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The FORTRESS of SOLITUDE

"So morbid...a sentimental replica of a planet long since vanished..."
~ General Zod

 

It Was A Nice Sleep

Waking up late is the most abhorrent feeling in the world to me. I pride myself in my ability to get up at 5:30am sharply, or 6am if I’m feeling tired. Getting up at 6am still gives me a full hour to get up, shower, shave, do the hair, iron my shirt, get dressed and sit down and have a cup of coffee while watching a bit of the news or checking my email.
Last night I went to bed around 10pm sharp, which is slightly early for me, but I was feeling tired (and more than a little stoned). I had polished off a bowl of popcorn with loads of salt (my fave munchy indulgence) and had finished watching an episode of Thundercats while lying in bed (not at the same time, of course...).
It was a nice sleep – I remember getting up once to relieve my bladder, but it was a half asleep stumble to the toidy and then a stumbling return to my comfy bed. I fell back asleep immediately.
I was woken up with a start. The rain outside was lightly hitting my window but it was enough to wake me up. The alarm clock didn’t go off. It read 6:43. Shit.
I jumped out of bed quickly, as I always do when I’m late – which isn’t as often as you’d think. I went out to the kitchen, filled the kettle with water for my coffee and then placed it on the element. I turned it to 5. Then I began to open the ironing board and placed it on the ground. I pulled out the iron and plugged it in so it would be nice and steamy when I was done my shower.
I started to walk back towards the bathroom through the kitchen but a noise stopped me - a scratching at the window screen behind the couch. I went in for a closer look as the lights were all off. I noticed a small creature trying to claw through the screen, feverishly tugging and scratching to break a hole in it. I lunged at the opened window to close it in time, but the furry black thing had gotten inside. It immediately flew up to the ceiling and hung there - a bat.
I ran to the linen closet to get a towel. When I returned, I grabbed the bat with the towel. I began to open the screen to let it back out. As I did, I noticed five or six other bats hanging from the ceiling of the balcony.
I let the small, toweled bat go out as a large one flew down. I managed to close the screen in time but it continued widening the hole. I tried to slam the window shut. It crawled through and lunged at me. With the towel still in hand, I muffled it and tried to force it back out the hole.
There were then ten to fifteen bats, of increasing size, dangling from the balcony overhang. An enormous one, at least a foot across, fell down and covered the hole with its startling wing span. Its head began squirming through the ever widening hole. I let the medium bat go, and tried to stop the larger one from getting in. With one hand I tried to force it out and tried to close the window with the other.
Four even larger bats glided down and slammed heavily against the glass of my living room window. The large bat had made it nearly half way through as the medium bat flopped around and righted itself, screeching hysterically.
Another massive bat flipped down to the window, cracking the pane of glass. The medium bat dug its sharp teeth into my ankle as the glass shattered.
I yelped...
...as the alarm went off. I woke up with a start and took a few seconds to realize I was dreaming. I looked over at the clock.

5:22. Sweet.

I got out of bed, went out to the kitchen, filled the kettle with water for my coffee and then placed it on the element. I turned it to 5. Then I began to open the ironing board and placed it on the ground. I pulled out the iron and plugged it in so it would be nice and steamy when I was done my shower.

 
 

Orko II

So I'm sitting here at work, trudging through my day and I get a call on my mobile - which is unusual, because it's generally Rogers begging for money and I'd paid them...at least enough to keep them quiet.

Anyway, anyway, anyway.

It was the Humane Society - the same vet who saw Orko on Sunday.

My heart was in my throat, but she seemed rather cheerful. The only thought that went through my head was, "If this bitch got laid last night and is about to cheerily tell me that my kitten is dead, I'm gonna be miffed."

And she goes, "Your kitten does not have Feline Distemper."


















Orko woke up this morning and was bright and meowing and walking around his cage. She seems this think that along with Feline Distemper, there was a vomitting/diarrhea virus going around and that's what he seems to have contracted.
Unfortunately, he's still not eating solid food, but they're going to try to get him to take some oral medication to see if that helps. She couldn't promise anything 100%, but anything beats the 90% death odds I was given on Sunday. The vet was VERY optomistic...


...as am I.

I just want Orko home and healthy. He's going to remain there until he is eating solids and they'll send him home with medication - hopefully soon.

S.

 
 

What's that about no news...?

...is apparently 'good news?'

The Toronto Humane Society didn't call last night and I couldn't bear calling them on the off chance that someone had forgotten Orko. I just couldn't do it.

Still heard nothing whatsoever.

The vet did say they would TRY to update me everyday, but that unless his condition worsened, they might miss a day as they are very understaffed.

I'm really hoping beyond hope that this is why they didn't call...because he's not worse, god willing, perhaps better and they've forgotten or didn't bother to call.

I've read in several bits of literature about Feline Distemper that if a kitten survives 5 days of the virus, they will most likely get through it.

I adopted him on Friday and he was already showing signs.

Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday...



I'm going to call tonight.

S.

P.S. In related news, Captain Assmunch III appears to still be up for adoption at the Humane Society. Odd, since other cats that were there when I visited and picked up Orko have been removed from the website. I'm intrigued.

 
 

Orko

"Yet he was, in his youth
quite the smartest of cats -
But no longer a terror
To mice and to rats."

-T.S. Eliot

Good Monday all.

Friday, August 26 was the big day. The day I trotted on down to the Humane Society of Toronto at 11 River Street to pick up my new cat, Captain Assmunch III. I never intended to actually call him such, but it made me smile thinking about calling him as an older cat, "Captain ASSMUNCH!" And to have his fat ass come waddling out from behind the couch to sneer at me disapprovingly.
Straight after work on Friday, I headed out to IKEA to pick up some fashionably cheap cat accessories. I had two things in mind: this cat water/food bowl, this cat blanket, this toy and this collar. Unfortunately, IKEA's pet section is a single stand with very little of what they advertise on their site. The bowl was not there so I settled for two $2.50 bowls. I did get everything else, however. Then I returned home, buying litter and food on the way to my apartment. I set off to go pick up the Captain once everything was set up.
I got to the Humane Society and was immediately struck by the sadness of the place. My heart sank. I began perusing the selection of cats but the Captain appeared to have already been adopted. No matter. There were three cats of interest to me: a white female with some brown spots, a black male and then the black male's cell mate, who appeared to be a grey male. All were between 2-5 months old.
I came back out, filled in my application and waited for my interview. It was a long wait. I had picked #60 and they were now serving #4 (!). Apparently their sign was broken. Go figure.
A man came out and called my number shortly after. We went into the adoption area to show the cat I wanted to adopt. The white female wasn't gone, but her papers were, which meant that someone was adopting her already. Then I went to the other cage and the black male had gone. Damn. Looks like the grey one for me. He grabbed the papers and we went to the interview chamber (see: closet). The interview was short and sweet and I was told to go up to the front desk to wait. They brought out the kitten and when they did - I opened up the box and realized the cat was quite a beautiful black and grey tabby, 2 months old. Sweet as could be. Meowing up a storm.
I took a cab home and the cat was quite excited and vocal. I chit chatted with the driver about his life that I didn't care about. I arrived home.
I brought the new kitten to my apartment and opened his carrying box so he could get out on his own. It took him about 10 minutes to scope out the scene and he finally bounced out. When he did, I noticed that he was a bit skinny, but didn't really think anything of it. Some kittens are skinny.
He gave the apartment the once over and then found a place to chill on the couch. He got down on his haunches and pulled his front paws under him, wrapping his tail around one side. And he slept. He didn't eat, he didn't drink, he just slept. I figured this was fairly normal behavior for an animal that just escaped from what is literally jail. I'd probably be a little tuckered out myself.
The first night I set up food and water and a litter box in my room, along with a nice plush bed for him. He walked into my room behind me, rather slowly, and then gave my room the once over. When he had finished his inspection, he seemed lost, so I picked him up and placed him on his bed. The little guy fell asleep immediately after a little chit chat with me. Then I got into bed myself and fell asleep. He didn't utter a peep the entire night and then at 5am on Saturday morning, he decided he was getting up. He went directly to his litter box, did the business (still no solids) and then started mewing for me to open my door. I got out of bed, dressed and then let him out. He slowly walked out of my room and to his water in the kitchen. He drank for a long while, but never ate.
I grew concerned because a kitten should be eating 5-6 times a day. They're growing animals. They should also be VERY active. He wasn't, however. He finished drinking and went to the second litter box. He scratched around a bit and then exited. When he got near his food bowl, he started coughing. He then vomited and nothing but water came up. I thought this was very odd, but everything I read stated this was most likely stress related, coming to a new environment, etc., etc., etc. He also wasn't eating any of his food. I figured he just hated what I'd bought, so I got a different brand. I had hard, soft, wet, dry, shredded, chunks, blended...everything. Nothing was to his liking.
As the day wore on, he still hadn't eaten and the only movement he made was to drink, to go to the litter box or to find a new place to sleep. I grew very worried. I phoned the Humane Society and the very helpful woman on the other end dismissed it as stress, nothing more and that the cat wouldn't starve - it would eat in its own good time. The reason, according to her, that he was sleeping was because he hadn't eaten. So, in other words, once he had become acclimated to my apartment and to me, he would eat, his energy would return and he'd be as right as rain. Fine. My stress was relieved and I decided to let the little tyke sleep and go out for drinks so he could be alone in the apartment.
Ian came over and gave me a nice cat book with information on their care and upkeep. Was very sweet. He also fell in love with the little guy, who I had by this point named "Orko." You remember Orko, don't you? Ian had come up with the same theory, based on the Humane Society's thoughts, that it was probably just stress. So I left out food and Ian and I went for drinks. We had a rip roaring time. Then I came home a few hours later to find the cat had not eaten anything. Not the soft, the hard, the wet, the dry, etc. Nothing was touched. And he was in a different position, but I think only because my roommate was petting him. Orko seemed alright - he seemed to enjoy any position you put him in, on his back, on his stomach, scratching his ear. He purred away and just sat there enjoying the love. I figured I should call the Humane Society on Sunday if he hadn't eaten anything overnight.
I got up in the morning and lo and behold - still no eating. More than 24 hours without food is not normal for a kitten - stressed or not, and it can be potentially damaging to its health. I phoned up the Humane Society immediately and they informed me that I should bring Orko back to be examined by the veterinarian ASAP.
When you adopt a cat/kitten/dog at the Humane Society, if there are health problems in the first 48 hours, everything is covered by them. Unfortunately, though, you can only bring in your animal to be examined by the vet between 12 and 1pm. Odd, I know.
In any event, I started to get ready to bring Orko back to the THS and I get a text message from the boyfriend who is supposedly in Butt-Fuck-Nowhere, Ontario at some kind of wedding for the weekend. He asked if I was going to be home in a bit because he was going to call me. I said, "No, I've got to take Orko back to the THS to be examined." Then he turned around and said he was at Union Station, come to surprise me and that he was on his way so we could go together. Yay!
So he arrived, pets Orko and I shower. We leave and head to the THS. On the subway, Orko was fine, not making a sound, but then when we got off to make our way upstairs to the streetcar, he went BALLISTIC. Then when we got to street level, he was practically asleep from exhaustion. Three women passing by took an interest and began talking to us. They were sweet. We got on the streetcar and arrived at the THS fairly quickly. We sat down in the waiting room for the vet. After an hour wait, we were finally seen and the vet got this very somber look on her face as soon as I gently pulled Orko out of his carrying box.
"That is one sad looking kitten," she said as she hissed through her teeth.
She examined him and took his rectal temperature which was heartbreaking - Orko didn't enjoy it very much.
Then in a blurred 5-10 minutes, she explained to me that she was fairly certain he had contracted Feline Distemper. You can go to the link to read up on it, but in a nutshell, it's a virus that is very common and all kittens at 8-10 weeks are vaccinated for it. It depletes white bloods cells, as well as eating away the lining of the stomach. The animal will no longer eat, become listless and lethargic. They become extremely dehydrated and their body temperature lowers to dangerous levels at which infections cannot be fought. It can occur at any age for a cat, but in kittens, unfortunately...there is a 90% mortality rate.
She said all this and I didn't really register it while I was listening, I just kept nodding and saying, "Yes, uh-huh..." while Orko sat and looked more and more saddened in his box.
The vet told me that he would most likely not survive the night but she would do her best to see that he survived, despite the odds. She was going to put him on an IV with antibiotics immediately. They told me they would call during the week with any updates, but that we should all err on the pessimistic side based on the numbers.
She asked me if I had a carrying case, and I said, "Just the box he came in." And she got me to put him in the box and took him away.

And that was it.

I didn't even get to say goodbye.

I didn't really react until we got outside and I got very upset. I was okay on the streetcar, and in the grocery store, but got teary again when I had to go home and clean out his litter box and food bowls.

As of now I have not heard anything - Orko could still be alive, but I don't know. I hope so.













Above is the only still image I have of him before he returned to the THS, although I do have some webcam videos I took of him the first night, that I may post later.

I'm pulling for ya, Orko.

Love,
S.
xo


 
 

Die, Bart! DIE!

Well, received some flack for my last post...and it's 'gayness' despite my attempts to deflate said attacks by proclaiming it to be penultimately HOMO. Fine, that's how people wanna be and that's FINE by me.

FINE.

FINE!

Yeah.


MOTHER F'ERS!!!

*cough*

Anyway, anyway, anyway.

I have decided I am indeed going to get a cat. People keep telling me I should ASK my roommate, and I'm all, "Have you lost your mind?" I think so. Seriously now...it will be a matter of TELLING HIM.

INDEED.

I have been perusing the Humane Society website as they have postings of cats up for adoption. I have fallen in love with the one pictured. I can't adopt one until September 6 or so, so I know that this little cutie won't likely be there at that time. I've come to terms. But in my mind - this is my cat. I shall name him Captain Assmunch III.



I might not be able to wait for the boyfriend to help me choose a cat, though. I'm getting antsy...

And when it looks up at me at meows, I can say...


"When I told you to call me that...I wanted you to mean it..."
- Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest

BWAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!

S.

 
 

Were you there when the Pharaoh commissioned The Sphinx?

Hmmmm...

...well, it appears my ferret obsession was shortlived when I realized the amount of time, money and attention they require. Not that I had a problem doing any of those things, but it seems slightly odd that a creature that lives less than half as long costs 6 times the amount a cat does.

I'm well documented as being very anti-cat. I have loosened this policy lately, but am still somewhat skeptical. I do, however, think that getting a short-haired, female cat as a kitten is the best chance I'm going to get.

I don't hate cats. Many people stupidly perceive my anti-cat policy to be tantamount to my planning a Cat Holocaust. Not so. Would a person who wanted all cats dead cat-sit more than 6 times in their life and return the critters, unscathed to their owners? I don't think so.

I do dislike some things that cats are known to do (and have done so in my presence).
1) Shedding - I am no stranger to shedding. My parents have always had dogs as I grew up, and the lab we had for most of my life shed like a son of a bitch. In my OWN house/apartment, however, I have developed a Joan-Crawford-esque attitude towards cleanliness...I don't plan to beat the cat (or any child I might concoct) with wire hangers, an Ajax can, or even my bare hands...but I do like my bathroom clean and will freak out if I haven't cleaned it before a guest arrives. I like my kitchen clean and will methodically clean it everyday (unless I'm feeling lazy, and then it's all hands to microscopes to watch the streptococcifaccili boogie down on my counter tops - no skin off my nose). So, a LONG-HAIRED cat shedding all over my couches, my bed and/or my cleaned clothes is gonna drive me up the wall. 2) Vomiting - this really goes hand in hand with shedding, no? Anyway, I figure a short-haired cat will be less prone to yack up in front of my guests - as has happened in the past. 3) Defecating or urinating - anywhere but in their litter box. Having said this, I'm not a fan of the litter box either, but hell - it does put all the disgusting things in ONE PLACE, at least.

I have come to grips with these facts. In keeping, I intend to go to the Humane Society to adopt an unloved kitten when the boyfriend is next in Toronto.

I have love to give, dammit.

Also, this is the gayest thing I will ever post, but I love this song:

Memory
Grizabella
Midnight
Not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her mem'ry
She is smiling alone

In the lamplight
The wither'd leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan

Mem'ry
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
Life was beautiful then
I remember
The time I knew what happiness was
Let the mem'ry live again

Ev'ry streetlamp
Seems to moan
A fatalistic warning
Someone mutters
And a street lamp gutters
And soon it will be morning

Burnt out ends
Of smokey days
The stale cold smell of morning
A street lamp dies
Another night is over
Another day is dawning


Daylight
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I mustn't give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin

Jemima
Sunlight
Through the trees in summer
Endless masquerading

Together
Like a flower as the dawn is breaking
The memory is fading

Grizabella
Touch me!
It's so easy to leave me
All alone with my mem'ry
Of my days in the sun
If you touch me
You'll understand what happiness is

Look
A new day has begun



Ta,
S.
xo



 
 

Ze Veekend...

...was mediocre. The highlight(s) was/were going out with my friend Ian Saturday night and Sunday night for some cannabis and beer. Truly a good time was had by all on both nights.

Ian and I began speaking of my roommate (who is a mutual acquaintance of ours) and how he was celebrating his anniversary. Ian meant his anniversary at work but didn't say, so being the mental defective that I am, I assumed that he meant his ANNIVERSARY with his boyfriend (which was around the same time). We got in an argument about dates and how the year ended on one month, while I thought it ended on a another (since we were speaking about different things). It was resolved shortly, since neither of us give two shits about his work or relationship anniversary.

Somehow the conversation moved to open relationships (which I don't understand or relate to myself, but live and let live, I say) and I came up with a really clever and cutting line (as has been known to happen in the past) about it. It was, "Celebrating your anniversary in an open relationship is like cheering because you crossed a street with no traffic."*

Which is true. I don't really believe in open relationships - it's like buying a dog but then dog-walking for the whole block. What's the point? Sure - you make some extra cash, but I personally don't have the time or the inordinate amount of plastic baggies required.

Never had an open relationship myself. To me the moment the relationship becomes open, it doesn't exist anymore. "I'm really, really into you. I love you. But...to make our love 'better' I think we should sleep with other people."

WHAT.
IS.
THE.
POINT?

Become single again. You might as well be, it'll be cheaper for you in the long run.

The boyfriend feels the same on this issue. He's a keeper in all sorts of ways.

*It should be noted that I am not entirely sure if this was the EXACT line as I was completely and utterly pissed at that point in the night and frankly - I cannot remember. HOWEVER, in thinking back, it is likely it was something similar. I have come up with a reasonable, hand-drawn facsimile of the original line. In any event, I made up both, so credit where it's due - I am amazing.


 
 

Gorging

Appetizer
Do you get excited when the season begins to change? Which season do you most look forward to?
Fall and/or winter. I do get very excited when the humidity of summer finally burns off (which is this week, oddly)

Soup
What day of the week is usually your busiest?
Mondays

Salad
Would you consider yourself to be strict when it comes to grammar and spelling? What's an example of the worst error you've seen?
Yes, although I sometimes screw up. People who misuse commas and semi-colons.

Main Course
Who has a birthday coming up, and what will you give them as a gift?
No one's birthday is coming up that I know of. Most friends of mine have winter, spring birthdays.

Dessert
If you could have any new piece of clothing for free, what would you pick?
A new pair of running shoes.

 
 

Power Ranger...or MURDERER!?

SCANDALOUS!!!

It's actually a pretty horrific story if you read it. :( Unfortunate.

 
 

Hello, hello!

Socializing at work has never been something I enjoy. I find it exacerbates tenuous situations and complicates people's unfortunately simple minds. In past jobs, I have been the guy who says "Hey" to everyone and will go talk for a minute or two at various people's desks.


When I started working for my present employer (which was 4 years ago now), I decided to keep a low profile. It prevents me from becoming entangled in office melodramas as well as confusing my work-life with various idiocies that invariably pop up.

Despite people's attempts to wrangle me into conversations on any number of subjects, I generally manage to slip out of them as deftly as an lubed otter*.

I walk into work this morning a little moist because of the torrential downpour outside. I have an umbrella in my hand that is peeing off water at an incredible rate and I am listening to my MP3 player. I hit the "up" button on the elevator. I stand and wait, sopping wet.

Then suddenly, this woman comes into view, waving like I was going off to war. I get my shirt soaked by removing my headphones and she goes, "Good morning!"

Sean's external reply, "Hey."

Sean's internal reply, "Good morning? GOOD MORNING? I removed my god damn headphones, getting myself SOAKED so that your smug fat ass can say, 'Good morning!' Are you a MOTHER F'ING RETARD?!"

If you want to tell me that the office has blown up, feel free to interrupt me as this woman did - I'd be glad for the information. If, however, you say a flippant "good morning" to me and I am listening to my headphones so I don't hear you...

Take.
a.
fucking.
hint.


WHY do people make going through life as a complete and utter asshole so much work?

*Speaking of otters and similar creatures, I am giving even MORE serious consideration to getting a ferret (or even two so they can keep each other company while I'm at work). Probably won't do it until Christmas, but it's likely gonna happen.

 
 

A message to Joss Stone...

Dear Joss Stone,

...put on some FUCKING SHOES, BITCH!

ARGH!!!

Despite everyone stating how much soul she has, if she was black, you'd never, EVER hear of her.

She's ANTI-SOUL. When she meets soul, her anti-soul causes the two to cancel each other out.

For example...if Joss Stone were at, say...a typical Hollywood party and Stevie Wonder walked up to her (with help, obviously) and said, "Hey." She'd say, "What's up?"

And they would explode.

She is a black hole of soul. Nothing escapes her trite and contrived free-spiritedness, not even light.

Depicted below is Joss Stone's talent pool (sucked out of better, more original artists)...

















Truncated rant over.

Ta,
S.
xo

 
 

Baby Beluga...

...or is it bAluga? Whatever.

Anyway...check out the Vancouver Aquarium Beluga Cam. Niiiiice!

I'm giving serious thought to ferret acquisition. However, I found this site that makes me reconsider. Not totally sold on the idea, but I think it's clear that nothing can happen while I have a roommate. Although...I dunno. I really want one, but for all the wrong reasons. I think they're adorable and I gotta get a dog at some point. I do feel, however, that it is entirely cruel to have dogs in an apartment building, but ferrets are more 'apartment friendly.' Who knows. I'll keep everyone posted.











Beluga Cam makes me happy.















Pondering ferret acquisiton makes me sad.

I will watch Beluga Cam.

FUCK! It's not daylight in Vancouver.
More torturous pondering is called for, methinks...

 
 

Minor annoyance

So, my boss is quite popular in our office because during the summer months, he constantly brings in tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, etc., from his home garden. I usually only take peppers, since I can't stand tomatoes or eggplant or the occasional zucchini. It's well known that he does it a couple times a week, so the sharks are constantly circling...
...it was recently discovered that he had cancer. Sad, I know.
Anyway, he has been on leave for about a month and a half. He's doing alright, as far as I know. He still appears on the odd Sunday, and still brings in his vegetables. And people come in Monday morning and are all, "Woah! Veggies!!"
I sit right beside the spot that the veggies occupy and if I hear "Who brought in the tomatoes?" as an attempt at small talk before people greedily shovel 5-6 into their oily palms...I'm gonna fucking scream.

"Who brought these in?"

"Who's are these?"

"Can I take some?"

"Did you bring these in?"

"Who's tomatoes?"

"What are these?"

"These look beautiful...who's are they?"



FUCK.
THE.
HELL.
OFF.




P.S. In writing this blog entry, the most annoying man in the office, this Asian Fucksmith that can't take the hint that I find him mind-numbingly boring...and continues to yammer on at length as the snot crustifies around the corner of my mouth from trying to choke myself on my own phlegm. ARGH.

Rant over...




 
 

Something to pass the time...FUN! :D

 
 

Boring Monday...nothing to say...

Back at work, unfortunately. Ugh. Although swimming everyday is giving me loads of extra energy, sitting at my desk all day is still soul-killing...

...enough about that.
Nothing really exciting to write about at the moment, so I'll wait till something worthwhile lands in my lap. In the meantime, I managed to watch about 6 episodes of Dallas this weekend, but to prevent myself from appearing extremely lame, I shall say I only watched 3. :)

Mastectomy II - Miss Ellie returns home from the hospital and breaks down about her mastectomy. Jock assures her that it doesn't matter. She brings up his first wife who he put away when she became mentally ill. Sue Ellen continues to see her psychiatrist, much to JR's dismay. He's pre-occupied, however, by masterminding Cliff's campaign for Congress, which would force his resignation from the OLM - intending to cut all funding when the timing is right. He uses the young lawyer, Alan Beam to do it.

The Heiress - JR has hired Alan Beam to spearhead Cliff's Congress campaign. To ensure Cliff doesn't figure out the scheme, he sets up a fight between JR and Alan in a very public restaurant. Cliff notices and begins to express interestin Alan Beam's Congress plan. Lucy, however, expresses interest in Alan Beam and the two begin seeing each other. Bobby becomes suspicious about Ewing Oil's finances when he overhears someone mention an Asian Oil drilling scheme. Realizing the amount of capital such a scheme would require, Bobby begins investigating. Lucy sees Alan Beam meeting up with JR in private. Bobby discovers that JR has mortgaged Southfork to finance the Asian deal. Lucy confronts Alan.

 
 

Scuzzy Day

Hey y'all...pretty cruddy day in Toronto today; clouded over and muggy. Gonna watch some Eastenders and then head up for a swim (I'm a bore, I know). Don't fret, however, I'll be going out shopping today sometime.

Was at home all night last night, just didn't feel like going out. Managed to take in a few episodes of Dallas between trips to the balcony.

The Lost Child - Bobby and Ray hire a new ranchhand who is a drifter with a young son that Bobby takes a shine to. Sue Ellen begins seeing a psyciatrist about her marriage. JR is suspicious and has her tailed by a private eye - when he finds out that she's going to the one psychiatrist in Dallas that could get her in bed, he gets annoyed. Pam falls off her horse and loses the baby. She tells Bobby about her hereditary condition. Digger and Cliff show up at the hospital. Cliff tells Digger that he DOES have a grandchild - JR Ewing III. Pam and Bobby return to Southfork in time to have to say goodbye to the young ranchhand's son.

Rodeo - Ray receives a letter from Donna Culver, a woman he fell for in Season 1. He puts it in his desk with a large collection of other letters from her. The Ewing Rodeo is about to take place. Sue Ellen and Bobby travel to Fort Worth where Bobby has business. Sue Ellen meets Dusty Farlow, a cowboy and is quite taken with him. Bobby, Ray and Dusty all compete in the rodeo. Digger comes to Southfork against Pam's wishes, to see the child. Miss Ellie takes him. JR notices Sue Ellen spending a lot of time with Dusty and breaks them up, taking Sue Ellen back upstairs to find out why she can't even let him touch her.


Mastectomy I - Miss Ellie discovers she has to undergo surgery to determine what the lump in her breast is. She insists on not telling Jock, but she does tell Pam. Jock confronts JR about the trust fund for Amanda and JR reveals that he never did set up the trust fund. Jock is incensed but JR claims it was because he hadn't told Miss Ellie about Amanda. Jock agrees. Sue Ellen continues to see a lot of Dusty Farlow. Before her surgery, Jock tells Miss Ellie about Amanda and she becomes enraged, worried that Jock will dump her as soon as she is sick. She leaves the room, never telling Jock about the possible cancer. She is about to have surgery when Pam calls Jock to tell him. He arrives at the hospital and tells a groggy Miss Ellie that he loves her. She has surgery and it turns out it is cancerous and they remove her left breast. Jock is devestated.


...to be continued...

 
 

Friggin' Friday Friggin' Feast

Appetizer
Did you sleep good last night?
Yeah, pretty good. Swimming every day is making sleeping a lot more effective. Who'd a thunk it. :)

Soup
What is your current computer desktop image?
One that came with Windows XP - ripply water.

Salad
When was the last time you planted something, what was it and where did it go?
Can't rememb er when I planted something, actually.

Main Course
What's your favorite condiment?
Either HP sauce or honey-mustard.

Dessert
Share a quote that you like, for whatever reason.
"You drove Al Steele to his grave and now you're trying to stab ME in the back?!
...don't FUCK with me fellas!!! This ain't my first time to the rodeo. You don't know what hard feelings are...until I come out PUBLICLY against your product and we'll see how much you SELL! It's a sword...that cuts both ways."
Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford
in Mommie Dearest

 
 

Hot Dog Juice

I'm continuing to tweak the blog template; I've tried to maintain a standard size of the blog title when visiting other pages, but I'm not entirely sure if it works yet, but I'm tired of trying. I've also created link images, instead of text (because I couldn't get the bullets to match up). You can find the link on the bottom left hand side now...I've also added some pages that I like to visit regularly.
Enough of the nerdiness - I have much better things to do, like sit at home and complain...

...JUDY!

Tenuta, fag...not Garland.

"My dad was okay. He used to make us hot dog soup. He boil the hot dogs and we'd drink the juice."

Judy Tenuta is a cult 80s comedienne that my friends Elvis, Glen and I are all quite into. I've never really been able to pass on the genius of this Goddess of the Galaxy to anyone else, so I've given up trying.
Most people remember her for her crinoline, Peurto-Rican-Prom dresses, always handy I.U.D. (squeezebox) and very LOUD delivery. I can actually understand why some people immediately vomit upon hearing her. Thankfully, I do not...and find her to be a comedic genius of undiscovered proportions.

My mother used to tell me, "Judy, you'll never amount to anything because you procrastinate."
And I said, "Just you wait..."

Anyway, anyway, anyway...enough of a Judy Tenuta tangent.
In between swimming, cleaning the kitchen and making pasta and turkey meat sauce, I managed to take in TWO episodes of Dallas, Season 3. Here we go:

The Kristin Affair - Sue Ellen's younger, sexpot of a sister is catching the eye of JR Ewing. Sue Ellen isn't so much jealous as she is indifferent to her husband's activities. On the flipside, JR is quite interested in where Sue Ellen goes off everyday, but she's not spilling. Pam has been told she's pregnant and goes to see Cliff Barnes about the disease they both carry. She tells him she wants an abortion, but he wants no part of it. She continues to withhold her pregnancy and hereditary sickness from Bobby. Kristin is about to leave Southfork when she cleverly manages to get a job as JR's secretary at Ewing Oil. He comes on to her and she rebuffs him, but says she'll think about it. Ewing Oil is in trouble and JR has to mortgage Southfork to finance a risky offshore oil rig in Asia.

The Dove Hunt - Miss Ellie discovers a lump in her breast, but her doctor tries to convince her to not worry yet. She doesn't tell Jock in fear of worrying him unneccessarily. JR, Jock, Bobby and Ray go on a hunting trip and are confronted in a bar by an older gentlemen who claims he knows Jock. They brawl and the Ewings continue on their hunting trip. They are attacked and Jock and Jr are both shot, forcing Bobby and Ray to venture in to town to get help. Pam knows that something is wrong with Miss Ellie, but she is tight lipped. Jock tells JR about his first wife, Amanda, who was placed in a mental institution and whom he still finances. He tells JR he needs to go over the books at Ewing Oil and start up a trust fund for Amanda. JR tells him to not bother coming into the office, he can set it up. Bobby and Ray return in time as the group of thugs confront Jock on his past evils, but can't manage to kill him. When they return to Southfork, JR promises to set up the trust fund as Kristin overhears.

 
 

Anagram Generator

This is actually mildy amusing:

Anagram Generator

The anagram of my full name was "enchant alarming superior."

 
 

A New Look...

Well, as you may have noted, unless you're clinically braindead...The Fortress has a new look. I don't know if I'm completely sold on it, but I just spent about an hour tweaking it and I've come to the conclusion that there is some top-notch turd polishing going on here. In any event, don't fret - I've still got the old template and will change it back when I inevitably get tired of being more/less than status quo. Booyah. A stitch in time saves nine.

Also, in modifying the look, I changed some of the settings. You can now leave comments even if you don't have a blogger.com account. Nice! Coz the only joy I get out of life is having inane comments about the total and utter bullshit I barf on people fill up my inbox. Heehee!


Managed to watch another episode of Dallas last night, after swimming and before my friend Glen came over for our weekly magnum of $12 wine and a Match Game marathon, bookended by episodes of Coronation Street. Did I mention I was gay? Well, I am...not Charles Nelson Reilly Gay, mind you, but I do like some hoonany from a boy. One particular boy, in fact...um, nevermind. Anyway, Glen and I love old 60s and 70s style drunken/rat pack type humour, especially peppered with veiled gay references, so our collective heroes are Brett Somers and the aforementioned Mr. Reilly.

GENE - "I'm going to catch your cold!"
CHARLES - "Not in that outfit..."

Anyway, anyway, anyway...back to my point - in honour of Barbara Bel Geddes unfortunate passing and the release of the latest boxset of Dallas episodes, I'm going to start writing 'mini-recaps' of the ones I watch.

At this moment, however, I'm going to ask that my boyfriend turn away because I really don't want to ruin these for him as I fully intend to go back and rewatch them with his fine self...so ignore the dark text, please. :)

What Ever Happened to Baby John I - Sue Ellen returns from the hospital and JR III stays because he's premature. She doesn't want to know anything about the baby and doesn't really care to speak to anyone. Cliff is determined to get the baby back and Pam is trying to get him to slow down or he'll drive Sue Ellen back to the sanitarium. When Sue Ellen is finally convinced to go to the hospital to see the baby, they find out its been kidnapped.

What Ever Happened to Baby John II - Bobby is convinced that Cliff kidnapped the baby, but is soon proven wrong as Cliff spearheads the effort to find HIS child. Jock kis contacted about retrieving the baby and told to go to City Hall, but this turns out to be a crank call. JR is contacted by Willy Jo Garr (one of the men who were convicted of Julie Grey's murder) and told that he wants a million dollars to secure the release of the baby. Meanwhile, Bobby, Cliff and Pam discover the baby was taken by a woman who'd lost her own premature baby the same day. As JR is about to give Willy Jo the money, Bobby phones and tells him he's got the baby back. JR threatens to kill Willy Jo brandishing a hand gun. Willy Jo swears revenge (one of many red herrings in the who shot JR plotline, actually...fun times).

The Silent Killer - Digger returns and collapses in Cliff's apartment. They discover he has a hereditary disease that both Cliff and Pam carry. It means a child could die within 6 months of being born, much to Pam's dismay. She and Bobby try anyway, as she can't bring herself to tell him. JR III returns home as Sue Ellen is finding that she isn't really into being a mother as much as Pam is. Pam is concered about John Ross' health because of her hereditary disease and the possibility of Cliff being the child's father.

Secrets - Valene (Lucy's mother) returns to Dallas after having been run out by JR in Season 2. She tries to rekindle her relationship with Lucy, but Lucy won't have any part of it (still believing that her mother willingly took the money from JR, when in fact it was a payoff to ensure she never returned). Pam is still torn between telling Bobby about her disease or giving him the child he so desires. She dotes over John Ross which Bobby notices. He cannot understand why she doesn't want to try to have a baby and confronts her. She can't bring herself to tell him. Valene enlists Bobby's help to get through to Lucy. He brings her to visit Lucy at the highschool athletic field, but it spotted by JR. Sue Ellen and JR butt heads again, and he cruelly suggests she pick up drinking again. She also refuses to have anything to do with the baby other than the occasional glance into the crib. JR attempts to railroad Valene out of Dallas again, but is overheard by Bobby and Lucy, at which point the girl forgives her mother.

Turrah! xo

 
 

Sad news...

Found out some untimely and sad news today. :(


From the Dallas Star

Dallas Star Barbara Bel Geddes Dies at 82
August 10, 2005
By Marc Berman

Barbara Bel Geddes, the veteran stage and screen actress known to millions as matriarch Miss Ellie Ewing on CBS serial Dallas, died Monday of lung cancer at her home in Northeast Harbor, Maine. She was 82-years old.

Born in New York City on Oct. 31, 1922 to noted theatrical designer Norman Bel Geddes, young Barbara made her stage debut at age 18. Her first theatrical role was seven years later in 1947 Henry Fonda drama, The Long Night. One year later, her star rose significantly as Katrin Hanson in beloved family drama, I Remember Mama, which resulted in an Academy Award nomination for Outstanding Supporting Actress. Other notable movie roles included Elia Kazan drama Panic in the Streets (1950), Alfred Hitchcock thriller Vertigo (1958) and The Five Pennies opposite Danny Kaye in 1959.

At the same time, Bel Geddes was making a name for herself on the small screen with guest appearances on Robert Montgomery Presents, Toast of the Town, On Trial, and Studio One. Fans of anthology Alfred Hitchcock Presents will remember Bel Geddes as the sweet widow/murderer in the episode titled, “Lamb to the Slaughter.” She was also nominated for Tony Awards as Best Dramatic Actress for Cat on a Hot Tin Roof in 1956, and Mary, Mary in 1961.

When CBS announced it was producing a new limited series in 1978 called Dallas, critics took notice upon hearing Bel Geddes had signed on for the role as kind but stern Miss Ellie Ewing. Although the initial order was for just six episodes, Dallas went on to become one of the most popular dramas in the history of television, running for 13-years, and spawning Knots Landing, which actually ran for one season longer.

After leaving her Emmy winning role on Dallas in 1984 after six seasons, Bel Geddes returned in 1985 (following Donna Reed’s ill-fated turn as Miss Ellie) and stayed with the serial for another five years.

Her final on-camera appearance was in 1997 documentary, Obsessed with Vertigo.

 
 

Glug, glug, glug...


Good morning, 007...


...well, last night I ran from work like a schoolgirl in heat towards a Tigerbeat release party and purchased the Dallas Season 3 Box Set. HOT DAMN, Y'ALL!!

I thought I would go into why I love this show so much. I have two god-parents, Kathie and Wayne, who live outside of a small town in Northern Ontario. The town itself is small, but they live in a 'suburb' of sorts...population under 100. They're best friends with my mother and father and are truly salt-of-the-earth people. Friendly, warm, caring, everything.

They have a house, which Wayne built, on the side of a small pond and a huge piece of property. Behind their house is an immense (or what seemed to a 7 year old to be immense) forested area that I always knew contained bears and all sorts. Scared the shit out of me once it got dark. There was a sand hill that led to a sand quarry of sorts, a part of the hill that had fallen apart and looked like the aftermath of a sand avalanche.

The pond used to be boring and unswimmable as it was covered with loon poo on the bottom. "Loon poo" isn't a technical term, and doesn't actually mean loon feces, it just means the bottom of a lake or pond that FEELS like that. Fuzzy. Squishy. Revolting. There weren't even any fish as far as I can remember, but it did provide a hot bed of frog activity; lifting rocks to find the little tiny ones that looked miniscule in my then smallish hands.

Before they had the large house, they used to live in a moveable house. Not a trailer, but a rectangular house that was 'delivered' rather than built. It was surprisingly large on the inside and had a huge cast iron fire place that was really fucking cool in the wintertime.

In the actual winter months, the entire place became even more strange and enjoyable for a child. Their sand hill became the greatest sliding hill ever. Period. It also was the most insurmountable hill to climb...ever. Many a time I went down on a Flying Saucer and was whipped into the air, landing on my stomach and thinking that I had died because I had the wind knocked out of me. I'd cry like the little bitch that I was and then my brother, or cousin Clint, would take me inside and pass me off to my mother or aunt and then they'd give me hot chocolate as sat there, trying to feed their hamster a stick of wood.

The inside of the house had at least TWO dreamcatchers which I used to find strangely fascinating...and those early 80s crystals that reflected rainbows were in every sun-exposed window. My cousin Clint had a stuffed animal doll of...oddly...Animal, from the Muppets, that I always endeavoured to capture and steal, but never managed to get up the balls to do.

Soon enough, I'd be bored and feel ignored (as most restless children do) and I'd go outside to try sliding again or just running around the yard with Pepper, their old dog. They had many friends that used to come over, but usually not any other children. One couple, however, did have kids in between the ages of my brother and I. A younger daughter and an older son...fun people who usually came over when my family was visiting.

With so many children watching each other, it was natural for our parents to assume we'd be fine just supervising ourselves as we frolicked outside, jumping in and out of snow drifts and sliding down the hill. They always used to warn us to stay away from the pond as it was never completely frozen (it was a resevoir of sorts; being fed by a well, and travelling under the street through a somewhat complicated aquaduct process to a pond on the other side). As a child I never understood why, but I knew there was a section of the pond that had running water shooting out a tube; not very powerful, but enough to keep the ice very thin or non-existent.

One night, however, I decided I wanted some attention (not conciously, of course) and I ventured out by the pond; the other kids within a safe visible distance. I started playing with a stick on the ice and noticed that it seemed pretty stable to me.

"Grownups just want kids to be bored, like them. Going out on the ice is fun and that's why they say not to do it. Stupid adults." At this point in my inner monologue, I had managed to creep out about 5-6 feet towards the middle of the pond and was having a rip roaring time.

"Those stupid grownups don't know what they're mis-"

As I plunged through the ice, I realized that walking on ice left a lot to be desired and that whoever had told me it was fun didn't really understand how much I didn't find death amusing...

...I don't remember the timeline, but I'm sure that one of the other kids bolted inside to scream at the parents to save my sorry ass. I do know that it felt like an eternity and that I couldn't breath, even with my head above water - it was so cold that I felt like someone had stuck me in a tube just big enough to fit, but not to take in air. I rememeber looking up and seeing the ice from underneath at one point. And I remember being yanked out of the water like Superman ripping off Lois Lane's car door in Superman: The Movie. I don't recall who pulled me out, though, but I know they ran me inside and threw me in the tub. There was a lot of swearing and my mother freaking out.

Anyway, anyway, anyway...that's my most vivid memory of that place, aside from travelling their on Friday nights - we used to live about 1.5 hours away from their house and my parents would go up at least once or twice a month. We'd go up on Friday night and return Sunday afternoon. Upon arriving on Friday, it would be about 8-9, and my 'rents would always sit down and watch Dallas with my god-'rents and I'd chill out and watch it with them.

I had no idea what the show was about and being 7-8, I generally fell asleep towards the end. I did, however, remember one thing: the theme song. I remember hoping we'd get there in time to hear that song and watch those credits.

It stuck with me forever.

Then when TNN started rerunning the episodes in the early 90s, started actually watching and fell in love with it on a whole other level...the backstabbing melodrama, the catty lines, the vicious business deals, the underhanded wheeling and dealing of JR Ewing, etc, etc, etc.

Anyhow...the newest release of Season 3 on DVD is GREAT fun. Sue Ellen returns home from the hospital after John Ross III is born, only to have her child kidnapped, Pam finds out she has a hereditary disease and then that she's pregnant, only to lose the baby AGAIN, Ray meets up with Donna Culver, and they rekindle their romance, Kristin Shepherd, Sue Ellen's sister, returns to stir up some shit at South Fork, Miss Ellie gets cancer, Jock gets shot, Lucy gets engaged to Alan Beam, Sue Ellen begins her affair with Dusty Farlow, and then JR gets shot to end the season in the greatest cliffhanger ever. Period.

Sweet.


"Don't look so glum, Lucy. Rich people are always happy." - J.R. Ewing

 
 

1st floor...Perfumery, Stationery and Leather Goods...oh my.

Was perusing the very few blogs I check regularly and came across this really cool piece of info (if it's true, which sounds like it could be). I shall be testing this when I go up for my swim after work tonight.


Oh yes, speaking of - I discovered the very moist-making intrigue (in more ways than one) of the pool in my apartment building. It's rarely used at the time I go up, so it's great fun to be an old lady and just float in the water getting annoyed at any stray children that enter. I had been under the impression that it was a lap pool - only 3 feet deep, but it turns out that it's got a shallow end and a deep end; which isn't really that deep, but it's deep enough to make swimming fun. :) YAY!

Was walking to work this morning with the boyfriend - he came last night for a Rufus Wainright concert and met my friends Derek, Ian and I for a drink. It was a drink for him...several for us. The tables had turned...

No matter. He's still cuter than I am; especially when I'm drunk off my ass and pawing at him like some priest at a Blue Boy convention.

We were walking to work after getting Starfucks and I was tired from the night before, slightly hungover, but in good spirits. We crossed a street illegally and after yelling at the driver, I seemed to calm down. We then continued on our way, with M telling me some dumb shit about it being better to get across than to make a point to some driver and die in the process. Yeah. Right.

Anyway, anyway, anyway...we're strolling on our merry way and this homeless woman is walking in the opposite direction, straight towards us. She looks at his coffee and goes (through blackened teeth), "I'll take that!" And let's out this grunt-like noise that I think was supposed to be a laugh and continues walking past. He laughs slightly and I go, "Yeah, and I'll take a bath!"

I am going to hell...and I like it.

The Thundercats villain of the day is Sslythe, the lizard Mutant from Planet Plun-darr. Together with Monkian and Jackleman, he travelled with a convoy of mutant ships to hunt down the Thundercats and the other survivors of the doomed Planet Thundera. They managed to destroy all the ships but one, the royal yacht, which subsequently crash landed on Third Earth.
The mutants followed and also crash landed on the planet. They built Castle Plund-arr, a secret base from which to launch their endless (and generally fruitless) assaults on the Thundercats, Cat's Lair and most other peace-loving Third Earthers.
Until the appearance of Ratarro, it is assumed that Sslythe is the leader of the mutants, but it is obvious that he is not once the Rat Leader appears in the two part "Feliner" episode.
Slythe is a brute with little brains and uses as many "s" sounds as possible, thereby reinforcing for the retarded children in the audience that he is indeed a lizard and most likely a closet homosexual.


 
 

Some Interesting Facts

A US Soldier receives 15 days leave while on duty.

George W. Bush begins his 5 week vacation to his Texas ranch this month.

It is the longest vacation stretch of any president. Ever.

The end of the 5 weeks marks his 320th vacation day in this term.

That means, in his 4 year term - he has taken off a year, less 40 days.

Way to go! :)

 
 

Leapin' Lizards

Had a fantastic, fun-filled and feverish few days.


That sentence is gross.

My friend and former roomie Nicole (I think the only person I have lived with that I am still friends with - actually, no...there's Jeff, who I'm still close with...nevermind). We hung out, got loaded, then stoned and just chilled out and laughed. The usual.
Saturday we got up early and went for breakfast at Fran's. Nice greasy spoon-type meal, more food than I should have had...yadda, yadda.
Then Nicole offered to drive me to Waterloo - as I was supposed to be going to visit
M. SCORE! So we go back home, I pack and we're off.
Spent Saturday lounging in and out of the pool in various states of intoxication, none of which held a candle to the boyfriend who looked more and more like Karen Allen in Radiers of the Lost Ark during her introduction scene. Sexier, though. Nice...
Had a terrific day, although the headache I received in the middle of the night was not fun.
It did make me realize, however, that I need a pool. I need one. I have to get one. I need a pool or some other sort of large water receptacle; like a hole or large teacup.
BTW, have you seen the greatest teapot ever...? For sale at IKEA. It comes with the tea strainer built in. I have been informed that this is common place, but seeing it three months ago, sitting on the shelf at the Etobicoke IKEA, was the equivalent of a caveman seeing fire for the first time.
I need to get it but cannot justify purchasing it when I have a gorgeous Chinese one from my aunt who taught in Hong Kong during the late 70s. I also have a perfectly functional tea strainer already. *sigh*

And yes, I know there are children in hot countries without the benefit of tea strainers or teapots...so shut up.

Back to my point - had a wicked time, swimming for 4 hours straight was KICK ASS. Also, the boyfriend's friends are all enjoyable and friendly, aside from one hiccup - I found out later the person wasn't a friend of his. LOL Sweet.

I feel like writing about Thundercats again...


 
 

Double F

Appetizer
Briefly describe your living room.
Hardwood floors, terracotta wall treatment, large sectional couch, canvas curtains...nice.

Soup
List 3 things you'd like to accomplish before the end of 2005.
Turning my animation enterprises into a full paying job...unlikely, but a goal.

Salad
When you're online, what do you spend the most time reading/playing/doing? Suggest a site for us to visit.
http://www.crapville.com

Main Course
What would the title of your autobiography be?
Me, me, me!

Dessert
What time do you usually go to bed?
10pm or so.

 
 

Important Information for Parents

 
 

The most vile website ever...

A webpage frequented by people who are too lazy to take responsibility and raise their own children...

CensorshipRulez.org

 
 

What in the Eye of Thundera?!?!

So, I'm wanting to do Friday Feast and at this time it has not been updated. What in the Eye of Thundera?


In keeping, I'm gonna talk more about the Thundercats. BLOOOOOW ME.

I've been watching the 130 episodes I have downloaded - I'm at about Episode 26, I think...long way to go - phew!

For those of you who don't know what Thundercats is, or what they are, or what it's about...die.

The Thundercats are a group of elite, high-society members that escaped their planet's destruction (a la Krypton in Superman The Movie). The convoy of mish-mashed ships (a la Battlestar Galactica) is attacked on route to Third Earth, the nearest planet that is habitable. The attackers are the Mutants from the planet Plun-darr (!) who are divided into different classes, based on species (a la Planet of the Apes) - Slythe, a lizard; Monkian, a monkey; and Jackleman, a jackal. They also later added Vultureman, a vulture (a la Spiderman's namesake villain) later on. All the convoy ships are destroyed and the Thundercats leader, Jaga, must sacrifice himself while the others are in hypersleep (a la Alien) and he appears as a ghostly apparition (a la Star Wars). The ship crash lands on the distant planet and the Thundercats become friendly with the strange natives to ensure everyone's mutual survival (a la Enemy Mine).

It is a pretty original idea, as you can see.

The Thundercats consist of Wilykit and Wilykat, the youngest, who are known for their cunning (or wiliness for the idiots who couldn't draw that connection);


Tygra, the homoerotic, studly intellectual (who is a tiger, duh) and who has the ability to turn himself invisible (like most tigers). He is the architect and scientist of the group.


Then we have Cheetara, the only adult female, who has the ability to run at the speed of light, apparently (she nearly always has warping streaks, a la Star Trek, following her running). I guess being the only sexually viable female in the Thundercats, the ability to run like the wind keeps one sane. By the way, she's a Cheeta. *cough* She is the psychic of the group (a la Star Trek: The Next Generation)


Panthro, the "Deadly" (apparently)...is the muscle behind the group, the heavy, the one who beats the shit out of people. He is also their armament specialist.


Then we have Lion-O, the "leader" of the Thundercats. Through the death of his mentor, Lion-O is thrust into power as a teenager and must deal - get this - with not only teenage angst, but the stresses of leading a band of Thundercats on an unexplored planet. I don't envy Lion-O, let me tell you.


Lion-O is constantly followed by Snarf. He is, for all intents and purposes, Lion-O's dog. He is also his nanny and acts like his nagging, annoying, bitch-of-a-wife.


Jaga is the original leader of the Thundercats and father to Lion-O. He assumes and Obi-Wan Kenobi type role and appears when Lion-O makes an immature decision, which is most of the god damn time.


Coming into Season 2 of the Thundercats, they decided they needed to make more money - which means, more toys - which means, more Thundercats.

They added 3 new Thundercats, who ALSO escaped Thundera's destruction, but were hitherto never mentioned before. They were rescued by a conveniently close travelling Berbil freighter which then crashed landed on a remote island in an ocean on Third Earth. How fortuitous, huh?

The first of the three is Lynx-O, who's appearance reeks of a "Very Special Episode" of Thundercats. He's blind and teaches everyone that you don't to have sight to be considered useful...did we ever think otherwise? Anyway...he's a lynx...coz there are very few recognizable subspecies of cat left to mine for character designs.


The second is Pumyra - a puma, you asshole. She has no discernible skill other than as sperm receptacle relief for Cheetara.


Lastly, we have Bengali - the white Bengal tiger. Added as a tribute to Zeigfried and Roy, no doubt - he is essentially Tygra painted white, with just as many homoerotic overtones. At least Tygra has a JO buddy now...


Together, this group defends Third Earth from the evil of the Mutants and Mumm-ra, the Ever Living.



...well that wasted 10 minutes. :) ...more later.