Sunday, May 24, 2009
LET'S TAKE A MINUTE TO TALK ABOUT MY CALVES IN ALL CAPS. I STRESS THE CAPITALIZATION BECAUSE THIS IS SOMETHING OF A BIG DEAL FOR ME. I DON'T GROW MUSCLES ANYWHERE ELSE ON MY BODY EXCEPT MY CALVES. THIS IS DUE TO THE HIGH VOLUME OF BIKING/LOW VOLUME OF EVERYTHING ELSE IN MY LIFE. RECENTLY I NOTICED A PLEASING DEFINITION IN MY CALF MUSCLES FOLLOWING SEVERAL LONG DISTANCE BIKE RIDES. THERE IS A FORM AND CURVATURE TO MY CALVES NEVER BEFORE VISIBLE AND I MUST SAY THEY FEEL "RIGHT" WHENEVER I GIVE THEM A GOOD SQUEEZE. WHEN THE LIGHT HITS THEM THE RIGHT WAY, THEY ACTUALLY CAST A SHADOW OVER THE REST OF MY LEGS. SOMETIMES I STRETCH THE WRONG WAY IN MY SLEEP AND PULL SOME MUSCLE DOWN THERE AND I AWAKE TO SHARP STINGING PAIN IN EITHER CALF. NOT THE BEST THING TO AWAKEN TO BUT IT CERTAINLY ZAPS AWAY THE GROGGINESS. IF I COULD BE REMEMBERED FOR ONE THING IN MY LIFE IT WOULD BE A DEDICATION TO THE CREATIVE ARTS. IF I COULD BE REMEMBERED FOR TWO THINGS IT WOULD BE A DEDICATION TO THE CREATIVE ARTS AND A FIRM MUSCULATURE OF THE CALF MUSCLES. I AM NOT EVEN JOKING YOU CAN TELL HOW SERIOUS THIS IS BECAUSE IT'S IN ALL CAPS.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
by guest columnist Wolverine
Over here, in the alley. It's me, the ol' Canucklehead. I'm the best there is at what I do, but lately what I do's gettin' less and less nice.
Been fallin' on some pretty hard times lately, what with the economy and all. Prof. X had to close the Mutant Academy. Told me I couldn't squat there no more after an incident involving bear shit. A lot of bear shit. See that dumpster back there with the hobo piss? S'my new home.
Now I know it ain't paradise, but a man's got to settle for what'n he can in these troubling economic times. Livin' ain't easy, but livin's all I got left.
Done a lot things I ain't proud of. Ate a guy's family the other day. Can't say he didn't have it comin', though I reckon he didn't altogether deserve it neither. That's the thing about life out in the wild: you take the hand your given.
Tried to wrap my head around the situation. Washington. They're the bastards got us into this mess. Looks like it's up to yours truly to get us out of it. Now, I don't know to much about systems of aggregate growth or nothin' of that sort, but I do know this: if you want the job done right, you're gonna need a good dose of ice-cold adamantium rage.
Cooked up a plan all on my own. No X-men, not this time. Too much red tape, too much "Logan, this isn't even a plan, you're just stabbing people at random". Nice try, Cyclops, but I got this one all worked out. Y'see, what I'm gonna do is I'm gonna go down to Washington and start stabbing people. This will pretty much be at random, but the thinking is sooner or later I'm gonna wind up face to face with one a the bozo's responsible for messin' with me an' mine. And when I do, bub, you can bet he'll wish he had my mutant healing ability.
It won't be easy. I ain't ever taken on no economy before. Space demons, sure. Ninjas, plenty of em'. But when it comes to fighting an intangible concept based on a set of rules I can't rightly fathom, I'm at a bit of a loss. Lucky for you I handle all my problems the same way: with a judicious amount of stabs to the gut. When the ol' Canucklehead here gets done with this global economic downturn, they're gonna be pickin' through my bear-sized shit just to try'n identify it.