Vizsla Flashback - Portrait of the Artist as.. Possibly Stoned? I Don't Know.

For reasons that aren't entirely relevant or interesting, I found myself going through a stack of old notebooks from the early 90s today.

One of those notebooks turned out to be an old rehearsal journal from ComedySportz back in 1994.  At least that was it's original intent.  However it becomes abundantly clear flipping through it that I rapidly lost interest with jotting down notes and instead starting just doodling whatever came to mind in it.

I have no explanation for the images you're about to see.  I can only swear to you that - despite what it says in the title - I was not actually on drugs.

I'm relatively sure.

Slide One - a piece we call ...

'Poorly Drawn Hand with Stickman'

Now, I can actually kind of see where I was going with this one.  Realistic hand crushing tiny stick man.  I think I may have had some sort of larger point about the contrast between reality and imagination, but that is undercut by two significant factors.

1.  That's the most pretentious thing I've ever heard and it kind of makes me want to travel back in time and nut punch 23 year old me as hard as I possibly can.

and

2.  That's probably the crappiest drawing of a hand the world has ever seen.

Moving on...

'Oh No, Sharks'

In this piece we see the silhouette of a man hanging by one hand from what appears to be an enormous muffler while a giant zombie hand reaches through a hitherto non-existent dimensional portal.  In the background there is a pair of legs clearly labelled as having a 'bad knee' and in the upper left we see what appears to be a dancing pair of scissors.

The man is looking down and saying, 'Oh no, Sharks!'  (Sharks not pictured)

It's interesting that the man is concerned about the sharks and isn't saying 'Oh no, Giant Zombie Hand', or, 'Oh no, that looks like a terrible knee injury', or 'Why in the name of all that is holy is that pair of scissors dancing?'  But I guess we all have to adopt our own set of priorities in a crisis.

'Inuit Centipede Has a Hearing Problem'

I think this piece speaks for itself.

and finally...

Man With the Foot of a Duck

A statement about man's bestial nature?

A Comment on duality?

Or did I just get tired of drawing feet?

Only Art Historians can be the judge.


Thank you for your time.  With that I'm headed out to the front porch to await the arrival of The Doctor and Amy Pond

Vizsla Flashback - Forward Planning - Not a Campus Crusade for Christ Strength Area

A fair few years ago, during my Freshman year of College, I came across a large number of photocopied pictures of Jesus dumped in the dorm hallway recycling bin.

I have no idea where they cam from, probably some sort of recruitment rally for the incoming students by one of the various pro-Jesus lobbying groups on campus - possibly the Campus Crusade for Christ, as I'm pretty sure they were involved with the rest of this story.  For some reason the Freshman year of college is particularly prone to a subsection of students discovering religion in a serious and enthusiastic way.  Also, they tend to put on about 15 pounds.  Make of the correlation there what you will.

I lived in the dorms that year, and not being a member of the subsection that found religion, I picked up the stack of pictures of Jesus, got a sharpie, and wrote across one of them 'Mikey, thanks for everything- Jesus'.
This I taped to the outside of my dorm room door.

Now, as funny as I thought this was at the time, I'm pretty sure the amusement factor would have worn off in a day or so, but for the fact that two days later my autographed picture of Jesus was unceremoniously stolen.*

*A case the campus police have yet to crack, I might add.

The Thief in question however was missing the important bit of information located in the opening paragraph.  I had not found A picture of Jesus in the recycling bin.  I had found a stack of pictures of Jesus in the recycling bin.  And so, that same evening, after walking to the campus bookstore to purchase a gold autographing pen so that the whole thing would have more of a sense of occasion, I replaced the autographed picture of Jesus with a new one bearing the inscription, 'Mikey - I can never thank you enough for fixing me up with that foxy Mary Magdalene.  All my best - Jesus'

This disappeared the following day.

It was replaced that night with a newly autographed 'Mikey - Those chicks were mad crazy.  Promise me you'll never show anyone the pictures!  You're the Man! - Jesus'

This disappeared the following day and was replaced with a stern page long handwritten note outline some fundamental objections to my decoration policies.

Night four's autograph read, 'Mikey - No one must ever find those four kilos of Brazilian Heroin.  Your pal - Jesus'

This disappeared the following day, but sadly no further correspondence was left in its place.

I don't recall what night five's inscription was, but I'm relatively sure it was more offensive than night four's.

On Day seven I came home to find a blackened scorch mark exactly the size and shape of my autographed picture of Jesus in the middle of my dorm room door because someone had set fire to whatever Jesus had signed the picture with that day.

I went ahead and replaced the picture with a new (and one assumes, more offensive) version, but let's take a second with the implications of this...

If they saw the picture on a daily basis, odds are that they themselves live in the building.

The building that they had just set on fire.

See, this is why more people don't take religious fundamentalism seriously.

Vizsla Flashback - How Gauche, Angelina Jolie

So apparently Angelina Jolie is left handed.

I've just learned this thanks to one of those cable channels that show movies from a few years earlier and have breaks at intervals to tell you fun facts and inside insights about how the movie was made. 

The film in question today was 'Salt'.  A movie which I care almost nothing about and had never actually seen before; it was hitherto primarily notable for being a rare instance of a script being written for a man and then having the main character recast as a woman.*  Much like Sigourney Weaver's part in the first Alien film. (Presumably the writers knew that Sigourney Weaver was a woman for Aliens 2-4, but you can never be sure.)

*Although it appears that this only came about after every other male action lead currently working had been attached to star in the film and then backed out, so it isn't quite the bold step forward that it might otherwise appear to be.  Still notable, however.

In any case, one of the fun facts imparted during a break from the movie was that, as I led with, Angelina Jolie is apparently left handed.  This struck me as interesting, because I'd never actually noticed it despite having seen more than a couple of movies that she's been in.

Which leads me to a different fun fact to observe - since pretty much the beginning of humanity we've associated 'leftness' with 'wrong'. 

In large part this is probably because when you see a left-handed person doing something with their left hand that people more commonly use their right hand for*, it does convey a vague impression of 'wrongness'.  Because it looks different in a way that you can't quite put your finger on.  (Unless someone has helpfully pointed it out in a behind the scenes featurette in which case it's no big deal.)

*Oh grow up.

It's possible.  just possible, mind you, that this is why Angelina Jolie is vaguely terrifying.

Or it could be that her father is John Voight and she probably has bodies buried in her basement.

Could go either way.

*I realized after the fact that I finished this article without explaining the title.  'Gauche' is French for 'Left'.  See how the French just proved my over-arching point?

Vizsla Flashback - Notable Joans

It goes without saying (except that I'm going to go ahead and say it.  Which, really, everybody does immediately after saying 'it goes without saying', which makes you wonder why we bother with the phrase in the first place.  But I digress...)

It goes without saying that Joan Jett and the Blackhearts' greatest hits album is just about the best guilty pleasure record out there.  In point of fact, I really tried to use The Blackhearts in The great Vizsla Theoretical backup band knife fight discussion of last month.  Except that I couldn't think of anybody who stood a chance against them.  Not even the Robert Palmer girls, and they're cannibal robots.*

*Which may mean that they eat other robots... 

Allow me to take this opportunity to refer you to just one of the many reasons this album kicks ass - 

Joan Jett, being awesome

So clearly, Joan Jett is supercool.  But when you think about it, 'Joan' isn't a name that particularly lends itself to 'cool'

My name is Joan, and I'm cool anyway.

(Although I may have had a little work done...)

 The only other notable Joan's that I'd even consider in the catagory-

Cusack

Clearly the coolest Joan of all time

It's not her fault that her brother is apparently kind of a jerk in real life.

 Osborne

I know, I know.  I didn't used to think so either.

But I saw her make a really gracious acceptance speech once that made me think, '

Hey Joan Osborne.  You're pretty cool.

 Of Arc

Come on.

She was pretty awesome.

I'm glad that we've settled this issue.

Vizsla Flashback - The Tale of Jeff - The Man Who Named Salads.

Orginally titled 'And Johnny Appleseed can suck it.'

Gather round you all and hear the tale

The Tale of a Man who made the world better

The Tale of a Man who righted wrongs and healed nations

The Tale of Jeff

The Man Who Named Salads.

It may seem hard to believe, my children, but once - many years ago, all salads were just called 'salad'

In these confusing times, even the simplest of lunches was naught but a festival of confusion an dark surprises, for upon ordering 'salad' all excepted with sad certainty that you could be served any number of different options

-It might have lettuce, tomato and cheese

-It might have corn ships and tomato

-It might be a jiggling egg based affair

-Or some chicken, mayo, and potato

'WOE!' cried the people, for their suffering was great.  'How shall we live with this uncertainty?  How can one small word encompass such diversity??  And in what universe is Jello with pineapple chunks suspended on it a 'salad'?  I'm sorry, simply putting it on top of a lettuce leaf in no way makes that a salad, I don't care how much whipped cream you dollop upon it!'

And then the people fell silent into despair, for there was no salvation apparent to them, and they resigned themselves to an eternity of ill-defined diet food.

And it was thus, as the people's despair lay thick like an itchy blanket upon the land, that a child was born.

And his mother did name him 'Jeff'.  For she knew that one day he would be the one foretold who would sort this whole 'salad thing' out.

And as Jeff grew unto a man he did find himself in his local cafeteria, and on seeing a simple concoction of lettuce, tomato, onion and crouton he did say, 'Gosh - That looks like a salad that belongs in this house.  And so I shall name it 'House Salad.  And it shall come with a balsamic vinaigrette.  And all Men Shall know it thus.'  

And there was great rejoicing, for the people now knew that he was truly the savior come, and that all light pre-meal preparations were well and truly on the road to clarity.

'But how,' said one poor and suffering chef, 'How shall we know this salad?' and in bitter tears he laid upon the feet of Jeff a true mastery of lettuce, boiled egg, leftover kitchen meats, and optional blue cheese or ranch dressing.  And Jeff spoke to the Chef, and said to him, 'This salad stands, chef, as a testament to your ability to find a way to dispose of leftover scrap meat.  And so shall it be always know for you - the Chef Salad'

And the chef cried tears of great joy as the people rejoiced.

And further salads were brought to Jeff.  'Chicken' and 'Egg' were dismissed from his sight, as they aren't actually salads, really more of sandwich spreads, and Jeff had no time for them other than to observe that it's always a mistake to put celery in them, I don't care what anybody says.  It's just wrong.  In exactly the same way that it's just wrong to put peppers in cornbread.

And thus was 'Waldorf', 'Cobb', and 'Taco' established.  'Ceaser' being thrown out by Jeff who was in a puckish mood that day, having just caught 'I, Claudius' on Masterpiece Theater.  'Pasta', and 'Ambrosia' then followed.  'Fruit' was brought before Jeff and was greeted with nothing but a long, withering gaze until it finally felt awkward and backed slowly out of the room.

But then, like all beacons of Hope, Jeff finally met his downfall.  At the hands of 'Three Bean' did Jeff fall.  

But some say - and I believe them - that if you listen and believe, on a dark and silent night you can still hear Jeff crying to the emptiness of the void, safe in the knowledge that his task was complete, knowing that he had well and truly cleared up the worlds salad confusion.  And on those night, if you listen and believe, you can hear his voice on the wind, shouting-

'Why the Hell would anyone put Jell-O on a lettuce leaf???? WHY??????'

Vizsla Flashback - So, If you're an identical/clone race, does that make dating harder or easier?

I was thinking about Sleestaks earlier today (The real ones from the Sid and Marty Krofft TV series 1974-76.  I refuse to acknowledge any others).  Addendum Note - The Show in Question was 'Land of the Lost'

"We have great personalities..."
-The Sleestaks

And it occurred to me to wonder... if everyone in your race looks exactly the same, what does that do to your social life?  Does every encounter end up with creepy masturbatory undertones?  Does the fact that every single possible sexual partner looks exactly like your Mom AND Dad not cause a lot of late nights shuddering and doing shots of Sleestak Tequila?

I can hear many of you now pointing out that the Sleestaks were essentially bestial (despite their occasionally phenomenal toolmaking abilities...  seriously, do you remember the one where they'd made a periscope?) and so - much like Komodo Dragons or people who support Michelle Bachman,  they probably don't spend much, if any, time thinking and just do what they want when the urge takes them.

All fine and good... until you remember Enik the Altrusian.  He's either a descendant or an ancestor of the Sleestaks (sources are vague on this point) because the Sleestaks are in what I might describe as a sociopathatic warp elipse.  That is, I might describe it that way if I wanted to come across as a pretentious douche.  In that I don't, I'll just say that every thousand years or so the Sleestaks went from technologically advanced to animal and back again, over and over again.  

And yet (apart from turning gold and wearing tunics - which at least shows that they at some point develop a strain of puritan modesty about their lizard-bits) they still look exactly the same as one another.

And so we're back to the original question.  What does your lonely young Sleestak look for, exactly, while cruising the Sleestak personals?  'Young gold female - big eyes - loves camping, tunics,  and long walks by the lava pit - Seeks same'?

For that matter, say you were married (assuming Sleestaks do such a thing) and you're accused of being unfaithful.  How on Earth would you even know?  Do they set up special code words to make sure they don't accidentally bang the cleaning lady?  

And more - What possible point would there even BE to cheating on your spouse if every single person you could possibly cheat on her with was exactly the same as she was?

No wonder their society keeps collapsing.

Vizsla Flashback - Drunk Texts from Batman

We've all been there, so this is in no way about judging.

However, reports have come to light that it is not just we, the every-dog on the street who are susceptible to sending an ill advised text message after having a couple of drinks*.  According to reliable sources, no less than Batman himself falls into that very trap on a regular basis.

*Seriously, why is there no app to lock texting if it detects that you're drunk?

Thank You, Internet, for making it possible to find a picture of just about anything

Consider the following examples of...

 Drunk Texts From Batman

Names listed as they appear in the BatCel

You can occasionally tell what Batman has been drinking just from the mood of the text.  For example, Tequila clearly makes him mean...

Batman- 

 Hey AL, get here quik, i ned your help burying a prostitute.

....?  - 

ButlerNumeroUno 

Batman-  

HA!!  You totaley fell for that didnt you DUMBASS!  LMBAO!

Shall I take it that you require the services of a taxi to return home this evening sir? - ButlerNumeroUno

Batman-  

You shud have seen ur face!!

You can't see my face, sir.  We're miles away from each other -  

ButlerNumeroUno

Batman-  

Shut up and send me a fukin taco.

I'm on my way -  

ButlerNumeroUno

Whereas you can always tell that he's been drinking bourbon when he becomes inappropriately sentimental...

Batman-  

U kno, u r totally the best.  Serriously.  U're Awesome man

Um... Thanks.  Where are you? -  

Boy, (Wonder)

Batman-  

No, reelly.  I totalley love u man.  Totalley.

Maybe we should be done crimefighting for the night... -  

Boy, (Wonder)

Batman-  

Reely.  Im gunna tell everybody man.  I totalley love U.  I'm gonna tellevrybody.

My nam is Bruce.  And I luv Dick!

Please tell me you're not driving. -  

Boy, (Wonder)

In contrast, a beer-drunk Batman appears to just get a little silly.

Batman-  

knok knock

Who is this? -  

E. Nigma

Batman-  

No, u r supposd to say who's there.  Illtryit agan.  knock knock

 Who gave you this number?-  

E. Nigma

Batman-  

Ur not doin it rite!  Knock knok!!!!

<sigh>  Fine.  Who's there.-

E. Nigma

Batman-  

I'm bateman, bitsh!

 You're Jason Bateman?-  

E. Nigma

Batman-  

Nooo!!!  Batmaan!!  Geez.

 You do realize you just totally gave me your phone number-  

E. Nigma

And Gin... well...

.

Batman-  

Hey baby.  Check THIS out...

Oh My God, is that a picture of your... Oh for Christ sake.  Seriously?????-  

 PrettyKitty

Seriously.  Maybe he should have just stuck with the Batsignal.

Until next time.  Same Bat Time, Same Bat Texts.

-Vizsla Out

Vizlsa Flashback - This is Literally a Dilemma

Recently there was a great deal of hue and cry across the Internet (which is fair enough as that's pretty much what the internet is for.)

However, as opposed to the usual topics of hue and cry (Religion, Politics, and Ben Affleck) this time the H&C was coming squarely from the folks who care deeply about language.  Which meant that for once most of it was spelled and punctuated correctly, which made a pleasant change.

What began it was this; The Online Oxford English Dictionary - Gold Standard for Scrabble players and pedants alike - updated their definition of the word 'Literally'.  After giving the correct definition of the word they appended:

'informal used for emphasis or to express strong feeling while not being literally true:  I have received literally thousands of letters'

Which many, if not all of us, took as confirmation that the good people at Oxford were finally saying, "Fine.  Screw you all.  You can just make up your own shit from now on - we're out." before cracking open a bottle of expensive bourbon that they'd been saving against this day's inevitable arrival. 

And it's hard to blame them really, what with the state of spelling and grammar these days.  Perfectly respectable columnists starting paragraphs with conjunctions and leaving participles everywhere.  It's chaos, people.  And stop clubbing, baby seals!

But* - and it pains me to admit this - that's how language ALWAYS changes.  

*See - I did it again.  And I don't even feel bad about it.

After all, at the end of the day Language is nothing but a mutually agreed set of basic rules that we've all signed on to so that we're able to communicate with one another.  As long as we all understand the new rules, does the fact that it's a new rule really matter? 

Additionally, one has to consider why we have an Oxford Dictionary in the first place.  Is the job of the Oxford Dictionary to be correct, or to accurately relay how people are using the language?  (Obviously the answer is 'both', but in cases like this where it feels like you have to pick one or the other, what's a poor online repository of knowledge to do?)

It's not like we all got together around 1550 and took a big vote as to whether or not we wanted to keep using noun declension.  We just sort of stopped doing it.  And if there had been an Internet at the time then the message boards would be chock full of people posting 'Thou art misusing 'doth', moron.'  (if you're interested in this sort of thing you should totally google 'The Great Vowel Shift' which is not only really interesting, but also sounds pleasantly naughty.)

Or, for an earlier example, consider the following scene - set in Britain in the early-ish 1st Century.

ROMAN 1 (Rory):  Well, we've just about finished writing up contracts so that we can control these Saxon folk

ROMAN 2 (Steve):  I don't think they're Saxons until 4 or 500...

RORY:  That's not important right now.  

STEVE:  Sorry.

RORY:  The problem I'm running into is that they don't have a written alphabet, so I'm just sort of mushing it into our alphabet

STEVE:  Sounds good, what's the problem?

RORY:  Well, their language uses a lot of that 'th' sound that we never ever use, and we don't have a letter for that.

STEVE:  Hmm.  Well, don't they have that short series of Runes that they occasionally use?

RORY:  Hey - yes they do.  And there's one that they use for the 'TH' sound that looks a bit like our letter 'Y'.

STEVE:  Well, why don't we just use a 'Y' to represent the 'th' sound.

RORY:  I don't know... isn't that going to confuse the hell out of people a few thousand years from now who'll think the word 'the' was pronounced 'Yee' because of this decision?

STEVE:  Don't talk crazy, Roranicus.  Our empire will last forever.  Now let's go get a drink of water from our lead-lined aquifer.

And so forth.

Point of the story - Language changes all the time, and it's almost always for some stupid reason (like, say, a generation of people deciding to remain willfully ignorant of what a fairly simple descriptive word means).  That's just life.

It is worth noting however that the good folks at Oxford did manage to get the last word in.  They closed their entry with the following - 

"This use can lead to unintentional humorous effects (we were literally killing ourselves laughing) and is not acceptable in formal English."  

Allow me to translate what the good folks at Oxford are really saying there.  'People use the word like that.  They sound like idiots and are wrong when they do so.  But they still do it.'

Well Played, Oxford Online Dictionary.  Well played.

Vizsla Flashback - That Otter do it. Oh God, I am so sorry for that....

Seriously.  I actively tried to prevent myself from typing that post title.  I really tried.  I'm weak.

As part of our continuing observation of national Sea Otter Awareness weeK (n-SOAK.  You know you want to start using that acronym.) I thought that it might be germane to talk a bit about people who latch on to a particular totem animal.

Now, I'm not talking about your inadvertent animal collectors.  To quote arch-villain The Deadly Bulb (aka Pig Leg), you know how it goes - one person gives you a pig statue, and then someone else assumes you like that sort of thing and gets you another and before you know it you have no choice but to buy a hutch.

No, I'm talking about the people who actively embrace the animal in question (not literally, in the case of polar bears).  Now, on the one hand it actually makes Christmas and Birthday shopping significantly easier for these people, so it has that going for it.  On the other hand, the time necessary to set aside for dusting can be a real killer*.  And on the other hand, which is actually a foot, who are we to judge, right?  And on the other hand, which is the other foot, I personally own the entire run of Doctor Who 1963-present on both VHS and DVD (minus of course the 106 missing episodes from the mid sixties, obviously), and I actually had one further point but am out of hands and feet and everything after that gets inappropriate.

*I know... for no particular reason...

No, the real issue at hand is the relatively small number of animals that tend to get chosen.

-Polar Bears, as mentioned - So cute you might not mind being torn up and eaten
-Penguins (as seen here having a fun adventure with pirates)
-Eagles - for your patriotic and free spirited sort
-Wolves - These are much less likely to appear in statue form, and are mainly to be found in framed artwork.
-Hippos - For some reason that I do not personally understand, because hippos are frickin' mean.
-Pigs - Which I think are meant to be some sort of ironic statement.

Other than your occasional Moose or Fox enthusiast, those are pretty much your choices.

Which is why I feel comfortable with my relatively recent otter-obsession.

On that note - I present today's attempt at Origami Sea Otter.

I found a different pattern, that I feel has some pluses and some minuses.

His name is Steve.  He and Buck are friends from school.

I use this as an excuse to once again mention that the collective noun for a group of Otters is a Romp.

Tune in tomorrow for the story of the unplanned office menagerie...

Vizsla Flashback - An interview with my 1978 Six Million Dollar Man garbage can

This week a rare opportunity came up for us to sit down and have a chat with my 1978 Six Million Dollar Man garbage can.  Although, 'came up', might be a bit generous, as it's been sitting in the den for 36 years.

VIZSLA:  Well, first of all I want to thank you for being here.  It's fantastic to have a chance to talk with you.

THE SIX MILLION DOLLAR MAN GARBAGE CAN: I literally have not moved in over ten years.

V:  Um..... Yeah.  So.  You look great.

6:  Thanks.  I've got a little denting along the top edge, but ... you know.. what guy in his 30s doesn't.

V:  What's it like to spend most of your time filled with garbage.

6:  You'd have to ask the tea party.

V:  HA!  I see what you did there.

6:  Thanks.  Seriously though, it's good to have a function I suppose.  Could be worse.  At least I'm not one of those action figures still in the packaging languishing on a shelf, you know?  I'm still in the game.

V:  What do you say to those who would point out that having you around provides a needless anchor to the past preventing your owner from releasing childhood memories and moving on with his life?

6:  Well, I don't think there's any need to get needlessly totemistic about it.  I mean, sometimes a garbage can is just a garbage can if I could misqoute Freud for just a moment.

V:  So you don't feel like the memories of unfulfilled childhood dreams still cling to you like the lingering bottom half of a Chewbacca sticker?

6:  I kind of like the sticker.  We've been together for a very long time.  You know... eventually you just accept your imperfections as being part of who you are, you know?

V:  That's very deep.

6:  I am very deep.

V:  About 15 inches deep.

6:  Way to blow the metaphor.

Vizlsa Flashback - An Important Foreword, followed by some Stuff About Bananas

First published on 9-11-13, hence all the references to the date.  I reprint it here today for two reasons -

1. Sunday is the day I do reprints of earlier columns

2. I'm mildly concerned that the fact that I went ahead with my usual frivolity on 9-11 this week might have been misconstrued as being disrespectful, and I already explained my reasoning for doing so last year

so...

First the Foreword (by definition)

I gave a lot of thought, quite honestly, to not publishing a column today, the date being what it is.

Let me explain why.

The primary method of spreading the word about the doggerel I post here is via Facebook (and a bit through my side gig at WhatCulture.  My friends of Facebook fall broadly (with a few exceptions) into one of two camps.  Firefighters or Improvisational Comedians.

A lot of people blogging tend to take days such as this as an opportunity to discuss the event in some way, or to share their own experiences, or to - generally speaking - get real about the whole issue.  And that's great.  There's a lot of good stuff out there along those lines.

But that is not what I do.  The closest I ever have or ever will (probably) get to that sort of thing is the time I pretended to think that 90s icon Morrissey was the elected leader of Egypt.  (And to be honest, in hindsight even that has felt too close to places I don't want to go)

The other option - equally valid - is to simply suspend business on the day in question as a gesture of remembrance and respect.  That's the way I was seriously considering going.  I can easily see how just caring on with frivolous crap could be construed as disrespectful to a significant percentage of people.

But here's the thing- and this is just my personal opinion here - I really think that when someone gives their life so that you can continue living yours, the most important thing that you can do to respect that is to actually continue living yours.

So that's the way I ultimately came down on the issue.  Hence the following frivolity about Bananas.  I totally understand if you choose to come back to it another day or even skip it entirely.  This is me carrying on with doing what I do as my way of saying thank you to the people who sacrificed so that I would be able to do.

Foreword over

Some Stuff About Bananas

Last night I woke up in the middle of the night with that cramp thing that occasionally happens where your calf muscle suddenly and without warning tears itself off of your leg and runs screeching around the room.

Me being me, I immediately began listing in my head the things that I could have done to prevent this, thus managing to make this a scathing indictment of my character flaws as opposed to merely a deficiency of water or Potassium.

The easiest thing to do to ward these sorts of things off, or so I have been told, is to eat more bananas or drink less wine.  And since the latter is clearly crazy talk, let's take this moment to celebrate our bananas.

Um... that didn't come out exactly right...

Some Things That Bananas are good for:

- Bumping up your Potassium level.

Potassium (number 19 on the periodic table with the Atomic Symbol K (for which you can blame the Romans.  Sort of) is an important element in our physiology as it assists in the transmission of signals through the nervous system.  Not having enough of it can cause all sorts of health problems.  Of course, having way too much of it can kill you, so maybe stop after the first couple bananas

- Replacing futuristic weapons factories

I like Bananas.  Bananas are good.

- Sex Ed.

Seriously, this is a time honored classic when it comes to teaching your young man the correct way to put on a prophylactic.  You can also use a cucumber, but only if you want to give your young man lifelong feelings of inadequacy.

- Comic pratfalls.

It's a classic for a reason, people.

Vizsla Flashback - Why Does Zimbio Hate You?

So I can't help but notice that recently the entire Internet was taken over by Zimbio* and their determined attempt to assign all of us brand new, predetermined identities.

*Sometimes Buzzfeed.  But mostly Zimbio.

What's more, you can be assigned no end of new personalities.  So it's perfectly OK for you to be Marshall on the 'Which How I Met Your Mother Character are you' quiz AND Neve Campbell on the 'Which Wild Things character are you*' quiz AND Dominant Top on the 'Which Hardcore S&M Erotica Character are you' quiz.

*OK, It gave me Denise Richards.  But I'm totally Neve Campbell.  Ask anyone.

Yes, It appears that Zimbio doesn't care much how many new identities it gives you or even what they are.  All Zimbio cares about is that your current identity must be destroyed.  As quickly as possible.

Which leads me to the inescapable conclusion that Zimbio hates you.

Here then is a list of possible reasons why Zimbio might hate the current 'You'.  You should identify which applies to you and take steps to heal the relationship.  Because, honestly, I can hardly get to my Candy Crush requests through all of the quiz result postings.


1. You owe Zimbio money.
2. You knocked up Zimbio's kid sister
3. You cold-cocked Zimbio in a bar fight
4. Zimbio really desperately loves you but lacks the emotional   maturity to process those feelings.
5. You cut Zimbio off in traffic
6. Zimbio's having its meds adjusted and is just really off right now.  Sorry, Man.
7. Zimbio is a mean drunk
8. You got Zimbio fired by planting a false rumor about Zimbio being the one that took the money from the office coffee fund can.
9. Your online fanfic 'How Zimbio totally sucks' was unfair and hurtful.
10. Zimbio is just kind of a jerk

I hope this helps clear up the situation.

You're welcome, internet.

Vizsla Flashback - Adorable Puppy? or BlackHearted Homewrecker?

So like many of you, I spent a good chunk of yesterday evening being not particularly interested in the Superbowl.

-Note for foreign readers - It's basically the world cup with shoulder pads and not inviting any other countries.

Not only did I not give half a crap about either team to begin with, but one of them proceeded to not even bother to show up and play, instead loaning their uniforms to a local girl scout troupe for the evening.

-Note for all readers - NOT a slam on the Girl Scouts.  The Girl Scouts are awesome.  In terms of both inclusiveness and shortbread cookies.

So, like 98% of people who watch the Superbowl in any case, I was pretty much just there for the commercials.  If nothing else it's interesting to see what some marketing department feels is a good usage of 3.8-4 million dollars.*

*Other than, you know, feeding Africa for a good fair while.  Or the US for that matter. 

Toward the end of the proceedings there was a beer commercial for a brand that I will not name because they are not paying me and it's about standards.  You can find the commercial here.

If you've brushed right by the link, I'll sum up.  There's a farm selling puppies.  A puppy is shown being adopted by a nice lady, then we see the puppy repeatedly sneaking back onto the farm to be with his horse friend.  Montage of Farmer returning puppy to The Woman/puppy sneaking back.  Finally The Woman's car is stopped by the rest of the horses who have apparently manned up and decided that  they were sick and tired of the whole process.  Cue final shot of Woman and Farmer watching the puppy and horse prance delightedly.  (well... the puppy prances.  The horse just sort of stands there.)

The thing to immediately notice about the ad is that it uses a song by the band Passenger, and Passenger is freaking Awesome, so they get some good will points there.

The second thing to notice is that the puppy is clearly trying to end the Woman's marriage.

Go back and look.  At 31 seconds we see the Woman picking the puppy up from the farmer yet again.  And clear as day we see with her a man in sunglasses, texting indifferently, who is clearly wearing a wedding ring.  Yes he is.  Go look.

At 42 seconds the same man is driving the car which is stopped by threatening horses.  Woman and puppy in car with him.

At 56 seconds we see the Woman and the Farmer watching the puppy/horse action (easy, Shriner!) under a romantic sunset.  You notice who isn't there?  Her FREAKIN' HUSBAND!

Clearly this blackhearted (yet admittedly adorable) puppy has just torpedoed what was, for all we know, a perfectly happy marriage.  All for his own selfish reasons.

Who can say why the puppy took such cruel and calculating steps to destroy this man's life.  Perhaps the Man was mean to him.  Maybe it was simply all about getting back to his horse friend and damn anyone else who got hurt in the process.  Could be he just thought the Farmer was better looking than the other guy (and fair enough- he is) and thought the Woman deserved to trade up.  Maybe he's just an evil puppy who gets his kicks out of watching the suffering of others (although that's usually more of a 'cat' thing.)

We'll never know what exactly drove the puppy to ruin a man's life.  But I look forward to the followup commercial in which we see The Man, sitting at some dive bar drinking the same beer ranting 'Goddamn dog!  I had it all! The House!  The Wife!  Jesus Christ, we were so happy... soo happy...  Why'd I have to suggest a dog... Why?  Why????'

Anybody have a spare 3.8 million I can borrow?

Vizsla Flashback - The Harmon/Voight Celebrity Threat Assessment Scale

It goes without saying by and large that there can be a great deal of difference between the types of character an actor might play and their real life personality.

Similarly, many celebrities have public personas that are very different to who they are on a day to day basis.

Just because someone might seem charming on E! doesn't mean they wouldn't clock you with a shovel and bury you in their basement.  But how are we, the unwashed public, to know where the greatest dangers lie?

Well, in the interest of public safety, allow me to present the solution.

We at Vizsla Enterprises are pleased to present to you-

The Harmon/Voight Celebrity Threat Assessment Scale

patent pending

The scale runs as follows: on a gradient from -7 to +7, celebrities are rated as to the active threat that they might pose to you, should you be alone with them in their home.

Named after the Celebrities at either end of the threat scale, at -7 we have Mark Harmon.  A Harmon level celebrity presents no threat whatsoever, and indeed will actively help you, a mere nobody, in case you find yourself imperiled in their vicinity.

Other examples of Harmon level celebrities include Steve Buscemi, who actually used to be an FDNY firefighter and still goes to large scale disasters to assist without publicizing it, which makes him cooler than most of us.

At the other extreme, the titular +7 celebrity is Jon Voight.  Under no circumstances should you be alone with Jon Voight.  DO not enter his home.  DO not take candy from his minivan.  DO not turn when he says, 'Hey, what's that over there?' a +7 Celebrity represents an active threat to your health and well being.  You have been warned.

Other +7 celebrities include Charles Manson and the shark from Jaws

for perspective, here's where some other big names fall-

Harrison Ford: -5.  He'd probably helicopter in to save you from a fire, but if you ask him about Star Wars he will also push you back out again.

Angelina Jolie: On her own +6.  If Brad Pitt is in the room with her I'd go as low as +3, but no lower.  If she really wanted to rip your throat out with her own teeth he might try to talk her down, but he sure wouldn't get in the way.

The Rock: -4.  If he saw you getting mugged he'd totally beat the guy up for you.  Probably.

George Clooney:  +/- 0.  Nonreactive.  If he saw you getting mugged he might feel bad about it for a bit.

Woody Harrelson: +2.  Volatile.  Could swing by 3 points in either direction depending on mood and medication.

Amy Acker:  -3.  She'd probably make you cookies if you asked nicely.

Vizsla Flashback - Less Common Vampire Stereotypes

Sure, we all know the biggies when it comes to common Vampire Stereotypes.  Afraid of Garlic (mostly accurate), not much for tanning (very true), sleep in coffins (untrue.  And as it turns out, insulting.  Sorry again, Don)

Now, thanks to the Twilight franchise we also know that Vampires apparently roll in glitter*.  So this seemed like a reasonable time to address some other, lesser known stereotypes about the living-limited.

*Which, since glitter is what unicorns bleed, kind of makes sense.  At least, as much as anything in that franchise.

1:  Vampires all know a lot of guys named Al.

- OK, it's true that the stats kind of back this one up.  I mean, Minnesota Senator Al Franken alone has about 1 hundred Vampire contacts in his Outlook folder.  But in his defense, as a US Senator he's supposed  to work with lawmakers on the other side of the aisle, so you can't really blame him.

Validity rating - 6/10

2:  Vampires are all bad at math

- Hey, we were all thinking it.  I mean, my pal Ernie the Flayer knows almost nothing about quadratic equations.  Nothing.

Validity rating - 9/10

3:  Vampires are all members of Zydeco bands

-This one probably stems from the heavy vampire population in and around Louisiana.  But honestly.  This is just small mindedness.  I know many vampires, and only a few of them are in Zydeco bands.  Like, 7 of them at most.

Validity rating - 2/10

4:  Vampires are a literary metaphor for the aristocracy living entirely on the work of the common people and giving nothing back to society.

-That's just crazy talk.  They're clearly a visual metaphor for 'Things Teenage girls think are sexy'.  Honestly, do a little research.

Validity rating - 0/10

5:  Vampires are lazy and just sneaking into this country illegally to steal our jobs, despite the inherent contradiction between those two things.

- Don't be stupid.  That's Chupacabras.

Validity Rating - 1/10

Vizsla Flashback - And What Was The Kid Supposed to Be Learning Exactly?

Today I was out and about, finishing up my Christmas shopping and in a burst of trying to be slightly less bitter toward the holiday I found myself listening to a station playing Christmas carols.

This was all well and good (if only marginally successful) until they played a song that related the following story - (I do not know the name of the song nor the Artist.  To be honest I don't particularly care on either front)

So this guy (the singer) is standing in line waiting to pay for Christmas presents when the kid in front of him tries to buy a pair of shoes.  Cue heartbreaking story about how they're 'just Momma's size' and he wants her to look pretty when she goes to 'meet Jesus tonight.'

Yes, apparently Momma has some sort of long term fatal illness and is not expected to last the night.

Which apparently prompted Daddy to drop the kid off unsupervised at the mall, which seems like questionable parenting to me, but what the Hell.  He probably just has other things on his mind, what with the spouse dying on Christmas Eve thing going on.  I would, however, like to have seen the conversation where he tells the attending physician that he's popping out from dying wife's bedside to drop junior off at the foodcourt.

I also enjoy the implication that as soon as Momma snuffs the candle (as they say) that the following exchange will occur-

MOMMA  

Yoo hoo!  Jesus!  I finally made it!

JESUS  

Hey there Betty Lou!  

It's great to see y... holy shit those are some GREAT shoes!

MOMMA 

I know, right??  I mean, I can't normally pull off a court heel

JESUS  

Oh NO, girlfriend*!  You are rocking that court heel!

*Yes, in my mind Jesus is played by a drag queen.  Go back and re-read Mark and tell me that doesn't make it more fun.

So anyway, the song goes on to tell how the kid tries to pay for the shoes with an assload of pennies, and of course he doesn't have enough.  And so he turns to the guy behind him in line (Our protagonist, for those following along) and asks, 'What am I gonna do?  Momma needs these shoes?'*

*No, what Momma needs is probably more along the lines of a new kidney, but again, what the Hell-  he's just a kid.  Kids get strange ideas stuck in their head.  Besides which, I think that there's a fair argument to be made that the whole story is crap, and that the kid is just working the whole situation and knows damn well that the sucker behind him is going to pay for the shoes if he spins him a sad enough story.  Which makes you wonder what he was actually planning to do with the shoes....

So of course our 1st person narrator chokes up, buys the shoes for the kid, and then makes the following reflection-

'I'm sure God sent the kid to me to remind me what Christmas is really about.'

Yes.

He assumes that God killed this kid's mom just to give him a warm holiday fuzzy.

See, now this is my problem with organized religion 

Vizsla Flashback - Some Uninformed Thoughts About Snakes and Religion

So I was thinking about snakehandling.

Not about actually doing it, of course.  Because, you know - snakes.

But for some reason <cough> Nyquil <cough> this afternoon I found myself thinking about what exactly, in the mind of the snakehandler, is the point of snakehandling as a religion.  What the point is in the mind of the snake is somewhat clearer, and usually runs along the lines of:

SNAKE (POISONOUS)

'Man, what a nice day under the heat lamp.  

Hey!  Hey, what the Hell do you think you're do.... 

OK buddy... put me down.  No.  Seriously.  Put me down.  

I am totally going to bite you if you don't put me down 

right now.  Right.  FREAKIN.  NOW!  

 Holy crap, is that my tail all the way down there?'

Little known fact - all snakes think in screenplay format.

So I've boiled down some theories as to what exactly the Snakehandler thinks the point of the exercise is-

A:  It makes them look a lot more badass than Episcopalians, and that in itself makes it worth doing.
B:  It's symbolically reclaiming the metaphorical source of original sin and shaking it until it pees itself.
C:  It's both a sign of faith and a confirmation that you still have the blessings of the Lord.  Like one of those focus group trust exercises, but with fangs.
D:  There tends to be a lot of genetic deterioration due to inbreeding in the areas where snakehandling is most widely practiced.
E:  All of the above.

Vizsla Flashback - Let's Compare Our Things!

No, not like that.

I was thinking earlier - there's quite a bit of confusion when discussing 'Things' simply because no one has taken the time to really sit down and set the record straight - honestly assessing the pros and cons, strengths and weaknesses of each 'Thing' in its own right and then comparing and contrasting.

And so, once again - you're welcome, Universe.  Here is-

The Comprehensive Vizsla's Guide to Things

1st Edition

Thing, The - 

Founding member of the Fantastic Four - as published by Marvel Comics Group, The Thing is a large humanoid who appears to be made entirely out of orange rock who wears nothing but blue shorts.  (which raises all sorts of other questions regarding his orange rocks, but we'll leave that one alone for the moment.)

The Thing is a man named Ben Grimm (except for those occasions when he wasn't.  For example, Ms. Marvel became a female thing (easy, Shriner...) for awhile.  I honestly don't know what ever happened with that storyline.)  Ben was an astronaut on the most improbably crewed mission into space ever which was bombarded with the specific kind of cosmic radiation that makes ironic alterations to your genetic code based on your deep seated personality characteristics.  As happens.

Contrary to his frightening appearance, The Thing is frequently kind-hearted, although gruff, and makes a valuable and considerate teammate.  Most of the time.

Desirability as a social companion - 8/10

Desirability as a mate - Depends entirely on the shorts issue

Scary factor - 4/10

Thing, The -

Not to be confused with the comic book character, The Thing (or The Thing From Another World, to use his (her?) full name) is a shapeshifting alien with a curious penchant for corpse mutilation in the interest of biological study.  Functionally non-verbal as a mushy, blobby, oozy thing, it tends to only speak in the style and manner of whatever person it's pretending to be at the time.  Which I suppose is either a plus or a minus depending on how attractive or interesting you find the person it's pretending to be at that moment.

Not a huge fan of red hot coat hangers

Desirability as a social companion - 1/10

Desirability as a mate - depends on how quick you can be and how OK you are with other people being in the room to prevent it from... you know.. mutilating you.  Unless that's what you're into.  It's not about judging.

Scary Factor - 9/10

Thing, (no article)

Helpful guest (or possibly employee) of the Addams Family, Thing is a disembodied hand that lives in a small wooden box and scuttles around the house preforming small domestic tasks like delivering letters and occasional dusting.

Not a great deal of use in heavy lifting tasks, Thing always wanders about the place completely naked.  as most hands tend to do, actually.

Desirability as a social companion - 10/10 (unless he creeps you out)

Desirability as a mate - .... No, Too easy.

Oh Come on - No, I'm not going to do it.

Stop being such a baby and just say it. - No, I am absolutely not going to go for the handjob joke here.  just let it go and move on.

Fine.  Whatever - 

Scary Factor - For the Hand - 3/10. For your obsessive insistence on going for the low hanging fruit, joke-wise - 9/10

Hee-Hee - 

...- What??

You said 'Low Hanging Fruit' :) - 

 - Oh for the love of GOD, seriously?  Let's just move on.

Thing 1

This smallish blue haired imp is full of mischief, and has been known to cause considerable damage to the housekeeping of suburban homes when Mom is away.  Prone to causing frosting stains, Thing 1 is essentially benevolent, or at the very least harmless.  Probably good for a fun afternoon.  Most commonly sighted in the company of Thing 2

Wears a fetching red onesie.

Desirability as a social companion - 5/10.  Probably OK in small doses.

Desirability as a mate - I'm strangely uncomfortable considering it.  Besides which, he's probably monogamous with Thing 2.

Scary Factor - either 2/10 or 10/10 - depending on your level of obsessive compulsiveness regarding household upkeep.

Thing 2

See above

So there you have it.  The Vizsla describes every thing.

Honestly, I give and I give people.

Vizsla Flashback - What I Know About Independance Day

It was an incredibly crappy and lazily scripted movie released in 1996, directed by Roland Emmerich - A man who appears to love nothing more than frantically pleasuring himself while watching computer generated simulations of national monuments being destroyed in a variety of ways.

"Oh... Oh God.. Yeah... There... Shoot the laser right theeeeeeeeeeere...."

In other terms - Independence Day is another name for the 4th of July, the day on which America commemorates to adoption of the Declaration of Independence* by shooting off a large number of fireworks. 

*Although it's a reasonable guess that not one American in a thousand could actually tell you that that's specifically what's being commemorated.  Nor could they probably spell 'commemorated'.

As we all know, fireworks date back to the Han dynasty in China (more or less 200 BC) and were traditionally used to ensure good fortune by frightening away ghosts and spirits.

Which is why we fire them off on the 4th of July - to ensure that zombie Thomas Jefferson doesn't descend on you and eat your children in the night.

That's what we have Antonin Scalia for.

You're welcome, America.  Please carry on frightening away ghosts and refusing to learn the metric system.

Vizsla Flashback - Apocaloptional

Lately, for one reason or another, I've been thinking about the Apocalypse.

OK, Maybe I've just been thinking about Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but it amounts to the same thing.  BTW - Season 6 totally holds up in retrospect.  I'll fight any man says different.

But I digress.

As cute as the running joke about needing to know the plural for apocalypse was, it remains undeniably true that the thing about Apocalypses is very similar to the thing about Nemeses.  You only get one.

Throughout the show's seven season run we never got an actual Apocalypse.  What we got were many, many Attempted Apocalypses.  Which is just a misdemeanor.  If this had been an actual Apocalypse, you would know by the none of us being here anymore.

So at this stage it might be helpful to discuss what we actual mean when we say 'Apocalypse'.   Generally speaking, religious connotations aside for the moment*, when we say 'Apocalypse' we mean The End.  Of Everything.  Game, categorically, Over.

*Although it's fun to point out that the word comes from Greek and is closely tied to the concept of 'revelation', which puts a charming patina of 'Finally we'll get to know what the freakin' Hell THAT was all about.'  Which is probably just wishful thinking, but it's still a nice thought.  If nothing else it's worth noting that we as a species have always had a tendency to associate 'The End' with 'Finally getting some damn answers'.

But what do we mean when we say The End of Everything?

Well, let's start by clarifying what we don't mean when we say that.  What we don't actually mean is 'The End of Everything'.  What we actually mean is 'The End of Us.'  Everything else... not at the top of our priority list.  Much like when we talk about global warming or radioactivity killing the planet, it's not really the planet that we're worrying about so much.  We could explode a billion nuke's right this moment and the planet would be just fine, thanks very much.*  WE'D be screwed.  But the planet would continue to happily spin on while it waited for some other species to step up and start bitching at one another.

*Unless we exploded them in the Mariana Trench and cracked open the core I suppose...

The point I'm getting at - The ACTUAL end of everything (i.e. the Entire Universe) very rarely crops up in this discussion.  For the sake of sharing I'll just mention here that it's broadly believed that the universe will end in one of two ways, depending on which side of the theoretical physics coin you choose to believe.

Either A:  The Universe - which has been slowly (relatively speaking) expanding since its inception will eventually reach a point where it will begin contracting until eventually we reach the 'Big Crunch' (that is to say the opposite of the Big Bang where everything that exists is ultimately compacted into a singularity - possibly to begin the whole miserable process again, or possibly to be the thing that started this universe in the first place which if nothing else has a pleasing sense of symmetry )

or B:  The Universe will continue to expand exactly as it is doing until eventually all matter has reached a state of equal distribution across effectively infinite space which means that there won't be anywhere with enough energy for light, energy or life to exist, but at least things will be nice and quiet.

Basically, Hot Universe Death or Cold Universe Death.  Pick your horse and wait to find out, although it's probably going to be awhile.

But when we talk about the Apocalypse, we're not really concerned with the Universe.  We're really more worried about 'Us'.

So, here's a quick rundown of the various types of 'Apocalypse' that we've considered.

END OF PLANET APOCALYPSE:

This is your basic - the Planet explodes or crumbles or something for one reason or another.  the film 2012 embraces this concept, although there's plenty of evidence that that's not exactly what the Mayans had in mind - but we'll come back to that later.

You have two basic varieties - the version where we've gotten our shit together enough to leave the planet before it happens and the version where we don't and we're just screwed.

Most of your global warming apocalypse scenarios fall into this pattern.  It's the end of the world because the world literally ends.  Death through loss of anywhere to remain alive in.

END OF PEOPLE APOCALYPSE:

Then you have your scenarios where the planet is just fine, thanks (see above) but the human beings have come to an end.  In bygone times this would have been due to either nuclear accident or alien invasion, and mostly would have served as an excuse to discuss the importance of interpersonal relationships.

This has given way somewhat in the last decade or two to a tendency to have viral or chemical infections as the reason why you - for example - woke up in an abandoned Hospital and are now running from Zombies

And this might be a good time to mention some interesting thing about Zombie-Specific apocalypses.  Almost exclusively an 'End of People' type of apocalypse (if only so that you had somewhere for the zombies to chase you around in) the zombies themselves have had a fascinating evolution as an icon themselves.

It's fairly film theory 101 to point out, but-  the quickest way to find out what a culture is afraid of is to learn its stories.  In Western culture this means that the TV and movies of a period will tell you a lot about what that period's fears and beliefs were.

In the 50s what really scared the crap out of people in Western culture was the idea that someone might steal your soul.  That is - that someone might be able to take that part of your personality that's essentially 'you' and control you somehow.  You'd no longer be a human being with free will, you'd just be a tool of some other power.   (this is what all those pod people/Stepford wives films were about.)  The zombies in films at this point were people whose souls had been stolen by a Houngan (no, google it) and weren't human any longer.

By the 70's the fear wasn't that you'd lose your soul so much as that maybe we'd never even had souls in the first place.  Maybe at the end of the day we're just meat, like the cows we slaughter (the cool vocab word here is 'Anthropophogy' and you should totally google that one.)  This is where The Texas Chainsaw Massacre came from, and it's why the predominate imagery in George Romero's 'of the Dead' films is of zombie's eating chunks of flesh off of living human beings.

Zombie's these days tend to be the sort that have been created by a virus that we created in a lab which got loose, which means we've reached a sort of hybrid of the previous two.  We HAD a soul - but our own hubris and ignorance caused us to destroy it.  Which is as neat a summation of early 21st century attitudes toward technology as you could imagine. Anyone looking for a topic for their Anthropology Thesis could do a lot worse than start there.


THE RELIGIOUS APOCALYPSE:

This one has fallen out of fashion a bit (which is why I was so pleased that the recent film 'This is the End' chose to go there.)

What this really is, is a manifestation of the belief that at some point someone has to show up and explain what the Hell all this has been about because it's made f*ck-all sense while we were living it.  Mixed with a hearty dose of  'See, one day Dad will show up and you'll see how I was right all along!'

This is also sort of the one the Mayans were getting at with the whole 2012 prophecy although we should be clear that they didn't see it as an End, so much as an end- if you get what I'm saying.