My daughter has a thing for suits. She’s nine, and she hates to wear dresses. A few weeks ago, she was asking questions,
“Can girls wear suits? Because I really like suits. And I want one.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Sure. But they look a little bit different from a men’s suit.”
“But it’s a suit?” she asked. “With pants? Not a dress, but pants?”
“Oh, definitely. Hillary Clinton wears pantsuits all the time.”
“Oh, yeah! But what do they look like?” She asked.
“I’m sure there’s a picture on the internet.”
I looked on my phone. I found this picture:
“Wo–ho!!! Let me see that!” Z grabbed the phone from me to look closer. “That is so cool! Those are all the same lady?”
“Yep, she’s got them in every color.”
“I like that,” She said.
Then I got distracted, as one does. A few minutes later, Z started giggling the laugh she does when she’s done something slightly naughty, but mostly just goofy.
“What are you up to?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” she said, and hid my phone under her butt. I grabbed my phone from under her butt, as one does, and this is what my phone looked like (except with last month’s date):
She made Hillary Clinton the background on my phone. I laughed for about five minutes. And then I left it. It’s been like that for a month or so, now.
By the way, does anyone know where you can buy an aquamarine pantsuit in a girl’s size ten?
1. Draw a guy.
2. Add a beard.
3. Draw a bird in the beard.
Another way is to have some really weird dudes visit you as you sketch them and their strange beard ecosystems. I speak from experience when I say, “Live models are a huge mistake! Bird poop everywhere! I’m missing my left thumb now! And those prima-dona beardos with their holier than thou attitudes? No, just make this stuff up. It’s better that way.”
After eighteen years of sweat, tears, and bird poop, at least I got a good coloring book out of it.
This is actually the second time I’ve been on the Segilola Salami podcast. The first time was about a month ago, when I was on with Johnson Emmanuel to discuss publicizing books with a growth hacker vs. publicizing books with a publicist. Johnson Emmanuel is a self-professed growth hacker, so of course he felt he had the best services to offer. During the first podcast, he convinced me to let him promote me for a month, for the podcast listeners to see what amazing results he got. Then he and I would come back on the show one month later and discuss results. (That first show is here, though I think it sounds a bit like an infomercial for Johnson Emmanuel.)
And then, a funny thing happened. As soon as we weren’t recording anymore, and our host hung up, and Johnson Emmanuel and I were essentially alone together, Johnson Emmanuel said I owed him $10,000 for this one month’s services we had discussed in the podcast. And did I mention he was speaking to me from *Nigeria? Although he said he lived in New York and was only visiting Nigeria. So, I gave him $10,000 and. . . no, I’m kidding. I didn’t give him any money. I said, “Actually, no thank you.” I did, however, work on some self-promotion over the month, and I still went back to check in with Segilola Salami and report on how it all went. Click here to listen to that slightly awkward and exciting conversation. Or listen to it on youtube:
*Segilola Salami is herself Nigerian, and as she says in the podcast, Nigeria gets a bad rap. There are lots of good people in Nigeria.
Cloudy is such a jerk. He just rams everyone.
Cloudy was a bottle lamb. He grew up with us feeding him, and he looks at people as his peers. And what do rams do with their peers? Well, they ram them.
I don’t know what to do with Cloudy. He has great wool, but if you want to go anywhere near him, you have to carry a big stick and poke him with it whenever he looks too excited. He’s actually pretty easy to control. It’s just this idea that we have an animal who charges at us at every opportunity that is a bit bizarre. It’s like staying in an abusive relationship. I currently have a giant bruise on my leg, because I forgot about carrying the big stick the other day, and he rammed me. I scolded him. I don’t think he really understood.
We could butcher him and eat him. Except, you know, he’s our baby Cloudy.
When he was a baby lamb, his mom rejected him. He was so pathetic and sad. He had one ear that wouldn’t stand up. It just flopped over. We thought we still might eat him someday, him being a ram, so we called him, “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.” Then I castrated him, and we changed his name to “Cloudy Wether.” So, you see, we are a bit attached to him. So we keep him in a separate area from the more gentle sheep, and we can admire his massive horns from afar.
The Ol’ Buzzard pointed out the other day that Vermont Witches are putting hexes on Donald Trump! Well, you have to hand it to those Vermonteers (Vermontians? Vermontonians?). A lot of good things have come out of Vermont: syrup, Bernie Sanders, Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream, and now good witches of the East? More about those Vermont witches here, but I’ll quote what I took away from it:
“The idea, Essig says, is not just to curse Trump but also “to make some good feminist magic to surround ourselves with—something other than the hate that his campaign supports.””
Wonderful idea, I think, but how, exactly, does an aspiring witch like myself (I’ve got a black cat and I’m enthusiastically voting for Hillary Clinton, so I must be close to being a witch) go about putting a hex on Donald Trump?
I researched this. I didn’t have to look far before I found this informative instructional video (confirming my belief, once again, that you can learn how to do anything on youtube):
Writing the name on a piece of paper, dunking it in water, and putting it in the freezer is supposed to be good for hexing “Intractable Bigots.” I guess they got the right hex!
Have fun. I don’t know that this works, but then, it might just feel good to do something silly during this time of complete political insanity.
Alternatively, I suppose you could hex Hillary Clinton- although you’d clearly be playing with fire (because there’s an old and unoriginal conspiracy theory out there that Hillary Clinton is herself a witch).
I wish Canada would just invade us already.
Happy Halloween, friends. Thanks for reading.
Today, we took a road trip to Belleville, Wisconsin for their 30th Annual UFO Days Parade. The parade commemorates the day in 1987 when a UFO was spotted by local police in Belleville, Wisconsin. (More about the original event here.) (Also click on that link if you want to feel nostalgic about web sites circa 1998.)
Belleville’s UFO Days had all of the charms of a small town parade, UFO alien style.
A few weeks ago, I created a Twitter Bot to discover the question. Which question, you might ask? The question for the meaning of life, of course. In the end of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy series, they discover the meaning of life: 42. That’s it. That’s the meaning of life. But, what is the question? This is the task I set my meaning bot out to discover. This week, she’s getting closer:
The last one is especially interesting to me, because I used to have a quote from Stanley Kubrick across the top of my old blog, “However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light.”
Would you like to make your own twitter bot? Use this tutorial. It’s fantastic.
Follow my twitter bot @meaningbot42. As she says today, “The more one can do.”