Wednesday, April 23, 2014
EE Is Eight
The great thing about anniversaries is that they’re guaranteed to come around every year.
Mostly, anniversaries are good things — unless your calendar indicates hey, it’s X years since the godawful day when your crock of a Chevy hit that runaway moose on the freeway and you clambered out to give it the kiss of life only to be clipped on the leg by some dumbass hillbillies in a rusty VW camper van, and yeah, so they climbed out the roof after you shouted FUUUUUCK, and chased you down the freeway with pitchforks and axes, screaming merry hell. You fought them off with the moose’s antlers but when that busload of day tripping schoolkids veered off through the barrier into the opposite lane just as you scored a direct hit on the hillbilly leader’s cranium and the blood spewed out over a passing cop, no way were you backing down or allowing those kids to suffer the same fate as the moose. So you took out your rod and got blasting KAPOW KAPOW KAPOW — every hillbilly heart, every tyre on every car heading for that upturned bus as it skidded along the tarmac towards the fifty foot drop to the ocean. You shot the cop and grabbed his bike, revving that ole engine like Optimus Prime clearing his throat of enemy nanobots. Oregon State Police utility lasso in hand, you flung a makeshift noose over the wing mirror of what seemed destined to become a giant yellow kiddy coffin, and you tugged and tugged with all your might till the whole emergency nightmare spectacle ground to a flaming halt. Kids spilled from the bus like spawn from a severed frog, and you breathed a sigh of relief to rival the long, deep, low, soft groan of pleasure a gorilla might emit if permitted to sup a latte in Starbucks. That’s when the ocean waves parted, and a mad-as-hell Godzilla cyborg replicant burst from the foam with evil and a hapless schooner in his eye...
So, yes — unless your calendar indicates that, anniversaries are gtg.
Maybe you have a birthday today, or maybe it’s 25 years since your gelded stallion mysteriously gave birth to triplets. If so, then whup out the cakes and party hats for all that shit.
But if you’ve nothing to celebrate at all (and possibly even no genuine desire to live) or you’re one of those people unable to gush with sympathetic generosity in the face of an editor overlord with weird hair, then head on over to EVIL EDITOR’S BLOG right now.
However momentous today turns out, Day 1 of EE’s blog will always be eight years older.