Hear a recorded Greeting from Mister Ed Himself!
This is going to be a tirade written in stream of conciousness!
I am fully responsible for its content! If you are
offended by challenges to your sanity or intelligence, read no further!
Howdy again from the bottom of my heart! I'm putting digits to keys once again
in the vain hope of transmitting joy, sorrow, and hubris into the electronic void.
I live just outside San Francisco. Just far enough outside to watch it as one
might watch the insects in an ant farm. I've been in California since '79,
and the one thing I know for sure is that all the stuff you all outside there
in Everywhere-else-Land have ever heard about us is absolutely TRUE. There are
yuppies, retired hippies, airheads, surfer-dudes, lesbians and gays, TONS of
homeless people, and me. I refused to be classified. I really HATE people who
pigeon-hole people. I'd like to see all of those kind of people rounded up
and sent somewhere harmless. Like Iowa. When is the last time anything harmful
came out of Iowa? Whoever can answer that reasonably will win a T-shirt. From me.
Now, how do we stop the Evil Empire? They've laid a trap for the King, and the
poor fool walked right into it! His minions are running about with honey on
their tongues and sweet-smelling purfume, but the stench still noses through.
How was it that the Lady of Shadows took the ramblings of Ophelia and turned
them against the King? Was she enraged over his innocent jest that she might
indeed be better suited to be a costermonger than a courtesan? Did the Lady
desire closer counsel with the Queen in that most intimate fashion? These are
questions, aye, and good ones! Who is Ophelia? The half-mad lover shunned by her
Hamlet or a schemer with black heart and dagger ready to plunge at the royal
breast?
And now comes the Black Knight, suited not in armor metal, but clothed in
Brooks Brothers and leather patches. His lance is the Summons of the Grand
Jury, and all who dare fall under his gaze will feel its sting. The lords
and ladies of the court tremble when this Starr shines. Who is our Lancelot?
There can be none in a kingdom without honor. Even those who hide beneath the
cloak of righteousness know their own sins and seek to erase the past. This
is no Newt Age...
Behold all those ravens who pick at the still-living man who strove to build his
castle in the sand! These birds of prey circle and swoop down upon each tidbit
offered up by the Men In Hiding, the Black Knight and the Lady of Shadows. There
is no scarecrow to ward them off. The citizens of this land own the true arrows
which can bring down the carrion-feeders, but the quivers are hung by the chimney
with care, in hope that "somebody else" soon will be there...
Meanwhile, here at the Newbegin Homestead, we have added a couple of fresh
creatures to the menagerie. They are Tree Hermitcrabs, named Taylor and Shannon.
I'll be watching them closely for signs that they are more intelligent than most
of the pathetic little people out there whose lives revolve around the royal
genitalia. Stay tuned...
"...but in Camelot, that's how conditions are."
