Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!


Valentine’s Day is an incredibly unique holiday.  It is founded in carnage, and in modern times represents love as well as stress.  Some people hate it, others love it, but we all celebrate it in our own unique way, whether it be sipping alone on a martini remembering, making dinner and a film happen with a loved one, or shyly sending chocolates and flowers to another.

“F*ck You” is founded in pop culture, so I have scoured searched the intertubes for a couple of my favorite Valentines and almost-memes.

No matter how you choose to celebrate this unusual holiday I hope everyone has a great time and remembers this caveat:  No matter alone or together someone is thinking of you today.  Forgotten loves never truly remain forgotten, and prevalent love is well–prevalent.  So, cherish it and hold it.  Enjoy a drink for me, and for those we’ve loved and those we will.

Star Wars 00 Valentine Samwise Valentine Hannibal Valentine Captain Kirk Valentine Alien ValentineHappy Valentine's Day everyone!

 

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“Barsoom” Covers by d’Achille


Barsoom!

I have finally gotten around to reading the “Barsoom Series” by Edgar Rice Burroughs, and just like watching the “Star Wars” films or reading Tolkien I have been transported into another realm…and have become mildly obsessed.  Thus far, I’ve finished the first novel, “Princess of Mars,” and I have just cracked into its sequel, “Gods of Mars.”  I will mostly likely have a review up in a short while, but until then check out these original covers for Burroughs highly regarded series by d’Achille–they’re absolutely spectacular:

Barsoom

Sonia G Medeiros’ “February Writing Challenge: Of Love and Leap Years”


Last month I participated in Sonia Medeiros’ writing challenge, which consisted of creating a fifty-word blip using a specific word from a predetermined list.  It was the first challenge of Sonia’s that I had the pleasure of partaking in and all-in-all I had a terrific time.  I loved throwing my hat in, but what I really enjoyed was reading everyone else’s take on the task.

This month she is holding a new challenge that asks readers to compose a 250-word short about ‘Love’ and/or ‘Leap Years.’  Within the confines of the piece the writer needs to include five-words from a new predetermined list and upon completing the challenge the writer is then required to add their own word to the list in order to mix it up a bit and vary the posts.

I completed a rough draft of my entry yesterday and this morning I polished it off.  Hopefully everyone like it!  My word to be added to the challenge will be ‘idiosyncratic’ and here is my take on Sonia’s February writing challenge:

A Defective Year

Today was his sixth birthday—technically he was twenty-four, but who was counting?  After all, Leap Year was a variance—an aberration; it didn’t need to exist; yet it did.

In his book lethargy was top priority for the day.  He showered, threw on some clothes, popped open a Guinness, but just as he was about to take sip—he let out a slight cough.  It was minute, but he could feel another building.  Suddenly, he dropped his Guinness and before the can could strike the white-checkered linoleum and the second cough had commenced–he was gone.

Vanished.  Poof.  Non-existent.

For a nanosecond he felt as if he were underwater, but when he opened his eyes he was kissing a beautiful woman.  Blonde-hair, fair skinned, blue eyes, and his heart skipped forward and proceeded directly past ‘Go!’  He blushed, but the kiss was so tender and intense he fell into it like Skywalker tumbling into the Sarlacc.

As the two parted, he smiled and, in return, a smile escaped her lips.  He didn’t know where he was or how he had gotten here, but he knew he wanted to stay.  Love at first sight had never been in his paradigm, but in his heart he—poof.

He was gone.

He was back in his apartment with a Guinness bubbling at his feet.  He immediately grabbed his coat and was out the door before the can could stop spinning.  He would find the girl—that was the magic of Leap Year.

Runnin’


Like a mad Mrs. Dash I hit the pavement running.  King couldn’t catch this “Running Man”; not even with a pen and a stack of pages. I  scratched back like a Jimmy Dean skimmin’ across a record with a vibe and a slick groove.  Electric…wait for it…slide.  More curvy than a thick 8-track and more retro than a phonograph I hit the curb and skittered off to the tower of Titans.  I heard a chirp; I heard a flutter.

I thought to myself, “Is it a blue jay? A robin?  Nah.”

I pushed it from my thoughts and thought about the universe.  Lightning and thunder clapped and rained down around me as I sprinted to an unknown finish line.  I’d cross it and cross it again before even the next lighting flashed like a ’58 bulb caught in time.  The Flash wish he could run like me.  Speeding by cars and trucks I leapt tall buildings to show that the Super Man wasn’t the only one who had hops.  The sun winked and urged me on—I winked back and the moon raised an eyebrow.  My sneaks sparked and moaned, they caught fire and split, but I kept runnin’.  I hit Mach 5 like Ani on a Swoop.  The sands of Tatooine couldn’t hold a speedster like me.  I broke the chains of the Huts just to take my disappearing shackles back to Houdini as he plunged into the cold waters of the Green River.  Pop culture at its finest.  Keanu may have had a runaway bus, but Bullock took one for the team and hit the high seas for round two.

“Just crusin’,” I whispered to myself.

Even my breath caught wind and broke the sound barrier.  BOOM!  Even a whisper can shape the future.  A butterfly effect in full swing.  It dances with the past and serenades the present.  Chaos theory organized and then reshuffled just to be jumbled by the muttering of words that caught enough velocity to break sound. I smirked and lurched forward.  I took a tumble caught a rock and sled to a stop.  The Mojave was hot, but it was about to get hotter.  I took a runner’s stance and took a step forward.  Faster than the speed of light I rocketed from my position into the stratosphere.  I reached the stars and then the heavens in less then a millisecond.  There I found the den of dead Gods and again I smirked.

“Freewill it is.”

I fell.  I crashed through the troposphere and hit the tropics creating a mushroom cloud of rock and foliage as it after shocked my system to the current moment.  I took off again.  I had places to be and my thoughts were already there.  I needed to catch up.

Batman Banks with Chase


Yesterday, Hanz and Chubby got into a ruckus for the first time.  Living with an aggressive, criminally insane ferret and a politicized, obese Dachshund is going  to have it’s troubles as all ferret, gorilla, and Dachshund owners know.  The altercation was incited because Chubby playfully decided to tease Hanz about his stylish new Beret (which was recommended to him by one of Abercrombie & Fitch model buddies) and in response Hanz told Chubby to quote, “Shut the hell up you fat bastard,” unquote.  Even with years of political understanding under the wise tutelage of Anthony Weiner Chubby’s rebuttal was expeditiously choked off like Vader finishing off an Admiral.  In his frustration Chubby rashly charged Hanz knocking him to his still shaved buttocks from his foray at the Renaissance Festival; this of course escalated and resulted in a shaved and dyed Dachshund, a razed sofa, a strapped for cash Batman, and an emboldened ferret (like Hanz needs to be emboldened anyhow).

Chubby may sway like a cake shovelin’ Sumo wrestler, but what he did not know is that Hanz studied the art of Teppenyaki for six weeks in New Jersey one summer along with Barney Stinson (the two met in college and are longtime wingmen).  The fight was briefly glorious, however; it was like watching a fat kid run in Forrest Gumps’ leg braces towards a closed down IHOP.  No one wants to tell the kid it’s futile, but we all know once he hits the shuttered doors it’s going to be sad.  Chubby was obviously brave to face a bi-polar, knife wielding ferret, but his finesse was sorely lacking.  I watched, dumbfounded, as Hanz embarrassed Chubby even further by trimming his shaggy hair like Edward Scissorhands finishing off a shrub and then repeatedly dunking him various dyes.  After Hanz was done with Chubby he looked like a reverse Panda Express logo…just sad.  Also, my sofa was destroyed by a frenzied ferret.

It took hours to calm Chubby down after the incident.  And, like all quandaries Chubby opted to do what we all would do in the same situation…he called Batman.  Weirdly enough we have a bat signal on our roof.  We waited and waited, and Batman nor Robin showed.  I am assuming Batman was preoccupied elsewhere and had bigger fish to fry that evening.  Regardless, I still have a seriously perturbed Dachshund who just keeps holding mock debates, straw polls, and conventions for his stuffed pig Fredrick.  Hopefully Fredrick can talk some sense into him.

Also, Malicious the Gorilla still lives in Brad’s closet.