights like bugs offa the truck windshield. Hell, it was rainin and blowin cats and dogs and W. Washington rats! I really hate it when the rats starta blowin. I hearda pneumonic plague but aerial plague really sucks. I mean blows. Whatever.

So watch out for the day-luge thats a comin next. We are gonna get the poke boat out tonight and fix up a raft just in case. Ima painting "Medusa" on her prow just in case.

WHiPs

In the world of the ultra politically correct, so correct that even your leather shoes come with a cow-suicide document to prove that old Blossy or Flower or whatever her udder was died by crawling in the back of a running motorhome with a hose running to the exhaust, Seattle has now seen fit to clean up the clean folks of the world. Clean folks? Well, the sweaty and sometimes clean ones known as bicyclists. For those of you with dicks so microscopic that you wanker off with tweezers and drive  Hummers valiantly over speed bumps in Bellevue Square(in  4WD of course) you may rejoice. Those previously known to you as ‘human speed bumps’ are going to get some good old fashioned policing to help clean up some bad riding habits. And guess who is going to do this? No, not Blackwater you assholes, the Seattle PD!

The mayor is now outfitting the already cycling cops with flashing blueberries on their helmets and reassigning them to patrol duty pointed directly at scofflaw cyclists who consider stoplights a lesson in relative morality or think that the laws of physics don’t apply to people with overdeveloped legs and granola-bar breath. Yup, cycle cops are going after all those ill socialized folks who have not seen fit as of yet to volunteer for Boeing’s chicken-in-the-turbine engine test, a test that only Penn and Teller could watch and find wryly humorous. Heh.

In a trial run of this new government intrusion into every day life, a few bicycle cops headed down to Pioneer Square to troll for truants. Didn’t take long to find a few. First miscreant in line was Ulnar “Uli” Swenson, chugging up 1^st Ave in the wrong lane, no helmet, and reeking of beer. Two of Seattle’s finest swept down on Uli and put him in a sleeper hold. Uli groaned and rolled his eyes up into his head and passed out cold. The cops were just back on the curb when a Prius smacked old Uli good and hard, running over his head and thereby missing all vital areas. Uli woke up mad as hell but still drunk and didn’t quite know what to make of a pair of idiots with flashing blue lights in their heads. Uli flashed back to bad discotechs, K-Marts and too many Funkadelic concerts. Hollerin “Guns on sale at the flashin blue light!” Uli pulled out a hidden piece and dropped both gumshoes in their rat traps. Good work Uli.

A local club owner who witnessed the scene immediately hired Uli as an armed and belligerent bouncer for his hip hop club. Which goes to show: People who ride bikes get ahead in life. Hummer drivers take notice.

At Least It Wasn't a Labradoodle

                                                                                                                                                             So, my wife has been rather flying about the night skies on her broom lately. God in heaven quakes at the shrieking and howling this woman puts out when OTR. I guess I should learn to live with this as it seems no woman will ever greet the glowing gaseous orb of morn and its warm rays with a smile. Does every female arise on the wrong side of the bed? Gads, what to do?

Well, let me tell you what NOT to do. Especially if you are evil like me. Very evil.  Since I am terribly out of shape I decided to start bicycling again. I love bikes, but not more than cars, cars being the ultimate form of testosterone poisoning. But I need to get in shape and a bike fills the bill. So I put together a nice road cruiser and started the slow climb to health. I even fixed up my spouse's well appointed two wheeler so we could actually have f-u-n. Yeah, fun, the true opposite of grouchy. Ah, but it was not to be. Even this activity activated her bile ducts and resulted in all sorts of back seat driving and howling over the wind in my ears. It was all too much.

So, Mr. Evil decided to make bike riding more interesting.  Far more interesting. I wandered down to the local pet store, of which West Seattle has more of than even Starbuck's if you can imagine. Hey, when your neighborhood goes gay, old or both you get dogs. Scratching around the bins of leftover animal detritus and squeeky toys I found a dog whistle. Heh. The silent type you don't hear. Heh, hehehehe. Well, a little tape and glue and it mounted nicely on the wife's bottom bracket well out of sight. Heh. I must be a genius.

Except for when I am not. We took off for a nice run down to Alki Beach with its hordes of narcisso-exercisers, skaters, perambulator pushers and gang members walking their pit bulls. Heh.

You can get a pretty good run down the bike path at Alki and boy were we rolling. That whistle was totally silent to my heavy metal damaged ears. And to the wife. But not too........HORDES OF DOGS! Snarling, nasty, and likely unvaccinated killers came pouring at us! The terror was instant and primal as I watched them shoot straight for Kathy. Had it been a stranger I would have clenched my eyes shut in anticipation of the horror to follow.

She went down as a Basenji went under the pedal, knocked there by a Rhodesian Ridgeback going for her ankle. She landed smack flat on a brace of pit bulls who had escaped their rapper-owners grasp. The dogs were bark-shrieking as her ass pinned their heads to the asphalt. The coup-de-grace was delivered by a huge standard poodle that went for her boobs. It was ugly.

So as I sit in the hospital room, pondering all this, I have to ask: Was it worth it? No, it was not and I know that now. My stitches ache, my arm is in a cast and the loose tendons in my knee are all painfull reminders of what a woman can do to you. As Kathy lay on the ground, pit bulls and basenjis licking her face and a poodle licking her boobs, she saw the whistle. I think you can figure out the rest. Bow wow.

East meets Western Spray Paint

The art lover in me is a disease. A festering, caseating nauseous mess that finds and loves art of all forms yet has no money to back this addiction up. While wandering Japan town in SF a few weeks ago, I saw a small article on Gaijin Fujita. Gaijin mixes classic Japanese art with tagger grafitti to make a great modern style. Now, if I only had 75K to plunk down for his art!