Neanderpundit

The show is going pretty well. It’s enormous, despite the horrible economy. I suspect some of the companies are making a last ditch effort to get over the hump before they croak.

I used to be able to feed myself pretty well on the dishes of candy that the companies set out; not so much this year. There are only a very few, and they arent very good. Everyone is cheaping up on the accoutrements.

Stopped at the mailbox to get the mail last night, and when I got back in the truck I felt a relatively large(body about the size of a blueberry) spider scuttle up my pants leg, more or less uninvited. I threw the truck into park, hopped out, and did the “OH NO YOU DON’T WTF ARE YOU DOING UP THERE” dance, which is a traditional dance of my peoples, and includes slapping, screaming, and removal of the pants.

Much, of course, to the consternation of the dog, and amusement of my neighbors.

I have not had much opportunity to access the intartubes this week, so I’ve been reading on my phone and surviving on the scraps of google left lying around at the show. Ed Hering at Atomic Fungus (Mushroom cloud=fungus- get it? I didn’t. Sometimes my brain has a density approaching dark matter) has been keeping me infotained; if you arent’ reading his stuff every day you should be- he’s a billion times more coherent than am I, and actually talks about stuff besides crapblogging.

I was hoping to be able to have Ed accompany me to IMTS today, but his schedule is messed up. Bummer, because as much Anime as he watches, he’d have a hoot here- there are thousands of tiny Japanese women wandering around.

The cell is running well. The pocket compass is a big hit, and we cannot make them fast enough. We will have to disapoint some peop0le who have come to the show hoping for one. Hell, I don’t have one, and i designed it.

My illinois firearm season hunting licenses came last night, an antlerless and an either-sex. I hope they bring me some luck. Failing that, I hope to bring some luck with me. I’d always rather be lucky than good.

I’d forgotten this lyric to “Thick as a Brick”. Always liked the song, but the lyric took me back, this afternoon, a strange key unlocking a distant memory.

I took my license exam shortly after my 18th birthday. I had already been driving for some time by then, but I made it official after I was, myself, made official, so to speak.

I was working at the lumberyard at the time, my first real gig, the freedom of movement a new sensation. I could fill the tank in ther Valiant for nine bucks, and drive around Cedar Lake for hours.

I had chores to do, and I did them, more or less conscientiously. That first week of driving around town, going for the first time in my life where I wanted to go, doing what I wanted to do (well, as best as one could do on $2.20 an hour) was as freeing as anything I’d ever experienced, and I was loving it. The first Friday, in fact, I skipped going home altogether. I parked the Valiant by the lake, and sat on the hood watching the boats go by and drinking a six-pack of warm RC Cola out of bottles, smoking backwoods cigars and trying to look tough. Not easy, with a Valiant, but hey.

I got home around one. It was my first drive after dark, and I was exhilirated, all four windows open, the breeze blowing through my hair and making me feel pretty alive.

Dad was waiting for me in the basement. The house had a front and back door, but you had to go through the basement from the driveway.

“Why didn’t you let your mother know where you were?”

“I didn’t feel like it was necesary”

Dad made me feel a few new sensations. At 18, I was a big guy. Not so big that Dad couldn’t grab my upper arm and tie into me with that damned razor strop, and by god, did he ever. Dad couldn’t make me think for myself, but he could damned sure make me feel a great deal of pain.

The memory of that pain reminded me, every time I felt like hanging out by myself, or with the guys, I needed to let Mom know, and clear my activities with her. And I did.

it strikes me that you can discuss with a moonbat the error of his ways forever, and not one thing will change- logic and reason are lost on people who base their worldview not on verifiable facts, but on what they feel must be correct.

Dad didn’t bother to try to convince me of the logic of making Mom happy. He just let me know that feelings aren’t limited to the way I want to live my life, and how my life affects others- feelings can also result from the contact of leather against skin.

I can’t help but think that a few well placed asswhippings might convince strategically placed moonbats to stop “feeling” and start thinking instead.

Well, it feels like I’ve taken it in the can, but maybe that’s just the way the customers treat me.

On the other hand, my feet seem to feel better. I’m not actually wincing as I walk anymore.

Of course, as the wife says, I tend to get used to pain and eventually am able to ignore it. Doesn’t make the pain go away, I just stop giving a shit.