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T. Michael Barclay's "Asylum Earth" takes a slightly different look at people, places and events that shape the planet we are confined to. It's overwhelming evidence that the patients are indeed running the asylum.
Monday, March 08, 2004
GREAT NEWS, THE BABY’S SICK -
Even Better, He May Have Broken His Leg!
Since the birth of our son, Ty Michael, I have been bragging that he has only been sick for a couple of days out of his 22 months of life. I credited this to his Mother choosing breast feeding and the fact that she is a 24/7 stay-at-home Mom. I also thought this was a good thing.
During his last normally scheduled ‘check-up,’ I was boasting about his good health when I was informed by his Pediatrician that this was in fact not a good thing. Not getting sick, it seems, can be harmful to a child’s health. She then suggested that Ty Michael get out more and that we associate him with more children so that he can get sick (Serious, her words).
She then went on about how his immune system does not get a chance to develop if it never has any reason to fight disease, ending with something along the lines that getting sick helps him to not get sick. This, of course, made perfect sense to his Mother . . . So, following doctors orders, we whisked the little tot off to the local ‘kid’s Play Station’ to associate him with as many running noised, fever bearing, cough inflected children as we could possible find. We were not disappointed.
Under normal circumstances I would have gotten right in the middle of the children and completely embarrassed the family name. Here there seems to be a passing of the torch, so to speak, as my wife (not my Son as one might imagine) can, on a moments notice, fill in, in rather spectacular fashion.
As you enter the toddlers section, you see small play stations, foam block and plastic balls, etc, and some white plastic patio chair type furniture for the adults to use while supervising the little ones. I had gotten a soft drink and settled against the outside rail to watch my Son at play. Pun led Ty Michael to one of the play stations and turned to find a chair so she could sit and watch him.
Spotting what she though was an unoccupied chair next to a man sitting and watching his child play Pun studied the situation carefully and formulated her approach. She had decided that she would just go over, acknowledge his presence and remove the other chair to a position closer to where her son was playing. Thinking this was a good plan, she approached, excused herself and grasped the lower seat lip and gave it a mighty lift. This brought about a rather startled, “Ugh” from the gentleman who was sitting on small two person couch type chair and was now being unceremoniously dumped from one end.
Giving her his best ‘damn lady, if you wanted me to move all you had to do was ask’ look, he decided that maybe is was safer to just let his child play in the street and made a hasty exit, baby in tow. Pun just stood there holding one end of the bench seat trying to explain in her best Thaiglish that she thought it was two seats and that she was just a Thai lady, so what do you expect?
I decided to join my wife on the two person seat to keep her from attacking anyone else and enjoy the safe playing environment with my family. By this time our son had joined us and appeared to be tiring of the play station with slide. I suggested to Pun that she take Ty Michael and introduce him to the plastic ball pit that was surrounded by a thick padded foam boarder. After all, how much trouble could she get in just taking our child across the play area to the ball pit?
Pun agreed and lifted our son to carry him across the play area. Her first step was to trip over a rectangular foam block. Attempting to correct her balance, she then stepped on the edge of a square foam block that caused her to throw herself to the left. Using Ty Michael to keep her balance, she was now slinging our son like a discus. She next bounced off a padded post, launched herself to the right and stepped directly on a plastic ball. This caused her to stumble backwards while throwing our son forward.
Lucky for Ty Michael, the ball pit was directly in front of his Mother and she managed to shot put him, arms flailing, in the general direction of foam and plastic. She then did a one-arm push off the carpet and in a single move brushed off her hands, did a little pirouette, and started toward me with a smile of satisfaction in a job well done. I, of course, was now just one heap of laughing Jell-O.
Thinking that maybe bones will not learn how to heal unless they have been broken before, I just patted Pun on the back and told her what a good job she was doing at being a Mother.
Did I hear a little cough? Great!
Wordsmith
Even Better, He May Have Broken His Leg!
Since the birth of our son, Ty Michael, I have been bragging that he has only been sick for a couple of days out of his 22 months of life. I credited this to his Mother choosing breast feeding and the fact that she is a 24/7 stay-at-home Mom. I also thought this was a good thing.
During his last normally scheduled ‘check-up,’ I was boasting about his good health when I was informed by his Pediatrician that this was in fact not a good thing. Not getting sick, it seems, can be harmful to a child’s health. She then suggested that Ty Michael get out more and that we associate him with more children so that he can get sick (Serious, her words).
She then went on about how his immune system does not get a chance to develop if it never has any reason to fight disease, ending with something along the lines that getting sick helps him to not get sick. This, of course, made perfect sense to his Mother . . . So, following doctors orders, we whisked the little tot off to the local ‘kid’s Play Station’ to associate him with as many running noised, fever bearing, cough inflected children as we could possible find. We were not disappointed.
Under normal circumstances I would have gotten right in the middle of the children and completely embarrassed the family name. Here there seems to be a passing of the torch, so to speak, as my wife (not my Son as one might imagine) can, on a moments notice, fill in, in rather spectacular fashion.
As you enter the toddlers section, you see small play stations, foam block and plastic balls, etc, and some white plastic patio chair type furniture for the adults to use while supervising the little ones. I had gotten a soft drink and settled against the outside rail to watch my Son at play. Pun led Ty Michael to one of the play stations and turned to find a chair so she could sit and watch him.
Spotting what she though was an unoccupied chair next to a man sitting and watching his child play Pun studied the situation carefully and formulated her approach. She had decided that she would just go over, acknowledge his presence and remove the other chair to a position closer to where her son was playing. Thinking this was a good plan, she approached, excused herself and grasped the lower seat lip and gave it a mighty lift. This brought about a rather startled, “Ugh” from the gentleman who was sitting on small two person couch type chair and was now being unceremoniously dumped from one end.
Giving her his best ‘damn lady, if you wanted me to move all you had to do was ask’ look, he decided that maybe is was safer to just let his child play in the street and made a hasty exit, baby in tow. Pun just stood there holding one end of the bench seat trying to explain in her best Thaiglish that she thought it was two seats and that she was just a Thai lady, so what do you expect?
I decided to join my wife on the two person seat to keep her from attacking anyone else and enjoy the safe playing environment with my family. By this time our son had joined us and appeared to be tiring of the play station with slide. I suggested to Pun that she take Ty Michael and introduce him to the plastic ball pit that was surrounded by a thick padded foam boarder. After all, how much trouble could she get in just taking our child across the play area to the ball pit?
Pun agreed and lifted our son to carry him across the play area. Her first step was to trip over a rectangular foam block. Attempting to correct her balance, she then stepped on the edge of a square foam block that caused her to throw herself to the left. Using Ty Michael to keep her balance, she was now slinging our son like a discus. She next bounced off a padded post, launched herself to the right and stepped directly on a plastic ball. This caused her to stumble backwards while throwing our son forward.
Lucky for Ty Michael, the ball pit was directly in front of his Mother and she managed to shot put him, arms flailing, in the general direction of foam and plastic. She then did a one-arm push off the carpet and in a single move brushed off her hands, did a little pirouette, and started toward me with a smile of satisfaction in a job well done. I, of course, was now just one heap of laughing Jell-O.
Thinking that maybe bones will not learn how to heal unless they have been broken before, I just patted Pun on the back and told her what a good job she was doing at being a Mother.
Did I hear a little cough? Great!
Wordsmith
Thursday, March 04, 2004
THE PASSION -
Is Mel Reading The Same Book We Are?
Given that the overwhelming collective of Web surfing searches are for some form of ‘adult’ and/or ‘porn’ sites, Mel Gibson didn’t miss a marketing beat by naming his most recent movie effort, “The Passion.” Even these perverts are going to be subjected to some sort of review of the movie by mere nomenclature default.
Mel may have also found a formula for movie economics that has gone unnoticed, at least until now . . . Not that I would want to accuse Mr. Gibson of overt plagiarism, but do you suppose he paid the authors for the story? I’m sure he could fall back on the old line about trying to find out who owned the book but nobody seemed to know who that was. Sure Mel, you didn’t notice the bylines. I’m convinced you worked overtime on that little detail.
Considering the ‘six degrees of separation’ theory, the way I have it figured we are all probably heirs of the authors. Looking at the projected worldwide revenue for this picture, I see the residuals coming to about $20 per person alive (before DVD’s and HBO), meaning we could have all just seen the movie for fee and had a Coke and a bag of popcorn.
I am a little surprised that he didn’t bring in CSI and run DNA tests on the various ‘shrouds,’ ‘burial sites’ and ‘wood cross’ fragments to determine exactly whom participated in the fatal act and what they had eaten for lunch. You’re right, I may be confusing Mel with Geraldo, but I won’t be shocked when it happens.
Mel, not to be outdone by anyone but himself, is now busy on a sequel to be titled, “My Ass” (Hey, if it works you stay with a winning formula). In this story Mel uncovers the fact that the Bible describes the ultimate sales scheme. The movie will center on a single individual at the top who recruits a few people to pay him alms and go out and sell his theory. These people then recruit more people who pay them alms and go out and recruit even more people to do the same.
Before long there are entire congregations of people working out of tax free facilities recruiting people all taking tax free donations and singing the praise of the solution for life’s challenges.
And you thought ‘multi-level marketing’ was a new idea . . .
Once he has drained about all he can get out of the Bible, I understand the Mel has taken an on the cuff option on the Koran where he uncovers the fact that Allah had actually told the angle Gabriel to tell Muhammad that he wanted all Muslims to ‘pay’ five time a day!
Wordsmith
Is Mel Reading The Same Book We Are?
Given that the overwhelming collective of Web surfing searches are for some form of ‘adult’ and/or ‘porn’ sites, Mel Gibson didn’t miss a marketing beat by naming his most recent movie effort, “The Passion.” Even these perverts are going to be subjected to some sort of review of the movie by mere nomenclature default.
Mel may have also found a formula for movie economics that has gone unnoticed, at least until now . . . Not that I would want to accuse Mr. Gibson of overt plagiarism, but do you suppose he paid the authors for the story? I’m sure he could fall back on the old line about trying to find out who owned the book but nobody seemed to know who that was. Sure Mel, you didn’t notice the bylines. I’m convinced you worked overtime on that little detail.
Considering the ‘six degrees of separation’ theory, the way I have it figured we are all probably heirs of the authors. Looking at the projected worldwide revenue for this picture, I see the residuals coming to about $20 per person alive (before DVD’s and HBO), meaning we could have all just seen the movie for fee and had a Coke and a bag of popcorn.
I am a little surprised that he didn’t bring in CSI and run DNA tests on the various ‘shrouds,’ ‘burial sites’ and ‘wood cross’ fragments to determine exactly whom participated in the fatal act and what they had eaten for lunch. You’re right, I may be confusing Mel with Geraldo, but I won’t be shocked when it happens.
Mel, not to be outdone by anyone but himself, is now busy on a sequel to be titled, “My Ass” (Hey, if it works you stay with a winning formula). In this story Mel uncovers the fact that the Bible describes the ultimate sales scheme. The movie will center on a single individual at the top who recruits a few people to pay him alms and go out and sell his theory. These people then recruit more people who pay them alms and go out and recruit even more people to do the same.
Before long there are entire congregations of people working out of tax free facilities recruiting people all taking tax free donations and singing the praise of the solution for life’s challenges.
And you thought ‘multi-level marketing’ was a new idea . . .
Once he has drained about all he can get out of the Bible, I understand the Mel has taken an on the cuff option on the Koran where he uncovers the fact that Allah had actually told the angle Gabriel to tell Muhammad that he wanted all Muslims to ‘pay’ five time a day!
Wordsmith
