Sunday, February 06, 2005

Dylan's Dilemma

There once was a boy from Hell's Kitchen
Whose booty was terribly itchin'
Which man should he pick?
THAT one's got a big dick!
But damn, HE likes catchin', not pitchin'

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Dig, Pt.2

Faithful Readers: In the first episode of this story, "Dig, Pt.1", I named the main character after a blogger friend of mine, as a little joke. Oh, and I gave that character the same profession. Hilarious, right? Well, the joke's on me, because said blogger friend promptly fired back his OWN episode of "Dig", giving the second installment a twist I had NOT planned on. Here's real life archeologist Dr. Homer Theel as Joe.My.God.'s first guest blogger!

The ancient debris slid away from the polished aluminum surface.

"So dusty!" thought the professor, the dirt momentarily clouding his vision. He blinked away the crud and looked down into the tanning bed. To his amazement, there lay a perfectly preserved human form.

"Oh great Zena!" he whispered.

He'd heard of this phenomenon before. The depleted ozone and the high hydrocarbon particulates of the end of the Late Bush Dynasty had had a tendency to preserve rather than decay. Instead of a container of old, cracked bones, instead there was a man's body.

And what a body it was! Muscular, furry chest, slightly balding. Nude except for a small white towel lying across his groin.

Eric, standing beside the eminent archaeologist, blurted out, "Oh, professor! What a huge find!"

Mark, on the other side of the doctor, giggled, "You can say that again!"

He pointed to the white towel, "I think the correct terminology for the time period was 'well-hung'."

Theel frowned. Personally he thought Mark was rather a show-off, always pointing out all of the arcane details and slang he knew about ancient times. Pretty soon he would be jockeying for his teaching position. Time to bitch slap that boy!

"Now Mark, appearances can be deceiving." Theel reached down and lifted the towel up. The 21st century man was certainly.... well developed.

Eric gasped, "Well Doc, Mark's hypothesis has been proved correct!"

Mark beamed and the other students murmured as Theel's face turned bright red.

From behind the trio one of the android students intoned, "Dr. Theel, my biocensors are picking up hybernatic life signs from the individual."

Another android student scanned its databases, "Professor, with the correct medical procedures it will be possible to revive the 21st century hominid."

Regina squealed with excitement, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. Her thesis was on the lifeways of Manhattanites of this time period. Now she might have the opportunity to test her theories on a living person!

Unfortunately, while she jiggled and made high-pitched noises, she had forgotten that the dig was being broadcast live on Fox-CNN34 and several million viewers across the planet and on the lunar colony saw her in a most unflattering state. She was promptly voted off the field school and went on to a less than satisfying job as a waitress at the MicroApple McHooters Themepark.

"Call the biomedics!" Theel ordered and the androids complied.

In a jiffy a shuttlebulance arrived and a pair of well muscled men jumped out, carrying all sorts of interesting equipment. IVs were inserted and fluids administered. Eric was instructed to massage the heart area while Mark gave CPR. Monitors at first showed no response and Theel grew morose, thinking that the subject was too far gone. But suddenly the figure's leg quivered.

Eric and Mark drew back from the body.

The long-sleeping form coughed, spitting out some lint and dust. His eyes slowly opened and his hand reached up to wipe away six centuries of goop. Dr. Theel gazed down into the pale green eyes.

The professor spoke clearly and slowly in Archaic Americanglish, "Hello, can you understand me? I am Dr. Homero Theel of the archaeology department of el Universidad de Arizona y Nueva Mexico."

The man coughed again.

'Really,' thought Mark, 'for someone of that antiquity his breath wasn't that bad! I wonder if I could learn some Late Bush Dynasty mating rituals from him...' His revery was interrupted by the professor.

"Do you understand me?" asked Dr. Theel again. The man blinked and everyone grew tense as he seemed to be gathering strength.

Finally the man's mouth opened and he said loudly "Yeah, I hear you. I'm Joe. What the fuck is going on?"

To Be Continued...


Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Tossed And Found

I was surprised to find a seat on the 6 train this morning. Sometimes I have to wait for several trains to pass by my station before I can even squeeze aboard, much less find seating.

I crossed the car, turned around and unslung my backpack from my shoulders, clumsily smacking it against the seat in front of me. As I sat down, I heard the unmistakable tinkling of glass.

Uh oh.

My first thought was that my glasses had fallen out of the netted pouch on the side of my backpack, and that I had SAT on them. Then I thought about my iPod.

Double uh oh.

Trying not to panic, I slid my left hand behind me and felt around.

Nothing.

I moved my hand further over towards the man next to me and felt under his coat. He looked over from his Financial Times and raised his eyebrows. I smiled weakly and removed my hand.

I shifted the backpack from my lap to the floor in front of me, and when I leaned forward, I heard the tinkling noise again. I sat up straight and this time reached around behind me with my right hand. The young girl next to me scooted over a bit, as I pawed around on her side. But again, I found nothing.

I leaned forward and pulled my iPod out of the side pocket as the train paused at 51st Street. As the train lurched out of the station, something clattered loudly across the floor and came to rest against my backpack, just as I was leaning forward. I snatched at it and sat back up to examine it.

It was a long, slightly blackened CRACK PIPE.

I looked around the car and realized that as far as the other passengers were concerned, that crack pipe had just fallen out of my shirt packet while I leaned over my backpack. Financial Times Man was looking disdainfully over his glasses at me. The girl next to me stared, wide-eyed. The other riders sent me looks ranging from pity to disgust.

So naturally, I held that crack pipe up in front of my face making the "Oh, THERE you are!" face. I tucked it into my top pocket and leaned back, smiling.

The other passengers shook their heads at each other and we rolled on.



music: "White Lines"- Grandmaster Flash