Velociworld

I'LL BE DAMNED

I thought it was rather well known around the Sphere that Velociman does not cotton to being tagged with memes. Me, you know, being a leader, not a follower, a blazer of trails both unique and exotic, what I tell myself in my premature senility is the mark of a True Original.

Okay. Scratch all that shit. Just pulled a muscle thumping myself on the back. Now I'm whimpering for a soft massage, and a chocolate chip cookie.

Regroup: I don't take kindly to tags, because they remind me of chain letters, wherein one is obliged to pass on the fart of the day, or God Almighty will smite you, and give you seven years of bad luck, and Stevie Wonder won't return your calls, and you will develop cluster warts in the crack of your ass, locusts being very Yesterday on the Omnipotent Designer's list of pestilences.

And yet. And yet! The sizzling Key Monroe feels she can sweep aside my curmudgeonly demands, and tag my ass. Tagged like a damned white-tailed deer. I wonder she didn't just bolt the meme through my ear, with a DNR tag attached.

I feel a little ill-served here, because the lovely Key knows I cannot resist her demands, she being an amorphous combination of Braniac and Wonder Woman, and she apparently has some kind of thought control thing going. Or maybe it's just the magic lariat, and the continued threat of its use for purposes of discipline. Whatever the reason, I cannot say no to the girl.

I've strayed again, haven't I? Yes. All because I refuse to address the topic at hand, that accursed meme. Well, never let it be said I was pussy. Twat? Oh, yes.

So here we go:

What were three of the stupidest things you have done in your life?

Climbing the rigging of the Coast Guard Barque Eagle at midnight, 130 feet into the night, to repair a blown out topgallant sail that was rent asunder during a tropical storm 200 miles off Long Island. TWO safety belts on me, strong as seat belts, and they ripping as that vessel pitched from side to side in a satanic 120 degree arc. I later submitted a white paper advising the service they should employ fetch monkeys to carry out such fatal tasks, said paper being dismissed. I submitted a second white paper after that, advising the service should train dolphins to carry impact mines strapped to their dorsal fins, and sink that Nazi vessel once and for all. Dismissed, as well.

Drinking mine own Chatham Artillery Punch at the Helen Blogtoberfest. I damned near broke my neck in 1992 doing an almost perfect one and a half gainer off my mother's deck drinking that shit. What was I thinking??

Having Godzilla's cock surgically attached to my body. Sure, it's impressive, but what can you do with it? Found a few blue whales that could handle it, but now even they are hiding in the Marianas Trench, passing crib notes.

At the current moment, who has the most influence in your life?

My creditors. At last count there are approximately 6,201. Hey, GMAC Mortage! Love ya, baby. Where is the unctuous free month grace period you blew up my ass in 2003? I miss that.

If you were given a time machine that functioned, and you were
allowed to only pick up to five people to dine with, who would you pick?

Easy.

Jesus, the Prince of Peace, to keep me in line. We could compare scars, too, although a Rasmussen poll I commissioned tells me I will lose. Is okay. I'll give 'er a go anyway.

Billy Faulkner, because I'd be needing a drinking buddy, and someone who can out think me even when he's in his cups. Even Velociman needs a dose of humility now and then.

Genghis Khan. The ultimate success story. Carved out the largest empire the world has ever known, whilst riding tiny, sturdy ponies. Would charge him with giving the motivational speeches, and explaining why literacy is somewhat overrated in world domination circles.

Sir Isaac Newton. The Father of Physics. Sure, he had no clue that it was all about quantum mechanics, but he was, as they say, the layer of serious tile. All that came after him was because of him. Ike a keeper.

Cleopatra. Had to throw her in because despite what you hear, Sandra Day O'Connor is not the most powerful woman in history. That, and I would enjoy a reach-around.

If you had three wishes that were not supernatural, what would they
be?

Peace on Earth. Okay, I take that back. I like conflict. Reboot:

That Moe was still alive.

That Larry was still alive.

That Curly was still alive.

Name two things you regret your city not having, and two things people should
avoid.

I wish we had major league baseball, and a definable cuisine.

Avoid the northside (Murder Capital of Florida! Why we keep those peeps on the Northside!) and Fruit Cove. Because I live there, and I have enough growth issues, thank you very fucking much.

Name one thing that has changed your life.

Blodging. I was pretty normal before you people fucked me all up, getting entwined in my shit. If I had to pick a second? Fatherhood. I had no idea I could be so wrong, so consistently, for so long. I guess I know now, don't I?

Oh. And thank you, Key. Your (fill in the blank) is in the mail.

UPDATE: I have been informed by the shapely Ms. Monroe that I have forgotten the last point of the meme: to wit, to pass it on. Well, Ach, as they said when the crematoriums were overfilled.

The lucky five:

Neanderpundit
Margi
Ophelia
Dana
Livey

All folks who cannot reach my precious neck with a razor blade.

Christ, I can't believe I had to actually follow through on this. I feel dirty. But, you know, that's the good part.