Why Do We Keep Letting Him Do Eulogies?

Some links before I get things underway today. Norma wrote about rules for writers. Cheryl had some living history photographs. Maria wrote about laughter. Eve wrote about hiking. And Mark had a book signing not go quite according to plan.

Today I have another one of those oh boy did I actually write that things that I tend to do. Today it's a eulogy. I don't know who's worse... the dead or the guy eulogizing them.

“Thank you very much, Reverend Price, for your kind introduction. Hello, everyone. I would like to thank you for coming out on this saddest of days as we say goodbye to two of our dear friends. Alex and Natalie were beloved by so many who knew them. Whether those were family, friends, or co-workers, it seemed there wasn't a person in the world who could say a bad thing about them. They were both my friends, and needless to say... I had no idea about what they were keeping to themselves.

However, that’s beside the point. I first met Alex and Natalie when we were at Cambridge. We all went into law. And yes, I know, there are those of you who must wonder, does the world really need more lawyers? That’s beside the point, forgive me, I have a habit of rambling off in all sorts of directions that I don’t really need to go in. As I was saying, we all met at Cambridge, and they became my good friends. We’d get into all sorts of trouble together, sufficed to say, and it’s a marvel that we never got caught. I’d better not go into detail, mind you, because I see a few of our professors in attendance here today, and, well, I don’t want to incriminate myself.

Anyway, Cambridge was fun, despite trying to get through the endless boredom of Old Man Setton’s civil law courses... oh, sorry, Professor Setton, I wasn’t aware you were still alive. You look remarkably healthy for a man of your advanced years. Let’s be fair though... civil law is impossible to make interesting, am I right or am I right?

Well, we all muddled through, got our degrees, ended up practicing as barristers and solicitors, and we all did rather well for ourselves. We stayed friends afterwards, saw each other from time to time, and sooner or later we all got married. To other people, of course. Though given the circumstances, perhaps Alex and Natalie should have gotten married. If that was possible, but as usual, I’m getting ahead of myself and getting off track.

How do we deal with the loss of two such marvellous young people like Alex and Natalie? Do we ignore some of the things we’ve learned since their deaths? Or do we confront it head on? Do we ask ourselves, how could we have missed that? I’m sure Alex’s wife Audrey must be asking that. The same applies to Natalie’s ex-husband Richard. I see him among the congregation today, so I’ll ask... Richard, did you see it coming? Did you know? Is that the reason your marriage came apart? Or were you as oblivious as the rest of us?

I say we confront this whole thing head on, get it out in the open, deal with it, and let it be done with. Yes, it’s not pleasant, but who are we to judge?

Here is what we know. Alex and Natalie were in his BMW driving in the Scottish Highlands. It was a weekend getaway for them. They must have needed it, and it was convenient that Audrey was away on business in Geneva. So, off they went. From what the police have said, it seems they got a little bit frisky with each other. Well, now.... things happen, people get carried away with their feelings. It happens. These things just happen, and there’s really nothing we can do about it in hindsight, am I right?

So there they were. Alex was driving. Natalie must have been teasing him. We know her panties were found in the backseat, so she had to have taken them off. It might have started off with fondling each other... oh, don’t look at me like that, Reverend, we’ve got to get this all out in the open and deal with it, and what better time than at a funeral?

So they would have been getting excited. And carried away with each other. And well, one thing started leading to another. Soon enough she was on top of him. He was still driving. And.... well, let’s just say he was inside her, if you know what I mean. Yes, there they were having car sex while driving. It must have been hot and heavy. They must have been going at it like rabbits. So they got a little distracted. In the midst of all that sex, Alex just wasn’t paying attention to the road. This is the sort of thing that happens when you’re having mind blowing car sex with the object of your affections and it seems you’ll never get enough of her. We’ve all been there, done that, right? Reverend, you’ve been there, right? Although to be fair, most of us don’t drive while engaged in such pleasures.

So Alex wasn’t paying attention. It happens. And it just so happened just at that pivotal moment.... at least so it seems, according to details from the autopsies. The doctors found that they’d both climaxed. At that critical moment of ecstasy, they crashed right through a bridge barricade. The car plunged into the river, sank with both of them inside, and it seems, well.... at least they drowned quickly.

It must have been upsetting to the order of nuns who were nearby having lunch. They had to call for help, stood by in the rain while the search efforts were underway, and witnessed the recovery of the vehicle from the water. And there they saw behind the wheel, Alex and Natalie, both dead, both of them still locked together in flagrante delicto, if you know what I mean. That’s a sight those Sisters will never forget. I can only imagine how awkward it must have been for the medics to, ahem, separate them before the autopsies could be conducted.

Audrey, I’m so sorry for having to bring this all up so soon after all that you’ve learned. But in the long run, it’ll be easier for you to deal with this head on and get past it. Really, you were betrayed, and betrayed in the worst possible way by two people you thought you could trust. You couldn’t have seen that your husband was cheating on you. Alex and Natalie were careful to hide that part of their lives from everyone they ever met. So none of us knew that he and Natalie were together like that.

Why would we even suspect?

At least we can be glad their parents didn't live to discover that their son and daughter were having mind bending car sex."

Waldo Versus The Explosion Prone Director

Some links before I get started today. Yesterday was a Sunday, so we had a Snippet Sunday post. Lynn had neighbour issues. Shelly had writing updates. Hilary had Lucy front and center at her blog. And the Whisk had her dogs looking good.

Today then we revisit a familiar face, in the form of an explosions loving director. 

Director Announces Plans To Adapt Children’s Picture Books; Journalists Roll Their Eyes

Los Angeles (AP) Reporters were summoned to the offices of Digital Domain this week, where director Michael Bay was to hold a press conference. This reporter was unfortunately among them, despite his deep dislike of Hollywood. It turns out that just because a certain editor doesn’t care for reporters falling asleep during the funeral of his father-in-law, that reporter gets punished over and over and over again, and why on earth do I keep getting invited to funerals for people I don’t even know and could care less about... (do you really want to keep your job? Stop going off on an irrelevant tirade, and by the way, I’m still annoyed with you for talking in your sleep while I was eulogizing Big Jim. ~ editor)

Anyway, I digress (and what kind of name is Big Jim anyway?). We gathered together at the offices of Digital Domain. Some were actual reporters. Others were those vacant headed twits who work for the entertainment shows. This reporter didn’t want to be there, but was stuck. One of the aides announced her boss. Bay came out on stage, dressed in his usual fashion, jeans and a denim shirt under a blazer, with a day or two worth of stubble on his face. Bay was also sporting a fading black eye- that was an interesting touch; this reporter wondered who had done the world a favour and hit Bay. He waved to the reporters, stepped up to the podium, and looked at his reflection in a mirror placed there for his convenience. Satisfied with himself, he began to speak.

“Hello! Welcome and salutations! It is my pleasure to see you all here today,” the director of high octane explosion movies like Armageddon and Pearl Harbor called out. He smiled again in that vacant, dull witted manner of his. “But of course you had to come. After all, everyone is fascinated by everything I do as a director, and it is your solemn responsibility as reporters to spread the good news. Now then, I have decided that among the many projects I am undertaking as a director that it is about time that I do a children’s film. Something that kids will like and adults will get into. And so I thought about it. Maybe I could have done Watership Down with CGI rabbits and lots of explosions. Perhaps it was time to do a new version of Little House On The Prairie with lots of explosions and a runaway train. Instead I decided to go in a different direction. I decided to adapt the books Where’s Waldo?”

Reporters gasped in stunned shock. The books, a series of picture books featuring a seemingly well mannered fellow in a red and white striped shirt and hat hiding among crowds of people, have been beloved by many children since illustrator Martin Handford began drawing them in the Eighties. What on earth could a hack of a director like Bay do to damage their reputation beyond repair?

“You have got to be joking!” a Reuters correspondent declared.

“Why do people always say that about me?” Bay asked, looking confused.

“Isn’t there already a movie in development?” another reporter asked.

“Like I care about that,” Bay said with a shrug. “Look, it’s all very simple. Me being me, I wanted to find out what it is that makes Waldo hang out in crowds. So the story I’m going to tell is of him being on the run from an evil conspiracy with his arch-nemesis Odlaw hunting him. There’s going to be a love story, by the way, because I’ve also secured the rights to Carmen Sandiego, and we can’t do without that. It’s going to be epic. Carmen Sandiego waxing a car dressed in that trenchcoat and hat and just a bikini, because you’ve got to have a babe waxing a car in my movies. Waldo on the run from the mad bomber Odlaw. The eccentric Wizard Whitebeard who likes to listen to classic rock when he’s not grooming his beard. And explosions. Did I mention explosions? Because it’s going to be epic and huge and everything you can possibly imagine rolled up into one big blockbuster film with explosions. I’ve got Aerosmith already working on the theme song.”

Reporters collectively sighed with dismay. This reporter wondered how long he would be in assignment purgatory, all for (don’t you even think of starting to complain! ~ editor). This reporter spoke up. “Are you insane?”

Bay laughed. “Oh, that’s funny! Why don’t we start bringing out the cast. My star might have been in a bit of legal trouble lately... but seriously, is running Andy Dick over a crime? Who here hasn’t thought of driving their car over Andy Dick’s body? Ladies and gentlemen, playing our hero, Mr. Shia LaBeouf!”

LaBeouf came out on stage, waving. “Hello! Shia is happy to see you!” he proclaimed. This reporter sighed. The talentless little cretin was still in his talking in the third person phase. “Shia is completely innocent, by the way, and will beat the rap, because the Very Important Persons Act says that Shia cannot be held accountable for Shia’s actions!"

Bay nodded. “Shia’s going to look great in a white and red turtleneck, hat, and glasses. And where Waldo goes, Carmen Sandiego must go with him. Playing our hot heroine, I give you Megan Fox!”

Megan Fox, the frequent co-star in Bay films, stepped out on the stage in a way that emphasized her cleavage. “You know, kids have loved Carmen Sandiego for as long as I can remember. She’s an elusive bad girl with a heart of gold, and you just know that when she and Waldo get together, sparks are going to fly!” She took her place beside LaBeouf, who nodded in that vacant, not much going on between the ears way of his.

Bay spoke again. “I thought long and hard about Wizard Whitebeard. I thought of getting Ian McKellan to play him, given that he’s played a white bearded wizard before, so how hard could it be? He told me, and I quote, that he’d rather walk bare foot through ten miles of fire ant nests, unquote. I don’t know what that means. Could someone explain? Anyway, that’s beside the point. I decided for a bit more creative casting. I was actually thinking of casting my go-to guy as the villain Odlaw, but I figure he could do well as the wizard. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mr. Nicolas Cage!”

Cage came out on stage. Reporters gasped again. He waved and smiled in a way that suggested he’d been drinking. “Hi there! Don’t mind me, I’ve just been drinking from a bottle of Ampoules wine. Did you know that stuff is pretty expensive? But nothing’s too good for Nicky Cage, and this time, I swear, I’m not going to blow through all my money, even if I’m spending six figures on a single bottle. Wait, don’t tell the IRS that.”

Cage took his place with his fellow actors. Bay carried on with his announcement. “Rounding out the main cast, I must give you our Odlaw. It is said that his bad deeds are many, so I had to go with an actor who I thought would be ideal for the role. I could have gone with actors I’ve worked with before. I could have gone for age differences. I could have gone with Robert Downey Jr., but he told me to go to hell. I asked Mel Gibson, but he said he’s not that desperate yet as to work with me. I don’t know what that means, could someone explain that to me?” He smiled again, as if expecting an answer. “Anyway, after much consideration I decided that the ideal Odlaw for my movie would be best cast with....ladies and gentlemen, without further ado...” This reporter sighed at the endless stalling and building up the hype. “The person who will be playing Odlaw in my movie.... is Reese Witherspoon!”

Reese Witherspoon stepped out on stage, looking puzzled. This reporter was under the impression that Odlaw was a guy. What on earth was this about? She heard the confused remarks, sensed the dismay among the crowd, and shrugged. “Look, it’s been awhile since I’ve actually had a good role, and I was getting a bit desperate for anything, so I agreed to do this. I don’t like it, I don’t like this Bay guy, and I’m just hoping he doesn’t insist I wax a car in a bikini.”

Bay laughed. “Oh, that’s hilarious, Reese! We’re going to need some of that humour for your role, by the way, because she’s going to be the maddest mad bomber since Tommy Lee Jones in Blown Away. Speaking of which, I ran into him the other day, and started talking about working with him in a movie down the line, and well, one thing led to another and he knocked me out. Who’d have thought Tommy Lee Jones could be that temperamental? Or that he’d hit that hard?” Bay shrugged. “Anyway, it’s all in the past, which doesn’t matter, because who cares about the past? It’s the future that’s important, and that’s why Where’s Waldo? Waldo Versus The World is going to be a big, huge film down the line...”

“You’re actually naming it Where’s Waldo? Waldo Versus The World?” this reporter demanded. “Are you stupid?”

Bay shrugged. “Have you got a better idea what to subtitle it? What’s important is that this film will be huge. Epic scale, and it’s going to be a box office champion, and it’s going to make Oscar voters cry, and we’re going to win everything ten times infinity plus one. And I’m expecting the audience to wear white and red striped shirts and hats to every showing. Pants are optional, but for some reason theatre owners demand you show up in pants. That’s all for now! Thanks for coming out!” Bay waved to the crowd, leaving with his cast. 

The real reporters sighed in collective dismay. The entertainment reporters looked confused. This reporter found himself wishing Michael Bay would lose himself in a Where’s Waldo picture in a crowd. And that the crowd would start a stampede, knocking him down and trampling him. It would be a fitting fate for a hack of a director, and would spare the world from yet more Michael Bay stupidity. But then again, we don’t live in a fair world, do we? We live in a world where cranky editors with dead fathers-in-law who actually call themselves Big Jim call the shots, and.... (I hate you with every fibre of my being. Your tires are being slashed as I write this ~ editor).

Wonderful. And he wonders why I don’t like him.

A Day In The Life Of A Cat

Some links before we get started today. Yesterday having had been a Friday, Parsnip had a Square Dog Friday. Shelly wrote about her mother. Krisztina had ideas at her blog for barn weddings. And Mark writes about book signings.

Now then, it's time for the feline to take charge in the way that only an ultimate form of life on the planet can. Enjoy!

7:40 AM. Waking up. Staring at ceiling. Wondering how I contorted myself into a pretzel in my sleep. At least I can get up and it won't bother me in the slightest. Let's see a human do that. Speaking of which, where is my staff?

7:52 AM. Oh, there you are. It's about time. How about my breakfast?

7:56 AM. For the three hundred second time this year, you have disappointed me with field rations, staff. Have my meows of protest not been sufficient for you to grasp the fact that I don't like field rations?

8:02 AM. Despite my better intentions, I nibble on some of the field rations.

8:23 AM. Jumping up on couch to look outside. There's movement in one of the leaf piles. What on earth is out there?

8:24 AM. It's that annoying dog from down the road! He's playing in the leaves on my property! How dare he!

8:25 AM. Staff! Are you not looking outside and seeing what that stupid mutt is doing? 

8:26 AM. I express my deep disdain and dislike of that stupid dog in the most direct way possible.

8:27 AM. The annoying mutt is looking around at what he's done and seems confused. Dogs are generally speaking often confused.

8:28 AM. And off he goes. Good riddance! Don't come back!

8:30 AM. Staff! Did you not hear my meows of rage? That annoying dog messed up a leaf pile!

8:40 AM. Out the door with the staff. She gets one look at the leaves and wonders if the wind picked up suddenly and did that. Staff, it was the dog! 

9:05 AM. Supervising the staff while she rakes up the leaves. Humans do need close supervision, after all.

9:15 AM. Back inside. I think I need a good nap after all that supervising. I've tuckered myself out.

12:35 PM. Waking up from nap. Dreamed of the world's biggest ball of yarn. What I could do with that....

1:32 PM. Staring outside. Wait a minute... why is that car turning onto my property? Well.... at least it's not the car my staff's sister and her idiot husband and rugrats drive. Unless they bought a new car.

Staff! Did you decide to have visitors over without clearing it with me?

1:33 PM. Oh no. This can't be. Not her. Anyone but her. 

It's the vet!!!! The arch fiend! The vile foe! 

Staff, how could you do this to me?????

1:34 PM. The staff is letting the vet inside. Staff, are you out of your mind? She's evil! 

1:35 PM. I hiss my disapproval at the vet. Away, foul demon! You will not poke and prod me today! 

Wait a minute, why don't you have any equipment with you?

1:38 PM. Despite my earlier suspicions, this appears to be a social call, not a vet visit. The staff and the arch fiend are sitting down having tea.

Staff, how can you treat that foul creature like a friend? She is pure malevolence wrapped up in an overly cheerful demeanour!

1:50 PM. Keeping an eye on the staff and the vile fiend as they chat. Don't take your eyes off that monster for one second. Yes, she might seem cheerful, but that's all a cover for her vile brand of evil, and if you let your guard down around her, that's when she'll strike, and the next thing you know, you've got a thermometer stuck somewhere where it really shouldn't be...

2:12 PM. And now they're having more tea and cookies. How long does it take for you to leave already, cruel despot?

2:36 PM. The vile fiend is finally leaving. She waves goodbye to me and smiles. Underneath all that of course is absolute malice and evil intentions. I'm onto you, lady! Staff, you will never let her in my home again, is that understood?

6:40 PM. Having dinner with the staff. She cut some beef for me, which meets with my approval. For some peculiar reason she's also having Brussel sprouts for herself. 

11:23 PM. Watching the news with the staff. A really bad actor got arrested for running down a really annoying comedian. And a really bad director seems to think the decision to arrest him constitutes a national tragedy.

Staff, can we arrange for an asteroid to hit this Michael Bay guy?

11:40 PM. The staff is off to bed. Yes, you have a good night. Though if I happen to come up and walk all over you and dig my claws in, just bear in mind that the reason for that is you let the vile fiend into my house today.

A Day In The Life Of A Dog

Some links before I get started. Norma wrote about the roots of writers. Eve had Pinky testing out dog toys.  Cheryl had Veterans Day pics. Maria wrote about writing bad guys. Lynn had a round of pop culture frenzy. And the Whisk has been into pie.

Now then, today is my seven hundredth published post (it'll take sometime next year before my photoblog surpasses this one in numbers). So it's fitting that one of my frequent subjects has the spotlight today. It's time to take another turn at the point of view of dogs and cats, starting as always with my hound's outlook on life...

7:35 AM. Waking up. Dreamed of chasing rabbits. Almost got one who said he took a wrong turn at Albuquerque, wherever that is.

7:40 AM. Good morning, human! Isn't it a fine day out there? The kind of day that makes you want to get out and take on the world. Priorities, though. First we must have breakfast.

7:43 AM. Finished wolfing down breakfast. Still off my fastest time ever, but I'll get there, it's just a matter of time.

7:49 AM. Out the door for my morning run. Oh boy oh boy oh boy!

8:20 AM. Stopping by the property where that cranky cat lives. I wonder if she's outside.

Maybe I can convince her to be nice.

8:23 AM. I notice a big pile of leaves on the lawn. Oh, how can I resist jumping in that?

8:24 AM. Jump run play! Is there anything as fun as a pile of leaves? Well, maybe not right at this moment in time...

8:25 AM. I look at the house. I can see the cat in one of the windows. Hello, cat!

8:26 AM. She appears to be giving me the finger. Oh, now come on! Why can't we all just get along?

8:27 AM. I examine the pile of leaves. It appears that I've made a bit of a mess about it all. Oh well, that'll just involve a bit more raking.

Maybe I'd better make myself scarce.

8:28 AM. Taking my leave. One last glance at the house. The cat looks like she's ready to sledgehammer me. What it is with cats that makes them like this is a complete mystery.

8:40 AM. Continuing on my rounds. Much to do, much territory to cover, and I should get home before tea time. Because tea equals scones, and scones equal mooching opportunities. It's basic canine math.

8:57 AM. Stopping in my tracks and sitting very still. There's a very good reason for that. A skunk is crossing ahead of me. Oh, please, take your time, I'm in no rush, whatever pace you want is fine with me. Just don't get startled or anything, okay? I don't want to get sprayed.

9:05 AM. Back home after no incidents involving getting skunked. I mean after all, I've learned my lesson there.

10:05 AM. I manage to use my sad eyes look to mooch a scone off the human. Yum yum yum!

12:55 PM. Wake up from nap. Wait a minute... did the human already have lunch without telling me?

12:57 PM. Sure enough, the human is doing dishes. Rats. I lost out on another chance to mooch.

2:40 PM. Staring outside. Keeping close watch for any sign of that infernal squirrel. That beast should be cast back into the seventh circle of hell from where he came.

3:57 PM. Sitting outside. Engaged in an extended bark-off with Spike The Magnificent down the road. Well, it's not as if we can use the phone to bark at each other.

4:15 PM. The human is having tea again. I manage to mooch a cookie.

Yum yum yum!

6:15 PM. The human is making dinner. Smells like French toast.

6:35 PM. The human and I have dinner, and sure enough, it's French toast. I get a few slices to wolf down, even if it doesn't include maple syrup.

Seriously, human, how much of a mess could I possibly make with maple syrup?

7:10 PM. The human and I are settling down in the living room for the evening. She's picking up a book to read. Human, why do you want to kill a mockingbird?

8:57 PM. Wake up out of nap at sudden sound. The human was taking my picture. This isn't going to get uploaded to the web, is it? Because somehow my lying on my back with all four legs up in the air isn't all that dignified.

11:22 PM. National news is on. It seems Shia LaBeouf got arrested for driving under the influence and running over Andy Dick. Wait a minute, Andy Dick is still alive? And while I'm not defending Shia- the guy's a twit- isn't running over Andy Dick a public service?

11:23 PM. Michael Bay is saying this might put a monkey in the wrench of his many films under production, since Shia is his star. He says he'll console himself by blowing something up real good.

11:50 PM. Good night, human! Sleep peacefully! I shall remain the ever vigilant and ever watchful through the night for any sign of nocturnal squirrels.

Though I might need an eight hour nap before I get started.