Tradition

Cold is how I greet the day because cold is how it greets me. My feet are numb and swollen. My teeth ache with a numb, dull pain. The bedroom window is open, and an icy gust, whistling like ancient ghosts in intervals, is a reminder of my nightmare. I wish a satellite falling to Earth would crash down on me. But it never does. But still I wish.

It is the first day of November.

Somewhere in southern Ontario lies a black boot. There are insects crawling within it, carrion of the last remaining toes. No living person has seen this boot, these toes, or its former occupant for months. But it's there. Waiting to be found.

I like to take my dogs for walks in the forest. Yesterday morning, Jurgen, our Beagle, dug up a human bone, then another human bone, and then a human skull. And then I called the police.

Turns out, my driver's license wasn't revoked after all. I'm going to call up Darla and see if she'd like to take a ride. Into the dark. Into the dark.

I put the kettle on, turn on the television. Somewhere in Africa a baby was born with four noses. One of my favorite actors died. Gas is more expensive.

"It looked like an arrowhead, but it was pink. Well, not bright pink, at least not for long, Dad. Then it started glowing. And then it disappeared."

You're all going to die and waste away. Waste away.

Wst awy.

What Time is It?

Time to die!

Sorry. I've always wanted to say that to some unfortunate soul just after checking my watch and yanking on the dial, revealing a previously hidden garrote wrist wire. Basically, I want to be a villain from a James Bond movie (or, barring that, a 1980s martial arts film starring Steven Seagal).

Today's post has nothing to do with my aforementioned desires, of course, but if I switched it to Time to DyE! then we'd on the right track; yet which track would that be, exactly? Let's find out... together!



The one where we go for a midnight swim together, obviously. Bring your suit!

Old Yellow

There's a banana in my fridge. It has been there for four days. I am not going to eat it, but neither can I throw it away. It might stay there awhile, until I work up the nerve to finally toss it out. Perhaps I might expire myself before then, and in which case, good luck, banana. You're on your own. Haha.

The banana isn't living, of course, it was DOA at whatever market it was purchased from. It was given to me last Wednesday at work. Wednesday is when everyone is given fruit. Wednesday is when no one really wants the fruit they're given. So the fruit gets tossed in the bin like so many other wasted seeds designed to renew life. [/masturbation metaphor]

On Wednesday it was ripe. Today, Sunday, not so much. It's bruised without a definable assailant, has deep scars on its peel.

If I liked bananas, maybe I could give this particular one a proper sendoff, eat him while he's still recognizable. But I fucking hate bananas, so I can't.

But I wish him well. Maybe he can be reincarnated as a fruit I enjoy.

Where's the Bourbon?

Much like a young George Washington, I have wooden teeth chop down cherry trees cannot tell a lie; and it's no lie to say that, again like a young George Washington, I unabashedly adore A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors with all my heart and spleen. You had Patricia Arquette doing back flips, sexy nurses spitting out eel-like creatures, a hall of mirrors, music by Dokken, John Saxon being John Saxon, a kid trying to use wizardry on Freddy Krueger... the list goes on and on. If this reminds you, Delectable Reader, of me gushing over Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter it very well should as they're both fine examples of how to make decent sequels.

If nothing else, here's what I probably remember best after all these years.

Kimochi Strikes Back!

A few months back I posted a picture of Skeletor which, for all intents and purposes, blew my mind. Yes, consider it blown (and sucked, but I digress). This month, being October, I'd been searching for some images from the Friday the 13th franchise to use in an upcoming post when I stumbled upon the following picture:

(click above to super-size him)

And again, in all honesty, I'm not sure what to make of this. I mean, disregarding the fact that coming back from the dead as a virtually-unstoppable killing machine is utterly fanciful (if not outright absurd) why would Jason's penis be in perfect (albeit albino) working order? Wouldn't it be all dilapidated and shit like the rest of his body? I suppose I'm over-analyzing this, and besides, the point of it all was to let you see what I've seen; and now your day is complete.

Over 2,000,000,000 Served

Actor Sherman Hemsley, best known for his portrayal of George Jefferson from the iconic television series All in the Family and The Jeffersons was a man typecast by the very same role which made him famous. Audiences expected Hemsley to be Jefferson regardless of whatever name had been attached to any given role, with Amen being the prime example of such expectations as the series, at its core, consisted of a scheming, dishonest man looking to get ahead. Big shocker, right?

Over the years, Hemsley kept busy with voice work for Dinosaurs and guest appearances on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, etc. but the Jeffersonless role I remember most fondly is Hemsley's portrayal of a clever math teacher in a brief segment of the ill-fated 1985 revival of The Twilight Zone. Though not one of the series' more frightening tales, it served as a mirthful, easygoing break between stories of giant spiders and shadow men.

Here is that segment, I of Newton in its entirety for your viewing pleasure. The footage isn't of the greatest quality but if you were satisfied with televisions in 1985 you'll be just fine.  

Notes on Music

Someone once claimed I have good taste in music. They were lying, of course (perhaps delusional, even) but I nevertheless appreciate the occasional, well-intentioned prevarication as much as the next ghoul. An apt declaration, however, would be that I've listened to a great deal of music; and disregarding quality for a moment -if only for shits and giggles- then yes, by virtue of exposure, I know something about good music.

Autograph - Turn Up the Radio

That probably wasn't the best way to convince you of my discerning taste, but hey, it's the first song I felt like uploading and if it feels good, do it. The aforementioned philosophy has served psychopaths, demagogues, pornographers, New Yorkers, and ice-cream truck drivers well for decades and I, for one, relish in keeping such company. If you're a stickler for veracity, then you can rest easy in the knowledge that yes, the only time I turn the music down is when I'm sleeping a long night off.*

Sometimes I get the urge to post an un- or under- appreciated song from an established band; not necessarily a 'deep cut' but you get the idea.

Tool - Eulogy

And why not? Eulogy is an amazing song from a solid album, and if its inclusion here prompts anyone to delve further into Tool's extensive catalogue, excellent. If it repulses you, then I've wasted eight and a half minutes of your life. Win-win!

Speaking of songs from household names, what about the Cars' 2011 release, Move Like This?

The Cars - Sad Song

A new album from Ocasek and company? Get out! I know, I know.
 
In other instances, I merely wish to share something odd with readers and devotees alike, such as a popular song with a twist.

Martika - Toy Soldiers (Japanese Version)

If you're anything like me, Daiquiri Reader, then you're on the verge of quitting your job to become a kimono-clad ganguro right now thanks to Ms. Marta Marrero's hallowed melody; but supposing you're not, I'd hope you could at least appreciate the quirkiness of it all.

For those times when the Land of the Rising Sun just isn't bizarre enough, I can always gaze southward to the Land Down Under.**

Powderfinger - Pick You Up

Kidding aside, I'm a Blogger of the People. When someone has a request, I take it seriously. PK's very own Harrison Forbes, in a rare, not-so-public display, appeared to me in a bowl of Cheerios I'd been eating this morning and suggested I post a song dear to his heart. (I then proceeded to eat him... but nevertheless, his wish is my command!)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Theme Song)

Hell, sometimes what I post doesn't even qualify as a song but, rather, an instrumental extracted from whichever video game I'm obsessed with at the moment.

Shoji Meguro - The Hunted (Surprise Battle Theme) 

Along those lines, I wouldn't want my posting of music to mislead anyone into considering me a music blogger. That, dearest readers, is a title too lofty for the likes of a layman such as myself. You'll never see me seated in a coffeehouse, sipping on a double mango mocha latte, sucking back on a pomegranate-flavored e-cigarette as I congratulate a friend (you know, the smart one) for completing his dissertation upon the geopolitical importance of toothpaste brand recognition while he, in turn, reinforces my smug sense of having refined taste in music, the kind that's only cool if I heard it before anyone else I know and even then, only if the band in question is liked by fewer than a thousand people from around the globe.

That's fine and all, I suppose, but it's just not me. I'm the one you'll find puffing away on a Marlboro in the nonexistent smoking section of a Dunkin' Donuts, discussing the highs and lows of the Back to the Future soundtrack with PK alumnus denz. While there we'd also debate the merits of me posting a song about love, 'cause that would be akin to him uploading a song about an African-American woman living in antebellum South Carolina, but whatever. "I'm the boss, Aussiesauce!"

School of Seven Bells - I L U

Here's another one for you, yes you! just because I can.

Scott Lucas and the Married Men - Weatherman

I sometimes post music on this blog. So.


* And even then, only if the gremlins turn it down for me.
** I should probably take this opportunity to stress that bizarre is a subjective term and even if it weren't, Australia is by no means strange.***
*** Please, if anyone is reading this: Paul Hogan is in my house right now, threatening to turn my family into a human centipede and ride us around harder than he would a French mime. Please god don't let him discov-