It turns out that the plural of Apocalypse is Apocalypses.  At least, so the Internet tells me.  I think it should be Apocalypae, but I can’t have everything I want all the time.  This is one of the things told to me as a child that turned out to be true.  Another one is that my parents are not made out of money.  If they were, I would be.  But I am not.  It is not true that if I keep making that face then my face will stay that way.  This statement qualifies as a threat for my own good, kind of like hell or hairy palms.

Anyway, one could question whether there is a need for a plural to Apocalypse.  After all, if the Apocalypse is the end, why would there be more than one?  Of course, this logic is utter foolishness and not worthy of any further conversation.  There is an entire genre of post-apocalyptic creative endeavor.  Ergo, it is entirely possible that we could undergo a zombie apocalypse, destroy all the zombies, and then be subjected to a nuclear apocalypse.  Hopefully, that little misconception is now debunked.

Speaking of zombie apocalypses, I do have one point of contention.  Can’t you just erect a fence?  Zombies could never climb over.  If you grow a little garden and raise some animals you can have a happy, self-sustainable community.  Eventually, the zombies will realize the futility of lurking around your fence and go elsewhere in their search for brains.  Problem solved.

According to the Internet, there is some debate as to whether Frankenstein qualifies as a zombie.  After all, he is a reanimated creature.  Also, Frankenstein has the wooden, lurching gait of the zombie.  He does not, however, have an unquenchable desire to eat human flesh- at least not that I am aware of.  It’s a conundrum.  Kind of like the whole tomato fruit/vegetable thing.

Regardless, the human interest in the Apocalypse never wanes.  Personally, I would prefer an apocalyse that yields some Road Warrior-esque afterworld.  This, of course, assuming that I survive the apocalyptic event.  Otherwise, I could care less.  I just think that fighting for survival in a Darwinian wasteland is a lot more exciting than hiding from zombies or fighting off sentient machines.  I guess it is the Goldilocks in me.  Fighting the zombies would be too easy- they are slow and mindless and could be systematically destroyed (in my opinion).  The sentient machines would easily find us with their heat seeking technology and either render us slaves to do their bidding or simply exterminate our species like so many vermin.  Thus, this scenario is too difficult.  But roaming the wastelands with my gang of ruthless motorcycle nomads seems just right.

I’d change my name to something more menacing.  Maybe I’d wear a priest’s get-up and call myself the Sinister Minister.  Or I’d just take a one word name like Pain or Agony or Syphilis.  Certainly, I would get a mohawk.  And a sawed-off shotgun.  Bow down to Syphilis, King of the Afterworld!  Hahahaha.  I can hardly wait.  I refuse to wear those leather chaps with the holes in the rearend, however.  Even a post-apocalyptic marauder needs to draw a line somewhere.

My wife and I have started watching American Horror Story.  It is very frightening.  Though I do find it interesting that you can show somebody blowing their head off or chopping off another person’s legs, but frontal nudity is a No-No.  Ah, America.  Prudish and violent.  Like a nun moonlighting as a dominatrix.

On a related note, Halloween is right around the corner.  Lurking, I suppose.  I have never been a great lover of Halloween.  It always seemed weird how people were so eager to take on another persona.  Certainly, there are some deep-seated psychological movers at play.  Kind of like the Pope wearing those big hats and red shoes.  Or Madonna and those giant, pointy breasts.  Pow. Pow.  Poke both your eyes out.

Anyway, Jessica Lange is a major character in the first two seasons of American Horror Story (we are only half way through the second season so I can’t spoil any more for you).  She is a fine actress.  And hails from Cloquet, Minnesota.  Once, I hit a kid from Cloquet in the head with a basketball.  It was at basketball camp in Duluth.  He had it coming.  It could have been worse.  Watch American Horror Story.  The kid could have been swaying from the Bong Bridge from a rope fashioned from his own entrails.

That I pared from his body using a pen knife stolen from the rectory of a nearby church.  Hey, American Horror Story guys, I am great at writing this stuff.  Just pointing this out.

Jessica Lange was in King Kong.  The 1976 version.  I think Jeff Bridges was in that movie as well.  After that, Jessica made a lot of gritty movies with Sam Shepard.  Frankly, I could do without Sam Shepard.  But I’m not Jessica Lange.  She may know something I don’t.  Like the name of that kid from Cloquet who insulted me when I was 16.  We have unfinished business.  Chop him up and feed him to the pigs.  Or turn his body into candles and light up this year’s jack o lantern.  A jack o lantern resembling Sam Shepard being tortured.  That would be fair as he has tortured me with his acting for quite some time now.

I wonder if Madonna still has those pointy breasts.  She could use them as a witch’s hat if she wanted to.  Multi-purpose anatomical grotesqueries.  I don’t know if grotesqueries is a word, but spell check didn’t seem to mind.  Madonna may have loaned the pointy breasts to Marilyn Manson- though his fake breasts were less pronounced.  I guess he could have sawed them off.

With a Stihl chainsaw.  All of the chainsaws in American Horror Story are Stihls. Though they are not identified as such.  Perhaps Stihl thinks that would be bad advertising.  However, I would point out that chain saw massacre-ists spend money the same as everybody else.  And Stihl is a German company.  Typically, I don’t imagine the Germans as being squeamish about that sort of thing.  But maybe I am just generalizing here.

You know what you never see anymore?  Civil war buffs.  What happened to all of them?  Did they die?  Or have they gone underground, forming some kind of secret society where men in trench coats sit around and analyze the Battle of Shiloh.  Hard to say.  But I know civil war buffs has become as rare as good network television.  At least we have cable.  Anyway, it is something that strikes me as odd.  Once, there was a civil war buff on every corner.  You could sit on a bar stool and some guy would immediately strike up a conversation with you revolving around the futility of the Rebel cause in the face of the industrial might of the North.  And I am talking about guys who didn’t know a damned thing about anything else.  It was an age of enlightenment.

But that is gone now.  Along with decent cartoons.  All they do in today’s cartoons is act stupid and scream a lot.  It is a long way from an Acme anvil dropping on the coyote’s head.

Speaking of war, I watched a documentary on Vietnam the other night.  Not to be a spoiler, but the Viet Cong win.  It is kind of like the Mighty Ducks movie, except the coach is Ho Chi Minh.  Emilio Estevez could probably play Ho Chi Minh.   He is much shorter than average.  The North won that war, too.  I am starting to see a pattern here.  The next time there is a Civil War, bet on the north side.  I’m sure there is somebody somewhere taking odds.  Gambling is universal.  And well loved.  Even Jesus condones it.  Have you seen how many church bingo nights there are?

Maybe the civil war buffs are playing bingo.  It seems like a natural progression.  But then I might be completely misreading the situation.  Some things in life remain inscrutable.

 

A lot of people give kudos.  Kudos for this, kudos for that.  It is a regular Kudo epidemic.  I know at least some of them are trying to be nice.  But I don’t want their kudos.  If they had some Kudus to give to me I might be interested. I don’t think they would last the winter, though.  Wisconsin is a long way from Africa.  Maybe if I had a heated barn or something.

Anyway, the word Kudos comes from a Greek origin.  It’s etymology, if you will.  Not to be confused with entomology which is the study of bugs- though very interesting in its own right.  Anyway, you can’t trust anything made in Greece.  Have you seen their economy?  It is horrible.  I’d be embarrassed to say I was from Greece.  And now they have a bunch of immigrants filing in.  What’s next?  Biblical pestilence?  Frog rain?  Purple rain?  My brother had that album.  He also had Madonna’s Like A Virgin.  My brother had identity issues as a youth.  He probably gives people kudus.

A more likely disaster scenario is the plague.  Did you know the plague is still lurking about?  I used to work with a woman whose son once got the plague.  This is a true story.  He contracted it right in the United States.  I don’t know if it got as far as buboes, though.  Buboes is a funny word for a not very funny thing.  It’s also a Greek word.  Bubo, kudo.  Would you trust these people with your money?  Anyway, I read a book called the Plague once.  It is a famous book by Camus.  Camus was an Algerian who drank and fornicated a lot.  In my view his book is a good story but plagued (no pun intended) by a narrator who can’t figure out whether he is telling the story or actually part of the story.  It is kind of like one of those artsy, experimental novels but on accident.  Anyway, if my recollection is correct, Camus uses the word Buboes numerous times.

Unless you write a book on the plague I don’t know how you would ever fit the word Buboes into the story.  Perhaps in a Dr. Suess book.  The Wifflesnoozer filled up his buboes with kudos from the Gadderboggler who lived in a tree near the water.

If Dr. Suess were Greek.  Suessopolous, if you will.  Dr. Suess wasn’t Greek, however.  He was pure German, unlike that Austrian poseur, Hitler.

I notice a lot of people are using exclamation points lately.  “Can you please fax that to me?  Thanks!!!”  “My son isn’t going to be at practice today because he is sick.  He is so bummed!!!!”  “I ran my first half marathon today!!!!!”

Stop doing this.  Exclamation points are to be used sparingly, with care and thoughtful consideration.  You can’t just throw them about.  They are designed to highlight calamity.  “The house is on fire!” Here is a case that merits an exclamation point.  Your son missing practice is not a calamity.  In fact, neither I nor most of his teammates find it calamitous at all.  He can’t catch and he keeps making animal noises.  A period is more than adequate.

Speaking of adequacy, did you ever notice that being adequate is no longer adequate.  If Little Johnny doesn’t get an “A,” it is an unmitigated disaster.  Well, not to be a contrarian, but a “C” means average.  And any kid who thinks he is a chimpanzee at football practice is lucky to be considered average.  Honestly, doesn’t he have something else to do?

So, I watched a movie called “Don’t Blink” the other night.  My wife brought it home from Redbox.  She is always doing that, bringing home stray movies from Redbox.  It is a problem.  Anyway, everybody keeps disappearing.  The movie never says why or how or if there is some sinister being behind these disappearances.  It is like “Ten Little Indians” without any rationale.  Needless to say, the movie is terrible.  There is one bright spot.  The actor who played the bully in the “Christmas Story” does a decent job (he’s the kid who Ralphie beats up after Ralphie snaps).  Yep, he’s still acting.

Now I know who your kid reminds me of.  It is Ralphie’s little brother- you know when he acts like a little piggie.  Actually, it’s uncanny how much they resemble each other.

Fantastic!!!!!!  See you at the game on Tuesday!!!!