I have tales to tell. I’m the wrong guy to chronicle my dull day to day, my slow crawl to the grave, and yet I’m the only one with any remote interest (and even mine is pretty damn remote). I have left out large chunks of the sort of shit that’s considered a peak. Some I’ve left out very much on purpose. But, there is no clandestine reason to obscure being a grand uncle for a second time within the past few weeks, or even for the first time within the past 18 months. Births and deaths are the sort of thing one gets excited about.
I don’t mean to suggest I’m not excited about it, just that you have several months to get used to the idea and the birth is just sort of a formality assuming everything goes as plan and the infant isn’t, for instance, an alien hell-bent on invading the planet. You know what’s funny about foreign science fiction? The aliens don’t primarily attack the US and Will Smith has nothing to do with the resistance. Hell, the Japanese movies don’t even have the resistance speaking English. Every American knows that aliens attack the District of Columbia because that’s the most crippling target in the whole galaxy. Stupid rest of the world. Heh.
I’ve seen a lot of births and less than two percent of them have been aliens and out of that two percent at least half came in Peace. I think, the translation of goo goo gaga into ‘We mean you no harm, ours is a peaceful mission, one of exploration, we extend an olive branch to the president of your galaxy’ seems, at best, a bit too verbose. Though I’m sure dada boo dibbly ca fff whackamole means ‘up against the wall you pasty upright monkey’.
So yeah, that happened. I mean I became a two doubled grand uncle by blood a few weeks ago, three doubled by second marriage a few years ago, and god knows how many by first marriage, there seems to be a bunch of those little fuckers. I think uncles are uncles for life. The whole idea of marriage in the first place, or the only idea that makes sense, is that the more people you are related to the less people you are going to kill, or, you know, rape and pillage their village. In practice that’s silly, perfectly peaceful people want to kill their in-laws. I don’t know why tribal law and kinship rites are still practiced in modern countries like, you know, Canada, where the aliens might have taken over decades ago and nobody even noticed. For all the separation of church and state, marriage is a gray area that no-one even questions until they do and find themselves entangled in all sorts of wacky trouble. Even a justice of the Peace, a secular position, encourages vows of one kind or the other, you don’t have to pledge-thee-mine-troth but there is an inherent verbal contract whether God is pissed or not at a latter day rending asunder of shit what’s been wrought. Uncles get to dodge that bullet. I think.
Given the sort of heavy chlorine in the respective gene pools of exs, there are them what figure me being their uncle raises the bar a bit. I’m not really a very good uncle. Yeah, I know, you want to hear about what sort of beast could possibly have a lower bar than I, but it just ain’t going to happen. It’s not that I have too much dignity to muck rake unless you think of indifference, apathy and dignity as synonyms, in which case I have pre-meditated dignity, pervasive, extreme prejudicial, and malice of forethought kind of dignity. I would like to challenge you to make homonyms of those three words. At least two of them have the same vowel sound at the end.
I was going to write another flash last night. Thunderstorm. Two surge suppressors were tripped. Good thing too because there is no breaker box here, it’s fuses and not even the modern archaic fuses; they are the ones that look like shotgun shells and probably have pennies between them and the contacts. It’s one step up from a hamster wheel or the first Conan when wee Arnie Schwarzenegger spun the milling wheel. I got a screaming deal a few months back on beeswax tapers. So I turned off most of the equipment up in here and read by candlelight. Um, neither my kindle or my nook needs external light or to be plugged in when fully charged, but, you know. I suppose even if the fuses had blown I could have written a flash on the laptop, cell or Kindle or Nook, with or without candlelight. I like candlelight.
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