Rowanism No. 09 - The Confidence of Light Mergers

My daughter, who will be five in February, was strapped safely into her kiddie seat. She gazed out of the car window as we travelled home from her grandparents' house and mumbled dazedly to herself, "The confidence of light mergers."

I needed to post it before I forgot, because I doubt she'll ever say it again.

Pet Peeve No. 11 - Reflections on Hallowe'en: The Day After The Night Before

My family was invited to a Hallowe'en street party last night.

The road was blocked by constables to ensure that maniac drivers like Old Seamus would not reduce the multitude of costumed pedestrians to bloody puddles of cloth tatters & makeup smudges. Hundreds of people were there: mobs of young trick-or-treaters; families in their yards tending small bonfires, downing nachos & salsa & gooey-crunchy roasted marshmallows on sticks & bottles of ale, handing out candies and baked goodies to the young pups & carousing with neighbours. There were jack-o-lanterns, scarecrows, lights and decorations up to here (I'm pointing at my ruff). If you closed your eyes and just listened, you could imagine the smell of cinnamon & pumpkin and freshly turned dirt wafting on the cool evening breeze.

It was a sight I thought I would never see in the 21st century. It was the scaled-down neighbourhood of Beaver Cleaver, Dennis the Menace, My Three Sons and Cliff Huxtable. It was a Ray Bradbury story that had been boiled in a cauldron of black & orange Hallowe'en Tree Sap until it erupted to cover four blocks of homes. It was wonderful.

I should have seen it coming: the inevitable arrival of the evil Party Crashers, outsiders by the carload who moved in as the party was winding down. You've seen them: the ones with no costumes, only grocery bags to carry their haul; the ones who appear to be about seventeen to nineteen years of age with scruffy little goatees; the ones who wear their pants so low you wonder how they stay on at all; the ones who approach the porch and hold out their bags while their eyes dare you not to put something in it; the ones who won't say "trick or treat" and whose sense of entitlement suppresses any dormant urge to offer a simple "thank you." The ones who will destroy this beautiful, sacred tradition of an enthusiastic little neighbourhood.

These "kids" are the very reason Hallowe'en died on my street years ago... people no longer want to open their doors.

They are the reason I didn't stay home to treat the little goblins last night.

Hallowe'en scares the williebojenkins out of me.

What's your excuse?

Rowanism No. 08

"Mommy, does Daddy have any girlfriends?"

I'm sure she meant "girly" friends. All of my sensitive and delicate friends often lean toward the effeminate when shopping for clothes. For their poodles.

Poodles of Tindalos? There are no poodles in Tindalos! Only houndly-hounds, with no bleedin' nametags. Nor cell phones to boot have they, as well.

Oh, dear! Now I've spilled it.

Please let me wake up.

Tube out.

Name Tags of the Damned No. 07

Spotted working in a department store checkout: LAKEIDA (female)

I have no idea what this means. Anyone? Lake Ida?

Rowanism No. 07

"Mommy, wouldn't it be funny if Daddy ran off and never came back?"

Pet Peeve No. 10 - Headaches

I haven't posted in a while. Don't blame me, blame the headaches. They come and go, but mostly they come and stay.

I have one right now.

It starts slowly in the morning and gradually builds to a low, continuous roar. Not a migraine, just an annoying, uncomfortable pressure around the eyes. It's probably eyestrain from sitting at the computer for ten or eleven hours a day (including eight hours at the office). I feel that part of the blame must go to the bifocals. I despise bifocals.

But seriously, maybe worms are eating into my brain. My grandfather warned me they could.

Or a brain tumor. My mother is always warning me to watch out for brain tumors.

Now, more than ever, I just want to be in a cold, quiet, dark place.

Like a refrigerator. Or a winter's evening in the Outer Hebrides.

Cosmic UNconsciousness - Anaesthesia

I was the lucky recipient of a bit of out-patient surgery on Monday. While it was a routine operation (snip! snip!), it was deemed necessary that I take leave of my senses. My wife stayed with me while the IV was administered. The nurse asked if I could feel it taking effect, and I replied, "Oh yes, I can feel it."

Elizabeth handed me a picture of our daughter and said something like: "Say goodbye to Rowan." I kissed the photo like the love-struck puppy I am.

She informed me that my last words before going under were: "Everybody sing."

Fantasy DVD Box Set - Bradford Dillman

It's Christmas in August!

This evening I've had a song in my head that (like a pesky garden slug) I just can't seem to eradicate: Father Christmas by The Kinks. Let me rephrase that: I had the music to Father Christmas in my head; but over and over and over again, the lyrics were: Bradford Dillman, give me some money.

Seems like the perfect opportunity to explore the possibilities (in a perfect world) of a DVD box set for Brad Dillman. What four Dillman films deserve this distinction? I'm listening...

Cosmic Consciousness No. 13 - Audiobooks of the Damned

I love books... their feel and their smell. I adore ancient leatherbound editions with hubbed spines. I cherish archaic glyphs and runes hastily scribbled in the margins by mages and sages. I treasure my books signed by Arthur Machen and Rudyard Kipling. I collect books, because I don't know how not to collect books. I also enjoy starting several consecutive sentences with the first-person pronoun.

Unfortunately, as these ocular orbs of olde start to fade and wither on their stalks, extended readings become more difficult. And having a four-year-old makes finding the time to read quite the challenge.

I love audiobooks. I listen to them at the office, in the autocarriage or whilst taking in the moonlight on Sentinel Hill. Several websites offer free downloads of amateur readings of public domain works. I have always wanted to record an audiobook myself (harelip be damned), if only for my private use. Unfortunately, I have not been able to procure a LARGE PRINT edition of The Necronomicon.

Can anyone be of assistance? Hello, Dr. Armitage?

Or does anyone know of an existing audiobook edition? (I would assume it's in the public domain, heh heh.) Perhaps it doesn't even exist thus. Some words should not be read aloud except by a trained professional. But I'd give it a go. Yes, I certainly would.

Yog-Sothoth is the Gate.

Name Tags of the Damned No. 06

Spotted at Burger Doodle: BRIANICA (female)

It's an honest-to-god anagram for BRAINIAC !!!
This puts the whipped cream on my day.

Pet Peeve No. 09 - Personal Questions From Strangers

As if it's anybody's business. I wish I had a shilling for every time I've heard it.

I have always been tall. As a pre-teen, I was the one who reached up and reset the traps on the roof.

I'm much older now. Much, much older. The years have taken their toll: the cantileverd load, the weight on the knees. It is sometimes very difficult for me to stand completely upright. And yet they feel compelled to ask.

A complete stranger will walk up to me. He will be hesitant and he will never touch... no tugging at the shirt sleeve, no tapping on the shoulder (if he can reach it). He will laugh nervously with hands in pockets, like perhaps he should have thought twice before approaching me. Yes, perhaps he should have.

But without fail, his stupidity will gain the upper hand and the question will spill out: "So, heh heh, how tall are you, anyway?"

I will bend down so he can smell my breath. His eyes will water. His lips will tremble. I will stare straight through to the back of his skull and reply: "Why do you care? Do you have meat on your roof?" Then I will rumble a low growl deep in my throat and turn away.

Sometimes the stranger will wet himself. This gives me great pleasure, especially at the grocer's. "Cleanup on Aisle Nine!" My turn to laugh.

So I'll tell you, what the hell. Then you'll never have to ask. I'm well over eight feet tall on my hind legs and that's all you need to know. Give or take an inch or two for the slump, what's the difference when you're talking about eight feet?

I smell meat. Heh heh.

Cosmic Consciousness No. 12 - Peter, Paul... and Marty?!

Great concert featuring Puff the Magic Drag Queen on the telly last night.

So what did you do for giggles?

Rowanism No. 06 - On Being First

Rowan will turn four-and-a-half next month. Here's an example of her current mind-set:

We were in the children's section of a local bookshoppe last night. Rowan, plus another wee girl and a young lad (who would soon commit urine to pants and consequently the floor) were playing at the Thomas the Tank Engine hands-on display where the youngsters are encouraged to play with Thomas & Friends and then demand a purchase be made on their behalf. Each child had a piece of the train and they were following each other around the track. Rowan was always in the lead. If another child moved in front, Rowan would move ahead to take the lead again.

I told her, "Rowan, you don't always have to be first."

"Okay," she said, not entirely in agreement. Then her eyes lit up. She had an idea.

"I got a idea!" She beamed. "We'll take turns going first! I'll go first."

Pet Peeve No. 08 - Loud Talkers

Why do people who use cell phones always talk louder than everyone else? This chap was sitting two sections above me at the rugby game and his conversation about Series 2 / Episode 3 of Rising Damp was all I could hear!

They're like bloody fog horns! Turn up the microwaves!

Syd Barrett / 1946-2006

Have a nice trip!

Name Tags of the Damned No. 05

Spotted at MacBurger's: TRAINEISHIAN (female)

Perhaps it's the Schwatusi word for trainee.

Create-A-Joke

Did you hear about the 750-pound man who lost 800 pounds?

Please leave your punchline in the Comments.

Rowanism No. 5 - Listen To This, Eddie

"Mommy, one day can we go to a Ed Zeppelin concert?"

Rowanism No. 04 - Where's My Ride?

"The bad people ride with the bad people."

Cosmic Consciousness No. 11 - You Say "Oooh, Yes!"

I paid a visit to the chemist today in search of a Ronco back-waxing kit (the Bax Wax, as seen on TV). The music being piped from the ceiling was nothing less than absolute aural perfection, even taking into account that it was half of the stereo mix from a single tiny speaker, which really doesn't matter a whit when one is greeted with the song unexpectedly. It was The Beatles' Hello Goodbye, which just may be the perfect pop song. It never fails to send a chill down my baby-smooth spine, even after almost forty years.

Cosmic Consciousness No. 10 - Mrs Biggletee

Mrs Biggletee, our dear neighbour, passed away last night. Mister Biggletee was planted long before we moved to this region, and they had no children to speak of. She was nearly ninety and a bit twee, but behind her back the moppets always called her "Mrs Big Ol' Teats," and nothing could be further from the truth. My wife would drive her into town once a week to have her hair whipped into a frenzy and to procure foodstuffs & nylons. She often baked spinach biscuits for Sunday tea, but she pronounced it spanich, as if the biscuits had come from Spain rather than her oven.

Herewith are a few of the odd phrases we would hear mumbled repeatedly from Mrs Biggletee's thin, wrinkled lips:

"Enjoy your day."
"Oh, my sweet sleepy Jesus."
"Give me a middle C, Sonny!"
"Oh my lands! That one sneaked out!"
"We might get some rain if the Lord is in town."
"I hated Daddy."

She will be missed.

Pet Peeve No. 07 - The Literature of Babbling Bears, Chattering Chimps and Loquacious Lemurs

If I'm reading a book and a talking animal is suddenly introduced into the cast of characters, the book will be snapped shut, set ablaze and promptly thrown from the car. Life is short, and I no longer have time to waste on the Berenstain Bears.

However, I will continue to teach my cat to recite the works of Edward Lear.

Pet Peeve No. 04D - The Rude Mutant Collective / Follow-up

Yesterday afternoon, just after high tea, I chanced to pass one of Los Mutantos in a local vestibule. His implanted left-ear cell phone was firmly affixed, and as he turned, the gods smiled and removed all obstructions just long enough to show me the hand-held "regulation" cell phone that the mutant was holding to his right ear.

I can only surmise that he was having a very important, ultra-secret conversation with himself!

On a lighter note, his brain must have been bombarded by microwaves from every direction!

These people have to go... but where?

Cosmic Consciousness No. 09 - Tactile Members

What are the names of the two fingers between the forefinger and pinky?

Just curious. No prizes today.

Pet Peeve No. 06 - Is It Really Finger Lickin' Good?

I cannot abide seeing a woman lick her thumb and/or forefinger before turning a page. (Yes, sorry, but most of the culprits are older women. Why is that?)

If the book you're reading came from my shelf, just kiss those frickin' chickin' lickin' fingers goodbye while they're in your filthy piehole!

And I despise watching a cashier performing the digit-moistening ritual before pulling open a plastic grocery bag. Keep your oral lubrication away from my food, please, you tramp, you harlot! I don't know where your mouth has been... do you?!? (One has to wonder if these vulgar people bother to wash up after after dropping the kids at the pool... Crikey! That's why they lick their fingers!)

Rowanism No. 03 - Sea Chantey

As we were driving back from a midday sandwich, Rowan began to sing in her best pirate voice:

I melted on a kippity flip,
I melted on a drippity droop,
I melted on a yellow car,
I melted on a bloody puddle.

Where does a four-year-old get this stuff? From Barney? The Wiggles? Her mum?

Name Tags of the Damned No. 04

Spotted in Quik-Lo: ALVESTER (male)

There is a quaint custom among some Americans (usually those found in the Deep South), of combining the parents' names into some awe-inspiring juxtaposition when designing an original appellation for their offspring. One could then presume that Alvester had two fathers, Alvin and Sylvester... one a singing chipmunk, and the other a black & white cat with a big red nose and a lisp. Or not.

Cosmic Consciousness No. 08 - The Hound Tor Highland Games

Last weekend I attended the 623rd Annual Hound Tor Highland Games of Upper Tindalos. Plenty of ale, headcheese sandwiches and haggis for all. The highlight was a rare performance by "Barney" Scotland's own Barney Fife & Drum Corps, featuring the Wolverhampton Twins, Jimmy and Timmy. Jimmy (left) wants to play jazz, and Timmy has an inner ear infection. Blimey, what an odd lot!

Fantasy DVD Box Set - Elam & Feldman / Follow-Up

Regarding the prospect of a Jack Elam & Marty Feldman DVD Box Set, this is the big one that nobody (well, nobody but pig bodine) has mentioned. It's very obvious that few people are aware of this Urtha Major Studios film, the only movie (to pig's knowledge, at least) that Elam & Feldman made together: The Road to Ruin (aka The Road to Hell in Singaporn) with the exotic Dorothy Lamour. Was it a shameless attempt to cash in on the popularity of the those other "Road" pictures?

I don't know.

But I do know this: the banana slug cannot live long inside the human stomach. That's why it will try to eat its way to the lungs. Crosby my heart and Hope to fly!

Cosmic Consciousness No. 07 - An Alternate History of Film from a Parallel Universe: Rondo & Rocho

My good friend pig bodine lives on an alternate Urtha Major in a parallel universe. He insists this is the best film he's never seen.

In case you missed this one -- which I'm sure you did because all Urthian prints are now "lost" -- here is the unobtainable one-sheet from a rare 1946 screening in New Tokyo, California: the original Rain Man starring Rondo Hatton and Rochester! Reviews were unkind.

Note that even outdoors, Rondo always had that freaky "underglow" on his face. What a Creepy Creeper!

Fantasy DVD Box Set - Elam & Feldman

The comedic stylings of Jack Elam and Marty Feldman would make a wonderful DVD collection! What's the common denominator? If you have to ask, you should probably be watching old Imogene Coca photoplays instead. This is an easy set; we only need two films from each thespian. Oy, don't give up... go for it! What quartet of films would you designate for this blockbuster pairing? (Answers in next Sunday's Times.)

Rowanism No. 02 - On Flying

"Daddy, I didn't know flying saucers could fly!"

Pet Peeve No. 05 - Grammar - "found missing"

From various internet sources:

"J_____ G_____, 15, was found missing..."
"In August another man was found missing..."
"Found missing was a DVD player..."
"...foodgrains were found missing..."
"...toilets were found missing from a vacant house..."

How the hell can anything be found missing?!?
Found to be missing, perhaps...
Realized to be missing, better...

Fantasy DVD Box Set - Rondo Hatton

The burden is on your acromegalic shoulders (and especially on Rondo's): what four films would you choose to include in this handsome actor's collection, and why? (Hint: you really should include House of Horrors from 1946.) The Creeper was a giant among faces! And I swear the bloke looks like he's related to Alec Baldwin...

As always, suggestions are welcome in the clapotis.

Pet Peeve No. 04C - The Rude Mutant Collective / Follow-up

I was browsing in a video rental establishment last night when I spotted one of the cell-phone mutants of the male persuasion flipping through the previously-viewed-for-sale bin. I caught the words: This is not the movie I thought it was, and I thought: Damn. It's bad enough that he has to report his findings to someone, but there is another person on the other end with nothing better to do than listen to his report.

Halfway across the store, a female offered: What did you think it was?

Oh. My. God.
People are using their implants to converse within thirty feet of each other.

I think it was Wavy Gravy who said, "It's a new dawn, people!"

Please Lord, let me wake up.

Fantasy DVD Box Set - Jan Murray

If it were up to you, what four films would you choose to include in this top banana's collection? You have to include Who Killed Teddy Bear?, right? After that, I'm stumped; it's so hard to narrow the list down to only four. My god, the man was prolific!

Suggestions welcome.

Name Your Band for a Quid

Urine Trouble
Dustbin Darins
Anaconda d'Amour
The Throbbing Vicars
The Tori Spelling Bee
Earl Grey and the Tease
Pirates of the Cerebellum
The Peter Torque Experience
William Shatner Lunchbox (Think about it.)

Name Tags of the Damned No. 03

Spotted at McDonald's: JAMETTA (female)
It's like Etta James spelled sideways. Sort of.

The Cosmic Consciousness No. 06 - A Reptile Dysfunction

I heard an advert on the radio today for a reptile dysfunction...

What is it?
What do you do with it?
Where can I get one?

The Cosmic Consciousness No. 05 - Paint It Black, You Devils

Dear Fiends, 06-06-06 came and went with nary a hitch (except for the loss of Billy Preston, RIP). For me -- as many of you know -- Hallowe'en is the new Christmas, yet somehow I was not in a Dark enough mood to celebrate The Day of the Beastie.

I did not go to the big opening day of The Omen remake.
I did not get gothed-up (unless black socks qualify).
I did not listen to any Black Sabbath or Olivia Newton-John.
I did not put up any holiday desecrations.
I did not sacrifice anything.

Oh well, there will be another Event one hundred years from now. That gives me some time to plan. Maybe I'll be in a gloomier mood. See you then. Cheerio.

The Cosmic Consciousness No. 04 - A Stranger Takes Aim at Me, or The Effluvium Man

I was minding my own business, really. In the local music mart, I strode down the aisle to see if the Porcupine Tree section had been restocked to include, perhaps, The Sky Moves Sideways (which I've never heard but desperately need). As I neared the greying man wearing headphones at the listening station, I was as oblivious to his intentions as I assumed he was to my advance.

And then, as I stepped directly behind him, the attack was launched: Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow!

Four loud, abrupt, rapid reports were issued from his posterior! I paused and looked at his back in amazement. You damn bloody bastard! Couldn't draw up the stuff to vomit on me, eh? I realized I should probably keep moving to avoid inhaling his inner essence.

Upon reaching the end of the aisle and putting a safe distance between us, I turned to give Mr. Tooty Bum a look of reproach. He had quickly turned cheek and scampered off. Stinking coward. Hope he shat himself.

Pity, I never saw his face. I just don't know what possesses some people. Ffft.

Pet Peeve No. 04B - The Rude Mutant Collective / Follow-Up

Mutants are on the move.

I was in the local craft shoppe this afternoon (no, don't ask why), when I spotted the rare thirty-something female with a cell-phone implant chatting away in the scrapbook aisle. Public conversation, right? So I moved within twelve feet of her and listened. She paid no attention to me as she perused the bindings, all the while talking, talking, talking. I was unable to understand the creature's language. I stepped a little closer, now ten feet away, and lingered. She began to speak more softly. I inched closer still, pretending to look at the butterfly rubber-stamps. Without dropping a stitch, she left and relocated to the next aisle (the nerve of some people!). Clearly she did not wish to be overheard. What was she hiding? Hmmm...

I left the rubber-stamp aisle and circled around in the opposite direction. As soon as I was out of sight, the female moved back to the scrapbook aisle and resumed the conversation from the same spot. Curiouser and curiouser.

You see the creepiest people in craft shoppes.

Pet Peeve No. 04 - The Rude Mutant Collective

Have you noticed that chap who walks around talking very loudly to himself? If he turns his head just the right way, you'll see the Borg implant next to his ear.

Yes, he has been assimilated into the Hive of the Rude Mutant collective. (Ninety-five percent of the hive is male. Go figure.)

This "implant" is actually a hands-free cell phone. The MORON wearing it has been foisted (by whom?, I wonder) on an unsuspecting public, usually in restaurants and book shoppes and lavatories, of all places. (Incidentally, have you ever been on the phone with someone and wondered what all the grunting and groaning was about on the other end? Now you know.)

What is the mutant's mission? He infiltrates our "quiet zones" and lurches around having gesture-filled one-sided conversations, perhaps with his alter ego or his inner child. Or perhaps he is getting instructions from the Borg Queen. Or the men in tin foil hats. Or his neighbour's dog. I don't know.

But I do know this: eating raw pork can give you trichinosis.

I set forth a challenge to you all: follow the creature and listen to his conversation; it's a public conversation anyway, so just walk right up and listen. He is blind to the other people around him. Report back with all haste!

CD of the NOW

Anything by Porcupine Tree. Especially Voyage 34.
Is there anybody out there?

The Cosmic Consciousness No. 03 - The Little Man

I don't want to get off on a runt here, but...

While there is little humour to be found in the war-torn Europe of the 1930s, is it not comical that Hitler chose to adopt an Oliver Hardy mustache as a fashion statement?

Pet Peeve No. 03 - In the Good Old Slumbertime

Hot days. Sunny days. Hot, sunny days.
Any day between May and September.
Pick one.
Don't like that one. Try another.
Don't like that one either.
Do you see what I mean? Do you?

The Cosmic Consciousness No. 02 - Cleanup Time

Always keep a mop in the loo; a man's inability to stifle a sneeze during a widdly-wee can have dire consequences.

Name Tags of the Damned No. 02

Spotted at the chemist: DEMONICA (female)

The Cosmic Consciousness No. 01 - Prayers

When I was a precious pup (this would be back in the small days of the Sixties), I was encouraged by my mum to say prayers at bedtime. My nightly recitation went something like this: "Dear God, I love my mother and my father and my brother and my grandparents and all my aunts and uncles and cousins. Please let me have a chimpanzee."

A lot of those people have died and I'm still waiting for the chimp, Man. (We always capitalize "Man" when we're talking to God, you know.)

CD of the NOW

"The Greatest Living Englishman" by Martin Newell. Bloody brilliant! I listen to this for weeks at a time.

Name Tags of the Damned No. 01

Spotted at the grocery: MORONICA (female)

Rowanism No. 01 - The Dog

During a leisurely lunch in town today, my four-year-old daughter saw a white dog with black spots and said, "Look, Daddy, a damnation!" (I don't know if it was really a damnation or not, but it certainly smelled like the Poop Chute of Hell.)

Pet Peeve No. 02 - Politics

You know what chaps my buttocks? People who are as passionate about being wrong as I am about being open-minded. Neil.

Pet Peeve No. 01 - Grammar - "could of"

It just makes my hair hurt when people write could of instead of could've or could have.