Let The Lame Duck Presidency Begin

Hey all, hope you had a good whatever it is you celebrate. 2007 if officially here -just a little bit closer to the ‘08 elections. I’d be all jazzed about getting rid of that retarded monkey in the White House if I could tell the difference between the two political parties anymore. I know that’s a little cynical, but if you worked from home, and watched political documentaries all day long like I do, you’d have no faith in the country anymore either. Trust me.

If you get a chance, pick up X23 (Target-X) #1. I’m in it! I get my head sliced open like a melon by X23.

Random Spledor: I don’t know what the hell this is, but it is righteous. I WILL pay money to see a movie about killer sheep.

For anyone who may be trying to email me, I’m sorry but its going to be a while before I can plow through the 100+ emails in my inbox. I’ve been busting my ass finishing Atomic Robo #3 so that I can pay my rent. Obviously its done if I’m writing this. Unfortunately my brain is so fried that I can think of absolutely nothing amusing to talk about.

We took the Widget to NYC to visit Gran and Grandpa for a few days and had a good Christmas. My mother has finally accepted that my brothers and I an adults and there is no longer a competition to see who gets the best loot. Nor must she get us all the same stuff so that we can’t fight over who got treated better than who.

So instead she heaped it all on her lone grandchild. I am now sharing my house with more American Girl crap than I know what to do with. But she also got a remote-control truck with rubber chainsaw blade tank treads. So it balances out.

As wonderful as the visit was (and it was), I did not get the X-Box 360 I so richly deserved. But I did get a bad-ass sauce pan. So it all equals out.

And, I knew damn well that my family would not get me the 360. Despite the face that they all could have banded together for a communal gift, spending less than they did individually, and gotten me what I wanted. But I had a plan.

So I bought myself a stinkin’ 360 when we got home. I love it. I’m such a thoughtful person. I finished Gears of War in a day and a half. It sure looks cool, but it wasn’t a very engaging play. The story it retarded like a Schwartzinegger movie, but also fun for the same reasons. I’ll have to try it on-line to see if its really as amazing as its hype says it is. And until then, I can crack open Call of Duty 3 and engage in my most favorite past time –gunning down Nazis.

They absolute MOST AWESOME gift I got (like, ever) was from Dorinda. It’s a hand warmer. Yeah that’s right. I said hand warmer. Beyond its obvious beneficial applications when browsing the limitless depths of porn on the internets, its TRUE value is linked to my art.

My hand gets freezing cold. Like an ice cube cold, and then stiff and ouchie. I finally figured out that the reason for this is my drafting table. Its got some hard plastic coating on it and it seems to repel warmth. It even seems to suck it right out of my body. In the summer time this was nice. But not in January. This is friggin’ New England after all.

So this hand warmer thing is like a flannel muff. Like a giant version of those pink rubber worms you’d get as a kid –the kind that could fold in on itself and slip through your fingers like a bar of soap. Remember those? Well this one, instead of being filled with toxic fluids, its filled with beans of some sort. You just pop it in the microwave for a few minutes and SHAZAM! Instant second-degree burns of pleasure and joy!

Anyway . . .

Dorinda is gone. Not in a bad way (exactly). She’s about halfway through her Master’s degree and is working in a low-residency program. It’s a fantastic program and if I thought you guys had any interest at all in poetry, or would recognize any of the big names I could drop on you, I would. But I don’t think that. So I won’t.

The important thing here is that I am alone with Emma until the 13th. Christ on His Cross help me. Or if the J-man is busy I’ll take the Spaceborne Spaghetti Monster. Now when I go away Emma freaks out, she cries, and she throws fits. Or so I’m told. What I think it really means is that Dorinda freaks out. Cries, and throws fits.

Now why would I say a mean thing like that? Well, because when Dorinda goes away to school Emma does cartwheels, and goes into party-mode. You’d think I called in clowns or filled the freezer with ice cream. Which makes no sense at all –Dorinda is an involved mom. She likes doing kid stuff. And while I love my daughter, I HATE raising her. I hate playing games, I despise crafts, and I have no patience for anything whatsoever. There is almost nothing about raising children that I consider pleasurable. I still do these things, because its my job. But if I had my choice I’d be doing my own immature shit, not her’s.

But so far we are doing well. Except when she started shoving her Gameboy in my face while I was slaughtering Nazis. I had to put the smack down on the Widget for that. You gotta draw the line somewhere after all.