|Here's looking forward to a massive influx of light for all of us.|
One last 2012 vent. Da-da's sure he can speak for all of us when he says GOOD RIDDANCE TO THE APOCALYPSE. Krikey. The next person Da-da sees wielding an, "End of the World" sign is gonna reap the benefits of self-fulfilled prophecy (Da-da'll make him be Da-da for a week as punishment).
And GOOD RIDDANCE TO THE POWERS-THAT-WERE. This LIBOR-esque group (we all know who Da-da's talking about) has been shamelessly fomenting fear of said apocalypse -- and everything else -- and preying on us socio-economically for something like Da-da's entire life. They really are a sad bunch and Da-da hopes they see their latest non-end-of-the-world setbacks as a positive thing, turn themselves around and try the High Road sooner than later. Phew.
And an uber-galactic GOOD RIDDANCE TO THE 2012 ELECTION. Can we all try to get along, now?
And finally, ENOUGH of these stupid end-of-year recaps!
THE FINE PRINT
Please be advised that Da-da is officially turning reality OFF then back ON again at midnight 12/31/2012. The system has needed a reboot for about 10,000 years, now. Those of you without LRF support (Little Rubber Feet), be sure to either hold your reality up in the air really high while wearing sneakers or thick rubber boots, or simply send Da-da cash in the mail. The All-Being/Domain Name Server's (AB/DNS) articulated whiffletree linkages will shiver a bit on reentry, but the fnortner rods should reset (unless they don't) and that intrinsically delayed grounding spikage will be a thing of the past. Note that if oranges are suddenly called, "wheegles," Da-da will have to deliver percussive maintenance to the sending unit and REBOOT AGAIN. This almost never happens. Void where prohibited. Your future is assured once the universal server comes back online. If it doesn't, be sure to bring cans of spray paint so you can recreate your own personal dimensions. More than one color is advised, unless you're into postmodern monochrome. Or wanna go THX-1138. Which is kinda the same thing, but with fascism. It's your call.
|Don't worry. Da-da's reboot should obviate these little deviations.|
This is Da-da in Ontological IT... out. If you see smoke, you just might be the next Pope. Either that, or the parade float's transmission is having a moment. Regardless, have a better one.
|Of course, like most years, 2012 saw more than its share of celebrity "aha" moments...|
...moments that Da-da won't rehash because they don't warrant rehashing, save one...
|...one that was heartbreaking. Yes, that's Charles Schulz as a boy. He really was Charlie Brown.|
|Oh, and we're still stuck with the 3-D movie fad -- and now on TVs -- and it's still stupid.|
|Then there were (and still are) The Banksters...|
|...the Banksters' Banksters...|
|...and Bigfoot. How abominable.|
|2012 saw lots of peril, both real and imagined -- mostly imagined...|
|...much to the chagrin of the Robotic Powers That Were, consistently shocked by...|
|...unexpected moments of tenderness and rapprochement that won the day.|
|2012 saw some interesting mindsets explored, and hopefuly expunged...|
|...as well as some blatant ape grabs at... well, at Anne Bancroft, among others, but this is to be expected.|
|While on the topic, 2012 also invariably saw many many obsessed apes.|
Hey, you apes! Stop stroking that obelisk!
At least we now HAVE an obelisk. Cue soundtrack! Somebody throw the bone!
|Ah, 2012. Can't say it's been great... because it hasn't.|
|Though it was occasionally interesting, apocalyptically speaking. Is that Gog or Magog?|
|Hopefully, we've learned how to put old beliefs aside and all get along.|
|(source img: artist Julia Jacquette)|
Since the one side of "Man" got power-of-attorney over our species' nomenclatural designation, it's been the same old conflict: WHAT temperature will make both women and men happy? We all know the answer -- and the ancient reasons for the hoary custom of segregation of the sexes. Is there a solution? No. Well... no. Ok, but maybe if... no.
Awright, Da-da will try to fix the unfixable, but don't get your hopes up. Here's what we could do:
- Crank all thermostats up 85 degrees (yes, in WINTER, Mr. Attorney). Note that this higher temperature puts tons and tons of additional carbon dioxide and heat and methane and schmutz into the atmosphere, working towards ever increasing levels of greenhouse gases and global warming to the point that civilization ends, but it's WOMEN'S COMFORT and cuddle-receptivity we're talking about, so the planet can go pound sand (um, like the last planet we ruined, and then we had to come to this one).
- In this steamy environment, have all women wear fleece. SEXY FLEECE. In layers. About nine or ten layers. Of fleece and wool, alternatively. And big ol' faux-fur-lined boots. Now you know how men feel all the time.
- Have all men wear the thinnest t-shirts available (preferably tie-dyed) and thin cotton boxers with little Yodas on them. Why? BECAUSE YODA IS SEXY. (Shut up. Too, he is.)
- All women then must eat carbs. LOTS OF CARBS: BISCUITS, GRAVY, PANCAKES, RICE, BARLEY, SYRUP, PIZZA AND CHOCOLATE... all at the same time. This will boost female somatic heat indices. Meanwhile, all men must eat nothing and drink lots of water. When men are forced to either eat or die, they can have grapefruit and rainwater. This will halt metabolic activity and keep men feeble and cool, where women like them.
|Honey, that's warm enough.|
|Yes, we may have survived the Apocalypse, but we still have to deal with FAMILY.|
(Da-da uses the stun/tag/release method.)
That's right, we all just survived YET ANOTHER apocalypse. How many is that so far? A billion? Anyone care to learn from this latest failed end-of-the-world gambit? Hmm? Yes. Well. Let's all try *really hard* NOT to concoct a new one, ok? We all agreed? This'll be easy, as all of us survivors now have...
THE STRENGTH OF TEN GRINCHES, plus two.
Um, that's 12, right? Yes. 12. It's official. You all now have the strength of 12 Grinches. Carry on.
|Here's Ma-ma prior to putting on her festive costume for Da-da's 12th Annual Holiday Costume Party.|
|And here's Da-da being hoisted in to the city to try on his costume.|
Hope they have an XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXL.
Or at least a Santa hat.
|And here's everyone else on the way in.|
Pay No Attention to the Planetary Meiosis and Mitosis Happening in Front of the Curtain: Da-da's Sky Anomaly Report From the Field #47
|Buckle up, Timmy.|
This one's a little weird, even for Da-da. But it's a GOOD weird.
It started normally, if a little over-caffeinatedly. Da-da was sleepless most of last night, though not with kid wrangling duties or a preoccupation with Cheermageddon. Cheerpocalypse? No, it involved a quick holiday jaunt to visit friends and mental patients (recovering parents) on the West Coast, where Da-da was inexplicably forced to lay awake most of last night -- yes, sober -- in a quiet guest room, window open, unable to stop himself from hearing the low, ominous rumble coming from outside. The sound lasted from about 11:00 pm to about 3:30 am PST, above -- or below -- Northern California. Then it stopped. There was no rain, no wind during the event, and the sky was overcast. Stranger still, this was the same place Da-da heard his last sky-sound anomaly ("Pay No Attention to the Clown Banging a Shield Behind the Curtain").
What was it?
Well, Da-da knows what it wasn't. Da-da grew up near Edwards Air Force Base, among others, so he knows well the sounds of the Jet Age. He also lives in the flight path (who doesn't?) of a major metropolitan airport, so he can safely say that the sound wasn't jet engines.
Having lived through big 7.0+ earthquakes in California -- and about a million little ones (4's, 5's and 6's) -- Da-da can reliably say that it sounded kinda like the way an earthquake does before it reaches you (like parents, some move faster than others). He stepped outside for a better listen, as sometimes you can hear an earthquake coming, like a freight train coming over a hill 200 miles an hour. But this sound was different: deeper. And everywhere. Omni-basso profundo.
Now it gets weird.
First, the disclosure part. Sure, Da-da's central nervous system has been stunned and beaten and shaved and painted blue and left in a cold dumpster by renegade KinderGraders, but parenthood occasionally drags around a preternatural sixth-sense blankie with it, giving afflicted parents a higher level of intuition -- or maybe it was there all along and Da-da never paid any attention to it. Whatever you call it, this ability sometimes gives Da-da a step on Entropy's zigzag pass route, allowing him to guess correctly when he needs to catch barf above gramma's sofa, or snag something sharp and pointy out of the air before it's coincident in space-time with some kid's head. It's not all obviation, though.
Put simply, after Da-da wondered aloud what was going on, he suddenly had a movie clip pop up on his cranial drive-in screen. Da-da knows this sounds strange (ok, source considered), but he saw the earth as a giant cosmic cell undergoing some kind of geo-spiritual meiosis and mitosis. The planet divided up its genetic material -- with more on one side -- then split into two planets. One went UP to... another universe? somewhere... with most of the genetic material, while the other went... well, nowhere, with hardly any genetic material. One was light, the other dark. One glowed cosmic vanilla, the other drabbed out a muddy brown. Here's what Da-da's talking about, illustrated with chocolate jelly donuts. (Sorry, Da-da didn't have any vanilla jelly donuts.)
|Now there are TWO chocolate-earth jelly donuts! Actually, one was vanilla, and the chocolate one tasted BAD.|
Who knew bio-metaphysical psycho-pastry imagery could be so enlightening? [img courtesy exophrine]
There was more. Like there needs to be more?
Da-da was also made to intuit that we're supposed to drink less alcohol (or maybe Da-da's supposed to drink less alcohol), and that our tastes are gonna change. And time will be different -- LONGER (so that time you spend with your attorney will now be an, "attornity," the portmanteau billed accordingly). And we're all gonna start eating less meat and more fruit and veggies, and get more exercise and THRIVE a lot more, and turn into telepaths (telepaths?), the better to realize we're all ONE GIANT MEGABEING, whoa. And, of course, we're all gonna develop pointy ears and Go Where No Man Has... ok, ok. Suffice to say that the word for 2013 and Beyond will be: "FASCINATING." On a lot of levels. And we don't have to sacrifice any more red shirts to make it happen.
|Come on, humanity looks GOOD in blue.|
And hey, don't shoot the messenger. It was just a dream. Sure, it occurred while Da-da was awake and hearing some weird sky anomalies, but don't let that sway you. Da-da reports things prima facie; he has to, as his reason was destroyed by small children and rebuilt from dusty TRS-80 parts, leaving his floppy mind in a kind of permanent, "Robotic Field Reporting" mode -- yes, the rest of him coming from some old novelty vending machine: drop a coin, pull a knob, have some fun.
|Hey, look everybody! Da-da's here!|
|Either George was in a terrible accident, or he's invisible just like... A Man Called Da-da? Hey, wait...|
Is Da-da George Bailey? With AMNESIA? AND A FEW EXTRA HOLIDAY POUNDS?!This explains so much.
|The Three-legged Santabot 3000 in all its glory. Give us a kiss.|
A long-time reader inquired as to why Da-da was not suffering and insufferable via another cheermageddon stint as Bad Mall Santa Da-da. Alas, this year Da-da had his job outsourced to a creepy robo-santa with three legs and a crushing jolly mecha-hug that no kid has sat for to date, but... well, it does smell minty. Da-da does not smell minty; he's more bean-with-bacon meets some fragrance by Christopher Walken.
Anyway, oddly redolent Da-da wasn't entirely left out this holiday season, as the good management folks at Haughland's Mill's Mall of Feasance created a new "dream" job for Da-da... until they gave it to a manager's girlfriend who's apparently better at positions than Da-da.
|Nice boots, Desiree.|
However, since the mall powers-that-be did make Da-da a promise, they let Da-da wear the roomier LOBBY TREE costume...
|Sure, this costume fits better, but now Da-ds craves sushi all the time.|
...which was indeed a radioactive touch more Da-da-esque, if you know what Da-da means and he thinks you do.
|Fig. 117B. The post-conversion bear.|
Grandma Scotty sent this to Da-da. Some of you have probably seen it, but Da-da thought he'd share all the same. Note that he's cleaned it up a bit. Da-da is fairly certain that no one will take umbrage at the content; however, if someone does, please try one of Da-da's previous posts.
Three Holy Men and a Bear
A Catholic Priest, a Baptist Preacher and a Rabbi all served as Chaplains to the students of the University of Morvalia, nestled as it was in the Great North. They'd get together two or three times a week for coffee and to talk shop.
One day, one of them made the comment that preaching to people wasn't really all that hard, and that a real challenge would be to preach to a bear. One thing led to another, and they decided to try an experiment. They'd each go out into the woods, find a bear, preach to it, and attempt to convert it to their religion.
Seven days later, they came together to discuss their experiences.
Father Flannery, his arm in a sling, walking on crutches, and with various bandages on limbs and body, went first.
"Well," he said, "I went into the woods to find a bear. When I found one, I began to read to him from the Catechism. Well, that bear wanted nothing to do with me and began to slap me around. So I quickly grabbed my holy water, sprinkled him and, Holy Mary Mother of God, he became as gentle as a lamb. The Bishop is coming out next week to give him first communion and confirmation."
Reverend Billy Bob spoke next. He was in a wheelchair, had one arm and both legs in casts, and had an IV drip.
In his best fire-and-brimstone oratory, he exclaimed, "WELL, brothers, you KNOW that we Baptists don't sprinkle! I went out and I FOUND me a bear. And then I began to read to my bear from God's HOLY WORD! But that bear wanted nothing to do with me."
"So I took HOLD of him and we began to wrestle. We wrestled down one hill, UP another and DOWN another until we came to a creek. So I quickly DUNKED him and BAPTIZED his hairy soul. And just like you said, he became as gentle as a lamb. We spent the rest of the day praising Jesus. Hallelujah!"
The Priest and the Reverend both looked down at the Rabbi, lying in a hospital bed. He was in a full body cast and traction, with IVs and monitors running in and out and all over him. Clearly, he was in bad shape.
The Rabbi looked up and said: "Looking back on it... circumcision may not have been the best way to start."
|Fig. 9. Some lambs are not gentle, circumcision notwithstanding.|
|Relatives! Ya gotta love 'em.|
After an intense week of war-of-the-gargantuas sibling rivalry, Da-da sat 5YO Bronko and 7YO Nagurski down to explain a concept necessary to life on this and every other planet -- that is, forgiveness. They then asked a reasonable question.
"Forgiveness" is an old word that has taken on more baggage than Ethel Merman on a TransAtlantic steamer, so Da-da used another word that means the same thing.
"'To Forgive' means, 'to overlook.' To fail to notice," Da-da explained. "To ignore something you might not like, especially in terms of other peoples' behavior..."
|Da-da tries to overlook grandma working in the kitchen.|
"You think nothing of throwing a huge box of Legos down the stairs, right?"
"Right!" they both agreed and smiled. They could understand that quite well.
"You don't think you've done anything wrong," Da-da explained. "You're just interested in watching millions of multi-colored thingies cascade down the stairs."
"Like a waterfall."
"You pretty much overlook the fact that you're not supposed to do this, like a lot of your own actions -- unless you think Santa's watching. But when your brother does this, with say that special space shuttle you spent all afternoon making, then you probably get mad. When your brother does something you don't like, as he often does 10,000 times a day, don't say he's stupid, or that he's the worst brother in the world, or hit him with the cat. Instead, you could try to imagine he's YOU. YOU just tossed the Lego space shuttle down the stairs. Now imagine that that kid on the playground who's hogging the monkey bars is YOU. You can watch YOU play with something for hours, right?"
Da-da saw that this tack was sticking in their craws.
"Ok, that might be too weird for you, seeing everyone around you as YOU -- which they are, by the way -- so instead, try imagining that everyone in the world is related to you. See them as members of your family... family you actually like."
"Like grandma and grandpa?"
"Sure. And your brother and your cousins and uncles and aunts and grandparents. See everyone as favorite members of your family and you won't get so mad at them when they take your favorite toy, or cut in line in front of you, or take the last piece of cinnamon toast. Instead, you see them do these things and you say to yourself, 'That Uncle Fred,' or 'That silly Bronko.' Then BOOM: it's out of your mind. You're not mad about whatever it was that might annoy you, because it's been done by someone you already know, by someone simply being themselves -- by someone you kinda love. Hate has no room when there's a little love in there somewhere."
"What about the cats barfing everywhere."
"That's why Da-da installed an airlock on the house, so we can just CHUCK them out..."
"Is that 'overlooking'?"
"No. That's efficiency. You see, even Da-da has to learn to overlook things, especially when it comes to anything he has to clean, again and again, like cat barf..."
"Why don't you overlook the cleaning?"
"Why don't you go play in the other room. Quietly. My overlookiness is getting strained."
Da-da of course tried to overlook the fact that 99.99% of his pearls are regularly devoured by adorable swine, as he jerked unsteadily away to be judged by complete strangers to whom he's undoubtedly related.