Rambler #12: Scary Red Light Revisited

I posted some weeks ago about my son's irrational fear of what he called, the "Scary Red Light" in his closet.

The mystery has been solved!

Long ago, a toy, a motion-activated light-up noisome thing, was forged in the secret fires of Mount Doom, then given as a gift to my son. But he was deceived; we were all deceived. The toy was all together evil, working out its machinations, driving my household mad. The lightest step activated it — lights flashed, demented carnival tunes blared.

My home was fraying, nearly undone. An alliance, the last alliance of sane parents was formed and a battle fought. The toy's voice-box was removed. It should have been destroyed that day, but instead, it was banished high up in the closet of my son's room.

Some things, that should not have been forgotten, were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half years, this accursed toy passed out of all knowledge. Until, when chance came, it silently activated late one night; and thus was born the Scary Red Light.

But never fear. Once and for all, I have carried it to Mount Doom and cast it into the fires from whence it came. Evil has been destroyed.

The Hiatus Is Over

Recently, I started several new contract projects. So the past 2 weeks or so have been crazy ramp-up time and since I'm getting paid for them, well, the blog got neglected.

Never fear, I'm back now. New post coming tomorrow.

Rambler #8: Too Much News

ATTENTION: News agencies of the world. Way too much news has been crammed into way too few days this week.

Some of the too many events this week:

• Ed McMahon, 86, died

• Farrah Fawcett, 62, died

• Michael Jackson, 50, died

• Jeff Goldblum, 56, fell 60 feet to his death while filming on location in New Zealand. Several hours later, Mr. Goldblum informed Google that he was not dead, not in New Zealand and not shooting a new film

• South Carolina local boy and huge underdog Lucas Glover wins US Open

• US men's soccer team beats #1 ranked Spain 2-0 in a massive upset in the CONFED semi-final

• 9 killed, 76 injured in worst metro crash in Washington D.C.'s 33 year metro history

• South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford got lost on the Appalachian Trail and ended up Buenos Aries, Argentina, in the bed of Maria Shapur

I feel jipped. Barely had the Ed-McMahon-shaped waves of shock and sadness begun to roll over me when Farrah Fawcett barged onto the scene. And poor thing, she received a scant 17 minutes of shock and saddness before Michael Jackson completely shoved everyone off the front page.

What about ad sales, guys? What about days upon days of talking heads, cheesy charts and cloying photo montages? Did you learn nothing from Princess Diana? You guys milked that for over a month of 24-7 coverage because you didn't crowd the plate. If you had planned this right, you could have rode the wave through Christmas.

And someone obviously got carried away with let's-kill-a-bunch-of-famous-people day, as shown by Jeff Goldblum's untimely demise, then un-demise. He's lucky, though. I heard he got lost looking for Mordor and ended up somewhere around Buenos Aries, wherever that is.

Happy Birthday Mr. Sendak

Today, June 10, 2009 Maurice Sendak is 81.

I labored over a post that would be appropriate for such a celebration. In the end, I can think of nothing, no one rather, better able to pay tribute to Mr. Sendak than my friend, Cory Godbey through his work at Terrible Yellow Eyes.

Take it away Cory....

A blog with low self-esteem

I resisted and resisted, but I feel a need to justify this blog before it actually begins. Maybe I'm trying to prepare you, the reader, for the horrors that await. Perhaps too, I'm trying to convince myself. 

In the end, what I'm really trying to do, I think, is to lower the bar of expectations, really lower it. 

Remember that birthday party at the local roller rink? The birthday boy brought his own roller skates so you knew a rousing game of limbo is imminent. The bar started high, you barely had to tilt your head. All of sudden it lowered way down. In slow motion, you saw the bar looming and the birthday boy sneering at your impending doom. You're decision? Under or Over? Under, and you might fall, getting kicked in the head by the skates behind you. Over, and the complicated hop-skip required might result in the bar getting caught in the not-so-comfortable-region down there. 

The debate raged in your head, the bad 80's remix faded into the background...WUMP! The limbo bar nailed you in the gut and you spent the rest of the time sidelined with a slushy.

I don't want to be that person, again. And I don't want you to be that person. Let me be clear. This blog is about me. Me and the great story of life as I witness it unfold in the mundane ways it often does. In case the phrase "great story of life"  confused you and caused the bar to inch upward, let me remind you again that this blog is about me. That should bring it back down, way down. 

See you on the other side.