HO HO HO BUY THAT MONSTER A-CUPPA

Familiar yet sometimes a little hauntingly off stills and even some films. While continuing to document the secret history of doppelgangers in Hollywood, the DPP has uncovered a treasure trove of... Well there you have it really, the paper wasn't acid free, and the film was mostly nitrate-stock. Sadly many of these films will never be widely distributed, as they appear even now to be decayed beyond restoration. Some only fragments a few minutes long, and several with no names, these films are the nearly lost legacy of the outlawed Doppleganger Film Club.

   Since I let the only copy of this one I test folded get away without a picture, here's the second DPP kaleidocycle (assorted santa, or santa-like). In case yer unfamiliar with the Kaleidocycle, Foldplay is where we made these.

Remember "Frankie" this isn't a bad time to have a day out. To find a place in the sun and sit and watch the day go by. A rollover-pin to a modest balance, enough indemnity to keep the bounty hunters at bay for the day, these few provisions and Frankie, though now outside the loop of possible upload, at least isn't doomed to wander his last lost hours stealing looks over his shoulder. Merry Christmas Frankie, have you tried the egg-nog?   

SHARKS NEVER SLEEP

 Twenty years ago Martin Williams came over to my fifth floor walk-up apt to borrow my twelve foot long, large mouth bass. I wasn't in a really good mood as he had the raging pink-eye and managed to drop my microwave oven about three and a half  feet to the floor.

 Whata day, but wait there's more. He actually had to come back a couple of days later cause I wasn't really on board with the debut of the giant bass at the giant puppet theater. As far as I could tell there was no real plan except get the large mouth bass down to the lot at Birmingham's Five Points South (where Johnny Rockets is now) and think of something. He also wanted to borrow my grocery sack and cardboard shark mask. Oh yeah, he had generously loaned me his pink-eye.

 It was kinda fun getting the bass down the stair well. We had plenty of people so it was really easy, and it looked like a fish ghost swimming down the stairs. We put his head on the trunk of my primer-red 67 Devile convertible and drove him down to FivePoints with his tail draped over the windshield.

  On the night of the show they were trying to hang the bass up backstage, but really had no idea how. After breaking lots of little ropes and dropping my bass a couple of times (damit), They switched plans and tied some green crepe paper streamers to a couple of fans pointing up and lowered most of the lights.

 Martin put on the shark mask and swam it out from behind the makeshift curtain into the area near the faux sea-weed. He paused for a minute kinda swimming in place and started into this improv piece that began "Sharks Never Sleep." it went on for a few minutes talking about how sharks have to keep moving or smother. Martin continued to swim the shark in place, as the traffic went by about twenty feet away beyond the parked cars just across the sidewalk. There mighta been fifteen or so people, watching. I think it was a Friday night, lotsa not quite drunk yet foot traffic.

 I was still illin a little cause they dropped my bass. The whole shark thing kinda surprised me. Its's definitely the coolest job the shark has ever had. I'd worked right through a halo-ween party trying to finish it a few weeks before. The party was over and the grey spray paint was still wet, kinda made me queasy at the time, but I saved it. Hell I've still got it.

I LAID DOWN MY TROUBLED MIND AND WOKE TO A VISIT WITH AN ANGEL

  It's happened before. I awoke so full of comfort and contentment that whether or not I'd been dreaming was irrelevant. I spooked myself a little this time. I was trying so hard to imagine the little house I'd been working on, I kinda got lost in it for a moment. I was telling my friend Martin about this meditation, mantra, prayer. I was excited and couldn't decide how to describe it. I had a strong impression that if I could tell it right, Martin or anyone else who tried it would be able to access the same relief and comfort that had almost overwhelmed me when I had closed my eyes and gone through the motions. 

  We were sitting in the dark. I remember when he leaned forward he clasped my hand between his big warm-almost hot hands. I still couldn't quite see him. He seemed excited to be there, and glad I'd want to share my happy discovery with him. He was talking kinda fast and getting louder in his enthusiasm. I was concerned he would wake the neighbors, and shooshed him. We both continued talking in loud happy whispers, but now I was a little distracted. I was wondering what neighbors, what little house had I been working on, what porch were we sitting on? I began to notice my pillow, and my warm comfy covers. I was very wide awake, and didn't feel like I'd been asleep at all. I was really glad to have spent a little time with Martin. I could still feel how large, hot, and strong his hands had felt. The troubles I had put aside to go to sleep were like bad dreams that seem silly looked at  in the light of day.

  I was told years ago that Martin was dead. I had serious doubts even at the time, and said, "I'll be watching for him." Martin Williams had disappeared before, only to return in an almost impossibly simple manner.

   I was married in a botanical garden once. It turned out to be a shorter than ideal marriage. The wedding had been photographed in 3d. Martin was right in the middle of it all boisterous and grinning, as sunny as the garden. 3d pictures can take a long time to get processed. This time it took six months. There was some question whether there would still be a marriage, when the pictures finally came. 

  They did turn up while they were still relevant, and there was Martin in the middle of the crowd in the rose garden. The detail was great, it was sunny. You could see everybody till you tilted the picture and then like turning off a light Martin was gone. Tilt it back, there he was all smiles. I didn't see his smile tonight, but I was wrapped in his good humor as completely as my hands were dwarfed by his big, hot, strong hands. It was great to see ya Martin, I'll be watching for you.

THE FLATWARE COUNTY DIET, EXPERIMENT 1

2,436 spoons, oh crap! How many grocery bags of spoons is that?  I'm sure Gary Hovey would recommend train cases or small suitcases. Worth his weight in flatware, hmm. Who has 2,436 spoons? I'd e-mail Gary for a picture, but I really need whole ones. Ooo how about silver?

A diet should have some sorta plan huh? I mean, get healthy, loose weight, get in shape, get stronger, something. Oh wait I got one, get comfortable. There's one that I can totally get behind. Maybe that's what we had in mind back when we first conceived of the Flatware County Diet Converter.

   For instance I've started to refer to my weight in scientific notation. Instead of 2,436 spoons, (are there that many spoons in my whole neighborhood?) how about 2.4k and change (we know we're talking about spoons right). What's 36 spoons, a mere 3lbs. Ok, if it was change, it'd take the bottom outta yer pocket. 

Hey I think I'm onto something here, using an informal scientific notation (actually in scientific notation that's 2.436 x 10³) I can tabulate my weight in two digits instead instead of three. Then, using the Flatware County Diet Converter,  I can express my pounds lost (or gained) in spoons. Well, that still hasn't accounted for the game board yet, but we seem to be getting closer.

STALKING THE WILY FRACTAL

Dam a bunch-o sneaky ass fractals anyway. Wanna use up a couple of hours and generate a glossary sheet full of words whose definitions are full of words you'll need definitions for. Maybe you should check out fractals. Oh yeah you'll need an attractor, no, not a protractor. If you clicked on attractor, you probably see (phase space, iteration, differential equation) what I mean.

  I just wanted to describe the cool patterns I found with my fractal exploration programs (I use the free ones). I got lucky when I found a book on fractals at a yard sale (cheap). Chaos: The Making Of A New Science by James Gleick (1988) is still my favorite fractal reference. It's my only book with more bookmarks in it than my copy of The Dancing Wu Li Masters. Even though all the formulae went right over my head, and it's doubtful my math vocabulary will ever catch up, it's not enough to stop me. I barely understand lots of my favorite stuff.

 I guess What got me started illen was trying to find a link to share Tierazon, one of my all time favorite (kinda hard to use) fractal explorers (not free at the moment). I'll probably have to edit most of this cranky rant out later, but if you clicked on that last link, you may share my disappointment (bummer). At least the link to Manpwin is still hot. It's latest version includes a number of color filter settings (and other stuff) from Tierazon (some of which works).

While zooming around in a fractal, that whole perturbed oscillator thing means that the patterns never quite repeat  but are self-similar. In Tierazon the regions of apparently 3d forms have allowed me to find a number of favorite neighborhoods.

The three fractals here all relate to the InkyOliveBunny coffee mug design I made for the Stochastic Dreams section at the Flatware County General Store. Thing is I had to go back and render them big since I liked the neighborhood enough to make it make it my desk-top, and the one for the mug was already too small unless I cropped and stretched it.

I gotta admit  I don' begrudge Stephen C. Ferguson his decision to charge admission to play among his many software titles. While I love Tierazon and have spent a ridiculous amount of time stalking the wily fractal there, I'm cheap, and don't have a budget for updating my fractal chasing tools.What tha hey, my old shareware version is still kicking and, this "Poor little fractal monkey," isn't about to stop pressing the lever.

Strange Attractors

How to find them, those regions
Of space where the equation traces
Over and over a kind of path,
Like the moth that batters its way
Back toward the light
Or, hearing the high cry of the bat,
Folds its wings in a rolling dive?--Robin S. Chapman

From the Robin S. Chapman poem Strange Attractors @ sprott.physics.wisc.edu/sapoem.htm

THAT'S NOT WHERE THIS TUNNEL WENT YESTERDAY!

  That's right, if you manage to step back in time, you best step away. Radar Rabbit couldn't and we're still finding pieces of him. Dr Emilio Lizardo (Lord Whorfin) and Buckaroo Banzai also found out the hard way. De Obertruster est not vithout unintended side effects. What you push into an other dimensional space isn't always what you get back. It cost Radar the best lab assistant he ever had, the same day she started work with him.

He pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and fished out a faded polaroid. This was her, Radar began, "She wasn't orange like that till just after lunch, and I wish you could have seen what she was doing with our computers. After lunch I called her up to the front face to see my favorite new exit. Welcome to to the Brier Patch, I said and bowed deeply while giving a this way gesture." She stepped boldly but carefully up to the double chalk lines the arrows designated as the brier patch. She seemed more thoughtful than surprised as she squinted into the bright sunlight high above the biggest sticker patch I've ever seen. "So how-do you back-fill a tunnel that ends in mid air?" Vic asked. "Ooo yeah," thought Radar, "That's gonna leave a mark. Oh man is she serious!"

   He admitted it was a jerk thing to do, but at the time it seemed harmless enough. As Vic began to turn away from the hole Radar grabbed the shoulders of her lab coat and thrust her out into the brilliant sun-light. "Saved your life," he said, and snatched her back. "Dam she looked surprised, and orange, and really scratched up. I could tell from the way she elbowed me in the face as she shook me off, that she was more than a little pissed. I hardly even felt it".

  "What happened, what did you see?" Radar asked, but got nothing. No really, she just smoothed out the shoulders of her lab coat and dusted herself off like it happened all the time. "Have you noticed how she squints a little when she's really ticked?" He asked. She disappeared before quitting time that day, without saying another word. Nobody saw her leave. "I really didn't think we'd ever see her again," Radar said. But like the English Wizard told Lord Thibault, "Time is like a mountain riddled with tunnels."  

Hmm, I see the hand of fate at work here. Damn, fate has a scar the same place I do. But wait, I haven't sent anyone to "The Brier Patch," yet. It sure isn't the kind of assignment Vic generally gets. She's always stayed in the background. Considering the sensitive and essential nature of her work for the DPP, we've been lucky to have her at all. Since her encounter with the Cheddar Swan she's avoided most public events. Granted, dressing to compliment a bright orange complexion must be a bit of a challenge.

 She says she thinks of it as a place to start, and now  prefers to be known as Cheddar Vic. Lately she's been night-editor, and has organized and re-organized my roll-top almost nightly. She was always thorough, but the way she's been  plundering the library recently, it's like she's running out of time. I'm not sure she even goes home anymore.

But dammit she's in all the pictures! It can't be, but she's right there. Argue with a pile of good photos some time. The lab coat really sets it off ya know. Nobody but Cheddar Vic can pull off that shade of orange. Stand down Johnny Storm. That's our Vic and she looks determined, and kinda scratched up too.

  Great what an assignment, "Go to the Brier Patch. Find your way  into this cave in Birminghan-past, and hook up with Radar Rabbit. Wear a lab coat. Oh yeah maybe wear some long pants, you're probably gonna to get scratched up." Well she's already been there, right?  According to the pictures Radar Rabbit slipped me at his press conference this morning, Cheddar Vic's due for a really long day.

"Yes you can," I told her and handed her a pass for the Gravy Boat Ferry at Fat Bottom. The coat looks great on you, and you hardly look pissed off at all. Where'd you get those scratches anyway? Alright, you've got an expense account, but watch out for anything served by a ladle. You could end up down there on a permanent assignment. We know you grow yer own, but you should probably keep it outta sight. With all the flooding caused by BP's (Buttry Pohne, Flatware County Engineer) relief wells earlier this year, all they've got are Gourdless phones.

FALLING FROM A BROKEN SKY

  With the release of Radar Rabbit's tell all autobiography "Falling From A Broken Sky" looming, several previously squelched stories have recently emerged from the "Brier Patch." Located on the far bank of the Adipose River south of Fat Bottom, the deep narrow valleys and brier covered hills of " The Brier Patch" have often been a source of dark rumors and cautionary tales.

  Long considered one of Flatware County's best kept secrets, the DPP (Doppelganger Protection Program) has been quietly shielding and settling the flood of doppelgangers recently displaced to the Lake House area. Details of the recently recovered script of C.O.D, an as yet still unmade movie by O D Rabbit, have forced the DPP reluctantly into the lime light. 

  The OD connection to Flatware Count first came to light during follow-up research on casual remarks made by Radar Rabbit during a recent interview. His offhand mention of, an alien menace in Birmingham, (Al) and quantum tunneling experiments conducted under Red Mountain, were the bread crumbs that led eventually to the original manuscript of C.O.D.

ERIC, NO NOT THE ALIBUT

Eric is one of the newest cups for sale @ The Flatware County General Store. Yeah I know, "The wha?" It winked quietly into existence a week or two ago, the store, not Eric. New and defiantly odd additions have been making their debut in the various sections of Flatware County's newest businesses on an almost daily basis.

ADD ADOBO DUDE!

You tell em Flintstien. Who needs complicated mnemonic devices to remember the pronunciations, chipotle and Adobo? They're only two of my favorite "Kentucky Cornbread" accessories so far.

Busted! Alright, you got me. I have been seein' another blog on the side again. I started a couple of months ago browsing cookbooks and the web, comparing cornbread recipes. After examining a dozen or so, I found the recipe I liked best and had my way with it. With only a few changes Betty Seals's "Kentucky Cornbread" recipe  became "Kentucky Cornbread 2.0."

  Starting from this Foundation Pone I have tried a number of variations, and made a point of taking notes and making lots of pictures. So many of the experimental cornbread recipes were worth making again that I began the "Cornbread Chronicle" blog to chart my progress and share the better recipes. Unfortunately the research has been running well ahead of the articles.

 If muffin tins or mini-loaf pans are used this recipe yields four types of cornbread, a few plain ones, a few with just cheese, some with a teaspoon of adobo sauce, a generous quantity of finely sliced chipotle peppers and cheddar, and finally a few with jalapeños and plenty of cheddar.

                                          

                                                              MIX NOTES

 The 3/4 cup of corn oil is all the oil used in this recipe. It is shared out to add 1teaspoon or slightly less to each cell of the loaf pans or muffin tins, before adding the remaining oil to the batter. I like to preheat the oiled tins before adding the batter, but set them aside for now while you get the batter and accessories ready.

  About half a medium sized onion is all you'll need. Gather it up and squeeze out the excess juice. Dispose of the juice and add the squeezed out onion to the other wet ingredients and mix well.   If you haven't yet, begin preheating the oven to 425°F. Mix notes continued after accessories prep.

                                                            ACCESSORIES

I use about 1/4 cup
 of nacho slices minus their centers  (4 to 6 slices per mini-loaf). Pour the chipotle peppers and the adobo sauce into a bowl, and select 3 or  4 peppers.

Split em, scrape em out, and slice em as fine as possible (mine approach 1/8 inch wide). Alright, got all your ingredients on little dishes? Good, if the oven has preheated, it's time to put those oiled pans in to preheat.

MIX NOTES CONTINUED
The pans don't take long to heat up but you should have time to stir in the cornmeal and mix well. I use a quarter cup measuring cup to parcel out the batter. It works great. This recipe makes about 4 cups.


                                               

The distribution of the jalapenos isn't too picky. Just get plenty in each one that gets them. The chipotle peppers are a little more sensitive. The picture shows more than enough for the five chipotle-loaves. Too many in one area can be a little too hot. Slightly less than a teaspoon of adobo is plenty per chipotle mini-loaf.  A little more than tablespoon  of cheese will probably use up most of the 3 or 4 oz of shredded and or cubed cheese. Below is a picture of the batter covered with chipotle, cheddar, and adobo, ready to be carefully submerged with a fork .

Bake at 425°F for 25-28 min and cool for 5 min.  I let mine cool and dry a little while on edge. To preserve their crunch, store them in a bowl or basket lined with a clean cloth, carefully separating and covering   them.    

      
 We did eat every crumb.                                                  

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM TOASTER AND SQUID

There really is still some blocklogic going on, even if they aren`t showing off much. Toasters and squid seem to have the front burner lately. They`ve even spawned a pair of blocks, displayed on the twelve faces of the stealated octahedron bellow. The inflatable origami ornament below was patterned on a single sheet steella-octangula designed by Sam Ciulla, mine was assembled with the the instructions on this pdf.

I remember now why I haven`t done many of these. Start with the image face up, already cut out square, and in just 18 steps voilà. I thought this would be cute, it`s almost easier to carve one (damn). They were a little time consuming to make but so were the blocks their images came from. After tuning up the squid ball I made two more "Jingle Bones" and "Tribe Ball," they`re at Blocklogic. I`m considering  two more, "Breakfast With Badgers," and "The West." 

ROLLTOP

 The rolltop desk is still giving up it`s treasures. Man, how many cuby-holes can one desk have? I`ve found a whole pile of mint tins and those round, flat, snuf cans, all stuffed full of wrinkly, old, scraps of paper, covered with poems. And not just poems but ones made up on the road and dragged all over before they ended up here. I`m sure some of them go with the stories, but which ones goes with which I`m not sure I`ll ever figure out. These seem even more personal than the stories and at first I was a little embarrassed to be draggin em all out, but this is my story. I don`t have to like it, but it feels like I should at least give it a chance.

   I may come back to them later, but for now I`m only going to share my favorite one.

I met a man while walking,
he was being enigmatic.
But I was beaming clear and pure
ignoring all the static.

Then he sang an invocation
in a voice so clear and high,
"May the guides always be with you
and I hope you never die."

HUÉRFANO CUCHARAS

In memory of the non-starter comic strip "Huérfano Calcetines." Fortunately for us here in Flatware County, the situation for orphan spoons and other partial place-setting, flatware isn`t near as grim as the future for lost socks. We can find their familys. Replacements Ltd. has a collection of 13.8 million pieces of china, crystal, silver, and yes stainless steel tableware. With 455,800 square feet (seven football fields) filled with over 340,000 indexed patterns, their collection of replacement pieces may very well be the largest in the world. 
Playing around their list of flatware I discovered that individual pieces have photo`s attached to their listings, and the list is huge. They even have a pattern identifacation service, don't know your pattern's name? Email a picture of your pattern to research@replacements.com As yet I haven`t found any references to the weights of pieces on their site, but  Gary Hovey`s contribution to the flatware benchmark collection is that one cubic foot of assorted stainless steel flatware weighs right at 100 lbs.

THE FLATWARE COUNTY DIET

   At last, living in my own stilty little cabin (Silver Drawer) again is so good I can hardly explain it. I don`t remember it being so spacious, and I`m really glad I have a good step-ladder because the contents of my cabinets are still a bit of a scavenger hunt. Well I`ve  gotten used to the one`s I can reach anyway, and while I may not have two full place-settings that match it turns out I have a lot of flatware! Ok, it`s not that bigga surprise. Everybody knows that the Lake House-Silver Drawer has always been the preferred final destination for odd, interesting, one-of-a-kind, or aging flatware.


  Well, digging through my desk has been more fun than finding money in old clothes. Most of this stuff seems at least vaguely familiar, but there have been a few real surprises. The smörgåsbord hidden in this old roll-top has already yielded, The Flatware County Diet, and The Flatware County Diet Weight Converter, and I`m still on my first helping. The converter, made by Yuki Orange, has had me chuckling ever since I ran across it. The converter is meant to be an accessory to the Flatware County Diet Game. The still incomplete game-board for The Flatware County Diet Game (above) was first seen in the article "Fat Bottom Feels Pinch" back in November, 2008.The complete rules for The Flatware County Diet Game and a more polished version of the game-board are still holding on top of the things to finish next pile, but I`ve been playing with the converter a lot and it still tickles me.

 I`m pretty sure I never gained this much weight, this fast, even in my first childhood. I`m growing faster than a seal-pup, yeah that`s right, put that club away Buddy. Food tastes amazing and the vitamins Aqua-Vs got me on have me picking up a couple or three place-settings a week. At this rate, next family reunion I won`t have to borrow any at all. Hell, bring the marching band too, what the heck we can use paper plates. What`s a few hundred more spoons between friends?

HOW MONSTER SPAWNED THE MULTIVERSE

   I`d have run out of vacation days by now if my accountant hadn`t said, "Write some more stories, and we can expense at least some of these pediatrician visits." Great, throw that up in my face. At least I don`t need help climbing up in my chair anymore. Being a baby sucked, yeah I said it, but I wish I could remember more of it. About the first thing I remember was being read to, and soon after that starting to read myself. The pages were huge, and even though I loved being read to, I loved bringing the stories inside. Just being alone with the stories in my head was so comforting.

   I`ve been told I was a pushy baby. Apparently the only rest anybody got was when I was exhausted, asleep, or listening to Sidual or Aqua V read to me. Little did I know, most of what I was fascinated by were my own rambling recitations from a few weeks earlier in my "declining years." Reading Sidual`s worn notes was like remembering a dream, and more and more I already knew the endings. I suppose I should count myself lucky, having twice crossed the Rubicon, to find even traces of my memories and dreams. This one begins like a lot of my favorite stories , with a wake up.

   I waited for those damn billy-goats all night, not. The only Trolling I`m into takes a string, a feather with a jingle bell, and a bicycle (trolling for kittens). All I ever got were nibbles anyway, kittens can`t keep up with a bicycle long.

   I woke up under a bridge, even then I didn`t know where. I was a little hungry and broke, but I did have my tooth-brush, and I really wanted to wash my face. It didn`t take long to break camp, and find a gas station. With a clean face and hands, I had just about finished brushing my teefs when someone walked in and past me. His business was brief and as I was drying my hands, he was washing his. I nodded his direction. "Mornin", he said. "Good morning", I replied as I turned to leave. "Hey, ya feel like smoking a joint?" he asked. "I reckon," I replied as we exited to the side parking lot. On the way to his car, he introduced himself. "My friends call me Monster," he said. WE shook hands and got in his car. He was parked in the shade and the joint turned out to be a foot-tall glass bong with a Mucca looking girl floating amongst her draperies and very animated hair on it`s side. He started the car, and as we drove around I told him about the odd dream pair of dreams I`d just had under the bridge.

   In the first dream I was walking a couple of friends to the airport in Los Angeles. We were walking along the bottom of a narrow canyon. Up on the sloped sides blond masons in ironed Egyptian looking white loin-cloths were cutting cubes of stone right out of the canyon wall (there were several cube shaped holes near them), and carrying them off the same way we were going. We had just rounded a bend in the canyon, when we encountered the mason`s and their nearly completed wall. Just beyond the gap in the mason`s wall was a guard and a red and white striped guard shack with a counter-weighted striped barrier swung down blocking the way to the airport.

   There was a guard in fatigues standing behind the red and white stripped barrier. He held up his open hand and said, "If you want to go any farther you`ll have to put one of these green outfits, and reached over the barrier to hand us some. It doesn`t mean anything it`s just a green suit", but we could see farther up the canyon. Guys in green uniforms wearing smokey the bear hats were shoving people in green suits into lines and shouting at them. These obviously weren`t soldiers, but apparently that didn`t matter! "Don`t do it" I said, "It`s a trick, if we`re meant to fly there`ll be another way," and we started back the way we came. The masons were still hard at it, and the wall had grown some while we`d been delayed.

   As we rounded the turn we could see a small white jet flying down the canyon toward us, laying down a cloud of green gas. The masons were apparently unconcerned, as they continued to remove blocks from the canyon wall and carry then back where we`d just been. My friends and several other people headed for the airport had run over to a white hatchback car. Every time some crawled into the back seat they came back out wearing a gas mask. I hurried over and climbed in myself and reached for a gas-mask. There was only one left. "How do you share a gas-mask," I thought. Just then someone reached past me and got the gas-mask. When they pulled back there was still one mask left. I put it on and got out of the car. Everyone who wanted a mask had one. The masons had ignored the entire event and continued to close the canyon.

  The next thing I knew I was walking up a tightly curved interstate on-ramp wearing a back-pack. I came to a fallen aluminum light pole, and hopped up on the fat end of it. I continued up the pole balancing for fun till the metal began to dent in easily near the top. I hopped down, and woke up under a bridge.

  Monster said,"Uh Huh, loincloths, trowels, and masons with long blond hair, sounds like a California dream to me. Then he told me about his dream, "One night I went to sleep and woke up in heaven. Maybe I died, Maybe I didn`t. I just knew I was there, and I knew I could stay. I also knew that there was one thing left for me to do. There was a large hill in front of me. I knew that if I climbed it, when I reached the top, I would be one with the presence of the living God and totally aware of it."

   He said, "This seemed like a great idea, and I started up the hill immediately. On the way up the hill I noticed there were a lot of people on their way up too. This seemed right as well. Soon I noticed that I felt a little better every step I took. This wasn`t a big surprise either, I knew what was at the top."

   But then he saw something that startled him. Monster said, "One of the people climbing the hill with me stopped suddenly, then turned around and started down the hill again! Monster thought, "Whoa, maybe he realized he wasn`t ready yet. That`s ok I`m ready," and Monster continued up the hill. "I felt better than I ever had, and it seemed like every step I felt even better. This is great," Monster said as he stopped, "I`ll go back and bring everybody," and he started back down the hill.

   As with the 1803 experiment of Thomas Young referred to in "The Dancing Wu Lee Masters" by Gary Zukov (pages 60-63...), the addition of another path doesn`t necessarily add only one more alternative destination. How could this happen? How does the photon know there are two slits? How does the information  about what is happening everywhere get collected to determine what is likely to happen here?

   "Every question takes a certain description of reality for granted. Every question makes a statement that is either true or false," Hugh Prather  "A Book Of Games A Course In Spiritual Play."

BUFFALO MAO SET LOOSE ON THE WORLD

It`s not like they were a secret anyway, but Mineral Comix, Buffalo Mao #47 till now has been a rather rare item with less than twenty copies currently in existance. This seems unfortunate since the whole reason for making it in the first place was to share the fun of arithmetic, Flatware County style. The whole Arithmetic Block project has been languishing of late. It`s been a busy summer, Sidual and Aquavelveta have been taking up the slack sorta. They`ve changed the diapers, watered the plants, and watched lots of movies on Netflix. Meanwhile back at Mineral Comix we`v been listening to the crickets and waiting for the arithmetic crystals necessary to get somebody to cut some more dovetailed boxes. Our current chalenge is that we burned up the vacume cleaner and got tired of having an apartment full of sawdust. Hell we never were going to be able to make that many sets-o blocks here anyway. BP (that`s Buttry Pone, Flatware County`s County Engineer) has had his hands full just drilling relief wells and clearing away the partially crushed Nook/Sideboard trolley, and the wreckage of the Hms De Haviland. With the ice mostly cleared away and the Adipose once again flowing thick and dark, at least the prospects for the annual biscuit races and this fall`s Gravy Boat Hayride are looking good. While we`re gald to hear the Hayrides back on the folks at BlockLogic are antsy to get the Arithmetic Blocks-a-flowin too.

The pages shown in this article are the press proofs (inside and outside) for the cover of Mineral Comix, Buffalo Mao#47. These and the 16 others to be released @BlockLogic.blogspot.com starting tomorrow, signal Mineral Comix decision to open source Buffalo Mao#47. The release of the the proofs for the four and a quarter inch square booklet will be followed by the 6 proof pages for the shirt pocket sized, two and seven eighths inch version. Their stated goal is to make the booklets available in time for block-sets being made to be given this Christmas .

WHO MADE BENITO BERLUSCONI EMPEROR?

I was ignorant of the entire "velina" debacle till I found "Videocracy" on Netflix. By way of heating up the story, Erik Gandinni`s documentary "Videocracy" pokes an unerring finger in the eye of misogynistic media hog, dictator wannabe Slobidan Berlusconi. The systematic marginalizing of women and the deification of wealth and privilege are emblematic of his régime. I jump quickly to Mr Burlusconi`s side and thank him for the reminder that, " Like your chickens, your freedom will wander off if you don`t pay attention to it."

If I understood it correctly, "Videocracy" points out that Rev Burrlesqoni owns or controls 90 percent of Italy`s television stations. What a treasure. I can`t help but notice what a bright and discerning bunch he seems to be influencing. I`m kinda glad "they stand together." It makes them easier to identify and frees up a lot of band-width besides. Please don`t throw us in the briar patch Brer Bearlusconi. Oh wait, that`s where the black-berries are. I bet that guy hates the internet. Yeah, and watch out fer them feral chickens. They`re libel ta bite you in the ass.

..........Aquavelveta...........

MY PLUBAR HAS BROKEN

"The birth spasm has begun." Standing ankle deep in our success, Prymaat`s pithy observation brings home the nature of our own somewhat slower unfurling expansion.

Obtuse Cinema has already begun with reviews and clips for several of the odder, more interesting films I`ve watched recently. The list device "Obtuse Cinema`s The Week`s Best Flix Picks" will hold five of the films I`ve liked most lately, and on slow weeks some of my other odd favorites. The new blog will include clips, stills, reviews, and, or trailers for the ones on the list. I`ll also be mentioning some of the ones I didn`t like quite as well. If I hate em I probably wont bother. Anyway, the red envelope has arrived, maybe the Directors mom didn`t write this synopsis.

...........Aquavelveta............

GPS VS THE DRUNKEN RABBIT

We had to take Cousin O D along, he was the only one who could keep his laptop from floating away, damn Why-Fly. None of our maps were much good. The glaciers had scraped away most of the roads, and the amazingly fast growing trees seemed to be finishing off the rest in short order. It was a good thing Chatty had driven a company car up there.

It was nearly noon before we found Chatty`s car. Sidual was standing on it. The grass had grown all the way over it. The turf mat wasn`t all that thick, but the grass was over a foot tall on top of it. We could`ve saved our time hacking a way into the car. It was one icky mold palace. I guess Chatty thought he`d be right back. Two of the windows were open. Sidual tried the door and jumped back muttering, "This is nuts." The door was totally stuck. From the smells and growls it was apparent something was living in there. We bailed. I doubt his luggage would have told us anything much in its current state.

According to OD`s laptop, GPS put the phone right where we were right next to the bridge. Fat chance, but OD pushed his way into the brush following his laptop. Sidual with a machete is something I wish I could forget. I guess it could`ve been worse. The brush wasn`t as thick as it looked. There were several large patches of pavement and even a speed limit sign near the drop off. Chatty was no help. He lost his shoes somewhere before we got down to the water. There was no bridge in our crumbly little canyon. I tried Chatty`s cellphone number. We stood still and listened, and heard nothing but birds, and water. "Shh," I said and called again. I thought I could hear his Godzilla ring tone coming from down stream.


"Keep an eye on Chatty and see if you can find something to get a sample of this water in," I told Sidual. I found the cellphone in a sand-bar. Getting it out was a little tricky though. I wasn`t about to step in that water. I`d all ready seen way too much of Chatty. Nobody likes old jello.

I heard a commotion from up-stream. Leaning around the bushes, I saw Chatty coming downstream in a wash tub with Sidual hot on his heels. "Grab him," Sidual shouted. But hell, he was already passing me. Still holding his cellphone, I did manage to get his picture just before he ran aground on the sand bar. Sidual fished him out, and we beat a hasty retreat.

Damn, Sidual looks twenty. Oh he`s tickled. He was really tired of acne, and I think he`s taller too. I hope we can get this straightened out before his mom gets home. Great, in the meantime Chatty has gone from starry eyed mumbler, to sticky faced toddler in the space of two days, and we`re left bringing him home naked again.
.......................Aquavelveta.................

HOW DID I SPEND MY SUMMER VACATION?

Chatty misses the sheep. He`s taken to sudden, numerous naps, but when he`s awake he`s talking non-stop. Short straw or not it`s still my story. Sidual and I are writing as fast as we can, but instead of an explanation, we`re generating piles of rambling stories.







It`s a good thing Kevin forwarded us those pictures and text messages. Chatty`s weekend odyssey is starting to take shape, and what a shape?


The glacier carving through the Chocolate Hills behind him isn`t on any of our maps. We gathered from the texts that he was going home for Father`s Day. So How did his face end up on that temple? What temple, and how big is that chicken anyway? The few details found in the texts don`t reveal who took the pictures, and yet we found more hints in them than in the mounds of transcriptions.







Sitting on the floor sorting through piles and boxes of notes, Sidual looked forlorn. He complained desperately, "This is worse than trying to follow a drunken rabbit in a rainstorm with a bloodhound. Can`t we just backtrack the GPS from his car or phone?" "You know what this means," I said? "Road Trip!"
...............Aquavelveta...............

"Catar Pulgas Num Leão"

I stand in the water on feet of clay. Walking alone across Alligator Alley one night, I was listening for alligators, hissing, dragging, maybe that deep rumbling roar. I didn`t expect to meet anyone.

Hell I can`t see my feet. The same cars lighting my way are also blinding me and hiding all the small sounds. With bare feet and empty pockets, I keep walking, not because I have a destination, I`m just scared to stop. The grass is almost to my knees. So it`s a good thing I have no luggage. Unless I get a ride I`ll be walking all night. The cars are going by fast and way too often for me to walk on the road. I`m walking as fast as I dare, so nothing will crawl up my leg. I`ve walked in the swamp before, it sucks (yer shoes off) and that`s in the daylight. I see someone coming the other way, featureless black, back-lit again and again by the cars, and now from one behind me, I can almost see a face.

We sat in the grass facing each other close enough to hear, far enough away to watch behind each other carefully. "I`ve walked this way before," he said. "It wasn`t far from here that I heard the water. I followed a mostly overgrown dirt road to pool of water with an oil well Christmas-tree out in the middle of it." It looked impossibly old. Water poured from the numerous large cracks. Unlike the somewhat fragrant swamp water, the water flowing from the pool was fresh, clean looking. He claimed the surrounding vegetation was smallish but healthy looking. On a whim he took off his glasses and washed his face in the pool. He said it felt so good he decided to have a drink.

As I sat there in the tall grass talking to a shadow, I thought, "Enjoy it, this is probably the only rest you`ll get tonight." Despite my many questions, I listened quietly as he continued,"I went down in the Keys and got a job cleaning fish at a bait store and began work on a sail boat built with no numbers." Yeah, I let that slide too, interesting yarn is way better than no yarn at all, and at least he wasn`t smelly (today). He told me the job wasn`t great but he enjoyed fooling around with the boat. He said after a while he wasn`t needing his glasses as much, and was generally feeling better than he had in years.

Even with someone watching my back, I was uneasy sitting in tall grass in the dark this close to the swamp. We`d lucked out some though. The breeze was strong enough to keep the skeeters from clouding around us. He mentioned Ponce DeLeon, and how cold and clean the water had been. He said, "During the Ice Age all of North America was covered with ice thousands of feet deep. The moving ice generated pressure and heat enough to keep some of the water at the surface liquid, and under enough pressure to drive that same water deep into the ground. Some of this water had been frozen for millions of years, its biological clock slowed or stopped, and then sequestered deep in the earth till geologic forces or in this case oil exploration brought it back to the surface."

Cool, we`d been sitting there quite for a while when he pointed at the silhouette of the cement plant not too far back the way he`d come."There`s a bucket with some canned food and an opener next to a post about hundred feet out a dirt road just this side-o the main entrance and you`re welcome to it," he said. I wasn`t really hungry, but I thanked him anyway. I was craving my own company so I got up to head on. "Yeah," he said, "I`m done with tha Keys; you stop by the bait store an tell 'em I sent ya. It ain't much of a boat but you`re welcome to it too," he added, and we went our separate ways.

It was a good ways to the cement plant, and, I gotta say I was pretty curious to see if the food was really there. Twenty minutes walking up and down the dirt roads on either side of the plant revealed no cans or bucket. Not too surprising, still it was a good story and the night`s walk was stretching out pretty long ahead of me. What tha hey, I struck out, watching the grass and listening for falling water (among other things). I walked all night, but I never saw a gator nor did I hear any falling water. It was a couple of days before I got down to the Keys. Nobody at the bait store he mentioned seemed to have heard of him.