Wednesday, October 31, 2007



I wonder if they have these in Big Stupid Tommy size.

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I kick people and birds like that three or four times a day. Those fine folks at Dockers make a fine pair of pants, but they just don't take into consideration how many times a week I have to crescent kick somebody.

And I am not allowed to write the cost of khaki pants off on my taxes. Doling out the "Sweet Chin Music" is not an inherent part of my job, they say.

Usually, I find that a boot to the head is enough to get most folks to my way of thinking. But it didn't work for the I.R.S.

Those Bastids.

Anyway. If anybody's making a Christmas list, a nice pair of Chuck Norris pants would go well for your pal Tommy.

(found the pic here...)

Halloween Re-Run

Halloween Re-Run

An old Friday Five meme, from three or four years back. I went looking for a link, and I found this.

1. What was your first Halloween costume?

I wouldn't call it a Halloween costume, so much, but when I was three, I went as The Incredible Hulk.

By matter of coincidence, my father kept a gamma bomb in the workshed, right next to the lawnmower. I'd gone in Halloween afternoon to get the hatchet I used to chop things up with, and in the midst of saving Rick Jones, the bomb went off, and I got all irradiated and shit. Green skin, impressive strength. "Hulk Smash!" and all that jazz.

BSTommy is the strongest one there is!

We decided that it was a natural to go as the Hulk. We saved the Sylvester the Cat costume until the next year.

2. What was your best costume and why?

When I was in the third grade, I went as Andre the Giant. It was great, because I fooled so many people, even Vince McMahon, and I ended up wrestling Hulk Hogan for the World Title at Wrestlemania III, because the real Andre died saving the world from the Devil.

3. Did you ever play a trick on someone who didn't give you a treat?

No. No tricks. We went TP rolling a couple of times, but never on Halloween.

But here's a funny story:

One time, My friends and I dressed as the California Raisins, me, Tregg and Lindsey. But everybody knows there were four California Raisins, and we needed a fourth for our quarter to go trick or treating, otherwise we would be laughed at and thought to be ridiculous.

Kenny was supposed to be our fourth (he was the one with the saxophone). But when it came time to meet up to go pillaging for candy, Kenny didn't show.

We were only three California Raisins. Three would look stupid.

And Nobody made us look stupid!

So we went to Kenny's house and knocked. Nobody answered. We yelled. Nobody answered. We threw rocks and footballs. Nobody answered.

All the lights were off and all the doors were locked. We knew that Kenny and his family were just pretending. That they'd put on airs of nobody being home, and now they were sitting in the dark, eating Halloween candy!

We knew we were being stood up.

Nobody, but nobody did that to us!

So we burned the house to the ground. And watched it burn, we in our California Raisin costumes.

Later we found out Kenny's grandfather had passed away, and that he hadn't actually stood us up for trick or treating. He'd just not had time to call us.

4. Do you have any Halloween traditions? (ie: Family pumpkin carving, special dinner before trick or treating, etc.)

Cowering. Usually under the covers. But definitely cowering. Because of all the weird things coming up to the house and asking for candy.

5. Share your favorite scary story...real or legend!

One time, I was sitting in my room at my apartment, reading. My roommate comes in and says: "What's up?"

"Nothin," I say.

Then, he walks up to the box fan I had going, and he farts into it.

the end.

In which he complains of neck pain....

In which he complains of neck pain....

In the midsts of my thrashings last night, while I slept, I somehow ended sleeping in a position where my left ear was almost resting on my left shoulder. I woke up a bit more than a half-hour ago, and there is currently no position I can stand, sit or lie in that does not hurt.

So far, a quick list of the actions that caused this pain, this morning:

  • Waking Up
  • Blinking
  • Rolling out of the position I was in.
  • Rolling back over to look at the alarm clock
  • Thinking about sitting up.
  • Sitting up.
  • Rolling my melon of a head around, trying to see if the kink would work itself out.
  • Standing up.
  • Walking.
  • Taking a Whiz
  • Opening the Medicine Cabinet
  • Looking up to find where the aspirin is
  • Opening the aspirin (here, I had to raise the bottle with stiff arms up to eye level. I hadn't yet put on the glasses, so I ultimately had to line the arrow on the lid with the arrow on the bottle with my finger tips)
  • Taking the aspirin
  • Walking to the fridge for water
  • Pulling the water off the back of the bottom shelf (this one sucked).
  • Opening the water
  • Walking to the living room
  • Sitting at the couch
  • Reaching across the coffee table for the remote
  • Turning my head quickly to look at "breaking news" which was some guy looking at "business at usual" somewhere in Florida, where Tropical Storm Noel is nearby. If there weren't cause for a moratorium on "breaking news," this would be it--they made me hurt myself
  • Reaching for my phone.
  • Reaching for my computer.
  • In fact, any reaching.
  • Writing e-mail
  • Writing on a story.

Actually, now, some 15 minutes after starting this post, in which it hurt reaching for the phone's loosening up some. Still hurts. Just going to have to find a way not to have my head loll around as I am accustomed.



Late. Once again, floating through the blogoverse not quite sure who I am. Luckily, we have the interweb to define me.

You Are a Ghost

Mysterious, independent, and often unseen - you always do things your own way.
You are introverted, shy, and even a little secretive.
People are dying to know you better, but you're a difficult person to know.
A lot of your contributions to the world are left invisible and unfelt.

Your greatest power: Blending in really well

Your greatest weakness: Being too passive

You play well with: Witches

So there.

Seeing as how I stole it from Eric, I was hoping for zombie.

Luckily, I did not become the greatest monster of all, Scott Boras.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Blog Meet

Blog Meet

Well, I'm sitting here watching the football, a load of laundry in the wash, recovering from the past couple days worth of "real life." Slept a little close to the noon hour today, closer than I usually do. Life got hectic the past few days, but in a good way. Going to see friends, going to meet new people. Have a few beers, and enjoy the good company.

Eric, of Straight White Guy, invited us out to Hell's Half Acre to spend the weekend with him and his wife Fiona. Had bloggers from all over the country coming to rural McMinn County to say howdy. It's a sight to see....

Others are better equipped to give a full run down of the events of the weekend, since I ended up unavailable Friday, and slept through Sunday.

Still, want to say that it was really great to see everybody. Jimbo & Kenny, Denny, Bou, Morrigan and Stephanie, Johnny Oh, Rick & Georgia, and Eric's Gary & Connie.

Got to see Teresa, of Technicalities. I still feel badly about not mentioning that I'd met her last year. She's a funny, very cool lady. Her blog's a regular read now. Got to hang with her, some.

And I got to meet a couple new faces.

I got to meet Jerry, who keeps a blog up here. A tremendously nice fellow, he was able to explain the difference to us between hay and straw. With visual aids.

And I got to meet Erica, whose blog I've been reading for a couple years. Getting to chat on hell's half-acre for a half hours with this person, whose blog I've really enjoyed for many, many months now, and finding that the person behind is not much different than the awesome person you imagined...that's very, very cool.

Good folks, all. Always a treat. Definitely going to have to unshackle myself from the grocery store, try to get to these sort of things more often.

Want to say one more word of thanks to Eric...hope you enjoy the birthday throw a helluva party, sir.



Actual conversation, a couple weeks ago, when I was in the midsts of the "week from hell."

The time: 11:45 (give or take a few minutes).
The scene: My home. Specifically, my bedroom, as I'm getting ready for bed. I've got to get up in 6 hours to go to work.

What happens:

I think I hear a knock at my door. I'm in what you might call "a mild state of undress," as I'm getting ready to bed down for the evening. I freeze, and listen again for a knock. I live in an older house, so sometimes, there are noises that sound like other noises (i.e. there is a place that my upstairs neighbor steps that sounds exactly like an obnoxious egg fart coming from the direction of the bathroom--which is disconcerting if you're by yourself, and nobody else should be farting in your home, and you've catalogued exactly what yours sound like, and categorized them by what you've eaten)

Anyway, I think I hear a knock at the door. I listen for a second time, which does come. I get back into a decent state of dress, and answer the door. It is another neighbor, whose prediliction for turning his baseball caps sideways and throwing empty Natural Ice cans all over his yard leaves him with something of a negative view to my eye.

The conversation:

Neighbor: Hey, dude!
Tommy: Hey.
Neighbor: You got any popcorn?
Tommy: What?

(Let me take a second to pause to describe the sudden discomfort at my incredulity at his asking me, at nearly midnight on a weeknight, for popcorn. In short, whatever pause most people might have over bugging a relative stranger for salty snacks in the middle of the night finally did come. Just a little slowly. He began to fidget with his hands, and his body language instantly turned to one step towards flight).

Neighbor: You got any popcorn?
Tommy: No. (I still can't believe that he's knocked on my door for popcorn).
Neighbor (dejected): Oh. Me and my old lady was getting ready to watch a movie. And we don't have any popcorn.
Tommy: Well, I don't have any.
Neighbor: Oh. Really wanted some popcorn. You know how you get to craving something?
Tommy: Yeah. No popcorn.
Neighbor: Dang.

(Another pause, this time to describe the complete dejection. I've never seen a grown man take a roller coaster ride that intense over something so little as popcorn. That puppy-dog dejection, so intense, leads me to say):

Tommy: Sorry about that....
Neighbor: Alright....

Spent the rest of the evening wondering why the heck I apologized to the side-ways ballcap, Natural Ice butthead.

Also spent a little time thinking that he was knocking on a darkened apartment was to see if anybody was home. I've never given this guy much credit for brains...but then, there aren't many rocket scientists breaking into people's homes.

Anyway. At the end of the day, I've decided the guy's stupid and harmless.

But it kinda makes you pay attention.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Thursday Morning

Thursday Morning

Your old pal Tommy's heading out to Nashville, Murfreesboro and all points between. There's birthday doin's a-transpirin'. Plus, just want to get out of town (and my head) for a day or so.

We'll see y'all on the flip side....

Wednesday, October 24, 2007



Baseball and the Hall of Fame are honoring Buck O'Neil posthumously.

Their heart's in the right place, I reckon, and it's good that Buck will be remembered.

I just wish they'd found a moment to do this 2 years ago, when the man was alive and busting his ass as probably the best Goodwill ambassador the game's had in decades. His statistics, they argued at the time, didn't warrant his inclusion in the Hall. And I grant you, that's true. But I don't think most of us were arguing for induction, but rather recognition, in much the same way he's getting honored now. I'm not going to fault the Hall or the Car Salesman ostensibly in charge of the game. I just wish their timing had been a little better.

They Ate Me!

They Ate Me!

Damn, but this was a good show.

Probably not real safe for work. Unless your work is exponentially cooler than mine.

Presidential Hopeful's Favorite Movies

Presidential Hopeful's Favorite Movies

Ran across this little bit while reading about Stephen Colbert's Presidential Campaign and its possible illegal sponsorship by Doritos.

It's info on the candidates. I gleamed from it their favorite movies. Because that's what appeals to me.

Joseph Biden: Chariots of Fire
Sam Brownback: Star Wars
Hillary Clinton: Casablanca
Chris Dodd: Pooh's Heffalump Movie
John Edwards: Shawshank Redemption
Mike Gravel: The Priest
Rudy Guiliani: The Godfather
Mike Huckabee: Casablanca
Duncan Hunter: The Quiet Man
Dennis Kucinich: Gone with the Wind/Dr. Zhivago
John McCain: Viva Zapata!
Barack Obama: none
Ron Paul: Dr. Zhivago
Bill Richardson: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
Mitt Romney: O Brother Where Art Thou?
Tom Tancredo: Casablanca

A few notes:

First: Fred Thompson's info is not up. I'm guessing he hasn't, or hasn't yet, participated in the survey. Since the media seems to insist on referring to him as Fred Dalton Thompson, I'm going to say that his favorite movie is Road House. Why else would you play up the "Dalton" in your name?

Second: I'm a little wary of Obama, for not having listed a favorite movie.

Third: Truth be told, a couple answers made me open the door for conversation (if not consideration). I'd never vote for either John Edwards or Mitt Romney, but Shawshank Redemption and O Brother Where Art Thou? are both personal favorites. I might be more willing to listen, since they got their foot in the door.

Fourth: I'd never have voted for Chris Dodd, either. But his answer of "Pooh's Heffalump Movie" bugs me. I've tried to laugh it off. I applaud the devotion to the kids, but please pick a grown up movie.

Fifth: Conversely, there were candidates who listed "American Idol" as a favorite reality TV show. Guess how much that closed the door, Hillary?

Sixth: I was expecting a little more off the wall from Dennis Kucinich. Everything else from him comes out of left field. Why not list your favorite movie as "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, or Godzilla 1985, or Police Academy V: Assignment Miami Beach...

Thanks Bob

Thanks Bob

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My friend Diane pointed out that Bob Kane would have been 92 today.

I've been reading Batman comic books for nearly as long as I've done anything else in my life. Thinking about it, maybe watching Chicago Cubs baseball is the only thing I've done on a regular basis any longer.

And while I don't wish to leave out Bill Finger, who was as instrumental in the creation of my favorite comic book character as Kane, Kane's the guy who made the first images, some 68 years ago.

Holy Crap. 68 years.

Anyway, thanks Bob!

Thoughts from the Ass End of the Night: Ebay

Thoughts from the Ass End of the Night: Ebay

You know, the Insomnia post was once a staple of whatever the heck it is that I do here at Big Stupid Tommy. Not so much, anymore. I still have bouts, including a nasty, scary bout with it earlier this year. Just not blogging as much during them.

This one's not so bad, especially since I'm on vacation. If need be, I can sleep till noon, if I can't get back to sleep at a decent hour.

I might do that anyway.

That'll show those assholes.

Which assholes?

Been selling off a few comics, a few odds and ends on Ebay here lately. Just to clean out. Been going through a phase where, if I haven't touched it in the past sixth months, I probably don't need it. And it's been going fairly well. I've made a surprising amount of money (who'da thunk Booster Gold comics would sell like they did?), and I've cleaned a small amount of the crap I've been holding on to for no good reason. With more to come.

Let me say this: I've had no problems whatsoever with anything I've sold or shipped. Books. Comics. Old Magazines. DVD's. Playstation games. Even a statue.

No problems. Except for CD's.

I've decided tonight to stop, at least with the CD's.

I've had 3 complaints in the past 3 weeks.

One for each CD I've sold.

In chronological order:

One was for a crushed case. The packing, said the buyer, left something to be desired. What? I asked. You're too good for a CD mailed in an inside out Chick-Fil-A sandwich wrapper? But guilt didn't work.

I told the buyer I needed the product back before I could issue a replacement or a refund. There was a brief (but ill-toned on their part) conversation about shipping costs. My attitude is that you found a Chris Thile CD for 6 bucks. Why not pry a jewel case off something you're not using, and just replace it that way? Or maybe find a dollar CD or CD-Rom at Dollar Tree, and use that one? I don't say that, but I'm feeling it. I got a feeling this dude's burned a copy of the CD, and used me as a free rental. I'm thinking that when I get the CD back, I simply replace the jewel case in much the same way that I described (except do it here, and not in Washington state), and send it back.

One is for a disc that "would not play." It's a disc that played perfectly right before I sent it off. Let me tell you, asking no matter how politely "did you try it in more than one CD player?" is apparently right on the verge of blasphemy. The nasty response I got made me prepare for the second Ebay refund I'd ever have to give (the prior story being the first) I did ask again that, before issuing a fatwa, please try the CD in a couple of players. Turns out the CD worked fine.

One is for a disc that hasn't arrived. This one came in tonight, during my bout with insomnia.

The question:

Where is my CD? I haven't got it yet.

My response:

"As big a fan of the U.S. Postal Service as I am, I am fully aware of their shortcomings. It is a difficult thing for us all to admit, but time and space are still hurdles in the workaday world for the men and women with the Eagles on their chest. One day, we might be able to overcome these things, and shunt an object across the continent without much more than a second's thought. But today, patience is the key.

I apologize for your not having received your CD. I am aware of your desire to listen to the comic stylings of Frank Caliendo, and have added all speed possible to your order. The reason that you have not received it today is that you ordered within the past 12 hours. Your CD was put into the mail yesterday afternoon, less than 90 minutes after I received word of your order for it.

Please allow the standard time for shipping."

I feel like I'm probably gonna get a nasty mark on that one.

These people irritate me.

No issues with DVDs, or Playstation games. No issues with any of the comics, books or magazines that I've sent out. And I've sent out a couple hundred things, 50 or so in the past month or so.

But 3 out of 3 CD's that I've had listings for, there's been a complaint for.

So, forget this shit. I deal with enough asshole customers when I'm not on vacation. Not doing it in my spare time, too.

To the used CD store, for the rest of them....

Tuesday Night

Tuesday Night

Whadap, yo?

Well, I've got family reading the blog. So you heathens behave, how about it?

We had a small family get together at my Aunt Brenda's house this past weekend. Got to see some family we hadn't seen in a while. Some, we hadn't seen since my sister's wedding a couple summers back. Some, it had been even longer since we'd laid eyes on each other.

My Dad's the youngest of 8 children. When I was small, this was hard for me to wrap my mind around, since he was also the largest of them all. For some reason, it was a little difficult for my young mind to figure out, that this guy they all referred to as "little brother" stood, in some cases, a head and shoulders taller than the lot of them.

It was also difficult to figure, since my Dad's favorite saying is "I've had all of human history to learn how to whip a man, but what I need to whip yours, I learned when dinosaurs were walking the Earth."

I'm not sure what it means either, but it generally ends with my shoulder and elbow torqued into painful positions, and my having to repeat some asinine phrase like "My Dad is Stronger than David Ortiz!"

Now that I've said that out loud, I'm ever optimistic that Big Papi (the strongest one there is) has better things to do than rip me limb from limb, what with his having to play in the World Series and all.

It's that travel day between games 2 and 3 that bothers me most.

But anyway....

Family reunion. I was talking to several people there, and they asked "how much am I writing?"

Truthful answer: not enough.

But, NaNoWriMo is coming up in November. And I've got an idea that's been rattling around for a little while. So, this November, I'm going to give the whole 50,000 words in 30 days another whirl. I've made an arrangement or two at work, and in my social life, to make sure I can get this done a little better than last year. Last year, I gave it a go, but ended up getting halfway done.

Going to give it another whirl. I know I had a lot of people reading last year, and I wish I'd finished a little better than I did. That project eventually found an end, but I think it's one that I'll pick up again at some point.

Anyway. I'm just kinda wandering off at the mouth, this late evening. POint is, I told a few people at the family get together about the plans. So, I've got family here, now.

They're mostly like me.

God help them.

Monday, October 22, 2007



Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at PhotobucketGranted, I've had a couple beers, but Scrat may be the highest expression of comic art in all of cinematic human artistic history.

Right after Michael Winslow's character in the Police Academy movies.

Do you know how much of my life was spent wishing I could emulate noises like Michael Winslow?


But, it's neither here nor there.

Ice Age 2 isn't a bad flick, but the Scrat moments push it over the top.

That stuff's inspired.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Notes this Sunday Evening

Notes this Sunday Evening

A bullet point look at my life this Sunday evening.

  • I cannot check my e-mail this evening. Log in Difficulties. This is somewhat irksome, though not pressing. There's some manner of difficulty on their end. I'm hoping it's cleared up soon. If you're trying to e-mail me and expecting an immediate response, that's why there's not one coming.
  • Just watched Coco Crisp slam into the wall to finish the Cleveland Indians off in the ALCS. Don't have any particular leanings for the World Series. I'm impressed and amazed at the Rockies' run over the past month. But I like the Sox, too. These things are always easier when you have a Yankees or a Cardinals team to root against.....
  • Took the opportunity of a day off to take a nap. Not a "go out and get 'em" attitude, definitely, but considering the lack of slow days I've had over the past several weeks, I think falling asleep on the couch watching football is a fine, fine alternative.
  • That's not to say the nap wasn't disorienting, especially from a football point-of-view. I fell asleep just after the start of the Titans/Texans second half, with the Titans handily in the lead. I awoke with my phone ringing, just in time to see the Texans go ahead with scant seconds to go. To nobody in particular, I had to say "the hell?"
  • I try to be an optimist, but there's a part of me that grumbles at Rob Bironas breaking the single-game Field Goal record...but if they'd managed to push it to the end zone a couple more times, they wouldn't have had the issues they did today with the Texans going insane in the fourth quarter.
  • Josh Beckett looks like my neighbor from across the street. Good for him

Tommy sleep now....

Happy Thoughts

Happy Thoughts

Hello, and good morning.

June 30th of next year will be the 100th anniversary of the Tuguska Blast. In the interest of not putting things off to the last minute, I would today link to a page discussing what might have happened if the Tunguska Blast had occurred over a major populated area.

Personal favorite out-of-left-field theory? The Tunguska Blast was caused by Nikola Tesla, while testing out his Death Ray.

Friday, October 19, 2007

In which I want to destroy humanity with fiery vengeance...

In which I want to Destroy Humanity with Fiery Vengeance...

You know, I don't put my Book Snob Pants on much here lately, but I would like to comment briefly on this little list I found on Fark. In it, Random House put a poll up to its readers to name the top 100 novels ever written. (I think that's the criteria, anyway)

I'm not going to take much offense to much on the list. If there's anything I've learned by watching modern pop culture and working retail on a daily basis, it's that there's no accounting for taste.

"To Each His Own!" I always laugh, before drinking myself into a sobbing slumber.

But there's one little thing on the list that really edged the needle toward "wants to destroy the Earth."

Okay. I point toward the top 10.

Ayn Rand? Generally, I tend to throw the words "overrated hack pseudo-philospher" around when I hear those word, but truth be told, I think Atlas Shrugged and the Fountainhead are actually interesting novels. Nothing to build a pragmatic life's philosophy around, mind you, but they are at the very least well written.

Jumping around? Can't argue at all with 1984. Helluva book that becomes more and more important as time passes.

To Kill a Mockingbird? It's a favorite of mine. One of the very few pieces of assigned reading I ever truly enjoyed at the time of assignment. I have since gone back and re-read books I hated, hated, hated! when they were assigned, and enjoyed them immensely, but To Kill a Mockingbird I read in the space of one night my junior year in high school (mostly out of necessity, since we were having a test the next day). How can you tell I enjoyed it? Read the whole thing again the next day.

Others in and around the top 10...Ulysses whipped my ass. Twice. I'll beat it one day.

Catch-22 is another personal favorite.

And you know, Robert Heinlein doesn't belong in the top 20, but I can't think of anything of his I read that I didn't enjoy. I probably ought to go find some Heinlein right now, because there's a lot of what I'm picking up to read that I'm not caring for, here lately.

But, I've wandered off track.

By now, if you've looked at the list, you'll see that of the authors listed in the top 15 or so books, I've omitted one name from comment at this point.

I'm not going to comment on the cult based on his works. There are many much more well suited to that sort of thing in this neck of the woods.

Nor will I comment on the horrible and horrific shithole probably-the-worst-movie-I've-ever-seen flick that seems to want to keep popping up, here lately.

I just have one question to ask:

Has anybody actually tried to read L. Ron Hubbard's novels?

Far be it from me to damn something as dumb on a site I call "Big Stupid Tommy," but I think what bugs me more than anything about the ubiquitous nature of L. Ron Hubbard is the fact that he may be, when presented a ratio of talent vs. the quantity of works and their influence, L. Ron Hubbard may just be the biggest, most paradoxical waste of literary time ever.


Hey. If you enjoy the thing, fine. Have at it. Like I said, there's no accounting for taste--the fact that my store sells so much Natural Light Beer and Hot Pockets is testament to that fact. Hell, I've probably used a whole year of my 30 years of life watching men pretend to fight in a wrestling ring. But at the same time, there's a sense of perspective--I realize that Ricky Steamboat beating Ric Flair at Clash of Champions VI isn't a work of highest art.

As such, anybody who wants to present to you "Battlefield: Earth" as the pre-eminent work of American Fiction in the 20th century should be dragged by the hair to the nearest Community College to get a basic lesson in The Novel as Literature. Then, they should be castrated with a pair of rusty garden shears, and not before discussion can move toward why the Mission Earth series is the greatest series ever....

Just looking at the work: If you're going to have the same two-dimensional, never varying from archetype characters in every 1000 page tome, could you at least give it a story that's even halfway interesting?

Or, if you're not going to vary from the subject-verb-object sentence structure even once in the space of 1194 pages, could you at least inhabit the story with an interesting character, at all?

If we were going to build a shitty writer to build a cult around, couldn't we have picked somebody who wasn't completely crazy for adverbs, or who had moved past the 1940's stereotypes about women and science?

Now, like I said, since the list was left to the public, you're gonna find stuff that really probably won't stand the test of time, and are simply there because they've found a niche for the time being (I'm looking at you Charles de Lint and Laurell K. Hamilton...)

And, as great as I think both The Stand and It are, I don't really think of either of them as great works of literature (though if you were to pick two of Mr. King's best, those are the two, and easily....)

So, popular culture isn't the best gauge of literature.

But if popular culture is throwing dreck like L. Ron Hubbard in the top ten of all time (not once, But Three Motherhumping Times!), then there's something seriously awry with humanity's literary barometer, and I'm thinking a Comic Book style or James Bond style villain wiping a few million people off the planet might not necessarily be a bad thing.

But that villain needs to be believable, for humanity to be able to understand why a villain who is not so different from us is better than anything you might find in an L. Ron Hubbard novel.

A Small Victory...

A Small Victory....

I'll be off work, on vacation, after I finish today.

First thing I thought of this morning, after I turned the 5:40 alarm off: Don't have to do that for a week and a half.

If left to my own devices, over the past couple of years, I end up wanting to go to sleep around 2 or 3 in the morning, waking up around 9 or 10. It's a change from earlier in life, when I was an Honest to Gawd morning person.

Now, I can't make it through the morning without 17 cups of coffee and quite a few angry thoughts about how unfair it is, that with my obvious charm and good looks, that I have to work as early as as hard as I do....

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Thursday Morning

Thursday Morning

I think of Drew Carey on The Price is Right as I would buying a new pair of boots.

See, you've just bought a new pair of boots. You know that you wear size 14 boots, and you know that these boots are size 14. You put these boots on, and they'll work, but they don't feel the same. Just a little alien. But you know that it just takes a little bit of use, a little bit of wear, and perhaps one big painful blister on the side of the ball of your foot, to find the proper synergy between boot and foot.

Sometimes it takes a little time.

I watch Drew Carey, and I know that he's got a big pair of boots to fill. I would wager that Bob Barker's role on Price as Right was as tied to the show's identity as was Johnny Carson's with The Tonight Show. It's just gonna take some time.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007



Today, I successfully fixed the commode. The flush valve was leaking. I cut off the water, and through a series of events I can describe only as "truculent," the toilet is now fixed.

So. No baby commodes running rampant around Casa de Big Stupid Tommy, y'all.

Bob Barker would be so proud.

National Anthem

National Anthem

I nominate this song to be the new National Anthem for Americaland.

Somehow, Heavy D and the Boyz came up in conversation the other day. And this song has been in my head ever since.



A propos of nothing.

This dude has the same name as me.

New Experiences

New Experiences

Tonight, I had the brand new and exciting experience of filing an affadavit at the local Justice Center. Seems there's a time limit on doing so, if somebody decides to steal shit from your store. And apparently the time limit ran out somewhere in the middle of the night. I was still at work, trying to finish up a few things before I took a couple days off (which is a joke, in and of itself). Unfortunately, my boss got pulled from a nice slumber.

So, there we are, both bleary-eyed and surly, filling out an affadavit for a shoplifter. I joked, at one point, when we were laughing about lack of sleep, that I'd be waking up in 20 minutes to go to the store, recovering from the weirdest dream ever.

A few minutes after we'd both been there, the doorbell ran to let an officer into the room of the Emergency Center, where my boss and I were filling out paperwork. I laughed--my boss was there, who's next in this crazy dream? My District Manager? Followed closely by that girl from high school who laughed when I asked her out.....

Guess you had to be there.

So, I sit here tonight, teetering on the Witching Hour, watching C-Span because I'm too frigging tired to find my remote control, trying to come up with something more for the blog.

Tonight, I gots nothin....

Sunday, October 14, 2007



Hey cool! Somebody else bought into Dusty Baker's particular brand of malarkey.

Hey Reds Fans! Hope you don't have any pitching prospects you're looking to have as viable starters 5 years down the road.

And I hope you're a fan of over-agressive, completely non-thinking baseball!!!

And God help you if you get into a series against a team with an honest-to-heavens manager who understands little things like manufacturing runs or bullpen management. Don't expect to compete under those circumstances.

Honestly, though, I thank you for taking him off teevee. Dusty had the knack for saying stuff that made you blink, and then say "Did he really just say that, out loud, in front of millions of people?"


Saturday, October 13, 2007

Whew! I needed to be defined....

Whew! I needed to be defined...

Don't know what people did for identities, before we had the interweb. I was lucky to find this here, and here. says I'm a Cool Nerd God.  What are you?  Click here!

Friday, October 12, 2007

Harlan Ellison

Harlan Ellison

I don't elevate many people to "hero" status in life. If I hadn't yet done it (and Lord knows, I probably had), I have now, after reading this story, from L.A. Weekly.

The story itself is heart-wrenching.

I do believe in vampires. Maybe not the blood-sucking kind. But there are predators out in this world, who find a particular weakness, who find a way to exploit it, and live off the vitality of another person. And many do it for little more than their own idle fucking amusement. The woman in this story, is an example of that. The internet is just a powerful vehicle for that sort of monster, because they can hide behind the anonymity and vagueties of this medium, twisting truths and creating stories (and people), all for some purpose only they can decipher.

To me, it's just indicative that, if there was ever any question, there is such a thing as Evil in the world, and it comes in many forms.

Not to change the subject...

I was fortunate enough to meet Harlan a couple times. The last time, at Dragon Con in Atlanta, I met him while he waited for a room to empty for his panel to begin. He talked to me for a few minutes. It was a great coincidence--I was actually bummed because the Evil Hippy and I were having to head back up to Athens, and we were going to have to miss his panel. But I caught him drinking a bottle of water, waiting for a room to empty out.

I hate to bother people, but I never felt like I'd get the opportunity again in my life. I introduced myself.

And we chatted for a few minutes. I don't know how many a few is. It could have been 5. It could have been 1. It doesn't matter. It was one of those few moments in my life where I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be, at that place and time. He talked to me about writing, and about reading. He was tremendously nice to me, and I'm still astounded that I got that opportunity, in that crowded an environment.

Anyway. That was astounding reading, that link. A huge tip of the hat to Newscoma, for posting the link....

The Playoff Beisbol

The Playoff Beisbol

You know, I was (am) ambivalent towards TBS's playoff coverage. There are little things that bug me about their coverage--too many crowd shots, announcers with little chemistry, too many swooshes, dings and bells and whistles (I don't think we'll get away from it, anywhere...).

But on the whole, I liked their coverage. I especially liked their starting games at a decent hour, keeping the busy schedules of sunsabitches like Big Stupid Tommy a little more able to catch an entire ballgame. It's amazing what a 7:30 start time will do for you compared to an 8:30 start. A couple years ago, I might have bitched about throwing a bone to a station like TBS...but since they seemed a little more willing to cater to an East Coast audience, I'll shut the hell up. Don't know if it's because their advertising revenue isn't as tied to Prime Time audiences as are the networks, or if somebody actually paid attention to the fact that 70% of the population lives in the Eastern and Central Time Zones, and have to get their asses up at the asscrack of dawn to go to work.

Plus, there was one intangible that I hadn't considerd.

While there may have been chemistry lapses in some announcing crews, not a one of the TBS announcing crews was handicapped like Fox is.

Because Fox continues to have Tim McCarver in their employ.

I came home, and Tim McCarver was explaining that the pitcher is 60 feet, 6 inches from home plate.

He did this right before he reminded me to breathe.

Thanks, Tim. 'preciate it.

Who'da thunk I'd be praying for Rick Sutcliffe?

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Almost Funny....

Almost Funny....

I'm doing my best to keep an open mind about it. Little things, one by one, keeping popping up. The sore throat and run-down feeling that I'd chalked up to a sinus infection brought on by fall's temperature change?

It's Strep Throat.

My vacation's coming up in a week and a half. And I'm stumbling and bumbling my way toward the finish line.

On the upside:

Apocalypto? Helluva movie. Say what you will about Mr. Gibson, his movies are perfect when you're feeling "man against the world..."

Monday, October 08, 2007



I liked this.

Someday, we'll all laugh. But Right Now, I'm gonna hurt somebody...

Someday, we'll all laugh. But right now, I'm gonna hurt somebody...

Tonight, I sit here, trying to figure out whether I believe in Karma, or not.

I won't lie to you, my hordes of Big Stupid Tommyniacs, it's been a rough few days. Grocery Inventory; No sleep; Everybody in the world calling in; Cubs losing the playoffs, again; seeing a person who still makes my heart jump into my throat though we haven't spoken in months; a two-day case of the runs; having to own up to a Georgia bet (I gave points, even...lots of points); et cetera, et cetera.

This morning, I wake up, and there's no water.


I turn on the faucet, and it makes a sound kinda like the tripods in the Tom Cruise vs. the Martians flick (which I kinda like, in spite of myself).

So, your old pal Tommy calls to find out what the heck is up, can't get anybody on the phone, and proceeds to wash his face, armpits and private areas with bottles of Dannon Spring Water, cussing anything he can think of, all the while, asking himself but one question:


Damn. It's bad enough that I gotta wash 16.9 refreshing ounces at a time, but I also gotta spend 10 minutes before I put the shirt and tie on to get my testicles to pop back out of my torso (for the record, falling gut-first on a bed post seems to do the trick).


I'm thinking this might all come from having done a post on the Cubs.

I mean, they're no longer around to jinx, so the jinx has to fall back on me.

It's the only logical thing I can find, as for why all these little, piddly, irritating things keep happing.

The only logical reason.

In truth, I deal better with the big stuff. Though I'm knocking like hell on wood that cancer or a car wreck don't pop into my life having just said that.

Jeez, I'm a superstitious sumbitch when left to my own devices.

Truth be told, in spite of all the little irritations, it's been an otherwise good day. Work went easily enough, I actually wrote something, for the first time in forever and a day. And I found Cashew Butter here in town!

Cashew Butter!

Like Peanut Butter, only with Cashews!

And Quince Jelly.

I don't know what that tastes like. I've heard of Quince, and Quince Jelly. But I've never had it.

Today, I will.

Soon, we will found out if Quince Jelly can overcome a Day Without Water....

(The water is fixed. Thankfully. Though just in case, before I left work, I bought a gallon container....)

Sunday, October 07, 2007 hell with it.... hell with it...

Anybody else want to say to hell with it, as it concerns this weekend past?

Instead of remembering this past weekend in my life, where some higher power seems to take wondrous delight in doing all the little things he can to kick me in the pants, I will instead live and remember vicariously Sheila's.

Saturday, October 06, 2007



This is the fifth playoff series I've seen the Cubs lose in my life. And while this one doesn't have the sting of the Marlins series in 2003, or the abject personal frustration and gut-wrench of the 98 series sweep by the Braves (we had tickets to Game 4 at Wrigley), it's got its own unique nutshot: it sucks in a way that's got me waxing something philosophical.

Want to know how it sucks?

I keep thinking Charlie Brown. And I keep thinking about his faith.

I kept thinking about Charlie Brown trying to kick the football, and how he has faith that if he kept at it, faithfully, steadfast, that he'd be able to kick the football. And Lucy pulls it away every time. It happens every time. Every LegHumping time. Everybody's in on the joke. Lucy. The Audience. Even Charlie Brown, I think.

Everybody, except for that part of Charlie Brown that really wants to kick the football.

What's that called? Dramatic Irony?

That faithful part. That part that wants to believe in Santa Claus, or the Tooth Fairy, or the Great Pumpkin (to extend the Schulzian metaphor). For Charlie Brown, it's kicking that football. And he gets shafted, every single time.

Yet Charlie Brown keeps trying to kick the football.

Why? I dunno. It's just a football.

But he does. And every so often, he gets close.

But he never gets all the way.

And we all know that.

Watching the Cubs lose, again, make me feel like Charlie Brown.

I don't know. It passes. It always does. By and large, this is the product of a couple beers and twenty hours of sleep total in the past week. It's not a paralyzing thing. You won't see me wearing black or holed up in the palatial Big Stupid Tommy compound for the next few weeks.

But, it does sting. That's the tough part of Cubs fandom, I think, is feeling a bit like a goof. Like everybody else is in on the joke. Tonight, and every time the Cubs get anywhere close, I feel like Charlie Brown.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

As if I needed another reason to hate the Yankees....

As if I needed another reason to hate the Yankees....

I've got crappy cable. I'm not home enough to really make use of an extended cable package.

I might have to re-consider.

TBS just announced that they'll be starting the Cubs/D'backs NLDS game over on TNT, since the Yankees game was running long.

I don't have TNT. I already have Shawshank Redemption and O Brother Where Art Thou? on DVD, and I've seen almost all the E.R. reruns, so I don't really need the channel.

Or so I thought.

So my big ass is going to bed, where I'll listen on XM.

I will take this time to blame the Yankees. Would somebody please drop a planeload of serin gas on the Yankees, and rid us of this bullshit where we're subjected to an 11-3 blowout in favor of a fresh new ballgame?

Fucking Yankees.



If anybody every asks you to work a grocery inventory?

Tell them no.

In liue of actual content, I post video of one of the funniest things I've ever heard. It actually loses a little something on the video, but it's still enjoyable....

East Side Dave, of the Ron & Fez show fights Opie & Anthony Security dude Master Po, on the Opie & Anthony show.

Probably not safe for work. Unless your workplace kicks my workplace's ass.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Re: Padres & Rockies

Re: Padres & Rockies

I tried going to bed once. Checked my XM. They were tied still in the 11th.

It's now the bottom of the 13th. Rockies have just tied it, and have two men on with no outs.

The fundamental baseball gods say that there is no good reason the Rockies should not win this game.

But Baseball, so often, ends up not falling back to the fundamentals.

That's why you watch....

And with a sac fly to right, the Rockies win.

Matt Holliday is hurt. What a great effort. It looked to me like he caught an elbow to the head (inadvertantly).

Replays show that he face-planted.

Boy, the Padres have a gripe and a half. What was Tim McClelland waiting for, if not for Holliday to try to tag the plate? Holliday never touched it.

Still, the Rockies had a dinger taken away (to me, it cleared the yellow line). They got this run back. But boyohboy will the Padres have a gripe.

More ammo for the instant replay fucktards.

Anyway. I'm gonna be worth shit tomorrow at work, and I just watched two teams duke it out that I'm possibly going to be rooting against in 9 days time.

But this is what it's all about.


Monday, October 01, 2007

Buy His Book

Buy His Book

This was one of those "My How Time Flies" moments, but my buddy Alex's book is coming out this week.

Buy It. He lives in Wisconsin, and it takes moneys to import anything other than beer and cheese to eat. He's got kids to feed. You can't feed a baby beer and cheese.

You can in Wisconsin. But I still wouldn't advise it.

Buy his book, so he can by some proper food.

(Also, he's a pretty good dude who's worked hella-hard, and who's helped me quite a bit, so go support a brother.)

Survivor Football

Survivor Football

Just checked in on my Survival Football Fantasy League. The rules? Pick one winner in every week of the NFL schedule. You can only play that team once. If you lose, you're out.

I play one of these every year. Never make it to the end, though last year I made it to week 14.

This year? I was knocked out by the crazy Browns/Bengals game in week 2. Picked Cincinnati, and the Browns won. I'm out. I haven't looked since.

Until tonight--out of the 25 teams, there are just 5 left. And we're just through week 4. Lot of people got taken out by the Chargers' loss to the Chiefs this weekend.

80% gone, and the season's just a quarter done.

Nothing else to say about it, except that in this case, it seems to be Big Stupid Everybody Else, Too.

Moment of Zen

Moment of Zen

This afternoon, I wandered south toward Delano, a little dot on the map a little south of my home. I hadn't hit the Delano Community Market all summer. Which is something of a shame, since their veggies are second to very few I've ever had. Work and all that other junk that seems to clutter up my life kept me from wandering in that direction. In fact, it took a call to Shyam to confirm that they might still be open, this October the Oneth.

The Delano Community Market, since I didn't mention it, is run by a little community of Mennonite farmers. They do a lot of good work out that way, canning and preserving and baking on top of selling their produce. The quality is excellent, and you can't argue with the prices.

Well, you could argue about the prices, but they're so cheap, and the people running the market are so nice, you'd be crowned King of All Assholes.

Anyway. The Moment of Zen: As I'm driving down Highway 411, heading south, having just entered Delano, I pass a black, horse-drawn buggy, heading in the same direction I am. I'm slowing down, at this point, to turn down the road running to the market, and I take a look at the gentleman and two young, blond-headed boys riding in the seat of the buggy.

All three are dressed in the traditional garb of those folks--all in dark trousers held with suspenders, dark button-down shirt, the man driving wearing a flat-brimmed hat, sporting a beard that ran half the length of his chest. All three something of an anachronism, novel for the moment.

I notice, as I pass by, that the driver, holding the reins of the horses in one hand, his holding a bag of potato chips over so that each of the boys can reach into it.

It was quick, but unmistakeable.

The bag had some blue on it. Might have been Ruffles, could have been Cool Ranch Doritos, now that I think of it.

But it made me smile.

I'll mention that I bought a dollar's worth each of banana, ando and habanero peppers. The first two I will either cut up into a salads, or perhaps use as pizza toppings. The last I plan on experimenting with on a hot-wing recipe.

I also bought a jar of honey (With the comb) and a few preserves that I intend on giving as Christmas gifts this year.

And I'll close by mentioning that I refrained from describing the preserves I was buying as "Hella-Good" to the gentleman manning the counter at the Community Market. Just didn't seem proper. So, I'll just tell you folks, owing to that not many of you are of the Amish or Mennonite sects.

I'm thinking Gunny Walker is the only one.



Today's Funny.

I was once witness to an extended argument, which began with a semester's coursework lost when a box of floppy disks was set on top of a speaker magnet....