Monthly Archives: November 2011

Star Trek vs Star Wars

You may have heard about the recent meme battle between Princess Leia (played by the very interesting Carrie Fisher) and Captain Kirk (played by the equally interesting William Shatner). The battle prize: which is “better,” Star Wars or Star Trek?

It began with a photon torpedo fired from the Enterprise. The warhead contained an anti-Wars payload of roughly one-quarter Mega-grin:

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Season of the Spark!

I felt a spark while shaking hands with someone tonight, and that [obvious pun]ed the thought that, “Oh, geeze, here we go: The Season of the Spark.”

Now I do mean a literal spark, as in zap, as in ouch, and that ouch-rageous zap signals (again, in the very literal sense of exchanging a very readable, very detectable, signal) the Season of the Spark.

And that means two things.

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A Golden Date

I suppose a “golden” date could refer to a really good time out with the perfect someone. Or it could refer to a couple of hot oldsters, past their silver years, tearing up the town.

I suppose the oldsters could double the value of their gold by being with that perfect someone. It doesn’t matter; I mean neither perfect occasions nor advanced years. I speak, literally, of the date.

It’s 11-11-11, and that’s slightly fun and slightly rare. It’s a bit like your Golden Birthday, when your age matches the date (for example, when you turn 19 on the 19th of whatever month). Today we match on the date, month and year; trifecta gold! And of course, double bonus points just before lunch at 11:11:11!!

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A Brace of Freeway Dreams

I had a pair of weird dreams this weekend. They’re worth remembering. I’m not sure what the hell they mean, but they’re also worth considering. (For me, I mean… I’m not sure what your interest is. Consider it another webside tale.)

Now, I’ve never had a nightmare. The one time I did have a nightmare, it turned out to be reality. I don’t mean that in a metaphorical (or even metaphysical) way, as in, “My marriage turned out to be a nightmare.” I mean, what supposedly was a bad dream, wasn’t a dream at all, but a misinterpretation of reality. (Actually, we’re back to my marriage again.)

I mean dreams, literal dreams. When you sleep dreams. I’ve never had a bad one. Except for the time when I was just post infant (headed for post modern), and I had what I was told was a bad dream about a bird running across my New York City bedroom floor. Except later my rents found a mouse in the house (or something house mouse-like). So that was no bird.

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