Seven Vulgar Gods of the Wooded Plain

Good god, Friday again already? And, as always, this is good news, but this weekend is different. It's time to hose down the animals, hide wooden ducks around the house and bury a crisp five dollar bill in the yard - it's Newington Day's Eve! The Newington Day Extravaganza of Excesses of all Your Favorite Worldly Delights technically kicked off yesterday, but for our purposes, it will kick of tomorrow at around 3 PM.

A brief recap of last year: beer, grill assembled (unused), 1,000 lbs of spare ribs, kiddie pool, Siesta!, more beer, ladies in the kiddie pool, hose?, squirt guns, vegans, el chupacabra, water balloon?, giant feet, crowded party neighborhood, a lot more beer, fireworks, peeing in public, drag a shitting dog, more ladies in the kiddie pool, asleep with shoe'd feet in the kiddie pool and escape. I can't be certain that all of these things occurred as this was a year ago and what am I the Amazing Kreskin; but I assure you, at least most of it happened.

All of this will be happening again this weekend. Religious types may regard this as a small, self-contained apocalypse or perhaps a Sodom/Gomorrah situation, but they are too prudish to appreciate it for what it really is: the good people of Newington offering a sacrifice of twenty nubile young virgins to their Seven Vulgar Gods of the Wooded Plain.

So until then, I will be beating the body damage out of my car with a three pound drilling hammer and other various tools that should afford me a great deal of mechanical advantage over that rotten pile of sheet metal, and I'll grit my teeth, too. Tomorrow will be long and harrowing, and I will not rest until we Win Newington Day!

The Appalachian Tactical Sasquatch

"You're gonna need a bigger boat..." Brody, Jaws (1975)

First it was a mass bird death, then a fish die off, now it's coming for our delicious cows. There's something out there, and it's stalking and killing very specific things. But what is it? Are people next? If so, what kind?

I have many theories of what it could be, but none can be tested, so we must wait and see. One theory is that a race of Tactical Sasquatch - a mix between monkey-wrenching hill people and the North American brown bear - have emerged from the Appalachians and are bent on destroying small portions of the continent's ecosystem.

Other theories include: this is the Tea Party's answer to global warming, or perhaps a delayed effect of one of Nikola Tesla's experiments from long ago. But I suppose the most likely candidate is the reverse-Noah apocalypse. Somewhere out in the farthest reaches of the Atlantic, beyond the visibility of the most sophisticated spy satellites, there is an enormous sea-faring vessel who's decks are littered with thousands of carcasses, all organized, in piles, down to the letter: kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species. The ship is Captained by an agitated Dennis Hopper, who is awaiting a great flood to repopulate the lands with the rotting flesh and bones of every kind.

Your New Sign - Octopotamus

There is a thirteenth sign of the Zodiac, but it's not what you think...

There's something about looking at a chart and letting it decide who you are and tell you what to do that people naturally like - people are born followers, this is why society works. Breifly, our beloved and sage Zodiac chart was twisted, leading people to make drastic lifestyle changes overnight, including but not limited to reversal of temperament and sexual orientation. And of course, now it's bullshit. A lot has happened in the past two days.

The supposed new sign is called Ophiuchus, which is pronounced Octopotamus. You'd think it'd look like a hippopotamus with the tentacles of an octopus (which, ironically, is what I will eventually render for the logo of this blog), but no, it's a man fighting a snake.

I personally love the idea of a man fighting a snake as the new sign, imagine the potential pickup lines at the local Swingles:

Scenario 1:
Woman asks man: "What's your sign?"
He responds: "A man fighting a snake."
They have sex.

Scenario 2:
Man asks woman: "What's your sign?"
She responds: "A man fighting a snake."
Man runs away, for fear that his penis will be fought.

But no one is focusing on the Ugly Truth, which is that there really is a thirteenth Zodiac sign, and it's called Judas. This means that we're a mere 30 pieces of silver and a kiss away from getting racked up. Betrayed by the stars... yet another sign of the Apocalypse?

Everything's Coming Up Milhouse

The world may be ending, but it's never looked so good...

Things may not be as apocalyptic as I had first thought - perhaps this mass avian splat is just a Divine Wind, or some kind of indicator of economic recovery. When I heard that several quality pieces of legislation (911 Health Care, Extended Unemployment, DADT Repeal, etc...) were passed in the Zero Hour of 2010, I suspiciously expected the worst. But maybe good news is just Good News. Next thing you know they'll be handing out 50" plasma TVs to everybody.*

So I'm going to have to revoke yesterday's advice to Go Limp. At the time it was completely accurate and logistically sound. But it is a new day, so to that end heed this revised advice for 2011: Knives Out. It is time to dominate opportunity violently - this will be the year of the Great Windfall. The only way to get yours is to run headlong into the fray, with no fear in your heart, screaming ancient guttural battle cries.

* I've been told mine is in the mail.

The Sky is Falling

"And behold, and, lo, in the midst of the throne and of the four beasts, and in the midst of the elders, stood a Lamb as it had been slain, having seven horns and seven eyes, which are the seven Spirits of God sent forth into all the earth." - Revelation 5:6

Okay, so 2010 is kaput - but what does 2011 have in store for us? Well, if recent news [1]  [2] is any indicator, Boiling Blood Floods and Plagues of Locusts are in order. Is this the End of Days? Was the Mayan Calendar wrong? Is it possible that 5,125 years ago, someone made a slight clerical error that lulled us into thinking that 2012 was the bad egg and we have an Extra Year?

My advice? Go limp. The world is about to grab at you and shake - and any struggling will be construed as Resisting Arrest, and you Will take the fall. Strange days are coming. Captains of industry will beg on their knees after the poor, who will, of course, rise up and form rabblous violent goon squads who's only currency is Grievous Bodily Harm and who therefore cannot be bought.

Sound bad? Not really... sounds like the early 70's corporate espionage to me. Just burn your pay stubs and carry a wooden umbrella... you'll do fine.

Big Swing, Heavy Slash

"With their tanks and their bombs, and their bombs and their guns..." - The Cranberries

I finally saw Avatar. It's a video game that mixes Gorillas in the Mist with Alien, which was directed by Michael Moore. As I understand it, the unifying theme here is Sigourney Weaver - which now that I mention it, must have been a hell of a name to grow up with. Flows from the tongue like gravy.

But Anyway, all that CGI fantasy is kind of moot now that the Zombies are coming. I'll be ready, you can bet on that. I've already stockpiled several dozen baseball bats, and enough machetes to match. The plan is to split the head of the bat about six inches right down the center, slide the machete blade in and bolt it into place. Big swing, heavy slash.

What truly saddens me about the upcoming Zombie Apocalypse is that my motorcycle will be rendered invalid and unusable because it will be much too loud and far too dangerous running headlong into the throngs of Walking Dead.