Dead City Scrolls

Dmitri is a pretty cool guy.  eh climbs screen doors and doesn’t afraid of anything.

Part 1: Postscript

Part 2: Wherein Our Hero Discusses Music And Language, Which Along With Sauces Are The Mark Of Civilized Society

Part 3: Wherein Our Hero Considers The Subject Of Culture, Frequently Becoming Lost Along His Way

Part 4: Wherein Our Hero While Winded From Long Effort Observes The Habits Of The Proletariat

Part 5: Wherein Our Hero Faces His Own Demise

Part 6: Which Must Be Watched Sideways, For Our Hero And His Camera Each Suffer Afflictions Of The Mind

My oratory talents are waning tonight, but I was in the mood for this sleaze all the same.  The result: a bunch of philosophies poorly described and a bunch of jokes told so poorly that if you laugh even I will mock you for it.

At the time I took this I hoped the words on the church sign would show up.  Now I’m completely glad they didn’t.

But for your own edification here is what the sign says:

If you saw a picture of this man and were asked to guess what his name was, you would guess that it was Walt Lastewka even if you did not know who he is or that Lastewka is a real last name.

Brian found me a freakin’ amazing bag that is also freakin’ amazingly on sale.  Like, 120 bucks off on sale.  I think the Neil Young quote is what got him on the case.

Also, a discovery.  The little girl who grabbed the cat has been rumbled.  Every neighbor who had any contact with it has been given a slightly different story about who was going to adopt the cat and when.  It was just luck that we were all in the same place and figured it out.  She is an engine of lies.  I like her a lot more now.

I was thinking that maybe I’d get a bag/ Find a place nearby for it to stay/ Just something to carry my stuff/ Be comfortable and go away.

I find myself carrying a lot of junk with me when I go out.  Wallets and camera and MP3 player and a heap of other crap.  What I need is a messenger bag of some description so I don’t have to pick through all my stuff and decide what I’m going to bring and what I’m going to leave behind when I go out.  I call upon the powers of the Internet: find me a messenger bag that looks decent and doesn’t cost too much!

And you know what?  If you call it a purse I won’t give a shit.

It’s got a hell of an attitude toward other cats for how friendly it is. For Ivan’s part he’s been perfectly calm and imperious about the whole business. What? What’s that noise? I will now take a bath. Outside with him earlier, I was keeping an eye on the cat because I’m sure at least some of the people near me would treat an unattended and overly friendly kitten as something to eat for dinner or sacrifice to the Lord. That might infact be where Rocky’s tail went.

So I was following the thing around and Ivan stayed right with me, keeping an eye on him and campaigning for attention the whole time.  And I learned that he is stupidly good at climbing.  There’s a line of thin trunked evergreens here that extends from the end of the lawn to the corner of the house.  Starting at the side of the road, the cat went from tree to tree using his back feet to hold onto the first trunk and his front feet to grab the next and pull himself up until he had made a diagonal trip from the ground to the roof of the house.  After exploring the roof a bit he climbed back down.

But here’s something important: what should I call him?  I’m not really dead set on Alexei.  I like it but I don’t think many people would get it.  Suggest cat names, you rubes!  I can’t keep calling him Hey Jackass.

ClumsySpice04: Forget Alex(?)’s grumblings, I want to see this one go all the way to Miao VIII: The Cattening.

After I pitched this one, Grace hit it out of the damn park and Alex rounded the bases leaving smoking glass footprints behind him.  ”"According to the report, teenage girls enjoy the competitive aspect of the event by using the lipstick to “mark” the depth of oral penetration, treating the sex play as a contest of sorts.” And we’re wasting time in the Olympics on table tennis.”

Improvidence: I immediately started imagining making a sports movie out of this. After months of training and with the help of a washed up old veteran, a young upstart is able to defeat the bitch of a champ and bring home gold for the USA. Cue the inspirational theme song.

Seriously.  Give David Spade a six shooter and a raincoat and send him in.

I feel like I need to do something shockingly cool and badass in the next 24 hours just to regain some kind of balance, because without me paying attention to what they were doing my hands just created the densest concentration of nerdness this planet has ever seen.  I’m honestly surprised that it didn’t make a gaping hole in the universe out of which Super Saiyan mecha Gandalf steps eating Pocky through the mouth grate on a Darth Vader mask.

Yes the top face on the die is 20.

And if you’re surprised that I own this delightful plastic woman, pause and think for a moment.  Hand on heart, you’d be more surprised if I didn’t, wouldn’t you?

Apparently the kid heard about the cat through some neighbors and it had been over there for a while before visiting me.  She being under the impression that they were going to adopt it was compelled by her flighty and inadequate child brain to lift the cat from me and spirit it back over to them.  The neighbor wants a cat about as much as I want to live in a brutal theocracy, but it’s hanging out there for now until we work out what’s gonna happen with the adorable little jerk.

Improvidence: Who approved the script for this sequel? There’s no substance to it! They just throw characters at us from the original and expect our love for the first one to make us love this one. And ending it on a cliffhanger to set up part three? Are they trying to make a good story, or just set up a franchise?