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.

The Subterfuge - Part II

…and after having perfected my creation, a super potent steroid, I took solace in secretly knowing that I would be the savior of baseball.

But being the incredibly modest person that I am, I wanted to remain in anonymity and so I passed off the steroid for manufacture and distribution to one who will remain nameless. At times, though, I permitted the Nameless One to ask me steroid related questions. It seemed only fair.

On one occasion, the Nameless One asked, “Oh great Steroid Master, how did you perfect this grand steroid?” It was a very good question. As I went through the process of developing the formula, I needed subjects on which to test the various formulas. So I tested it on numerous neighborhood animals – dogs, cats, opossums, birds, and finally, hamster-dogs, among others. I obtained valuable information from this, and it finally came time to test it on humans.

I was all set to inject myself with the steroid when it occurred to me that this was terribly unfair. And why was this unfair? I was already routinely pummeling my younger brother and sister whenever we fought, and this would only make the beatings I dished out more severe. And being the good big brother who cared dearly about the wellbeing of my younger siblings, I felt I needed to protect them from my savage beatings.

And so I gave the steroid to my brother and sister, and what happened? Well, it certainly toughened them up, as I knew that it would. (Because heck, if it toughened up something as wimpy as the hamster-dog, I knew that it would have to work on people.) Mind you, the outcome did not change on any of those occasions that it was necessary for me to provide a little tough love, but at least my brother and sister were no longer quite as maimed. It brings a tear to my eye when I think about how much stronger I made them… Wait a minute, where was I going with this?

Oh right! Crap! Saving baseball! I suppose that story might have to wait until next time…

Preview: Wait a second, I had this grand plan to launch the campaign to have Jose Canseco elected as the next president of the United States. Yes, that Jose Canseco. Through Canseco I would lead a puppet regime, with Canseco as my puppet leader. But now people are saying that evidently a person must be born in this country to be president? Then what good is Canseco to me now?

The Subterfuge - Part I

…and that was when I finally convinced all of the world’s supposed academics of their unconscionable lunacy in continuing to hold to their misguided belief that Pluto was a planet.

Unfortunately, the unenviable task of telling all of the assembled Plutonian visitors that since they did not come from an actual planet, they did not actually exist also fell on my shoulders. It was heartbreaking – not for me, but rather I suppose it would have been heartbreaking for all of those Plutonians if they had hearts that existed.

But even more daunting and unnerving than having to worry about telling the Plutonians that they did not exist was dealing with the Plutonians’ Plutonian pets. You see, even though the Plutonians did not exist, they did at least have consciousnesses (which I suppose probably technically did not exist either) and after some time I was able to finally convince them all (indeed, some were a little bit slower to understand than others – they are not unlike human beings in this regard) that hey, you don’t come from a real planet and so you aren’t real.

The pets, of course, had no consciousnesses. And so this fact created quite the ruckus when the Plutonians, to whom the Plutonian pets were slavishly devoted (as is the case with real pets and their owners), were gone. So how did I solve this problem?

Well, as anyone can tell, certain pets happen to be a lot smarter than others. Then again, certain pets happen to not be so bright. And the Plutonians happened to have pets that were mostly of the doglike variety, meaning of course that these pets were not very bright. Thus most of these pets were easily dealt with with the old throw an imaginary ball into the street and let the pet chase it trick. (Now it just occurred to me that maybe since these pets themselves were not real, maybe they could see the imaginary balls that I was throwing. An interesting idea to ponder…) Now what happened when the pets ran into the streets? Well, they got hit by cars of course. (And I must say that I was particularly stunned at the eagerness of one particular little black Plutonian dog named Yelir to run without hesitation into the streets. I got the feeling that this dog would have been fooled by anything…)

Everything was going splendidly when I came to one particular peculiar looking dog. Regardless of how many times I tried to throw this imaginary ball, this dog just did not seem to want to chase it. I was getting a little frustrated when I finally decided to take a closer look at this dog. Upon closer inspection, I realized that this “dog” was in fact a hamster-dog hybrid. I know! That sounds impossible to believe. A hamster-dog hybrid cannot possibly be real (and of course it wasn’t since it was a Plutonian pet), although I can recall having seen a similar sort of creature once before in real life.

Well, it was clear that the dog instincts of the pet were not dominant so I decided that it was best to test out the animal’s hamster instincts. I thought for a moment, what could possibly lure this animal out into the street? And then it occurred to me: a hamster wheel! And so I set up an imaginary hamster wheel in the street (making sure to look both ways before walking out there – it’s important to always do this) and then walked back to the sidewalk.

With everything in place, I now had to get the hamster-dog’s attention. And so I called out to it, “Here Pako! Here Pako! Hamster wheel!” And just as I had hoped, the little hamster-dog went running out to the hamster wheel, jumped on as I turned and walked away never to worry about this little problem again.

The End.

Preview: And before you ask, no, I didn’t watch the baseball all-star game last night. And I also didn’t watch the homerun derby the night before. (In fact, I don’t even know who won the homerun contest.) Baseball just doesn’t hold the same interest for me as it did since this whole steroid “controversy” started up. If you have a problem with that, I don’t care, deal with it.

Everyone Head for the Video Store!

Okay so I'm super thrilled about the coming release (July 7th, to be precise) of the movie The Unborn on DVD and Blu-ray! I had so, so, so wanted to see...

You know what, damn it. I cannot even really pretend with this one. The movie looked awful when they were promoting it back in January, and it similarly looks awful now as for the last few days and weeks I've seen seemingly endless numbers of promotions about this wretched film's imminent release. The only thing that this film has going for it is that it has some really hot girl as the lead actress and that was evidently good enough to sucker fools around the world into spending nearly $76 million to waste at least eight-seven minutes of their lives. (You see, I did my wikipedia research.)

But why am I even bringing this up now? Well, it occurred to me the other day that the movie depictions that they have made make absolutely no sense. The Unborn is supposed to be this girl's unborn twin, right? So why in heavens is this girl in her late teens to early twenties and her unborn twin some kid that is no more than about ten years old? I mean seriously, if you wanted this film to be in anyway plausible and to have a chance at garnering the coveted Cabral Williams Seal of Approval, then you had one of two choices: either have the girl haunted by some sort of fetus looking thing or have her haunted by some dude roughly her same age.

Okay, so I guess using a fetus looking thing probably would have carried too much of a gross factor with it, but come on, having this girl haunted by a fetus would have been awesome! Okay, no it would not have been awesome; it would have been stupid. But the movie as it was made was stupid anyway. The only other plausible choice was to use an actor to play the unborn twin who is around the same age as this girl. Obviously there are quite a number of dudes out there that could have filled that frightening/creepy role. Heck, it did not take me very long to find one!