Hansis Hair of Horrors

Characters: Van, Jake, Jake's puppy and Van's Mentalist hair (so egregious, it gets its own billing)
Summary: Jake is horrified by Van's Mentalist coiffure. A non epic poem about epic bad hair.
Disclaimer: Everything here is invented. Sincere apologies to Real!Van, Real!Jake and Real!Jake's puppy. But not to Real!Van's Mentalist hair, which frankly should have issued a few apologies of its own.
Word count: 277
Warning: Very bad poetry. Excessive silliness.
Author's notes: This is all the fault of a certain miss_smp, who made the mistake of encouraging the crazy person. Steph, enable and you have received ;).


( Don't you own a mirror? )

Sometimes, when confronted by the twin specters of ill health and work stress, a woman must do what she must do. That's right, write bad poetry about Republican Presidential hopefuls.

I'm reliably informed (you know who you are), that I've long ago lost all claim to relative sanity. In which case, I proudly own my madness, to paraphrase Michelle Obama.

I know GOP Hawks won't ever read this, but in case there's a stray one lurking out there, here's the obligatory disclaimer: This is 100% pure-grade made-up hogwash.

And here, forthwith, Bad Poetry about Republican Presidential Candidates.

___


( Where Mitt Romney hides his money )


( Newt Gingrich's Imaginative Headwear )


( Rick Santorum, Manwhore )

___

Hmmm... writing bad verse about objects of fun and ridicule is SO MUCH FUN. Too bad Van Hansis has already made the wise decision to get a hair-cut. I could have had a field day with that. "Thespian" rhymes quite well with "lesbian".

___

This has been the most ridiculous post in the history of ridiculousness. And having written it, I feel at least 50% better. Behold the power of bad poetry to cure all ills. Antiobiotics ain't got nothing on this.

My first semi-sober thought of 2012 was, "I think I want Rick Santorum to win the Iowa Republican Caucus." Now that the hangover has passed, I haven't changed my mind. Because:

a) As a non-American, I have the luxury of following Republican politics like it's a sport. And any proper sport has a proper WTF result.

b) Same-sex marriage is legal in Iowa. Rick Santorum has, in his own words, "a problem with homosexual acts". Irony is good for the soul.

c) If Santorum wins Iowa, he'll trend on the Internet. People will Google his name and discover spreadingsantorum.com and Dan Savage's brilliant Campaign for Santorum Neologism. Dan Savage deserves to be better known than he is.

d) "Senator Santorum" is alliterative and I worship at the altar of alliteration.


In the interest of being fair and balanced, I suppose I should list the reasons why I shouldn't want Santorum to win Iowa.

a) He authored the Santorum Amendment and doesn't believe in climate change.

b) Michelle Bachman has better hair.

c) Rupert Murdoch thinks he has "genuine big vision", whatever that means. I think it's possible Rupert Murdoch doesn't define "genuine" the same way most people do.

d) He's Rick Santorum, FFS.


Weighing both sides of the argument, I still think I want Santorum to win Iowa. Hmmm. Maybe the human brain needs more than 3 hours sleep to function rationally.

So there it is. I'm putting this on the record so that Future!Me can one day point and laugh at Present!Me.

The deities help us: Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1 opens in local cinemas today. I gather we managed stave off the mayhem one week longer than other parts of the world. But it's a tide that can't be turned back and so it arrives on these shores, awaited by a mass of over-excited fans.

Twilight: Eclipse was recently on TV and I watched it while doing household chores. Divorced from all the hype, Eclipse was a perfectly decent, enjoyable movie. I would have lapped this stuff up back when I was 13 years old.

I'm not 13, and therefore obviously not the target audience for this. And since the film is not intended for me, I should just shut up, leave it alone and let the screaming hoards enjoy it. I would do just that, if only the film would leave ME alone.

The problem is that I can't dodge Breaking Dawn no matter how hard I try. I can't turn on the TV, open a Web browser or a newspaper, or walk past a bus shelter, without seeing something related to the damned movie. It's bloody EVERYWHERE.

And sooner or later, I'll be hearing about it too. There are people in my life who inexplicably love the Twilight series. Such are life's mysteries that there will always be something beyond my comprehension.

I'm dreading it. The swooning and the sighing, and no doubt the shock!horror! reaction to the crazy Cronenbergian developments. And the Team Pale Vampire versus Team Swarthy Werewolf shipwars make me long for the days of Harmony versus Orange Crush in Harry Potter. That was at least legitimately wanky and fun for outsiders looking in. The Twilight triangle makes me want to mutilate my cheek with a blunt pencil.

And this is just Part 1. Maybe I should go underground and resurface in 2013. Stephenie Meyer better not write a fifth book in the meantime.

The sound of screaming on a Sunday morning:

Someone needs to take LJ's Post and Comment Editor out back and shoot the effing thing between the eyes.

Okay, off now in a search for the calming influence of pancakes and maple syrup. And then on a mission to install Semagic. And then possibly write Luke-has-7-heads crack poetry.

LJ, I DARE YOU TO MESS UP THIS SHORT POST. I DARE YOU.

My grand experiment with multi-chapter fic writing, An Oakdale Farmboy in Camelot, is ostensibly historical fiction. "Historical" in the sense that it's not set in the 21st century, or even the late 20th century. NOT historical in the sense that it's in any way faithful to actual events or conditions prevailing at the time.

Herewith is my conscience-clearing exercise to document my many, many transgressions against "proper" history in this story. Plus a few other bits and pieces.

( Crimes and Misdemeanors )

If I was to do this over again, I would probably think twice about setting this thing in the past and tangling myself up with all the complications of time travel and magic. It was altogether too ambitious for a first attempt at long-form fiction writing!

But that's water under the bridge now. As they say ('they' being the voices in my head) - dragons done, bring on the gargoyles!

It's taken freaking forever, but I have read and summarized 12 chapters on university innovation and technology transfer systems. Boy, that was a slog.

I don't know, I think I ought to go reward myself with a big chocolate sundae or something. But I finally hit that magic 51kg/112lb target last week, and I'd like to hang on to that for a few days more.

London! Chaotic, overcrowded, expensive London. How I do love thee. But today's bit of nostalgia is away from the madding crowd, for a change.
( A day in the country (sort of) )

On the train out to Kew, we encountered a bunch of people going to Wimbledon for the tennis. It was all very exciting, seeing the ladies in their pristine white dresses and pretty hats. But I was rather disappointed that nobody had Andy Murray's name slathered across their face in zinc cream; and there was nary a funny hat in sight.

I'm feeling nostalgic for one year ago. A lot of it has to do with the excitement over the just concluded Wimbledon competition and Mark Watson talking about the upcoming Edinburgh Festival. One year and two weeks ago, the SO and I were testing our fitness in the welcoming summer climates of Scotland. I was eating Green and Black chocolate last week and was overcome by such a strong sense of wanting to be back in a place where the concept of a "summer sweater" is not an oxymoron.
( The glories of Edinburgh in pictures )

I've been maintaining for six years that Edinburgh is my favorite city in Europe; and putting these pictures together have reaffirmed that. I just love everything that it evokes for me, tradition, history and nature, but so much vibrancy and creativity all at the same time.

PS. I'm an idiot (I mean, that's usually a given, but I'm an idiot <i>even more so than usual</i>).  I managed to set my Olympus camera's date to a whole year earlier than the actual date. Every photo is labeled June 2008, when it should be June 2009. On the plus side, the battery charger for this camera died during our 2nd day in Edinburgh and I didn't manage many more photos using it.  Bleh, let's hope I didn't make the same mistake with the other camera.