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Tweekaboo
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 1226
And I've been getting these dumb-ass emails from "Tweekaboo", the "Social Media Platform" for people that just got kids.
"Family life is all about moments. The first moments, the messy moments, the tender moments, the 3am moments, the proud moments. These are the wonderful real-life moments that tell the story of your child's life. We call these moments Tweekaboo moments.
At Tweekaboo we're parents too. Designed for busy families, Tweekaboo uses your smart phone to make saving magic moments, easy."
Bloody Hell.
To some people kids are like herpes or religion and they want to share their experience with anyone that will listen. So Amber has somehow mistyped her friends name into her phone and I've been the (un)lucky recipient of all the glorious updates as to her precious little bundle of joy, 3 a day, and Google alerts me every time something new happens. Headlines like: "Koala Costume", "Aunt Mandy trying to get Charley in the Halloween...", "Love my PJ's from Grandma" and "Happy Halloween from our little Pumpkin". I'm guessing it's one of the other Rod/Rob Boyle's from down under, somewhere someone got deported to a sunnier clime and my relations got sent to Canada. And now you want me to take this bullet for you? I wrote tech support at Tweekaboo, told them they had the wrong guy, I'm not that guy, I don't even slightly envy that guy, who's probably just nodding dully along to the conversations with Amber and never for a moment thinks to correct his email address with her, he's getting away far too lightly, but I can't bear it anymore and tech support at Tweekaboo, they're just glad someone's using their product, I could create an account and log in and tell Amber directly, but maybe what I should do - in the spirit of the season, is log into Tweekaboo and start sending Amber all of my precious family moments..."...a tight circumcision", "...that was a smelly burp - OOPS", "...first soiled diaper", that kinda thing, maybe then she'd work it all out.
It's Raining Mushrooms...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 1290
And finally old Batsh*t delivers, more scrolls, 7 of them, amazing, an hour's reading and sounding things out...figuring things out. References to the Terminator movies, Replicants (Bladerunner), more lobster and peacock, and a girl that says it's "Raining Mushrooms". I noticed on my days photo safari yesterday (watch banner) what I suspected were Liberty Caps, suspicious, and reading the scrolls I understand...
He's a wizard of the first order in Foon, it's always cryptic - his nicknames for everyone - the chef is Ms. 777, the other waiter is Cyclone, I'm "Litn'n Rod", the world is mapped differently, a few of the scrolls integrate centerfolds and cross over into pornography - I have to look a minute, that's a penis she's holding and it's squirting up into her mouth, yep, that's pornography, but there's lots, lots there, she - despite the penis - is managing to hold on to a coffee cup in her other hand, coffee cups, coffee pots, his leitmotif.
I love this guy. And he's stalled on our meeting up today, there's a party across the lake at the Cabin, I have to dig out my HD Camera and bring it, he's not invited (I don't think), neither am I, but it'd be great to interview him there...
Meanwhile - I'm forbidden from copying his artwork, but I've taken a picture of the job lot of scrolls against the backdrop of other written ephemera, you can open in new tab and embiggen and you'll get an idea of what he's about...and they're double sided every one!
Deer in the Headlights
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2016
Friday Night, October 27th, and the boys - the band at the BBI, called to see if we, the staff, would be going to see their show.
I wasn't aware there would be a show, only that there was a party, and so go along for the entertainment, it's been a month, too long, too soon...
The BBI, the bar at the end of the world, the real "Magic Tavern", the Hive of all Scum and Villainy...
I digress. The night passes, The boys - D*** and B*****, D***, in his baseball cap and mullet, play their set, B***** has taken the spirit of the season and facepainted himself to look like "The Joker" from the latest Batman...Heath Ledger's 'The Joker'. It's a look, for sure, I guessed "Kiss" and a couple of other stray shots before I landed it. With his long, dark hair and slender appearance its certainly scary...if that's what he was going for...
End of the night a chef at the restaurant agrees to give them a ride home, I go along as well, my trailer's only a few km up the road...they don't drop me off, I'm along for company for the chef on the way back, I'll have to get out on the return trip...
Winding bends, it's dark, late, after 2:00, approaching Nelson when from the left of the road come a couple of deer...
...it's quick, they're small, she only hits one, it goes flying perhaps 5 meters, struggles to get back up, falls back down, tries to get back up...it's hip, maybe some legs are broken, flailing in the middle of the road, God knows what internal injuries, it's done, deer, people, animals in general, they never do well with car collisions...
B***** from the back seat says: "Let me deal with this..." and I let him out, a minute later there's the surreal scene of the Joker in the headlights dragging the futilely struggling deer by it's hindquarters over the edge of the embankment, they disappear into the high weeds and trees...
Waiting, waiting...D***, The chef and I, we're all quiet. What's to say? This is lousy, the companion of the deer is off in the distance, just beyond the glare of the headlights, you can see it's shadow against the night, it's waiting for it's friend, it'll be waiting for a while.
After an eternity I get out, walk to the edge of the embankment, I can see nothing in the weeds, the night, the darkness, it's complete, strange noises, not B*****, howls or cries, I call for him:
- silence.
Again:
- "Damn thing won't die!!"
he replies, the deer, in shock, many broken bones, it won't live until morning but he's trying to kill it with his bare hands, finish it off, some bizarre obligation, "put it out of it's misery", but this last bit of misery is the last bit of life it will have, it's not feeling a thing, only struggling against it's inevitable death and his helping is not encouraging...
We finish the drive to Nelson, all of us, drop the boys off, the Chef is in tears, a vegetarian, perhaps a little more sensitive to it than the rest of us, crying, I can't shake the image of the Joker hauling the deer off the side of the road, off into the bushes, out of the headlights, it's the darkest thing I've seen in a while...
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