Tuesday, February 26, 2013

The Timescanner vs. The JLA

Within his own time stream The Timescanner can see 30 Seconds into the future, which is a superpower that sometimes sounds unimpressive.

It makes him a great sidekick for super speed superheroes. 30 Seconds can be a lifetime for The Flash or Superman.

The Timescanner cannot save the world or fight crime all by himself, but he is a valuable member a Superhero Team as a temporal lookout.

The Timescanner has yelled "DUCK!" or "ON YOUR LEFT!" at every major superhero. Helpful, but he will never win a medal.

The Timescanner isn't a member of The Justice League or The Avengers, but he has been contracted as an hourly consultant for both.

The Justice League once approached The Timescanner to be a full time member, but he could not commit to the hours or agree to be on call 24/7.

The Timescanner is a single father.

The Timescanner tried to explain to Batman that he can only save the world every other weekend when his son is at his mother's house.

Wonder Woman keeps subtly insinuating that The Timescanner's son would be better off being raised by a woman.

The Timescanner had to call in to the JLA during the Rann/Thanagar war because his son had the chickenpox. Hawkman hasn't looked him in the eye since.

Green Lantern keeps asking The Timescanner if he's "gotten any pussy lately". The Timescanner winces and explains he has no time, money, or energy left for dating after parenting, heroing, and working a day job.

The Flash explains, "Look, we know your kid needs you, Timescanner, but you could be doing so much more with your life..."

The Timescanner feels like he is letting everyone down all the time.

The Timescanner often wishes being a great dad was his only superpower so he would never feel the pressure of his lost potential.

Wonder Woman tells Timescanner to buck up. Single mothers do it all the time. "And how many of them think it is easy? The Timescanner replies under his breath.

Once, when Timescanner tried to apologize to Superman, Supes interrupted to say, "you remind me of both my Ma and my Pa. Just do what you gotta do." and flew off.

The Timescanner has a small, noisy apartment he facetiously calls the Fortress of Solitude. It is more of a phone booth.

When not saving the world, The Timescanner falls asleep reading Tintin comics in his son's bunk bed every night at 8pm.

During Brainiac's latest attack on Metropolis, The Timescanner had to cut out early as the sun came up Monday Morning so he could make it to a Parent Teacher conference.

The Timescanner's son suspects his dad's superhero tales are bedtime stories.

The Timescanner tells Son of Timescanner, "What I do when you and I are apart doesn't matter. This time with us together is my real purpose."

Monday, February 25, 2013

Instrution Manual for Emotions

Instruction Manual for Emotions:

1. Emotions are a sword you can only learn how to wield through error.

2. Slice yourself to ribbons, die, be reborn stronger, repeat as needed.

3. Once you’ve died a bunch you will realize you’ll always be reborn.  This gives you confidence in your abilities. (not only to avoid death, but also to die gracefully.)*

4. After enough Emotion Deaths you will be an Invincible Emotion Ninja.*

     *Notes: You are the only ninja with a killing sword. Only your own blade can harm you.
                  You are always in control. The sword is never in control of you.


Common Mistakes:
These are the three common mistakes in training to be an Emotion Ninja:

1. Fear the blade and refuse to touch it.

2. Give up before you become a master

3. Throw yourself onto your own blade.

Avoid these three pitfalls and continue on with the steps above and you cannot fail.

(Imagine simple illustrations of IKEA cartoon gentlemen with severed limbs, rising again from pools of their own blood.)

Friday, February 22, 2013

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Alternate Universe Financial Crisis #379

There is an alternate universe where hyperinflation has rendered the US dollar worthless, but he demand for limited edition Beanie Babies has continued to rise since the mid 90's. Instead of wallets, people carry around backpacks filled with plush animal friends to barter with.

Every transaction is a sentimental goodbye. "Goodbye, Lucky Pup. I wish you could come live with your brothers and sisters and I in the mansion you afforded us."

In this universe your Aunt Beth is living like Donald Fucking Trump.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Consequences Of The Multiverse on a Marriage

Waking James was faithful to a fault while Dream James was a cold philanderer. Sweet and timid by day, cruel and blunt by night. Dream James would fuck Hillary's co-workers and sisters, mentors and students all right in front of her before admitting to her what a lousy lay she had always been.

These were not James' dreams. They were Hillary's.

James was the perfect man and, as such, she felt as though she had no grounds on which to divorce him. Her unconscious tried and tried to convince her that he was too good to be true. That he must be hiding a double life.

She felt guilty for wanting out of a happy marriage. Wanting out tormented her. His goodness was reinforced. Her badness was reinforced. It was a feedback loop that resulted in the disintegration of her self-worth. She became a bad woman who did not deserve her good man.

One December afternoon she invited Mr. Pham, the mailman into their house to warm up. She made him hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows. Before the marshmallows had melted she had already slipped his navy blue work pants around his ankles, lifted her flowered skirt and slipped him inside of her. They were done fucking before their drinks were cool.

Hillary poured his hot chocolate into a plastic solo cup, tried to lift his mailbag back over his shoulder, and shooed Mr. Pham out the front door.

When James got home from work he found a good portion of his wife's possessions were missing and two notes were waiting for him under fridge magnets.

The first one said, "Dear James, I've been bad."

The second letter: "Dear Other James, You had it coming."

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Meridian

Archaeologists recently discovered a straight line of slain Mammoth skulls from the Norwegian Sea, through England, France and Spain, continuing on the other side of the Mediterranean all the way down to Ghana. The placing of the skulls dates back to the Holocene and it perfectly traces what is now the Greenwich Meridian.

A team has been dispatched to investigate. The subject of their investigation: how long has an idea existed?

Thursday, January 10, 2013

The Timescanner, Secret Origins #1

At the heat death of the universe, a single colony held on tight to survival. The shields around the Royal Asteroid Colony had cost the Last Dynasty the wealth and natural resources of a million star systems. Now even this had run out. The King and Queen were ruthless out of love for their people. And love for each other. They had harnessed and drained the last burning red dwarf stars. Chose which systems to take of of life support, which to sacrifice and which to sustain.

Now, the only life left in the dying universe was sealed within the protective bubble surrounding this last asteroid. King Dramach and his wife, Queen Janis sat in the tower of the royal palace saying their last goodbyes to their infant son. King Dramach placed the baby Yendor into a great buzzing machine and watched him begin to phase out of existence.

Queen Janice wept. "Do not cry, my love. Our time is at an end. Our universe has lived long past it's time and we must let it go. But Prince Yendor's fate will not be with us. Using this machine we will send him backward in time to an age when a hundred trillion suns still burned bright. We will send him to the planet Earth in the late 1970's, where he will be raised as one of them.

"He will not be one of them." the Queen said. "Man had yet to visualize their potential in those dark times. Their dreams were small, their ambitions misguided. Is that how we want our son to be raised?"

"I have selected a couple on the plains of Kansas. Good and honest parents for our son. They will not raise him in the luxury of a palace, but he will be cherished and nurtured.

"Do we really wish that our only son be raised in mediocrity? Why not send our little Yendor to the very best Earth had to offer?"

"Because we want his inner will to shine on it's own. Here it will never be overshadowed. A wealthy or important family would impose their own ambitions on him, would overlook his natural talents and advantages over 20th century humans leaving his great powers to atrophe."

"This couple, Richard R. Penner and Rita L Penner of Emporia, Kansas, who's previous attempts at giving birth have all ended in the heartbreak of miscarriage, and who haven't a cent in the world...they want nothing more than to love and nurture a healthy son. They will cradle and encourage every aptitude and amplify his every strength out of love for the will he already possesses. Under care like theirs, even an average child would grow to shine the way stars in the sky used to."

King Dramach pushed a sequence on the machine's keypad and their flickering son vanished once and for all.

Meanwhile, on the Planet Earth, Richard Penner rushed his wife to the small Emporia Memorial Hospital where they were told that, not only was the woman pregnant unbeknownst to them both, but that she was nearing the end of her second trimester. However the baby was not doing well and the only chance of survival would be to perform an emergency C section immediately. The hospital was primitive even for a 20th century village. It was not equipped to keep such a premature child alive and so a helicopter was brought ready to airlift mother and child to an NICU in Kansas City as soon as the child was delivered. Either way, they were warned, the child's chances of survival were not good.

The mother was put under but the father was allowed to stay and watch as they began to operate. Tears swelled as he was reminded of their heartbreak from previous miscarriages. Richard knew that losing another unborn child would be too much to bare for either of them. Machines beeped and doctors rushed. blood spilled over cornflower blue scrubs. He heard helicopter blades above the tiny hospital. The sensors measuring the baby's heart rate fluctuated rapidly. At one point a nurse tripped over the wires, popping out the cables and resulting in a loud scraping of the flatline alarm.

The father panicked. But still the nurses worked feverishly until at last they pulled a small ball of flesh from his wife's belly and placed it inside a plexiglass box. The doctor gestured toward the helicopter paramedics, then turned to the father.

"Congratulations, Mr. Penner. It's a boy." He called Richard over to the incubator to take a look at the child. He was tiny. His body was small and bony. This was clearly not a lifeform meant to live outside of the mother's body. Inside the plexiglass chamber he looked like a tiny alien lifeform in the cockpit of a life-sustaining spacecraft. His eyes opened and they did not focus. He was a creature still adrift in time and space, not fully connected yet to the world of Kansas 1978.

"Mr. Penner. We will rush him to KC as fast as possible where they will do their best to save the child's life, but I must tell you that his O2 levels are frighteningly low. I'm afraid his lungs have not sufficiently developed yet. He will be very susceptible to infection and disease as he does not yet have a protective immune system. Here. Take a good look at your boy. If he ever gets well enough to go home with you, it will not be for months and months."

The doctor and the father knelt beside the incubator and suddenly a light filled the machine. The two of them had to shield their vision, and when they could focus again they could see the child growing before their very eyes. His blood red flesh plumped and filled out into a healthy pale pink. He stretched and his body lengthened. His feet grew to twice their previous length. His milky eyes closed tight and reopened a deep, dark green and brown supernova. Wavy auburn hair sprouted from his scalp. His arms and legs flexed and bulged with muscles that had not been there a few minutes earlier. And then his chest expanded and expanded and expanded and then contracted into a mighty blow of air that nearly shook the incubator lid off.

"He's breathing! It's a miracle!" The doctor exclaimed.

Richard pushed the doctor out of the way and he and the child stared each other in the eyes. In that glance, the child told the father that it was time to go home. Richard Penner removed the baby from the incubator and picked up his new son. This baby was now huge! He was no longer a premature thing. Now he looked like a baby of several months age.

The Father and son walked to the window and watched the helicopter fly away, and as it did the morning sun rose up above the perfectly flat plains and it's warmth bathed their pale skin. Before the sun went down that very day, the whole family, Richard R Penner, Rita L Penner, and the baby, now renamed Richard Richard Penner II, left the hospital comfortably wrapped in each other's arms. They got in their 1958 Dodge Dart and headed back to the trailer park to begin their lives together in the late 20th century.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

My 2Pac Fanfic: The Prologue of the Novelization of the Music Video for California Love

The moon still orbits. Still doesn't turn. The Earth still spins without a purpose. For all my NGHs know, the sun only sets these days because we live only in the shadows of night. We be passed out with 5 mutant honeys up in our crib by the time the Nuclear Godfather, Sol returns to scorch the desert plains of Oakland.

The year is 2095.

It has been nearly a century since The Great Beef reached atomic proportions. Mutually assured annihilation. Our ancestors packed the REAL HEAT; didn't never back down. Now the globe is scarred, the deserts brittle with fused glass. We tighten our thick leather boots to keep the dunes from slicing our flesh to ribbons. It's harsh in the ruins of The Bay, but the West Coast will forever be the Best Coast.

Rumors and myths surface about the East: the craters and mutant jungles of Philly, Manhattan has cracked and returned to the bottom of the Hudson like an upscale Atlantis. The burrows stand like the 5 pentagram points from which to view the void: the end of civilization, the blank future. Mutant landsquids and sirens have gentrified Brooklyn, The Bronx is an warzone of countless asthmatic tribes. Only ghosts walk the alleys of Harlem.

We know not who struck first. Who pushed Tha Button? Who retaliated? How did this all happen?

History has been torched and smoked like a big ass blunt, but I'll tell you which stone was cast first: It happened outside the MGM Grand, and I caught it between my ribs. I bled out and civilization ended.

Welcome to the ThundaDome my NGHs!! Gather 'round. Show me them hands. Nod your heads to the beat and I'll pass along the knowledge of the World We Lost.

Keep ya head up, my children. My name is 2Pac and I have seen the way. We 'gon rebuild this bitch.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Dead Letters and Render Ghosts

Tomorrow morning in half-wakefulness you will mumble an UNINTELLIGIBLE WORD.

This UNINTELLIGIBLE WORD is an address to a virtual condominium complex, a rendering of a mall, a proposed state-of-the-art multiplex. A 3 dimensional projection of a place that may exist soon. THE POTENTIAL PLACE.

Here in THE POTENTIAL PLACE, the sun's rays are heatless vectors and streets are paved with pixels.

Tomorrow as you wake, you will type the previous night's dreams into a browser and email them to yourself before they fade.

CC the UNINTELLIGIBLE WORD.

In THE POTENTIAL PLACE there are no mail carriers, no mail trucks. There is only a DEAD LETTER OFFICE. A clerk in THE DEAD LETTER OFFICE will receive your transmission, print it out, copy it in triplicate, and send it to the appropriate parties.

Your dream will be valuable in THE POTENTIAL PLACE. THE POTENTIAL PLACE is an ever expanding EMPIRE. The EMPIRE is in constant need of blueprints.



Wednesday, December 7, 2011

The Perfect iPhone Case

How is it possible that no one has made a protective iPhone case with this aesthetic yet:



A beige box with a raised rainbow apple on the back would be perfect. I would buy that.

The beige box is now an aesthetic choice like 8 bit sounds and imagery. It simultaneously says, "This was once state of the art" and "This is now obsolete" and these are truisms for any piece of tech we buy today, no matter how new the model.

From the day our tech comes out of it's box it is already looking back on it's glory days.