Lost Works of Dr. Seuss – Excerpt
Lost works of Dr. Seuss have been popping up madly. I searched my attic and found one about neighbors acting badly. I don’t own the rights so I won’t be a millionaire. But on my blog under “fair use” claims I figured I would share.
Enjoy.
The Butthole Battle Book – Death to a Neighbor
Here’s a little story about a creature I abhor
A freak of nature who’s my closest neighbor
Delta, Science and The Bible
I believe that The Bible is incomplete. Each and every book should have ended with the sentence: “Well played, God. Welllll played.”
I speak from experience since I believe the point of my life has been to add a new chapter. Hint: It’ll be called The Book of Tom and it’ll be inserted right after Job. Howdy, neighbor!
Take today, for example. Seriously. Please take it.
Yesterday I had yakisoba noodles with chicken for lunch. I ate less than I wanted because I was saving it. For today.
I now read from the Book of Tom:
Tom’s Law #42
Look forward to something and you’ll get exactly what you deserve.
I was really looking forward to lunch today. I think we all know this isn’t going to turn out well. Let us prey.
Book Crook
While at the beach recently, my wife and I stopped at the quintessential beach town book store. It was a cute little place and exactly what you’d expect down to the requisite cat lounging in the vicinity of the kid’s books. Thanks to the damn kids loitering my petting time was limited. Worse, I was homesick for my babies left behind home alone. (With visits from the cat sitter.)
The store had limited selection of new books, mainly best sellers, and as such wasn’t too interesting. Not too surprisingly their books were offered at full cover price. Pretty standard really for homey places trying to compete with the big boys. I like supporting little local shops so I strongly considered picking up a new copy of Sycamore Row by John Grisham in hardback for only $28.95 USD. I hadn’t heard of the book before and Grisham is a no-brainer who always delivers.
Still, three Hamiltons for a single book was a little much and besides, who the hell has time to read while on vacation? I reluctantly put the book back and decided to wait.
Later, my wife decided to check out another local book store, this one a dumpy place offering used books. Lo and behold, what did she find? Yup, a copy of Sycamore Row with a hand-written price sticker of 25 cents.
Hey, that falls into my budget.
Knowing me like she does, my wife dutifully snatched it up. But when she took it to the counter the shopkeeper realized what was going on and balked. It was time for the “that’s the wrong price” game. Little did he know what a fierce contestant he was up against.
Theorizing About You
Sung to the tune of Old Toy Trains:
Disembodied brains
Existing in a jar
A theory not disproved
No matter who you are
A theory from a man
Messin’ with your head
Little fool, can you even know
If you are alive or dead
The wife is out of town so I finally got to watch some Stephen Hawking on Netflix. (Sorry, Northern Exposure. You’re officially on hiatus.) I promptly wrote the song above. Thanks a lot, Steve.
Actually, without even knowing it, I twixed the mind master of disaster a long time ago. You see, I’ve long had this theory of my own.
In my version, I am the only person who really exists. An evil all-powerful genius creates a bubble of reality, with me at the center, that follows me around no matter where I go. Places, things and yes, even people, are all illusions created to torment my existence. Apparently the meaning of life is to torture me, the humble innocent. The most probable explanation is that He’s writing a sequel to the Book of Job.
If my theory is true, that means I’m talking to myself right now. Touché, touché!
The point of the brain in a vat thought experiment is that the theory can’t be disproven, therefore, it’s possible. I like to think probable. It also shows that scientists will gleefully rip from the inventive world of Hollywood for their own selfish means. Isn’t there some way to protect us from the scientists?
Oh, almost forgot. They aren’t real, either.
The Tom B. Taker Cook Book
The Pioneer Woman Blog and Shouts From The Abyss are the same. Both are blogs. She posts pictures. I post pictures. She posts stories. I post stories. She posts recipes. I post recipes.
See? Exactly the same.
“But hey, Tom! She has readers.”
Well played, voice in my head. Well played. I can’t wait to get my hands on you. You are gonna die.
I’ve posted recipes in the past. I won’t bother linking them, though. I don’t remember what they were and besides, copy and paste is too much damn work. And I’m tired from writing an entire cook book.
Sometimes my wife cooks. Sometimes I cook. And that gave me an idea. I should lock my knowledge away in a tome.
Viola! Knowledge is served.
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Abyss Christmas Buying Guide 2012: Hell To Pay
Is there a crazy character on your Christmas list with that far, far away look in their eye who’s a few life lessons short of guru attainment? I, your humble guru, did, and so can you. And so can they.
I owe it all to the compendium of tome that forever changed my life. It’s a book that irrevocably set galactic-sized wheels in motion, albeit a long, long time ago.
“You can waste time with your friends when your chores are done.”
–Owen Lars, Moisture Farmer
I’m talking about, of course, Hell To Pay, a hearty collection of witticisms and musings about the great mysteries of life by our galaxy’s most famous moisture farmer, Owen Laws. You may know him better as the uncle to the master of midichlorians himself, Luke Skywalker.
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