“I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead”…

That’s a line from Roland’s benefactor and creator, Warren Zevon. He thought it most appropriate.

Here’s one from Woody Allen;

” I’m not afraid of death. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”

That got a decent laugh.

A very brisk morning at the Opera House, with three unexpected visitors; Catherine Howard, the Countess of Salisbury, and our own Chelsea.

Catherine and the Countess are just happy to have a new place to hang out. Anything to get out of the damned Tower for a change; and they thought a visit with Anne and Mary a capital idea.  They say that Henry has become quite the bore with his constant clamoring for attention, as if  he were the only ghost in the place; they say that he’s actually miffed at having to haunt the Tower, rather than Whitehall. Not nearly as comfortable. Frontier justice, says Doc.

Their main topic of conversation? Street cred, or rather…platform cred.

Anne was a quick one-stroke. Clean, no complaining.

Mary was a three-stroke; and she tipped the axeman nicely, too.

Catherine was absolutely terrified, but racked up huge points by asking for the block in her chamber the night before, so she could practice being graceful. Style was all with Catherine. And they finished by holding her head up so she could see her own decapitated body.

The showstopper was definitely Lady Salisbury. Even the Gladiators were scared of this one;

At age 68, she kicked and clawed and bit. They had to hold her down, and the stroke got her in the shoulder. At which point she broke free; and they had to chase her about the platform and down the stairs. Even then, it took eleven strokes to complete.

Massive credibility. A hushed silence, and then wild applause.

In closing, all the ladies agreed; never underestimate the English capacity for genius in cruelty.

And Paul Pierce thought that Dwight Howard was bad. Phht.

And Chelsea just wants to hang out and watch the developments next door. A bit resentful at having been discarded so early on. Says she’ll still take the gun over a trip to the Tower any day…

Busy, busy…

A  good morning in Blogworld today.

The WD was on target, and the Spatula was terrific. Makes me wish I had something to offer…but no. Nada. Nyet. Nein.

Thanks to The Clark ( WD ) for a prompt and provoking entry. Must have been triggered by my canny use of  ancient Latin phraseology; not only did it generate an entry in record time, but has also garnered the attention of several decapitated Roman gladiators from northern England. They’ve been filing in all night, says Roland. He was shooting them at first, but says that murderous small-arms fire doesn’t phase them. They’ve been hacked to death with broadswords, for God’s sake. And torn apart by lions. Insult to injury.

They’ve apparently come to see how Kobe gets his ass re-attached. Hopes we can do the same for them. I’ve tried to explain that these things aren’t necessarily literal, but they’re not buying it. Kobe overheard all that, and wants us to immediately transfer him to another blog that’s more Laker-friendly. Demands retribution, revenge on Ray Allen, and his ass back on by 2100 hrs EST.

The gladiators want to know why NBA guys don’t have weapons. And where they can get an agent, and what is a salary cap? They say they know how to stop the fast break;  a trident spear, and a net. Easy. And, they like Dwight Howard. No surprise there.

On the novel front, I think we have enough characters for now. I’m considering another traumatic event that will; a) solidify them as a group b) prevent diffracted character development. The event will tie in nicely to something I found on a conspiracy-theory site. Even has cryptic lettering; the HAARP IRI. Aut viam invenium aut facium.

As it turns out, I got my entry up there this afternoon. That leaves things in DS1’s capable hands. Give ’em hell!!

Oh, Foo…

Just waiting on the next entry to be put up, and this seemed like a good video to help pass the time. Theme? Trying to continue working while pressure keeps building…

All right, yes, that is a bit of a stretch. How about I just really liked these guys? Great band, and a sense of humor. Roland wants to shoot at the stuff that gets thrown off the bridge. He swears he hit the TV just before it hits the ground.

Mel still has a few hours before we pass the wand to Clark.

Paul Pierce and Glen Davis think their heads may stay in place long enough to play tonight. Mary Queen of Scots says that if Paul had slipped Dwight Howard a gold coin, he might have made a cleaner job of it. And Mary offers a little-known historical fact; when she leaned in to whisper to the axeman, she asked him if he could change a twenty…thinks in retrospect that maybe that wasn’t such a great idea.

Should be an entry showing up pretty soon. In the meantime, Go Celtics!!

The HCC…

Checked in to Rag Central this morning to find Roland, Paul Pierce, Glen Davis, Mary Queen of Scots, and Anne Boleyn conducting a meeting of the Headless Celebrities Club. They’re deciding who to get for a keynote speaker at the convention…HenryVIII, or Dwight Howard.