E-mail: Brian7Morris "at" hotmail.com Archives March 2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 current Blogs Mandapants farkleberries Uranium City Records The C.M. Sienko Foundation Storyteller Musings Solotarian Views Lynne Wiora Tek Poker News Blog Some Biscuits Evil Eye Emporium Niggling Doubts Pressure Release Sara as Mommy runswithscissors Defective Yeti Afternoon Delight trancejen The Terrarium Bird Nird Slipperily Tofu Hut Stereo Gum Links Fixed Gear Gallery Get Crafty This is Grand Featherproof Books Gapers Block Chicago Bird Watching	No one must know my terrible secret... House of Noh! Sunday, July 18, 2004 I’m not complaining, in fact, I revel in any opportunity to construe myself “under attack” and wear my old surplus military helmet. It proves that that it wasn’t a waste of $9.99 plus 2.39 shipping and handling plus having my name put on some sort of list somewhere for making a purchase from a catalog like “Crazy Pete‘s Cheap Military Goods and Survivalist Supply.“ So, in your face, all you people who doubted my need for an old army helmet! IN YOUR FACE!! So, like I said, I’m not complaining, but I can’t help but think that my neighbor, who looks like Bombarter from one of the later Conan movies, shooting high-payload illegal fireworks off his porch right now is perhaps behaving a bit inappropriately. (and you’re not fooling anybody, Bombarter, acting all casual in your kitchen when the firework actually goes off, everybody sees you sneaking out of your screen door to light the fuse in the dark.) And it’s good that I’m not complaining, as my third floor apartment porch defenses (read: old broomstick and a couple of plastic cups covered by crinkled foil and filled with my whiz) are largely ineffectual against artillery attacks. But you would be mistaken to see my hesitation to join inter-apartment hostilities as any sign of weakness. You do not want to lay siege to my apartment, I assure you; those cups of whiz have been out there for a long time, and they sit in the sun for a good part of the day too! I’ve also watched Ernest Goes to Camp like a million times too. Do you remember that character Bombarter from the Conan movies? He was a really big warrior guy hired by the evil sorceress to accompany Conan, his retainers, and a sexy yet naïve princess to an eccentric wizard’s ice/crystal fortress. They were all supposed to steal some sort of magic horn from an eccentric wizard (who wasn’t really hurting anybody, I guess he just had a really cool horn collection or something - see where it got him? The dude got all stabbed by Conan and shit.) and bring it back to the evil sorceress to animate some sort of statute monster, but Bombarter’s mission, unbeknownst to Conan or his loyal retainers, was to kill Conan as soon as the horn was stolen. But Bombarter failed, and Conan made it back to the sorceress’ castle where he bit Bombarter’s ear off in a climactic battle before Conan stabbed the statute monster to death. In Conan’s defense, this all happened a long time ago, back when biting ears off was cool. Nowadays ear biting is discouraged in most fighting circles, sort of like how when we were little kids my Grandma would tell my brother and I that if we were going to fight we should just punch at each other like good and honest lumberjacks and not kick, because “kicking is for sissies.” But biting ears off is still big in nursing homes (and among a small population of very tiny high-school aged French foreign exchange students). A good pair of choppers is a serious weapon in nursing homes, I’ve read. You know the folk wisdom on how you shouldn’t pick a fight with a person missing his or her front teeth?* The nursing home corollary to the above rule, I would imagine, is that you don’t want to cut in the cafeteria line for pork cutlets in front of or have television remote control disputes with patients missing fingers and noses and ears and stuff. They’ll fuck you up. * I’ve only known one guy who you could tell didn’t have any front teeth. I worked with him at a restaurant and the folk saying is true as far as this guy was concerned. He’d lost his front teeth fighting in prison, which he told me was really important to do as soon as he got put in there, because then if he beat up a bunch of people, other inmates would want to be his friend. He’d go to jail almost every couple months for silly stuff. He called going to prison, “taking a vacation.” Brian 3:17 AM Comments: Post a Comment

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House of Noh!

Sunday, July 18, 2004

I’m not complaining, in fact, I revel in any opportunity to construe myself “under attack” and wear my old surplus military helmet. It proves that that it wasn’t a waste of $9.99 plus 2.39 shipping and handling plus having my name put on some sort of list somewhere for making a purchase from a catalog like “Crazy Pete‘s Cheap Military Goods and Survivalist Supply.“ So, in your face, all you people who doubted my need for an old army helmet! IN YOUR FACE!! So, like I said, I’m not complaining, but I can’t help but think that my neighbor, who looks like Bombarter from one of the later Conan movies, shooting high-payload illegal fireworks off his porch right now is perhaps behaving a bit inappropriately. (and you’re not fooling anybody, Bombarter, acting all casual in your kitchen when the firework actually goes off, everybody sees you sneaking out of your screen door to light the fuse in the dark.) And it’s good that I’m not complaining, as my third floor apartment porch defenses (read: old broomstick and a couple of plastic cups covered by crinkled foil and filled with my whiz) are largely ineffectual against artillery attacks. But you would be mistaken to see my hesitation to join inter-apartment hostilities as any sign of weakness. You do not want to lay siege to my apartment, I assure you; those cups of whiz have been out there for a long time, and they sit in the sun for a good part of the day too! I’ve also watched Ernest Goes to Camp like a million times too. Do you remember that character Bombarter from the Conan movies? He was a really big warrior guy hired by the evil sorceress to accompany Conan, his retainers, and a sexy yet naïve princess to an eccentric wizard’s ice/crystal fortress. They were all supposed to steal some sort of magic horn from an eccentric wizard (who wasn’t really hurting anybody, I guess he just had a really cool horn collection or something - see where it got him? The dude got all stabbed by Conan and shit.) and bring it back to the evil sorceress to animate some sort of statute monster, but Bombarter’s mission, unbeknownst to Conan or his loyal retainers, was to kill Conan as soon as the horn was stolen. But Bombarter failed, and Conan made it back to the sorceress’ castle where he bit Bombarter’s ear off in a climactic battle before Conan stabbed the statute monster to death. In Conan’s defense, this all happened a long time ago, back when biting ears off was cool. Nowadays ear biting is discouraged in most fighting circles, sort of like how when we were little kids my Grandma would tell my brother and I that if we were going to fight we should just punch at each other like good and honest lumberjacks and not kick, because “kicking is for sissies.” But biting ears off is still big in nursing homes (and among a small population of very tiny high-school aged French foreign exchange students). A good pair of choppers is a serious weapon in nursing homes, I’ve read. You know the folk wisdom on how you shouldn’t pick a fight with a person missing his or her front teeth?* The nursing home corollary to the above rule, I would imagine, is that you don’t want to cut in the cafeteria line for pork cutlets in front of or have television remote control disputes with patients missing fingers and noses and ears and stuff. They’ll fuck you up. * I’ve only known one guy who you could tell didn’t have any front teeth. I worked with him at a restaurant and the folk saying is true as far as this guy was concerned. He’d lost his front teeth fighting in prison, which he told me was really important to do as soon as he got put in there, because then if he beat up a bunch of people, other inmates would want to be his friend. He’d go to jail almost every couple months for silly stuff. He called going to prison, “taking a vacation.”

Brian 3:17 AM

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House of Noh!

Sunday, July 18, 2004