Godzilla goes upside my brain

So, after working like a madman on a project this weekend, I decided to plop down in front of the tube for a little R n’ R. I saw there was a new Godzilla animated series from Japan. I thought, This should be fun and brainless. I have memories from childhood of the goofy Hanna-Barbera Godzilla cartoon.

This was not that cartoon.

I was totally not ready for the nihilistic, post-apocalyptic death-rant that is Godzilla Planet of Monsters.

It kind of got me down, man.

And there were Sci-fi concepts that I wasn’t prepared to wrestle with during a Godzilla cartoon.

Apparently, Godzilla fucked the earth up so bad that the human race said, Screw it, we’re leaving.  Kind of like I did at my last apartment.  They abandoned Earth in a spaceship and for twenty years. But it turns out, while it’s been 20 years in space, on Earth 20,000 years years have passed? I’m no physicist, but that doesn’t seem right.

They decide to travel back to Earth. (Which is 11 light years away, I get that much.) But they get back here in the same amount of time it takes me to drive to Wal-Mart? Wha???  That doesn’t seem right either. I just said, whatever, and tried to go along with the mayhem that followed. But this time stuff just kept nagging at the back of my brain like some kind of . . . Brain Lizard?  (Extra points for shameless self-plug.)

I’m not saying it’s a bad show. The animation is very pretty. And the action is intense!  It’s like watching someone else play a video game.

Watching it did not relax me in any way, shape, or form.

Just to be safe

On my way out of the building where I work, I overheard this from a local gun shop owner.

(Imagine a heavy, rural drawl.)

“Them liberal nutcakes all think that we’re the crazy ones! That we think the world is comin’ to an end. Well, I ain’t one of them crazy world-enders. I don’t believe in Armageddon.  I don’t.”

Pause.  Then he says,

“But if it happens, I’m sure as hell gonna be prepared for it!”

The Phantom Stink

The stairwell and hallway at the gym tonight have been befouled by a stench so heinous that it nearly defies description. The only things that could stink up the place this bad would be either a two week old corpse, or a fundamentalist Christian doing stand up. The most distinct odors I’m registering are cooked chocolate, so rich and cloying it smothers the smeller, along with burnt hair, and death.



Back in the eighties there was a Led Zeppelin clone band called, Kingdom Come.  Who could ever forget their debut album “In Your Face”?  I once played it for my wife and made her guess who they were imitating.

I said, “Okay, who are they trying to sound like?”

She says, “Hmm. 80s Rock?”

“That’s an it, not a who.”

“Is it Queen?”

“No. Try again.”

“Bon Jovi?”

“Are you even trying?”

“Well now I’m nervous. I can’t think.”

“You get one more guess.”


“Okay, we’re done here.”

“Was I right?”

“No! You are incredibly wrong.”

“It’s Metallica. You just don’t want to admit I’m right.”

Me sighing.

Louie Land

Last night I dreamed that Louisville’s various neighborhoods and townships were revamped into amusement park sections to draw tourists. We already have a Germantown in real life. In my dream, the residents there were being paid to dress in suspenders and lederhosen.

Churchill Downs was renamed Horsey Land. Everyone who lived there wore horse t-shirts.  But that was it.  I remember my dream self thinking how weird it was that they went to more effort dressing up Germantown than they did the home of the Kentucky Derby.  That’s just doesn’t make any sense.

I wish I could remember some of the others. I have a feeling they were priceless. But the dream is already evaporating into the ether.

The only other part I remember is that I was visiting all of the areas to see the changes, and I had to take a ferry to cross over to Germantown. (There is no such ferry in the real Louisville.) There was a woman with her teenage daughter on the boat. The woman and I started having a very nice conversation. Then she surreptitiously slipped me a note. It read, “We really can’t do this anymore. I have to think of my daughter.” I looked at her completely confused. She looked back at me smiling, as if nothing had happened. I slipped her back a note that said, “Are you a crazy person?” Then the ferry arrived and I went on to find some oom-pah-pah in German Land. Or Town. Whatever.

I want to go back there tonight so I can find Bourbonville.

More of me to love?

Yearly physical exam day.  Aka, The Shaming.

Dr: You’ve gained 20 lbs since September.

Me: I know.

Dr: (Deadly earnest.) Well, you know what you’ve gotta do.

Me: I know, I know. I’m starting next week.

Dr: Just make sure next week doesn’t keep turning into next week.

Me: Hey. Look. Gaining weight and losing weight are two things I do exceptionally well.

Dr: How about you come back in six months and prove it?

Me: A friendly wager might help motivate me.

Dr: All right. Get your weight down and I wager you’ll live longer.

Me: Was that a threat?

Dr: (Smirking and shaking his head, he turns back to his computer.) I don’t always understand your humor.

Me: Would it kill you to throw in a Starbucks gift card? Something?

Don’t Be A Big Stupid Idiot

So hilarious! Trump scoffs at global warming on Twitter.

Climate change. What a bunch of hooey! Right?

Silly liberal media! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

That’s sarcasm.

There is actually no argument here. The debate is over.

Scientists reached a consensus already.

The end.

You would think. And yet, we have returned to the Dark Ages. Science is distrusted. Intellectualism is despised. Logic and reason have left the building.

Throw the witch in the river. If she sinks, it’s a liberal conspiracy. If she floats, it’s fake news.

There needs to be a measure. A barometer.

I volunteer myself as that barometer.

I am not a genius. In fact, some may argue that I am, oh, not always the sharpest pencil in the . . . um . . . thing . . . that you put pencils . . . in?

Now, if even I have the sense to recognize that this Science is important stuff, then the rest of you have no excuse. Unless you’re just really really dumb. And you have to be pretty fucking dumb to make me look like a genius. For the love of God, do not let this become a world where I look like a genius! The bar must be higher than that.

It boggles my mind that anyone can deny this. There is such a distrust of the scientific community. Because, you know, they’re so much less credible than corporations and politicians. Trump doesn’t support global warming. Of course not. Why should he? There’s no upside for him. Where’s the profit in it. I don’t blame him. He’s being a Trump. It’s up to regular people to recognize the importance of scientific study.

You know. The same people who believe in Bigfoot, demonic possession, ghosts, UFOs, and angels.

Fuck. We’re doomed.


I misplace stuff all the time.  I know the cats know where my stuff is.  They probably know every corner of the house better than I do.

I said to Ruby today, “I wish you cats were magic and could talk so you could tell me where to find my phone.”

Ruby looked up and said,
“I am magic and I can talk.”
“Oh my God!” I yelled.
“I have no idea where you put your phone,” she said.
“Well, crap.”


Instant Karma

I seriously dread whenever I step out of my house at night. No matter how simple and quick the errand should be, I end up being dragged off into Crazyville.

Every time.

Tonight’s trek to the grocery for some cheese and tomatoes started off with me nearly being rammed head on by someone who was driving on the wrong side of the road. Followed ten minutes later by the lady behind me in the checkout lane, who tells me, “You people need to go to the store more often to see how it’s done!” She said this because I did not put down the divider to separate her cartload of pork rinds and baked beans from my cheese and tomatoes. When I ignored her, she went into a tirade about all of my sins, including not moving up in the line fast enough, using a shopping cart when I clearly didn’t have enough items to fill it (I should have used a hand cart), and yada yada crazy talk yada yada.

I finally turned to her (I know, I know) and I said, “Lady, you are NUTS. And I know I’m not the first person to tell you that, so don’t act shocked.” She applauded me, saying to anyone nearby, “Right, there, folks,” waving her finger at me, “A typical ASSHOLE! Right there, he is. ASSHOLE!” At this point, I was just sad for me. I tried to get out quickly. But, of course, the credit card reader wasn’t working. “Ah, ha!” she yelled. “Karma!”


Ruby will always let Zelda eat before her. She’ll even sit back and let Zelda enter a room first. But, for some reason, she will forcibly knock Zelda out of the way so she can get front row on watching the water drip down the shower curtain. She’s a very odd creature.