Month: May 2009

POTATO MOON, Part 45: “From Out in Left Field” by Matthew “Yotsuyasan” Atanian

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“Why, to be my Queen!” the man exclaimed.

With that, he threw back his hood and indeed shed his entire cloak. Bela was startled to find his visage was not at all hideous as she had imagined. Indeed, she found him rather handsome. That his ears were decidedly not symmetrical with each other only added to his considerable charm. She marveled at the chiseled cut of his deep blue colored business suit as the moonlight sparkled off of his glasses in the most alluring fashion. In one hand, he gently tossed a golden potato in a most casual fashion.

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POTATO MOON, Part 44: “Off the Rails” by Matt Adler

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potato_moonThe walls of the castle began to shake. The companions looked around in alarm, and quickly saw that this was no passing tremor; it was steadily increasing in intensity. “Go!” Bela screamed. Too late. Debris began to rain down and Bela lost sight of her companions. Soon, blackness took her.

Her next recollection was of being lifted from the rubble by strong hands. She could not feel her legs, but oh, how her head throbbed. She lifted it gingerly to view the face of her rescuer, but what she saw only horrified her, and consciousness slipped away once more.

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POTATO MOON, Part 43: “That Which Directly Follows Part 42,” by Tayna Laubacher

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potato_moonAs the madness unabashedly continued elsewhere in Washington state, two men sat a picnic table on a hill overlooking a quaint American town, that could have been anywhere in the nation. Accept that it was somewhere near the northwestern Pacific coast, which meant persistent clouds, chilled air and the vast majority of the days filled with rain.

Which, interestingly, never seemed to occur unless there needed to be thunder and/or lightning.

The picnic table was situated with several other of its kin near a small restaurant. The smell of overcooked allegedly beef patties on a grill that most likely hadn’t been cleaned since late last century. But the two men weren’t actually eating anything. They sat at the table with a game positioned on the tabletop. A square board was marked with a black and white checkerboard pattern. A dozen game pieces were still in play. Those which had been taken off the board had been tossed into a pile on one side.

One man was reading a book, the same book had been given to Woeisme some chapters ago. His eyes scanned the pages as he ignored his opponent who was rubbing his neck in not entirely teenage angst over what appeared to be a difficult decision. The man was taking the game far too seriously, in his expert opinion.

And his opinion had great merit. He was a doctor, after all.

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A Doonesbury Icon for Obama

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For the last few decades, Garry Trudeau has represented each American President with an icon. GWB went through the most, eventually ending up as a floating Roman centurion’s helmet with increasingly tattered plumage as the war dragged on.

Thus far, though, Obama has yet to be assigned an icon.  Today’s strip asserted that Obama, as “a change agent,” is too complex to be reduced to a single visual.

I find that hard to believe. Is he really so impossible to distill to an essence?

What would work?

Perhaps a handful of coins to represent change?  Or one of those old style change dispensers that you wear on your belt, or even a cash register (both of which would represent not only change, but the GOP’s assertion that he’s too ready to dispense money).  A yin and yang symbol to represent balance? Or a pair of scales? Since he is so likened to Mr. Spock, perhaps a logic board (i.e., a computer circuit board). Maybe a basketball because of his preference for shooting hoops.

Any other thoughts?

PAD

POTATO MOON, Part 42: “The Douglas Adams Memorial Chapter” by Lynette Browning-Brock

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potato_moonBela, newly empowered by her fluttering swarm of tiny mothlike friends, wheeled on the Potato King.  “You monster!  You knew this would happen!  You’ve made everything worse, and I can’t even figure out how that’s possible considering the storyline so far!”

“Don’t, darling,” Edwood soothed.  “You know you get those awful migraines when you try to figure things out.”

Bela immediately dropped to the ground, clutching her temples.  “Ooooh, you’re right! Why do I do this to myself?”

“Awk?” said the two penguins now representing Jakob, in a tone that suggested Hello?  Can we get back to me, please?

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POTATO MOON, Part 41: “Questions Without Answers” by Miriam Rocke

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potato_moonThe Potato King frowned.  “What are fanfiction writers?”

Jakob mooed, meaning either “How do you know so much about freaking
werecows but haven’t heard of fanfiction?” or else “ow ow ow can we
please get back to the POINT before I DIE.”

Edwood said, “Let me explain.  No, there’s too much.  Let me sum up.”

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POTATO MOON, Part 40: “An Uncomfortable Situation” by Jason Andrew

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potato_moonJakob mooed painfully.

Something was horribly wrong.  He tried to shift forms again, but agony shattered his concentration.  He was nevered that good at focusing his attention, except towards Bela, potatoes, and on occasion heartfelt teenage coming of ages movies he found late at night on Cinemax.

Edwood patted Jakob uncomfortably.  He liked Jakob much better as a werecow.  Something in his eyes reminded him of his great love.  Not the mirror or that spiffy hair gel but Bela.  Sweet Bela of the Cow Eyes.  “The burns will heal.”

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