Recovery Day, Marchipelago 15, 41 A.B.

    It's been a quiet day here in the Birtcher homestead.
    No sudden movements.
    No bright lights.
    No climbing up on the roof and mooning the sun.
    And really, that's as it should be, given that I was up all night with a sick journal....

    I'm still not sure exactly what caused my wordy friend to take ill late last evening.  But that he was ill - oh, of that there can be little doubt.
    First he complained of painful parentheses.
    Then he started coughing up noxious metaphors.
    By the time his imagery had turned malodorous and runny, I knew I had one sick puppy on my hands.
    Fortunately I got him off-line before his terribly swollen periods and delusions of adequacy could bother his neighbors on Tripod.
    But for me, the fun was only beginning....

    I'll spare you the gory details.
    And much else besides as we take it easy now so as not to retard his recovery.
    Short sentences, clear broth syntax, and carefully buffered ideas shall be the rule.
    If his color still seems a little off, well, trust me - it's not nearly as bad as the technicolor spew he was unleashing all over my prized pixels just a very few hours ago....
    Thank goodness I had a good supply of his favorite Palette comfort font on hand to ease him through this entry.

    Maybe it was an infected graphic?
    A link rubbed raw by overuse?
    Maybe I've been feeding him too many dirty little expletives in recent days and not enough food for thought?
    I know I've let him get terribly out of shape lately.  I realize only too well that it's essentially my fault that his originality has gone all flabby even as his sense of self-importance has swelled well beyond what grammarians and others say is the ideal for a journal of his type.
    And I never should have let him try to lift the weighty ideas behind yesterday's entry without making him do at least a few warm-up kicks against easy targets like telemarketers, the NRA, or online journallers who really have nothing to say and take forever saying it.
    I just hope it's nothing serious.
    Like a continuing inability to get over the Caesar assassination after 2044 years now.
    Gee - can it really have been that long already?
    How time flies when you're on the Internet....

    I thought the Pope might stop by today.
    Or at least call or fax.
    I was all prepared to be bummed if I didn't hear from at least an official exorcist, but it turns out that it probably was for the best that both John Paul and his reps kept their distance.
    Since my journal's been sick and all.
    I was prepared, however, with a small peace offering.
    Just in case.


    It's a little something I picked up at my local Meijer's superstore.  A foot-square 3-D halogen light that sits on a table and provides entertainment and illumination for hours and hours.
    And only $19.99!
    They had 4 versions listed in their Sunday flyer: Wolf, Jesus, angel, and dinosaur but only one type was left by the time I got there.  I think this is the dinosaur version, but if it actually turns out to be the Jesus, so much the better.

    Not that my trip to Meijer was totally unselfish.
    I also splurged and got myself something I haven't had in many years, if not decades.
    Yes, you guessed it - a roll of Lifesavers.
    The "five fruity flavors" type that I confessed to occasionally sucking as a child that time my therapist shot me full of sodium pentothal just to see what might happen.
    I've had several already and I just gotta say, they're actually much better than I remembered.
    Pineapple, cherry, orange....
    At long last I understand where they got the idea to stamp "fruity flavors" on each and every roll.
    Can there actually be five different fruity flavors?
    Who knows?

    So.  That's pretty much been my day.
    Oh, I did come up with this line - what do you think?
    "I don't really mind living on a busy road, but every once in a while I do wonder what it would be like living in a house."
    I'm not sure, but I think I've finally found the core idea for that Great American Novel I've always wanted to write between lawn mowings....

    Oh, and I also came up with this idea for a bumper sticker:

    But I think I feel another technicolor spew rumbling up.
    I promise to have everything back to normal by tomorrow or cry trying!

Back To A Healthy
Bouncing Baby Entry


Forward To A Healthy
Manly Man's Entry
(Or At Least A Hired Sub From Manpower, Inc.)


(©Now by Dan "Hit Me With A Stick!" Birtcher)



(Ewwww - sorry about the spew.  Guess I didn't quite manage to close my browser window in time.  I promise to clean it up as soon as I finish watching "American Justice" on A&E and can get me a fresh roll of Bounty - I swear!  Just try not to track it all over the Web in the meantime, ok?  Thanks!  I owe you!)