Panzerfaust

Today was a big bust. I had planned to spend most of the morning and all afternoon blogging from the comfort of the local Barnes & Noble internet hotspot, but after purchasing a 2-hour block of time the local router decided to stop working.

Now I'm at a friend's apartment, where there are at least 2 promiscuous wireless routers.

Moral of story: never pay for internet access because somewhere there is a person with an unsecured network.

More entries to follow this over the weekend -- I'm not forgetting my promise! -- but right now there are too many distractions.

So enjoy a movie about Giant Nazi Mecha and check back in tomorrow.

Deadlines

Leech left a comment regarding "Naptime", where he said:

When I see posts where people are apologizing like this, I want to slap them. Don't apologize to us about this! You do have a life outside of this stuff :P

I take his meaning, and while I treasure the sentiment, I have to disagree for a very basic reason: This blog is a social contract between me, the writer, and you, my readers. I have promised that, six times a week, I will write something of interest, and in return you will read it and shower me with adulation. If I do not adhere my terms of the contract, I don't deserve readers.

Wow, Palette, don't you think that's a little uptight of you?

Not at all! You see, this isn't a hobby for me. I am trying to be an honest-to-goodness professional writer here. My dream is that, one day, I am paid actual money to write.

And if I can't deliver something as simple as a 250 word article every day, then I don't deserve that dream.

Like most of you, I enjoy reading webcomics. In fact, I have a sense of entitlement about them: if your posting schedule is M-W-F, then by GOD you'd better have a new comic up on your webpage come 8 am! I read my newspaper funnies, then I read my web funnies. If you don't post your comic until noon, or 5 pm, or (God help you) 11:59 pm, then guess what? You aren't on a M-W-F schedule, you're on a T-Th-Sat schedule.

Some webcomic artists are really good about being punctual, like Penny Arcade and Sinfest. They are like clockwork. Pete Abrams of Sluggy Freelance not only has a regular schedule, but manages to get guest artists for when he goes on vacation. My idol, however, has to be Howard Taylor of Schlock Mercenary, who not only has worked so far ahead that he has a buffer zone of about a month, but who also has the balls to post a new strip at 9 pm every night, seven nights a week. This man is a god, and I worship at the feet of his work ethic.

Then there are the other comics. You know the ones I mean. The ones that, despite a half-assed publishing schedule, somehow manage to be successful enough that their creators can make a living with them. I don't read those webcomics any more, because I got tired of them not updating their strips for three days.

I refuse to be one of those people. That's why I apologize when I'm late.

I don't know if I'll ever have a safety net of pre-written blog posts. It's certainly something to which I aspire. But if I am late, I don't want any of you to EVER go easy on me.

Without my readers, I am nothing.
Demand what you deserve: nothing less than my very best.

Naptime

I know, I know... I owe you two blog entries: one for yesterday, one for today. But I'm dead on my feet and need to take a nap.

I'll make it up to you this weekend, I promise.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Shiny!

Nota Bene: This is Monday's missing post. Wednesday's post will come later today.

Loyal Browncoats who ordered the Serenity Blueprints will no doubt have received them in the mail. I implore you to resist the urge to rip into the package willy-nilly! This is a holy relic and as such needs to be treated with respect and reverence. Fortunately for you, dear reader, I will detail the proper procedure for enjoying your Sacred Scrolls.

First, you must create a sacred space. Remove all elements hostile to Firefly, Serenity, and Joss Whedon from the room. This includes any item with the word "Fox" in its name or on its container. (Naturally, your Firefly DVDs and CDs are exempt from this stricture, as they have already been purified by the Holy Name of Joss.)

Once the cleansing of the room is complete, you must now ritually purify yourself. Cleanse your filthy, sweaty body while humming the Firefly theme. Then, dress yourself in garb compatible with the 'Verse. If you lack this basic element, you must strip naked in remembrance of Trash or Our Mrs. Reynolds, as appropriate for your gender.

Next, create an atmosphere that is pleasing unto The Whedon. Scatter elements from the Money Pack upon whichever surface you intend to rest the Blueprints. Arrange your Serenity Action Figures so that they may also partake of the viewing. (You may add plastic dinosaurs if you desire.) Finally, play music from the Serenity or Firefly soundtrack, or play the Series or Movie DVDs. If for some gorram reason you lack this basic element, you may click on the Independent Flag below to play the Ballad of Serenity:


Now you are ready to open the packaging. Using a Big Gorram Knife, carefully cut the tape on the shipping container. Do not discard anything, and be aware of the order in which you unpacked!

Once you have carefully unrolled the Shiny, you may gaze upon it with awe. Savor the heady aroma of freshly-printed high-bond paper. Imagine yourself within the majestic confines of Serenity. Be amazed that this only cost you $99.00 plus s&h -- ten dollars a page, a steal at twice the price!

Be careful, however, that you do not drool upon your Serenity Blueprints. Use a Cunning Hat to absorb your excess saliva, if necessary. If perchance you feel the need to curse, do so only in 'Versespeak:

• Shiny!
• Gorram!
• Wuh duh ma huh ta duh fung-kwong duh wai-shung doh!

When you are finished, carefully repack your Holy Scrolls in the reverse order in which you opened them. Transport them with much awe and reverence to a climate-controlled reliquary, which should then be placed into an armored, fireproof safe, preferably one with a ten-thousand dollar guarantee.

If at the end of this viewing you feel yourself overcome with grief that such an incredible show was cancelled, you may engage in a Two Minutes Hate against Rupert Murdoch, Fox Network President.

Snap!

I've just implemented SnapShots on this blog, which means that hovering the mouse over the link will get you a cached image of the site it links to. Hopefully this will add value to your rhythmic lurking experience.

If you should find it annoying, it's easy to disable. When the SnapShot pops up, move your cursor to "Options" and you can modify it as you see fit.

Please note that disabling it involves the use of a cookie, and that if you delete cookies from your web browser you'll get the pop-up again.

Missing posts

This week is awful for me and only going to get worse. I'm exhausted, and when I get a rare moment of peace and quiet in which to write, all I want to do is collapse and veg out.

I don't know when I'll be able to write another quality blog post. I'm working on one now, but it's an uphill battle as every little thing has me literally screaming in frustration.

I apologize to all my loyal readers.

A Sestina for Tool and Ass

A Sestina, as I'm sure you're all aware, is a kind of poem created by Arnaut Daniel in the late 12th century. Wikipedia defines it as "a highly structured poem consisting of six six-line stanzas followed by a tercet (called its envoy or tornada), for a total of thirty-nine lines. The same set of six words ends the lines of each of the six-line stanzas, but in a different order each time."

A writer on a forum I frequent said that he had considered making a Sestina about someone he despised using the words tool, ass, loser, scumbag, putz and freak, but he decided against it because he was lazy.

Naturally, I accepted the challenge.

I present it to you here, that you may use it the next time you get into a flamewar with someone. Just replace the relevant names and change the pronouns as appropriate.

Because nothing says "class" quite so much as insulting someone with poetry.

A Sestina for Tool and Ass

I speak to you today of a gigantic tool;
One whose words are the braying of an ass:
He calls himself [name], but we name him "loser".
Would that we could fit him with a verbal scumbag
To contain the vile ejaculate of his words. Surely this putz
Dons a full-body condom before women willingly submit to this freak.

If he came near me in such an unprotected state I would freak;
The thought of being touched by his naked tool
Makes me ill. Who in their right mind would jack his putz?
I would rather have sexual relations with a horse or an ass
Before I allowed this sickening scumbag
To penetrate me with the genitalia of a loser.

Rational arguments separate a winner from a loser
But when confronted with logic, [name] will freak
And thence resort to ad hominem attacks. "Scumbag!"
He will call you, then chuckle at his cunning use of this tool
Of debate. But will [name of moderator] ever ban his ass?
Of course not, for he too is a putz.

Did you know that the Yiddish word for "dick" is putz?
Of course you did. You're not a loser
Who makes negative ass-
Sumptions. Wasn't that clever? Sometimes I freak
Myself out with my cleverness. By the way, [name] is a tool
And, lest I repeat myself, a scumbag.

Speaking of a scumbag,
The best part of [name] oozed from his father's putz.
He should have covered his tool
With a rubber and spared us from meeting his loser
Child. Sir, next time you wish to get nasty and freak
Your wife, please do her in the ass.

The world can't bear another ass
Like [name]. Keep your corrupt seed in a scumbag
Where it belongs, you genetic freak,
Or get a vasectomy on your putz.
At the game of life, you are a loser!
For your son is a giant tool.

Thus ends "Sestina for Tool and Ass;"
I am sick of talking about this loser [name], a scumbag
Whose putz, we all hope, will never get to freak.

(Yes, I know it's not in iambic pentameter. Sue me.)