The Subterfuge - Part XII

And just when I was lamenting the fact that I would have to leave the world of pop-culture commentary behind, just when I thought that I had run out of things to say about the entertainingly entertaining entertainment business and come up with something completely mundane to discuss, the other day I happened to be watching Headline News, or HLN, as it is now known. And what did I happen to see on HLN? Well I saw a story that stated that the one and only Kevin Federline was scheduled to appear on the next edition of Celebrity Fit Club!!! And I immediately said to myself, “Yes! Cabral, your bread-and-butter is back!”

For about a year now, I had been wondering what had ever become of Kevin Federline. Perhaps the greatest rapper and recording artist of any genre for that matter, Federline disappeared into the unknown sometime last year, depriving us of some much needed quality music. We were left to wonder what exactly he could be doing while we assumed that he could only be making the heroic sacrifice of being the type of father that everyone needs by taking care of his kids while his ex-wife, Britney Spears, worked to leave crazy town…er, worked to conquer the demons in her life. And since Britney Spears has officially lost her official nut-job certification, it is now time for Federline to burst back on the scene.

But it seems that K-Fed has put on a few of the L-B’s over the past several months. And that makes sense; taking care of two young children on your own doesn’t leave much time to get your workout in. It’s hard to find time to go out for a run when you’re single and the primary caregiver for two children under the age of five. It’s hard to find time to work on your backup dancer moves when you have to worry about making money to feed your young children.

Now, CFC is not just famous for giving washed up celebrities a chance get their lives back in order at least on one level, managing their runaway weight problems; it is also famous for the fights between cast members and the complete meltdowns of cast members during the course of the show. And this edition of CFC comes pre-packaged with a powder keg that is ready to blow.

Of course, Federline and Jackson have said before that there is no animosity between the two, one can only imagine that Shar Jackson has to still feel a bit of resentment for Federline considering the fact that he left her for Spears while she (Jackson) was pregnant with his second child and, as nearly as I can tell, Federline never really fought that hard for custody of the two children he had with Jackson. But then again, Federline probably wasn’t going to be able to collect $20,000 in monthly child support from Jackson.

Oh well, maybe Federline and Jackson have buried whatever hatchet must surely have existed between the two, but that doesn’t mean that we still can’t have a big blowup like there was between Dustin “Screech” Diamond and Drill Instructor Harvey Walden IV during the most recent season. I can just see it now, at one of the weigh-ins Federline hands Walden a stack of audio cassettes of his Playing with Fire album and suggests that the cast members pop them into their walkmans to jam to while doing their workouts, and Walden challenges Federline to a cage match. Ah, it will be good times!

Journal Entry: And in related news, Lamar Odom, sidekick #2 on the Los Angeles Lakers got married over the weekend to Khloe Kardashian after a several days-long courtship and after having had three kids with his ex-girlfriend of nearly a decade and after never having been married before. So let’s congratulate Mr. Odom on leaving bachelorhood! Sure, I don’t really know what he sees or saw in Ms. Kardashian, but then again, I never watched Keeping Up with the Kardashians or Kourtney and Khloe take Miami…

The Subterfuge - Part XI

So the other day I was driving along with the radio on, listening to some tunes. Well, as I was listening, the song “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)” came on by an artist known as Beyonce Knowles. (Maybe some of you have heard of the song or the artist before. No? She’s reasonably talented, I guess. I think that she might make it big with a little luck, so you might want to get familiar with her.) Now ordinarily I would have just turned the station, or turned off the radio, or crashed the car in protest because most of you are well aware that I’m a much bigger fan of someone like, say…Taylor Swift and that kind of music.

However, for whatever reason, I paused and chose to listen to the lyrics of the song. And quite naturally, the reflexive distain that this song had earned from me, perhaps unfairly, became completely justified in my mind. So as I was listening, I heard this particular stanza:

“I got gloss on my lips, a man on my hips
Got me tighter in my Dereon jeans
Acting up, drink in my cup
I can care less what you think”

Did you read that? It’s simply awful. Do you see that last line in the stanza – I can care less what you think? I can care less what you think… Do you want to know what I can or could care less about? Okay, in fairness, I may not be the best person to consider when wondering the identities of things about which one can (or could) care less. For I think that many of you are well aware that there are not many things about which I could (or can) care less. And thus when people tell me things such as Man City won such and such game, or my flip flop is missing, or you’re using “air quotes” inappropriately, or I’m over at Taco Cabana with a double order of huevos rancheros waiting for you, my treat, well then my response is I could not care less. Wait a minute, something’s not right. Scratch that last example; I’m afraid I got a little bit carried away. A treated double order of huevos rancheros from Taco Cabana? Now that is something about which I certainly can care less.

I discuss this point because I think that it is quite evident that this last line makes absolutely no sense. I’ve hesitated to read all of the lyrics in the song, but based on the ones that I have read, and based on the fact that when this song does come on in bars/clubs none of the guys seem to be particularly excited, but only the girls, I can only assume that Miss Knowles is talking directly to an ex-boyfriend whose opinion she does not hold in high regard. So shouldn’t the line be I can’t care less what you think? (The line could have similarly been I cannot care less what you think, but in order to keep whatever silly beat was used in the song, I used can’t. Please note that the line still doesn’t rhyme with the line occurring two lines before it.)

Now Beyonce is not the only who makes this mistake. Indeed, I would estimate that I hear “could care less” at least ninety percent of the time (with the accurate phrases “could not care less” and “couldn’t care less” comprising the balance). So in essence, people are wrong at least ninety percent of the time, or in every instance that they say I could/can care less. Of course there are things that people could/can care less about than they do, but when people say these things, they almost invariably want to convey the impression that they mean the exact opposite (and I am waiting to actually hear an instance when a person does actually mean that they could/can care less about something).

Journal Entry: I cannot believe that I actually now know words from that stupid “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)” song beyond those words in its stupid chorus/refrain. There is clearly a chain reaction of events that led to me knowing these words with several linkages. The most obvious is Mr. Kanye West’s “decision” to interrupt Taylor Swift’s acceptance speech at the VMAs. Now sure, if you eliminate this particular event I would not have been forced to learn these lines – I could still be living in ignorant bliss – but since Kanye West is insane, he is incapable of really making any decisions so I am once again left blaming all of you who watch nonsense like the VMAs. Thanks a lot everyone…

The Subterfuge - Part X

I really don’t want to have to discuss this, but it is somewhat unavoidable. For those of you who watched the MTV Video Music Awards this past Sunday on the MTV, first of all, you probably could have found something better to do with your time. It probably should come as no surprise to anyone that I missed this particular edition of the “VMAs,” just as I have missed every other edition. In fact, I was completely unaware that the program was even on…

That is, I was completely unaware until my Facebook news feed started to “blow up,” as the kids say, with comments about Kanye West. I gave it little thought then because it seemed that it could not have really been that important (and in the end, it wasn’t), and I really blamed all of those people posting on the news feed for whatever happened to happen in the first place. (You see, if no one watched the VMAs, there would be no VMAs to watch, and Kanye West wouldn’t even have a platform to engage in ridiculous actions. So there you have it; all of you are to blame for this and not Kanye West.)

But then the following morning my incuriousness got the better of me as I continued to see the “Kanye West” news feeds and so I still didn’t check out what the hubbub was all about. So it wasn’t until I got to work that I finally decided to see what this whole Kanye West/VMA issue was all about. And so I watched.

It seems that Taylor Swift was given an award for some category the identity of which escapes me at the moment, and so while she was up giving her acceptance speech, a special guest in the person of Kanye West decided to join her on the stage. And Kanye West had nothing but the best things to say to Taylor as he congratulated her on her first ever VMA win. Or at least that is what he would have done if he was only partially insane. However, as it has no doubt become clear over the years, Kanye West is completely insane. And so instead of doing only the partially absurd by walking onstage and interrupting to congratulate her, Kanye said, and I paraphrase, “Taylor, I’m really happy for you, and I’m going to let you finish, but Beyonce had one of the best videos in history.”

The problem is that Kanye West apparently lacks that portion of the human brain that tells a person that, hey, maybe I should just keep this particular thought between me and me at the moment. You know, if Kanye West had a blog or something like that, then maybe he could type out a few of his thoughts and feelings there.

But now on to what you really want to know: was Kanye West right? Does Beyonce have one of the best videos in history, and by extension of that thought, was Beyonce’s video better than Taylor Swift’s? I don’t care. I have no idea what videos were in contention. However, since I hate country music, I cannot say that it is likely that I would like Taylor Swift’s video. But then again, I’ve hated most of Beyonce’s videos that I’ve seen and songs that I’ve heard. But all of this is pointless. All of these awards shows are de facto popularity contests. So the simple solution for you, Mr. West, is to either pay off all of those serving as judges, or, if the VMAs are judged in a similar fashion to the ridiculous People’s Choice Awards (i.e., you for some unfathomable reason let the fans vote for who they think should win), and it is literally impossible to pay off everyone, then you point out, quite accurately, that Taylor Swift may or may not daily eat at least six children under the age of four and that she may or may not run a vicious cockfighting ring with Wilford Brimley.

Journal Entry: And in case you were wondering, no, I did not watch Kanye West’s appearance on this new Jay Leno program. The reason is that Jay Leno is not funny. For the life of me, I have no idea how the Tonight Show stayed at #1 with him there for so many years. I have heard, however, that apparently West said that he was going to take some time to do some reflection. Well, that’s super, but I thought that he was going to be doing some reflection after the South Park Fishsticks episode. Regardless of what you think about West as a performer, he is a crazy person, so it should come as no surprise when he does something that is completely insane. He is a ticking time-bomb of the crazy.

The Subterfuge - Part IX

A long, long time ago there was a beautiful Flip Flop Princess residing in a glorious land of superbness with her equally beautiful twin Flip Flop Princess sister, whom we’ll call Sandal Princess for the sake of clarity. Now, although Flip Flop Princess seemed to have everything that a Flip Flop Princess could want, she was constantly jealous that her mother loved Sandal Princess far more. And also Mother had a horrid hamster-dog hybrid that unbeknownst to Mother constantly attacked and otherwise tried to defile Flip Flop Princess in unspeakable manners.

Well, one day Flip Flop Princess had had enough. She saw the opportunity to escape the neglectful eye of Mother and go off on a glorious new adventure filled with flowers and treats and candy and most of all, no vile hamster-dog hybrids. And so Flip Flop Princess surreptitiously stole away into a land of grand new possibilities.

Mother amazingly noticed Flip Flop Princess’s absence almost immediately. It was too bad that the discovery wasn’t immediate, for then maybe Mother would have been able to stop Flip Flop Princess from running off. And then even worse than failing to prevent Flip Flop Princess’s escape, she accused the land’s greatest Hero, Hero, of having abducted Flip Flop Princess. The horror of having been accused by Mother of having kidnapped the land’s beloved Flip Flop Princess drove Hero into a deep depression.

But there was really no depression, feigned or real. Hero after all never really cared for the insignificant Flip Flop Princess. And instead of using his great strength and courage to seek out and save Flip Flop Princess, Hero did nothing because he didn’t care and he realized that it wasn’t as if Flip Flop Princess was irreplaceable.

Eventually, however, Hero had a change of heart and used his great strength and courage to help Mother to discover to where Flip Flop Princess had run off. But this is only partly true as Hero had no change of heart. Many doubted whether Hero possessed a heart at all. Nevertheless Hero endeavored to bring Flip Flop Princess back from the far off land. But what end did Hero’s aid truly serve? Had Hero unbeknownst to Mother made a secret pact with Villainy?

Journal Entry: Did you see that? Did you see how I used the word unbeknownst twice in one email? That’s a personal best by two unbeknownsts I believe. I also created the word superbness, so please do congratulate me. And did you see that? That’s a second usage of the word superbness, a word, I’d like to reiterate, that I created myself. That’s a new personal best and a new world record by my count of three superbnesses, since after all I did create the word. And did you get that? I’m now up to three unbeknownsts, two unbeknownstses (including the one in this sentence), three superbnesses, and two superbnesseses (including the one in this sentence). Ooooh damn! Did I just make up two more words…

The Subterfuge - Part VIII

It was a late Thursday night (indeed, it was certainly early Friday morning by this point) not unlike any early Friday morning for me, and I had just pulled into the drive-thru of the one and only Taco Cabana (okay, of course there is more than one Taco Cabana out there, thankfully, because I would hate to see the line at the drive-thru at the Taco Cabana if it was the only one. It would be madness. There would probably be riots. Nightly. Or probably morningly.) to pick up the Usual, a double order of huevos rancheros.

Now, I was getting a little bit annoyed because I had made an extra effort to get out of bed to get over to Taco Cabana by long before 2 am. I figured that if I got there by 1:45 am, I would sail through the drive-thru with no problem. Silly me, I was forgetting that this was the Taco Cabana.

As my wait in line before even ordering began to approach fifteen minutes, I began considering doing the drastic: getting out of my car and walking up to those ahead of me in line and tossing them out of their cars and then driving their cars off somewhere else, anywhere else, but not in that line. Fortunately for those in the cars in front of me, this did not have to be done.

But when I got to the intercom to order, and after I had already ordered the Usual (the double order of huevos rancheros), for some reason I actually looked at the menu and I beheld listed there the Big Cabana Bowl! I was intrigued, very intrigued. I was intrigued enough to order the Big Cabana Bowl.

Upon arriving home, rather than digging into one of the orders of huevos rancheros as is customary, I went after the Big Cabana Bowl. And do you know how it was? It was delicious. I wish that I could say that I finished it there in that one sitting, but this was the Big Cabana Bowl after all and sadly I must admit that I was defeated on that occasion. So I put the remains of the Big Cabana Bowl in the refrigerator knowing that I would perhaps dream of finishing that Big Cabana Bowl a few short hours later that morning.

A few short hours later, I did wake up and I did finish that Big Cabana Bowl. And this is precisely where this story meets its end. I had made the new discovery of the Big Cabana Bowl at Taco Cabana and at that point, endless possibilities instantly opened in my world…

Journal Entry: And you thought the Big Cabana Bowl story was over. How silly of you. Because the very observant of you will have noted that there was still the matter of the double order of ranchos huervos that had gone uneaten. Well, I promptly took care of one of those Friday evening. And then, I truly wrapped everything up by finishing off the second one Saturday morning. But the “Usual” has taken on an entirely different meaning…

The Subterfuge - Part VII

…and you would never guess what the new dynamic duo is up to now…

One of the things that I have come to realize that I missed most about not having written the happy hour emails the past couple of years is that I missed out on some truly great pop culture/celebrity-type greatness, like the emergence of the whole Speidi phenomenon! Yes, friends, the Spencer Pratt/Heidi Montag power couple known as Speidi (yet another of those absolutely fantastic and original celebrity couple name portmanteaux that we all love) was something that completely escaped my notice until just a few short months ago.

First I learned that Heidi and Spencer had gotten married, and I thought to myself, wow; that’s fantastic! And I obviously wished the couple a long and happy marriage… But then I said to myself, wait, who the hell are Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt? That’s right! Believe it or not, I had absolutely no knowledge about either of them. And so I had to do my research the only way I know how, and I went to the Wikipedia and to my horror I discovered that the years I had gone without watching the MTV had caused me to miss out on some quality television like Laguna Beach and The OC and The Hills. I cannot be totally sure, but upon skimming one of the Speidi power-couple’s pages I discovered that the two are the main stars of one or more of those programs, which may or may not be reality shows. (And based on the trend that I have heard about in TV these days, I’m going to guess that all of those aforementioned programs are reality shows, as real as reality ever gets.)

But the next thing that I heard about them was that they were appearing in the latest edition of I’m a Celebrity…Get Me out of Here!(!)!! This was the second season of this particular show with the first having taken place in 2003. But why did it take six years between the first and second seasons of this show? Well, it certainly was not because the show was crap. No! It was obviously because all of the celebrities in Hollywood have just been so busy over the years that there were just none available for another season until now.

And did they ever gather a superb cast this time! Obviously Speidi headlined the group of celebrities, but they were also able to get not one, but two Baldwins to appear! To make a long story short, somebody won and a lot of other people lost. I’m not really sure how it turned out, but if you were allowed to bet on who would win such competitions after the fact, I would certainly have to bet on Speidi. I’ve convinced myself that Speidi won the competition…or maybe Alec Baldwin.

But silly me, I’ve almost forgotten why I started to write this in the first place (I mean other than because of my newfound love and admiration for Speidi). Well, it seems that Speidi, er…Heidi is lined up to sing at the Miss Universe Pageant this year. And by this year, I mean right now – as I type this. Obviously I would be watching the pageant if I had any way of finding out on what channel it is airing. Too bad. Well, the best part about this dynamic duo is that you get two for the price of one! And in this case, part of the price pays for Heidi to sing and the other part earns you the right to watch Spencer sunbathe! How can things possibly get better than this? (I hesitate to imagine.)

I’m Cabral Williams, and I want to officially announce the arrival of Speidi.

Journal Entry: I’m sorry but the Dynamic Duo – Speidi – have certainly replaced the Wonder Twins – Britney Spears and Kevin Federline – on my radar. The reason is that the Wonder Twins just haven’t really come up with any sort of great exploits lately. I mean if you want to get back to the top, Wonder Twins, you have to come back with something much more impressive than I’m a Celebrity…Get Me out of Here! and singing at Miss Universe/sunbathing on the stage at Miss Universe. Those heroics are tough to beat, I know, but you certainly can do it!

The Subterfuge - Part VI

There’s been a not insignificant amount of criticism of the subject matter of the happy hour emails. (Okay, maybe “not insignificant” is not the proper way of describing the criticism as the notion of “significance” is open to interpretation, but let’s just move on…) Apparently, it seems, there were at least a few people who were less than thrilled that my emails did not take the sort of Us Weekly/Seventeen magazine tone, and so I’ve decided to put my epic autobiographical story on hold for the time being.

So what will I be discussing on this occasion? Why, I just happened to be watching the VH1 channel Sunday night and happened to catch sizeable portions of the shows My Antonio and Real Chance of Love 2. Just to explain the programs briefly, both of them are The Bachelor-type shows: several women compete for the affections of the guy as he eliminates them from the competition as the season progresses.

Let’s face it; there is much that is stupid about these VH1 shows, just as I’m sure there is much that is stupid about The Bachelor. (And it should come as no surprise that I’ve never watched any of this crappy show.) But the thing about the VH1 shows is that they are part of the network’s so-called Celebreality lineup. Celebreality is of course a portmanteau (and I do love that word portmanteau) of the words celebrity and reality. And I guess My Antonio can be considered a reality show featuring a celebrity, that is, if you consider Antonio Sabato, Jr. a celebrity. I mean, I definitely consider former-Calvin-Klein-underwear-model-former-soap-opera-actors real celebrities, or celebreal. (Do you like that? I just made it up. I think…) It’s not that much different from indicted former House Majority Leaders appearing on Dancing with the Stars, I guess…

But the Real Chance of Love is even more celebreal. You have two brothers nicknamed Real and Chance coincidentally who are obviously well known for being members of the rap group The Stallionaires. Now they are the bachelor stars of Real Chance of Love, which was spawned by the VH1 Celebreality show I Love New York, which was spawned by the VH1 Celebreality show Flavor of Love, which was spawned by the VH1 Celebreality show Strange Love, which was spawned by the VH1 Celebreality show The Surreal Life. You of course know The Surreal Life as the show that brought together many celebrities to live in a house together in a fashion similar to what took place in MTV’s The Real World. And the list of big time stars who appeared on The Surreal Life includes…and…and…and…and… What a phenomenal group!

Alright I’m done with this. All of these shows are stupid, and not just the VH1 shows. The Bachelor is stupid, Dancing with the Stars is stupid, and all of the others are stupid as well. They’re all dumb. The derivative nature of these programs shows laziness and lack of originality. I think I’m going back to my story next week…

Journal Entry: And now my commentary about the Paula Abdul American Idol situation. There is of course a long version and a short version and several in-between versions. You’re lucky enough to get both the short version (I don’t care and neither should you) and one of the in-between versions. I don’t care because this show is crap. Is everyone on the show wonderfully overpaid? Yes. Should the viewers of the show boycott the program if they feel that Abdul is not paid a ridiculously high enough salary to put her on par with the ridiculously high salaries others on the show are making? Well, since I don’t watch the show, I don’t care. It’s up to them, though, if they want to waste that time. Goodness knows they’ve already ewasted enough time watching this stupid show in the first place. And so there you have it.

The Subterfuge - Part V

…and taking one final glance back before turning into the entrance of my secret headquarters, I was at last satisfied that I was no longer being pursued. It was a good thing, too, because even I was getting a little annoyed with having to singlehandedly fight two bears. It wasn’t difficult, mind you, just annoying.

As I pulled into the driveway, Humpty Dumpty was there waiting for me. I could see a rather large crack on the side of his head from which some fluid had started to leak. I knew the answer before I even asked, but went ahead anyway.

“Mr. Dumpty, um…um, did you fall down again?”

“Yesh,” he replied after a few moments’ pause.

“Well, you’re going to have to wait until after I unload these two before I repair you.”

“I helph,” he said as he started to walk to join me at the side of the truck and rather predictably, fell and hit his head again, making the crack far worse. Of course, I thought, but stayed focused on my two guests.

So I opened up the flatbed portion of the truck and picked up the golden haired girl. There were quite a few twigs and leaves that had fallen on her and were littered throughout her hair and clothing, caused by the drive through the woods. I knew that she was a tough girl and could handle it and so I carried her inside and placed her on the bed inside one of my guest rooms.

Walking back out to the truck, I took a glance over at Humpty Dumpty before going to unload my other guest. I could see that not only had Humpty Dumpty’s “yolk” started to pool on the ground, I could see as evidenced by a “yolk” stain on the side of the truck that Mr. Dumpty had made at least one futile effort to rise to his feet. Crap, I thought, I was going to have to wash the truck now, too. I knew that I had to find a permanent solution to this Humpty Dumpty problem.

I opened up the back door to the truck and unfastened the seatbelt that secured the little bear. As I did this, the bear started to stir from its slumber. “Are you okay there, little guy?” I asked not knowing for sure whether it was a boy or girl bear. “Sorry for hitting all of those bumps as I was driving over here,” I added as I carried him/her inside and placed him/her on a bed inside another guest room.

I then walked back out and stared at the wriggling Humpty Dumpty. How do I deal with this problem? Then an idea suddenly came to my mind and I went and grabbed my tools and went to work. After a few minutes, I had constructed a walker for Humpty Dumpty, not unlike the ones you find babies walking about in. The wheels were the hardest part to get perfect.

And so I carefully rolled Humpty Dumpty away from the truck and gently went to work cleaning the mess he had made. After finishing, I took a step back and admired the newly cleaned façade of the truck. And then I looked down at the ground and said to myself, “Oh right, Humpty Dumpty,” as I realized that I was now standing in his “yolk” that was seeping onto the ground.

Now I was going to have to clean my boots too…

Journal Entry: Truth be told, Humpty Dumpty is starting to annoy me quite a bit. He is just way too clumsy and I’m tired of having to deal with cleaning up egg yolk and patching up eggshells. He might have to have a little accident in which he’s accidentally left near a frying pan in a room with a hungry bear or a hungry golden haired girl.

The Subterfuge - Part IV

…and following the directions given to me, I came upon what was believed to be the cave home of the elusive and legendary Sasquatch. I entered thinking that I needed only to await the arrival of my prey…

But as I explored the cave looking for a proper hiding spot, it became clear to me that more than one Sasquatch lived there. There were very crude settings that looked like that of a dining area, if you consider stones suitable chairs and rock slabs suitable plates. A bit more curious than I probably should have been, I walked through this “table” area and noted that while the large and medium sized slabs were still filled with this…food, the smallest slab had been wiped clean. Picking up the largest slab, which was still slightly warm, I certainly realized why this and the medium sized slab were still full. The smell was repulsive, and I could only assume the taste was the same. This nastiness certainly could not have been stomached by Sasquatches.

Putting the slab down, I could faintly see toward the back of the cave what must have been the bedroom area, where the “beds” were located. And by “beds” I mean thin layers of grass and other vegetation lying on the ground. Since this was indeed a cave, naturally the lighting was not the best, but I was able to see as I approached the beds that a small lump did lay upon one of them. My first thought was that Sasquatches are evidently as irresponsible of some humans, having left their child home alone. But as I shone my light closer on the lump, I noticed it to be a golden haired adolescent girl.

Before I was able to do anything else, I heard loud noises behind me and I reacted by diving through the air and somersaulting behind a rather large boulder that must have been a night stand. (Sorry, I was not yet an expert on Sasquatch furniture.) By the light of the cave mouth I could see the silhouettes of what appeared not to be three Sasquatches walking in, but instead those of three bears (!!!)!

There was some anger, and not a small bit of thrashing about the dining area, when the bears realized that the smallest bear’s Sasquatch, er…, bear food had been eaten. As the noise of the angry bears grew louder, and as they walked toward the back of the cave, the golden haired girl awoke and screamed in terror (okay, I assume it was terror). With only moments to act, I lifted my tranquilizer gun and fired.

One, two, three, four! And why did I fire four shots? Did I miss? Of course not, there was one shot for each of the bears and one shot for the golden haired girl. I went over and scooped up the passed out little girl and dragged the comatose baby bear out of the cave. Once I had them loaded in the truck I got on the phone. I told Humpty Dumpty that while I did not find Sasquatch, I did recruit a couple more to the cause. I could not make out for sure what Humpty Dumpty said in response as the connection was rather poor, and Humpty Dumpty still had not learned to speak without slurring…

Journal Entry: Okay, some of you have been made aware over the years of my general disdain for the stupid Geico commercials, particularly the ones dealing with the stupid “cavemen.” Leaving the “cavemen” aside for the moment, the commercials are stupid because of the phrase “fifteen minutes could save you 15% on your car insurance,” or whatever the exact phrase was. But do you know what? I’m guessing fifteen minutes could also save you 20%. Fifteen minutes could also save you 25% on your car insurance. Or, gasp, fifteen minutes could save you nothing. Stupid. Now getting back to the “cavemen,” they were and are not cavemen because they didn’t and don’t live in caves. But they could perhaps be Sasquatches.

The Subterfuge - Part III

…and as I succeeded with incredible ease in reassembling the pieces, I realized that one of two things had to be true; (1) the king’s men who were assigned to the task were idiots or (2) the king was an idiot for putting his horses in charge of his men in putting Humpty Dumpty back together again. Or it was very likely that both were true…

I mean, as potential additional proof of my second hypothesis, the fact that this king had elevated an eggman to such a lofty position in his court (why else would he care whether Humpty Dumpty was put together again?) should have caused some to at least wonder whether (if not actually verbalize the concerns that) the king might be a fool. And then again in support of the first hypothesis, there were only seven pieces of Humpty Dumpty. There are honestly not that many ways in which you can arrange seven pieces of eggman shell. Heck, it took me about seven minutes to finish the task once I had started, and five of those minutes were consumed by me drinking a 40 oz. of Olde English 800. (I know, it wasn’t a record, but I had my attention divided as I was truly worried about Humpty Dumpty.)

Now granted, after I had finished with the reassembly, Humpty Dumpty did not quite look as eggman-like as I would have expected. He lacked smoothness and was a little wobbly. (And I feel that I should point out at this moment that neither of these things is attributable to the fact that I may or may not have had a buzz going after finishing the 40.)

But there was something else that suddenly occurred to me that most certainly contributed to Humpty Dumpty’s wobbliness. As I was working on the reassembly (when I wasn’t drinking), I tried to include as much of the insides of Mr. Dumpty as I could. (I was very pleased to see that the king had had his horses and men save this portion of Mr. Dumpty as well.) However, trying to handle eggman insides with your bare hands is particularly messy, and the only other tool that I had at my disposal was a giant fork. I’m not sure why it was there, and it definitely wasn’t the most effective item to use in trying to gather up the yolk-like insides of an eggman, but I certainly preferred using this as opposed to soiling my hands. The bottom line is that since I was a little rusty on eggman anatomy, I wasn’t sure what parts of Mr. Dumpty ended up being left out.

What seemed to be the case was that what was excluded contributed in some meaningful way to Mr. Dumpty’s coherent thought as once assembled he made absolutely no sense. It didn’t matter; I had the chief advisor for my force. (Who else would I have selected? He had clearly advised a king at one time – although it was most likely an idiotic king – despite his current shortcomings.)

Who would I look for next?

Journal Entry: For those waiting to hear how I saved baseball, sorry, I got bored with that storyline and so I’ve decided to postpone it perhaps indefinitely. And for the record, I’m not really sorry about doing so. I just said that to assuage your hurt feelings. But since I probably don’t really care about your feelings, I hereby withdraw the fake apology.