Grits in Zurich

Last time I checked, the grits had made it as far as Zurich.

Shaft Punctuation

Well, now that the Million Dollar Book Club has finished its most recent selection - which, as Megan and I were discussing, is mostly a list of people having sex in piles of rotting garbage for art - I have returned to the final volume of OUTLAWS OF THE MARSH, in which our army of former bandits has come up against a military formation called... wait! Remember when McNeil was trying to get me to worship "The Monad"? So, they come up against a formation called "The Great Monad." Can this be a coincidence? Or does everybody just have monad fever? Anyway, these guys are completely flummoxed by the Great Monad! And nothing gets to these guys. The last time they were this upset was back when they were still bandits, about 400 pages ago, and they ran into their greatest adversary... a guy who is good at throwing rocks! I'm not kidding. Individually and as a group, these guys have triumphed over impossible odds again and again, but all of a sudden they're saying "Ow! Ow!" and falling off their horses because they met - seemingly for the first time in their lives - someone who can throw rocks. Don't worry, they eventually get the rock thrower - whose nickname is the Featherless Arrow - to come over to their side, so they can use his rock throwing powers for their own purposes. And yet not even this guy who is good at throwing rocks will be much use against the Great Monad! I'll keep you posted. So, the other night it was Dr. Theresa's birthday and we were driving around singing the theme from SHAFT. One thing we saw was a bunch of golden glinting orbs in a thicket, and then a baby raccoon emerged, and the golden glinting orbs were the eyes of its many brothers and sisters. But the point is we were driving around before that, singing the theme from SHAFT, and to my surprise, when we got to "no one understands him but his woman," Dr. Theresa belted out, with great confidence, "Joan Shaft!" And I said WHAT! Well, it turns out that for her whole life, Dr. Theresa has heard, I suppose, a comma after the phrase "no one understands him but his woman," a comma leading to a syntactically very logical end to that sentence, which would be giving the name of the woman to whom Isaac Hayes is referring, one "Joan Shaft." Dr. Theresa's theory was further bolstered by the fact that prior to the supposed introduction of "Joan Shaft," the protagonist Shaft is referred to by his surname alone. I had to burst her bubble on her birthday and inform her that there is no Joan Shaft. The backup singers are, of course, supplying us with Shaft's full name, John Shaft. Then, as a refreshing break from my mansplaining, the baby raccoon came out of the thicket. It was just like that Walt Whitman poem about the astronomer.

Grits to Sweden

Yesterday I mailed some grits to Sweden. In return, I expect to receive some canned fish meatballs. "They taste like nothing," Hanna assured me.

Sensitive Compartmental Information Facility

Oh, so you say you CAN handle the kind of stuff McNeil and I talk about? All right. I'll give you the straight skinny, and then you'll be sorry. So McNeil sends an email: "Reading The Apocryphon of John and it's blowing my mind. BOOOOOM. In a way it makes the vicissitudes (!!look at my big word there!!) of the OT God a little easier to understand. I said a little. And I'm talking bout the Monad, y'all...which is what people really should be worshipping, I guess." All right! So it looks like McNeil is starting a cult and trying to get me to worship "The Monad." So I'm like, hey, I think I have that book around here somewhere. But I look all around and I can't find it. BUT THEN! I remember an anthology called THE GNOSTIC BIBLE, which is on a shelf behind glass, and I have to move my blood pressure machine to get to it, and I can barely be bothered to make the effort. Finally, I drag my old carcass over there and take it down and I'm like, hey! And I email McNeil: "one of the sections is called The Secret Book of John, which seems to correspond to the book you're talking about. For example, it mentions 'The One,' which a footnote explains is 'The Monad.' And so on. So let's get busy, Apocryphon style!" And there was some other stuff McNeil brought up about A.I., but let's not get into that right now. We have enough problems! Oh yeah, and McNeil had given me an assignment, which was to study "the passage about halfway through, maybe, where man is created. There is a long long list of people who worked on the project - and how they felt about it afterward." I still haven't done that. Sorry! So McNeil follows up with "There should be a place we meet and discuss the Apocryphon - a place like Omaha or Des Moines - and in a pergola near a nature preserve or something so it seems spiritual and also inexpensive. We could wear hats like they do in Masters of Atlantis." And I shoot back my own suggestion: Yankton, South Dakota! McNeil goes "At that pizza place you're obsessed with - but only if they can provide us with a SCIF." And I don't know what the hell a SCIF is and McNeil has to explain it to me. But about this pizza place... see, for my 60th birthday, I thought McNeil and I could meet at a pizza place I knew about through one tweet, back when twitter existed. The way I remember it now, this place had a pizza with crab, beef, and cheddar cheese on it, which was named (the pizza was) after Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. Because you know how much they loved crab, beef, and cheddar cheese on a pizza! I even looked up local forms of entertainment and I think I found several casinos in the area. Alas, that plan came to nothing. A lot of things came to nothing that year. Some of you know what I'm talking about. Hey! Speaking of religion, I see that the announcement is up at Square Books: I'll be "in conversation" with Tom Franklin about his new novel DEVILWOOD in February! So I can finally tell you... remember when I said I was reading a manuscript with owl balls in it but it doesn't mean what you think it means? Well, that book with the owl balls in it is DEVILWOOD, as can finally be revealed. Owl balls!

The Short Version

You know, several days ago, McNeil and I had a pretty good thread going about James Franciscus, and in my heart I was like, "Oh, there's a rich vein of 'bloggable' material here." Then I was like, "Well, I better find a photo of James Franciscus, because no one knows who he is." Then I was like, "Gee, how am I going to explain what McNeil and I are talking about?" Then I realized that once I began explaining James Franciscus, I would have to explain a lot more things, and pretty soon I'd be explaining the universe. And then I got depressed. The short version is that McNeil got some information about a James Franciscus movie from one of his old books, but when he consulted the "internet" about it, he discovered that THERE IS NOT EVEN A SINGLE ALLUSION TO THIS MOVIE ANYWHERE ON THE "INTERNET." And then McNeil blamed Elon Musk for creating this new reality we live in, in which the James Franciscus movie McNeil wants to see has been erased from what we laughingly call "existence." We laughingly call it that! Laughingly! Anyway, the main thing is you know three things about me: I have a "daytime" book I read during the day. I have a "nighttime" book I read at night. And I have proven that every book has an owl in it. Therefore, it should come as no shock that yesterday during the day I found an owl in my daytime book and during the night I found an owl in my nighttime book. But let's dig deeper! Just like a burrowing owl! My daytime book is a Million Dollar Book Club selection by J. Hoberman, all about the avant-garde art scene in New York in the 1960s. In a footnote, I noticed a place called "The Night Owl Cafe." And I was like, "You can't hide from me in a footnote, owl!" So, at night, I'm reading... well, remember when I was reading that James Ellroy book while I took my blood pressure? And I chose it because it had a reliable-looking and charming spine? But I didn't really care for the words on the pages of the book itself? Anyway, I was in Square Books the other day and I bought the sequel (see also). So the narrator calls Richard Nixon a "foul owl on the prowl." A few pages later, someone calls our narrator a "night owl." And that reminded me of how James Ellroy seems to love the phrase "night owl." And who can blame him? I will conclude with the astonishing fact that in yesterday's reading, both my nighttime book and my daytime book namechecked the film THE CRY OF JAZZ (see also). All of which reminds me, Dr. Theresa says I'm supposed to take my blood pressure today.

I Hate Everything

I keep seeing this commercial where some curly-haired jackass bites into a giant freaking hamburger on a pretzel bun and then he is magically transported to a "pub" because this giant freaking hamburger on a pretzel bun is just like being in a "pub." And I sit there thinking, is that what people eat in pubs? A giant freaking hamburger on a pretzel bun? That looks like it has a lot of gross stuff crammed onto it? And then I think, what is a pub? I've been in a couple of pubs but they were in Scotland, so does that count? And I just asked Dr. Theresa, hey, says I, remember that place that called itself a pub that was on our street in Atlanta? And both of us remembered it and could even picture it, but we couldn't remember the name. But so what? Is it a pub just because you call it a pub? Anyway, I hate everything.

Names

I told you how everyone in OUTLAWS OF THE MARSH has a nickname. Over halfway through volume three, we meet a guy called "the Ugly Son-in-Law." This guy is so ugly... and it sounds like I'm about to tell a Rodney Dangerfield joke, but it's just part of the plot... he's so ugly his wife dies from looking at him! Speaking of names, I saw the rapper-turned-actor Ludacris in a vitamin commercial. Ludacris tries drinking an unpleasant smoothie, but he just can't do it! In disgust, he exclaims, "Man, when did health get so LUDICROUS?" I view this as lazy writing. Sorry, writer of the Ludacris vitamin commercial! Anyway, Ludacris puts aside the terrible smoothie and happily takes his vitamin. So he should have used the homonym (if that's the correct term) for his own name as a positive thing. It should have been saved for the end of the commercial, when he's happy. He should have swallowed his pleasant vitamin and said, "Man, health just got LUDICROUS!" Like it's a good thing. I am seeing some problems with this approach. I do not envy you, vitamin writer! It may interest you to know that I saw two different Ludacris commercials for two different products back-to-back! Immediately before the vitamin commercial, Ludacris and the race car driver Danica Patrick were trying to talk me into getting some kind of insurance (?) that pays for your auto repairs. They were like, "Who's going to pay for your next car repair? YOU?" They meant it in an encouraging way, in that it wouldn't have to be me if I just paid a small monthly fee for their service instead. But the tone struck me as "Who's going to pay for your next car repair? YOU? Don't make me laugh! Look at yourself! You couldn't pay for a stick of gum!" You may ask where I encountered back-to-back Ludacris ads. Why, on the old people channel, of course. The old people channel is what I call the channel that shows things old people might like, for example, the sitcom HAZEL, which is about a wisecracking maid who helps rich, often withered, white people get everything they desire. My relationship with HAZEL is complex. I guess I talk about it a lot. In recognition, Ace Atkins bought me a HAZEL coffee mug I drink from at least three days a week. Most other days I drink from a souvenir mug from the Smoke House that Ace brought back from a trip to Los Angeles. And when both of those are unanvailable, I drink from a giant mug that informs me I am a "diamond in a rhinestone world." Ace got me that one too. Maybe that's what he really thinks! Anyway, Ace buys most of my clothes and personal kitchen accessories.

Zoological Adjustments

Well, well, well. I guess you'd think I was pretty foolish if I went out and bought the first few books of Aristotle's METAPHYSICS just so I could fact-check Thomas Aquinas when he says there's an owl in it. But that's just what I did. And hold onto your hats! There's NOT an owl in it! Here's what it says in my brand spanking new (by which I mean 1933) translation of the METAPHYSICS: "just as it is with bats' eyes in respect to daylight, so it is with our mental intelligence..." That's right! It's bats! Not owls! NOW what are you saying? I bet you're saying "Money well spent!" I troubled myself to scrounge about halfheartedly on the "internet" to find out why Aquinas says owls instead of bats. And you know, I found out a couple of things, sort of. I skimmed over a scholarly article called "Power and Limits of the Human Mind: On the Arabic Reception of the Analogy of Bats and Daylight..." Look. There's more to the subtitle but I'm getting tired of typing. It's like an email I got from McNeil this morning. He was writing about the movie DOCTOR, YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING! but had the energy to type only "Dr. ... kidding" (ellipses McNeil's). And I mocked him for it! But look at me now. Anyway, if I'm reading it correctly, this guy (his name is Amos Bertolacci) says that when translating from Greek to Latin, people began subsituting "owl" for "bat." And he explains why, but I don't think I understood it. Here, I'll quote it for you: "The interpretations of the bats’ analogy in Latin philosophy and theology have a different character from the ones considered here: Latin translators from Greek made Aristotle’s text less problematic by means of zoological adjustments, i.e. by identifying Aristotle’s bats with other night animals (night ravens or owls)." Then he goes on to say that some people even substituted eagles for bats! That's just crazy. (The latter being my conclusion, not Mr. Bertolacci's.) The article led me to another "web" site containing, in full, Thomas Aquinas's critique of Averroes's gloss on Aristotle's metaphysics, where I read with my own two eyes and my own pea-sized brain Aquinas taking Averroes to task for his bat observations... leading me to conclude (and bear in mind "I ain't no doctor with a degree" to quote Aretha Franklin) that Aquinas knew very well that they were bats in the original, not owls! All of this is to come to the shocking point: for the FIRST TIME EVER, I am going to REMOVE a book from my BIG LONG LIST OF BOOKS WITH OWLS IN THEM. So long, Aristotle. You had your chance! And you blew it. To quote Bill Boyle imitating Robert De Niro in COP LAND, "YOU BLEW IT!!!!!"

Aquinas Mania!

I'm sure you've been keeping up with the adventures of Jerky the Li'l Jerk, that rascally rapscallion who has stolen America's heart by telling people to go to hell. In that case, there is no need to remind you of Jerky's recent encounter with Thomas Aquinas. In order to compose that little masterpiece, I first fetched my "concise translation" of the SUMMA THEOLOGICA. Well, friends, that "concise translation" was a little TOO "concise"! Ha ha, what a fix. So I had to crawl around on the "internet" in search of the mot juste, as I call it. Then I started thinking, "Jack," I started thinking, "why don't you have a COMPLETE edition of the SUMMA THEOLOGICA in several volumes like a normal person?" So I tracked down just such a set. I made it to page three of the first volume, you will be impressed to hear. And that's where I read about "the weakness of our intelligence, 'which is dazzled by the clearest objects of nature; as the owl is dazzled by the light of the sun.'" As you can plainly see, due to my expert rendering of the punctuation, Aquinas is quoting from something there, which appears to be, based on his note, the METAPHYSICS of Aristotle. All right! That means that not only does the SUMMA THEOLOGICA have an owl in it, it borrows that owl from another work with an owl in it, a nesting phenomenon, if you will, which we have examined before, and I would include a "hyperlink" to prove it, but I'm starting to depress myself. And you! (Please "click" on this important correction.)

Chicago Millionaire

My current "nighttime book," as I call it because I read it at night, is an Elmore Leonard western. In it, we meet a millionaire from Chicago who comes out west to show off with the fancy pair of guns he keeps in a rosewood box. He shoots "bottles, cans, pine cones at twenty paces, chimpmunks, ground squirrels, ospreys and horned owls." Don't worry, something bad happens to him. Anyway, this means that GUNSIGHTS is a book with an owl in it, a type of book I have devoted my life to cataloging, I guess. No one told me it would be like this.

Talking Hamburgers

You know, in OUTLAWS OF THE MARSH, every character has a nickname. There's the Black Whirlwind, the Red-Haired Demon, the Dry-Land Crocodile, the Elegant Tiger, the Blue-Faced Beast, and so on. There's even the Timely Rain! But then toward the end of the second volume, we get the Magic Calculator. Ha ha! He's a guy who is good at math. But is that really funny? I don't know. Right after the Magic Calculator comes the Elfin Flutist. And I was like, are these nicknames becoming progressively less bad-ass? I was reciting such observations to Dr. Theresa in the car yesterday and she was like "Uh-huh." I can't say she seemed that interested! Then I tried it out on Tom Franklin at lunch. "The Magic Calculator!" I said. "Ha ha ha," I continued. Tom laughed politely. It all got me to thinking about an occasion quite a while ago when I was going over the history of humanoid hamburger characters in various media and Hanna yawned. And I said with wry self-knowledge, "Is my catalog of talking hamburgers boring you?" And Hanna said, "No, it's riveting." My wry self-knowledge was suddenly replaced with some other kind of self-knowledge! Maybe I need a personal focus group to try out topics on. You know what? I'm going to email Jimmy about the Magic Calculator.

You Just Got Bartlebyed

In today's installment of Jerky the Li'l Jerk, Jerky meets Melville's immortal character (well, he dies in the story, but you know what I mean) Bartleby the Scrivener. Jerky tells Bartleby the Scrivener to go to hell, because he's the rascally little boy who tells people to go to hell. Then Bartleby says "I would prefer not to." You know Bartleby! Ha ha ha. What a guy. Then, in the final panel, he adds, "You just got Bartlebyed." Anyway, I think it would have been great in the original story if every time Bartleby the Scrivener said "I would prefer not to" he would have added "You just got Bartlebyed." I did a search of the "internet" and found zero matches for the phrase "You just got Bartlebyed." As its inventor, I hope to get in on whatever money can be made from this exciting phrase.

Li Kui

"Li Kui, naked as an owl, angrily seized a broken pole and charged up the bank to continue the battle." I'm still reading OUTLAWS OF THE MARSH because it's so dang long. Also, if something else comes up that I need to read, I feel okay putting it aside temporarily, because its episodic nature makes it easy to pick up where you left off and just dive into the next adventure. It might be longer than JOSEPH AND HIS BROTHERS, the longest thing I've ever read! OUTLAWS OF THE MARSH has more pages for sure. But it's a set of mass-market paperbacks, so the pages are smaller. I guess we'll never know. I wonder what "naked as an owl" means. I recall that Travis McGee played a game called "naked owl" with a friend, but I think that involved the nakedness of the human participants, not the supposed nakedness of owls. What about all the feathers? It seems to me that feathers should count against nakedness.

All the Cokes Are Good

Last night, as I lay in bed reading THE PHILOSOPHY OF ANDY WARHOL, I was given reason to recall the time I tried to convince Sarah Lloyd (with partial success?) that Queen Elizabeth II ate a foot-long chili dog every day. Andy Warhol claims that Eisenhower took the queen to a baseball game and bought her a hot dog. While I do find evidence that FDR once fed the queen a hot dog, I have trouble backing up the Eisenhower story. That, however, does not detract from Andy Warhol's point, "that she couldn't have had delivered to Buckingham Palace a better hot dog than the one he bought for her for maybe twenty cents at the ballpark. Not for a dollar, not for ten dollars, not for a hundred thousand dollars could she get a better hot dog." He makes his point more forcefully, I think, in an earlier part of the section, when he says, "the President drinks Coke, Liz Taylor drinks Coke, and just think, you can drink Coke, too. A Coke is a Coke and no amount of money can get you a better Coke than the one the bum on the corner is drinking. All the Cokes are the same and all the Cokes are good." This is, according to Andy Warhol, "What's great about this country," which means that reading about Andy Warhol on the Fourth of July is arguably more appropriate than what I usually read about on the Fourth of July, which seems to be werewolves. In fact, Jerky the Li'l Jerk meets Andy Warhol in today's episode of Jerky the Li'l Jerk.

Buckatunna Inventory

We went to visit my parents and Dr. Theresa was eating oysters, because that's what people do down there, and in an oyster she found a little, round, perfectly formed pearl! I have been eating oysters as long as I can remember, and I can't recall myself or anyone else finding a pearl in one. I have a strong feeling, however, that this is another "wild turkey incident." That is to say it's like the time I was excited to see wild turkeys standing by the side of the road and everyone told me that they see wild turkeys standing by the side of the road nonstop, every roadside is just lined end to end with wild turkeys. So I guess you can't eat a bowl of gumbo without finding a whole strand of immaculate pearls, good for you. Anyway, on our way back we stopped at a gas station in Buckatunna, Mississippi, to stretch our legs. In the course of leg-stretching, I wandered past the chips and gum and such, past what I would call "road snacks," to a corner of the store containing a couple of shelves of what I would call "pantry items." And I got so interested for some reason that I took out my stupid-ass jotting book and started jotting down what groceries were available at the gas station in Buckatunna, Mississippi: 1 squeeze bottle of Hershey's strawberry (!) syrup, 2 small containers of Thousand Island dressing, 1 small packet of brown gravy mix (generic), 1 small jar of maraschino cherries, 1 jar of bread-and-butter pickles, 3 bottles of breakfast syrup (one of them in the distinctive form of Mrs. Butterworth), 4 boxes of pancake mix, 10 large cans of fruit cocktail, 2 cans of barbecue-flavored Vienna sausages, 8 cans of Vienna sausages with jalapeno. There was more. But just as I was registering my surprise that there were zero cans of plain Vienna sausages, it was time to go.

Elvis in the Mariana Trench

Following McNeil's example, I watched WILD IN THE COUNTRY. It's one of Elvis's more somber and serious roles, a fact which my subsequent email to McNeil does not convey: "As you know, it begins with Elvis fighting and running. He runs through a bunch of chickens. He runs through a bunch of sheep. He runs into the woods, where we see a symbolic raccoon running and then a symbolic bear cub running. I thought he should run through a lot more animals. He should run through a bunch of monkeys! He should run through some dinosaurs! He should never stop running with and through and alongside all kinds of animals!" McNeil's eventual response was, "Footage of Elvis running through the Mariana Trench. That's the best I can do. I'm working outside. I don't know how those old-school guys did it." Later, I replied, "I have noted that in addition to Elvis singing a song about banana peels, Tuesday Weld uses a perfume made with banana oil. She and Elvis have a conversation about it." And that's a great transition. Thanks, me! Because as I was leafing through SWEET BANANAS to pick out choice bits for my upcoming reading, I noticed that there is an owl in it. The same owl in it at least twice! An owl I didn't even remember putting there. An owl I didn't notice even when I was writing about it. I guess I just can't help myself. Let's end things on a gloomy note because that's how life is and you need to face the facts. McNeil asked if I had ever "blogged" about Uncle Mort's burning down. The answer is no, because I had no idea that Uncle Mort's burned down. In fact, the last time I recommended Uncle Mort's as the number one spot near Jasper, Alabama, for country ham and eggs, it had already burned down!

Square Bananas

Hey! On July 8 at 5:30, I'll be reading from my novel SWEET BANANAS at Off Square Books. You may "click" here for details, though I have just told you most of the details. Shall I tell you something else? Shall I? Hmm? That date is my birthday. So just think about what a tragedy that night might turn out to be. How can you afford to miss my ultimate humiliation? There will even be banana-flavored treats, which I cannot eat, because I take a medication that is high in potassium. A SINGLE BANANA COULD KILL ME! Okay, that part isn't true, as far as I know. But would you come to the event if I promise to eat a banana and see what happens? We'll have a countdown clock! Now, despite my glib demeanor, how this all came about starts with some sad news. Hingston & Olsen, the wonderful publisher who specialized in limited editions of marvelously intricate printed objects, has gone out of business. That's the only reason that copies of the very rare novel SWEET BANANAS are available. If you will pretend to recall, the original run was a limited edition of 365 copies with 365 different covers. Those are all gone. But there were a few extra copies in the warehouse - for safety, I suppose - without the covers. And they kindly asked me if I would like to have them and I said yes. And now I'm passing the savings on to you like some kind of mattress salesman. A box of 16 got lost in the mail, so you can look for those on the black market, I guess. But I sincerely doubt you'll beat my rock-bottom prices!

The Second in a Series of Reports

In Episode 521 of DARK SHADOWS a new character pops up and he's basically the devil. Anyway, a few episodes later, he says "gazebo" twice, both times with the unusual "Ga-ZAY-Bo" pronunciation. This has been the second in a series of reports on the way characters pronounce "gazebo" in DARK SHADOWS.

The Mystery of Barry Lyndon's Fart

I had fun last night watching BARRY LYNDON with Tom Franklin. Yes, that's my idea of fun, so go to hell. Speaking of going to hell! You should check out my great new comic strip. From the creator of Frowny 'n' Smiley comes Jerky the Li'l Jerk. He's the fun-loving little boy who tells people to go to hell. "Click" here for all the action you can stand. It's Jerky the Li'l Jerk! They're presented in reverse chronological order, so scroll up from the bottom, folks. You won't want to miss a single panel of America's newest sweetheart, Jerky the Li'l Jerk. Anyway, so I was thinking of all the people I've watched BARRY LYNDON with. I watched BARRY LYNDON with Pendleton Ward! (For details, "click" here.) I watched BARRY LYNDON with Lee Durkee! (For details, "click" here!) I watched BARRY LYNDON with Megan Abbott and Kent Osborne! Simultaneously! Looking back at the "post" reporting on my viewing experience with Pen, I thought, huh! I thought, gee! Didn't Pen make me stop the movie and replay a scene because he thought Barry Lyndon farted? And I couldn't convince him that Barry Lyndon didn't fart? And didn't I write this down? I thought it was on the "blog"! But after a long, humiliating search for "barry lyndon + fart" turned up nothing on the "blog" I started scanning other examples of my voluminous output, including my many, many unpublished novels. And you know where I found it? You'll never guess. You're not even here! No one is reading this. I've made my peace with that. Well, I'll tell you anyway. I did a thing for Popula where I just babbled into a digital recorder and transcribed the results, and it was there that I related the "Pen thinking that Barry Lyndon farted" tale. "Click" here for proof. How many things have I told you to "click"? Four? How many did you "click"? Zero? I guess you're busy. So, the "Barry Lyndon farting" story was especially difficult to find because for some reason I changed everybody's name when I was babbling into that recorder. I guess that was back when I valued privacy or human dignity or whatever it was we used to value around here. So I called Pen "Tex." He's from Texas in real life, though I think it was also a salute to the anarchic spirit of animation pioneer Tex Avery. For more about Barry Lyndon's farts, ask your pastor or visit your local library.

Hammer of the Chipmunks

Well, it was too hot to walk outside yesterday, so Dr. Theresa and I headed over to the gym. Afterward, we thought we'd grab our famous favorite grilled chicken salad from Proud Larry's. But there was unexpected roadwork in our way! So we had to get back on the highway and go the long way around. Inconvenient? Maybe! But we got to drive behind this truck (pictured, above) for a while. As you can see, the company logo is a chipmunk holding a hammer. I know what you're thinking! You're thinking "That's a squirrel holding a hammer." Look, I don't blame you. I said the same thing to Dr. Theresa at the time. Perhaps you and I both have been overly influenced by the time McNeil saw a real-life squirrel brandishing a stick ("click" here for more details, or visit your local library). But when I got home, I hit the "internet" for a closer look. The back of the truck treats us only to the top half of the industrious chipmunk. (I say industrious, but he's not really holding the hammer in a useful way, in my opinion.) When you see the whole logo, it is obvious that the tail is not a squirrel's tail. But I'll tell you something else: God knows where I got the energy, but I looked at some photos of actual chipmunks, and their tails were closer to squirrel tails, if not quite as lush, than the little stub I saw on this cartoon chipmunk holding the hammer. And I said to myself, "Well," I said, "I don't think the Disney characters Chip and Dale, who are chipmunks to my way of understanding, have this kind of realistic chipmunk tail either. Maybe, then, in this way, the hammer-wielding chipmunk was influenced by great cartoon chipmunks of the past." So I scrolled through several images of Chip and Dale before I found one in which their tails were prominently displayed. I was right, at least in the sense that the tails of the unfortunate Chip and Dale appear to have been snipped off to nub length. And then I thought, "Huh, I guess the people who invented Chip and Dale were like, 'Hey, we can't give them realistic chipmunk tails. They'll look too much like rats! Besides, longer tails are harder to animate.' And so on." At this point, my spirit died inside my body and I was no longer capable of human thought.