Known Johnson

April 26, 2006

Babble-on

Filed under: General — Tom @ 11:37 pm

King Crimson’s July 1, 1996 – London show is downloading from DGMLive at the moment, bought just moments ago after having given a few digestions to the latest Club release, July 1, 1995 – Los Angeles, that I had mentioned last week sometime. If you’re a fan (and I know a few readers are) the ’95 show is a must-have – an incredibly hot-blooded performance with stunning sound quality. “Red” is simply mind-blowingly intense. As is mentioned on the release notes, this was slated to be an official release until the tapes were lost and the bootleg market took off for the show that eventually became the official release, B’Boom (also a must-have, of course.)

Is it tremendously dorky that I get a little thrill when I see my new grill on the Ridgeline? Probably. Cheap thrills are great thrills.

For those keeping score at home, I received the verdict on my wonky foot last night: it’s fine. What’s funny is that within 24 hours of seeing the doctor about it, it felt 50% better, and continued to get better since then to the point now that it doesn’t hurt at all. I guess it all worked out, but it would have been nice if it had stopped hurting before I saw the damned doctor about it and wasted the time and money on the x-rays. Of course, had I just gone to the doctor 3 weeks ago it probably would have healed a hell of a lot more quickly.

I saved the best for last:

As of tonight, just 3 days shy of 8 months old, Amanda has begun babbling. The event occured without any forewarning – she simply stopped making her squeals of delight for a moment and the next thing out of her mouth was “ba ba blah blah blah ba ba.” It was quite funny, really, because it took me a moment to realize what had just happened. This following a couple of months of spit-spewing raspberries where she almost grasped the art of the “b” sound. I made the sounds back to her and was greeted with a giant, two-tiny-toothy grin. Finally someone I can converse with on my level.

And, hey, those tiny little teeth? Sharp. Real sharp.

“Let go of my show!”

Filed under: TV — Tom @ 10:13 pm

Saturday Night Live this weekend is actually one you shouldn’t miss, as opposed to the general consensus of just forgetting that SNL even exists this terrible season. Why? Because it’s a clips-show, and those are generally funny, but even more because it’s a TV Funhouse” ONLY clips-show. Finally SNL and NBC got it through their thick skulls: TV Funhouse is often and almost always lately the highlight of the show. Here’s hoping it makes its way to DVD soon.

April 25, 2006

Earworm

Filed under: General — Tom @ 11:48 pm

For the past two days I have had Peter Cetera’s duet with Amy Grant, “The Next Time I Fall,” going over and over and over in my brain. Just the chorus:

“The next time I fall in love
I’ll know better what to do
The next time I fall in love
The next time I fall in love
The next time I fall in love
It will be with you”

Over and over and over and over and over. Oh, and the annoying little burbly keyboard noise that happens during the early part of it, rotating independent of the chorus itself, so I have these two threads of repetition terrorizing my brain simultaneously.

Some researchers have been studying this earworm phenomenon and think that it has something to do with the brain “playing” because it found something intriguing about a particular phrase of music. I can assure them that, in this case, there is nothing intriguing about Peter Cetera and Amy Grant, which leads me to the obvious conclusion: it’s the result of a brain tumor, and I am going to die, the last sounds I hear as the pearly gates beckon me is that goddamned wurbly keyboard and Peter Cetera’s wimpy, nasal voice drowning out the welcoming trumpets of heaven.

April 23, 2006

Weekend update+

Filed under: General — Tom @ 11:54 pm

So Friday I saw the doctor and decided that I really don’t like this guy. He’s gruff and seems like he’s really being burdened to see me the few times I’ve been there. If you ever watched CBS’ Becker, he was a lot like that, but minus the smoking hot nurse. Be that as it may, he immediately recommended a neurologist to take a look at my brains and gave me a prescription for something to take in the meantime should I get another migraine. Given that it’s going to be a month before I can get in to the neurologist, it might unfortunately come in handy.

He also gave my foot a cursory glance and asked, as if annoyed by me even presenting the issue to him, “How long has this been hurting? Three weeks? Go downstairs after this and get this x-rayed. If something turns up, we’ll have you see an ortho.” And when I heard “ortho” my brain immediately filled in “-pedic surgeon.” I realize I’m jumping the gun on this, because he could simply mean “-pedic specialist” or any number of other similar things, but “surgeon” was the word that immediately came to mind. So, anyway, I got a number of x-rays of my left foot and hopefully tomorrow I’ll get a prognosis. Whatever it is, I hope it doesn’t involve “surgery.” I’m hoping it’s simply going to heal on its own, but given the way things have been going so far, who knows?

Saturday I got back to a little project that I’ve been working on for a few weeks. Back in December I had a minor mix-up with a large piece of ex-tire with my then one-week old truck. It cracked my grill, dented the bumper cover, and left an array of tiny damage in various mostly impossible to see places on my truck. I had briefly thought of investing in Honda’s aftermarket grill, a very truck-y looking solid-black grill, but at well over $200, that thought quickly evaporated. A while later I discovered that Ebay is the clearing house for stock Ridgeline grills and grabbed one for $25. Due to a shoddy seller, it took 40 days and lots of bitchy emails to finally get it in my hands – what a hassle – before I could even think about my next step. That, simply, was to paint the aluminum bars of the grill a dark color because, as other Ridgeline owners have noted, its stock grill just isn’t very truck-like looking.

So a few weeks back I went in search of paint. I had assumed just straight black, maybe a high gloss to set it apart from the flat black plastic of the rest of the grill, but saw high up on the racks at Lowe’s an intriguing twist on black: Black Metallic, from Rustoleum. It would still be black basically, but would have just a tiny little something extra when the sun hit it. I grabbed some Rustoleum primer and clear coat as well, knowing that if any spray paint was going to be durable, it was this stuff.

And so I painted. A lot. I amazed myself with how much paint I get get on something 18″ by 5″, but the key, learned from years of building model kits, is to be thorough. The result was the best paint job I’ve ever had, period – the paint gleamed like glass, something that is very, very hard to achieve straight out of a spray can. However, I didn’t get everything perfect – the flat plane of the grill came out nearly flawless, but the perpendicular sides came out with a lot of rough overspray. Sanding was my only option, and I chose some high-grit paper made for automotive finishes and grabbed a bottle of rubbing compound, something I’ve never used before. I won’t go into details about that, but the results were astounding: hours of painting, sanding, and rubbing and the rough sides came out glass smooth just like the front face of the grill, and it was perfect. Until it chipped – all that work, ruined.

It turns out I forgot something very, very important: you can’t just paint over chrome. Chrome is too slick for paint to adhere to. It has a surface that primers can’t etch into which to get a firm grip. I’d forgotten this because I’d assume that the inserts in the grill were aluminum, but it turns out they’re just plastic with a very high-quality chrome that is the spitting image of chrome. I knew, again from years of model-buidling experience, that chrome was easily stripped off using oven-cleaner such as Easy Off or anything with sodium hydroxide as its main ingredient. This is nasty stuff – it basically eats away anything but plastics and certain types of paint. If you get it on you and don’t clean it immediately, it’ll turn your skin into jelly before you realize it. Nasty stuff.

So I grabbed some rubber gloves intended for oven-cleaning, got a big plastic storage container, and doused the grill in oven-cleaner. I closed it up and let it sit for hours, checking it every so often. Well, after a while the paint had loosened, but there was no sign of the chrome letting go. So I left it in overnight. By the next evening, the paint could be brushed away like a goo, but the chrome still remained. I sanded it with the harshest grit I dared, doused it again, and again found no change. This was, without a doubt, the most durable chrome I’ve ever seen. I only had one choice: sand like crazy and then let the primer grab onto the roughened surface. It’s not preferable, but a good primer should be able to handle it.

And so finally a week ago I got out and gave the grill another impressively heavy paint job – so heavy that I ran out of my black metallic, but luckily had gotten a good finish with what I had. The paint needs to be good and thick to resist the junk that’s going to be flying into it at highway speeds. I nearly finished up the can of clear coat as well, and then set the grill aside to dry for most of the week. One last sanding and rubbing-compound application and I have a stunningly professional looking paintjob. I took photos but they unfortunately just don’t do it justice – you have to see it in person to really experience it. Come on out to Phoenix and let me show you my grill.

Today I did the surgery on my truck. Using instructions from College Hills Honda, who kindly offer the official Honda aftermarket grill instructions (warning, PDF file) online, I removed my front bumper cover and replaced the grill. It was nerve-wracking, but ultimately it was really pretty simple. I was done in about a half-hour . . . following hours of painting and polishing, of course. The end result is satisfyingly subdued – just like a truck grill should be.

DSCN2793

For comparison – top is the original, bottom is my painted version. The photos of the truck don’t show it very well, unfortunately – a combination of angle and too much sunlight. Sorry. The above will have to do. Click through to Flickr to see it bigger.

Friends

Filed under: General — Tom @ 1:45 pm
DSCN2771

April 20, 2006

Two birds, one stone

Filed under: General — Tom @ 11:50 pm

I think it would actually be really hard to kill two birds with one stone. They’d have to be lined up just right, and you’d have to have exquisite aim, not to mention just the right size rock, and even then it would be unlikely. You know how birds are. One little movement and they’re off.

That said, tomorrow I will be killing the proverbial two birds with the proverbial one stone when I go to see the doctor about my migraines. Three weeks ago I managed to twist my left ankle on the most embarassing of things – a step down from the curb that measured no more than two inches. It’s amazing how painful something that small can be when you’re completely oblivious to its existence. Well, I did it and at the time it didn’t seem a big deal. I figured it would be sore a couple days, so I took it easy. A couple days came and went and it still hurt. And a couple more days came and went – no change. A week came and went. Two weeks came and went. And now here we are three weeks later, still hurting. It’s not excruciating, but it’s persistent. And it changes – one time it’s on the left side of my foot, the next it’s on top extending down from the ankle, the next it’s a burning sensation near my toes, or an ache in my piddling flat-footed non-arch. Given that I do have such shitty feet, as evidenced by last summer’s month-long suffer-fest with an unbelievable ache that was the direct result of standing for 8 hours for the U2 show I saw in San Diego, I decided that maybe my feet need a little more attention. I’d say that the fact that it’s been hurting for 3 solid weeks now is probably a sign that someone with some expertise should take a look at it.

Many birds, another stone:

I’m out of color ink in my printer. It’s annoying. Printers are annoying for the sole fact that you have to buy ink for them, and that’s annoying because the ink is so friggin’ expensive. And I’m only out of cyan, but I have to replace the whole cartridge. So unless I can come up with any all-magenta and/or all-yellow things to print, there’s a lot of those two colors that will be finding their way to a landfill.

King Crimson has released yet another show from their long tour as the Double Trio in support of my personal favorite album of theirs, Thrak. This one is part of the Collector’s Club, so you don’t have to download anything. It’s still nice to get actual CDs. Anyway, this show is July 1, 1995 at the Wiltern Theater in Los Angeles, which is three days after I got to see the band for the first time in San Diego. I’d hoped to see an official release of that show at some point, but this is close enough for now. Unfortunately, my guess is with the release of this, they’ll probably never put out that SD show. But I do have a fairly nice bootleg of that show, so the moment is marked for posterity. Check out the LA show thusly.

In conjuction with this, DGMLive has also released what looks to be a killer set from exactly one year later at Shepherds Bush Empire in London. I have fallen woefully behind in my collecting of the DGMLive releases, but I will likely be investing in this one pretty soon.

Do not buy the chocolate chunk cookies from Costco’s bakery if you have intentions of eating healthy for a week afterwards. Damn, these are good cookies.

Two bands that I’ve recently gotten very excited about that I never really thought I would: Cheap Trick and Manic Street Preachers. I’d written Cheap Trick off for way too long due to memories of the shadow they became of themselves in the mid-late 80s. The band of the 70s was a powerhouse churning out hook after hook in great song after great song. You just cannot go wrong with those first five CT albums.

As for Manic Street Preachers, early last year I picked up the “10th Anniversary Edition” of what is touted to be their masterpiece, 1994’s Holy Bible. Well, it didn’t really hit it off with me too well, but for some reason it survived a number of Purges, and it’s a damn good thing it did. I must have had an inkling that it would click eventually, because a couple months ago it did in a big way. I let it simmer, however, and didn’t invest in any more of the band’s stuff, wary that maybe this was a big final spaz-out and I’d get sick of them. I didn’t, and so I ordered some dirt-cheap used copies of three of their more recent albums. I’m not sorry I did, either – they’re all solid.

Holy Bible, if you’re curious, is legendary not only for its music but also for the bizarre and tragic story surrounding it. Back in 1994, the album was released to universal acclaim. The Manics had mastered the art of political rock at a time when straight-rock was simply not the big thing. Regardless, they plowed ahead while grunge spun itself out, pumping out an incredibly smart, intense, BIG rock album that tackled a lot of issues – corruption being the biggest theme, but also a disturbing portrait of self-abuse in the form of “4st 7lbs.” An ode to anorexia, the song was an autobiography by the band’s guitarist, who himself battled the disease as well as drugs. And he was losing that battle.

Holy Bible was released in the rest of the world long before it was planned as a US release, and hype was just starting to build in the US when their guitarist suddenly disappeared. His car was found abandoned at the Severn bridge and it was assumed he’d taken his life by jumping. His body was never found, no note was found, and so the assumption remains. This, unfortunately, killed the momentum the album had building for it and all plans to release it in the US were scrapped – after a special mix had already been completed for us.

10 years later, that mix has finally seen the light of day in this anniversary edition, along with a DVD of live performances, interviews, and a documentary about the band. You also get a gorgeous package and extensive liner notes, too, along with live tracks, demos, and other rarities on the two audio CDs. It may seem unnecessary to have both the original mix and the US mix, but after a year of listening solely to the original, I broke out that US mix and was blown away by its power and clarity. This is not a cheap set by any means, but it really is worth every penny to fans of rock who look for smart, different stuff.

As much as I love my Ipod, there’s something still visceral and fun about loading a CD into your car’s CD player. It’s being tied to that album for the duration that is really nice. Sure, you can listen to a whole album on your Ipod, and I regularly do, but there’s nothing binding you to that like there is with a CD. There are days when I simply want to grab a handful of overlooked CDs and go driving, loading up my 6-disc changer and just letting the music flow. The Ipod is wonderful companion, but sometimes it’s just too much. I really never imagined I could have a complaint about carrying 5oo CDs with me, but there you go.

And with that, off to bed.

April 18, 2006

This is where the sun stabbed me

Filed under: General,Migraine — Tom @ 11:52 pm

Wouldn’t you know it, but I woke up this morning and sat down for some cereal when I noticed, far off in the distance, one bright speck of light. “Are you kidding me?” I asked out loud. I kept looking, moving my head side to side, moving my eyes, watching where the speck of light went, but sure enough, it stayed in exactly the same spot in my vision. Another visual migraine – three days after a full-blown migraine, and a couple weeks after another visual migraine.

The clock reported a little before 6, so I figured I’d probably be safe to drive – the visual migraine rarely lasts too long, generally 20 minutes or so – so I waited it out, ate my cereal, and examined the shapes. This was a different one – not the “scintillation” I reported before but a single, constant spot of extreme brightness when I blinked, and at other times just a general area of missing data, as if something had obscured a camera lens. It was located right in the center of my vision, and reminded me of the afterimage you get after staring at a bare lightbulb. It changed shape slightly – from a tiny ice cream cone to a big-eared bunny head (appropriate given the proximity to Easter) to an oblong shape. It’s impossible to report a size – it was small, but I can’t say it was an eight of an inch or something because that depends entirely on where you hold the ruler. Imagine the headlights of an oncoming car a hundred, maybe two hundred feet away. Small – and yet so distracting.

I awaited the scintillation but it never came. The spot was a spot and that was all. It didn’t grow. It slowly shifted shapes until eventually it just wasn’t there anymore. I didn’t even notice it disappear, actually. But afterward I realized that my sunny mood of the past two days was gone, replaced by what wouldn’t be considered unhappy, but a little more gritty and tired. And a mild headache came along for the ride.

My appetite was also back with a vengence, which was a very strange realization. One day of avoiding the concept of food (the day of the big migraine) followed by two days of almost total, but content, indifference to food, and suddenly . . . feed me. It really made me wonder, what is normal? Were those two days what I could “normally” be – happy, content, not constantly ravaged by thoughts of eating and hunger pains – and this hunger, this insatiable hunger, is a result of weird, impossible-to-verify connections to the general body-wide condition of migraine? Is there even any way to know?

And it made me realize even more – that I may owe more of who I am to migraine symptoms than I could have ever realized. As I was on the way to a work-related class this morning, I listened to the new release, Silver, by Jesu, and it occured to me that the groaning, dirge-like music feels like the commotion often in my head, which seems to get amplified to extremes during a migraine (seriously, go listen to the clips to see what I mean.) I am drawn to these sounds – Jesu and the original band Godflesh, soundscapes by King Crimson guitarist Robert Fripp, the casual cacophony that Wilco guitarist and singer Jeff Tweedy evokes. It’s not just an enjoyment of the music they make – I feel something stronger when I hear certain passages in their music that makes me think they, too, know the weird reality that surrounds a migraine (Tweedy definitely does, the others, I have no idea. But they “get” it, I think.) And it even goes so far as to influence the art that I do enjoy – the splatter paintings of Pollack, the color fields of Rothko, things that don’t scream “this is a house.” I find solace in them, maybe, because it’s what I see and how I feel. And, most importantly to me, all this was reflected in the digital art I’d been doing for years and, for some reason, abandoned a couple years back. (The best of them are here.) Looking at them now, it’s obvious: these are visions compelled by the migraine experience. They weren’t created while under the influence of a migraine, but they reflect what I see and feel. It is, actually, quite shocking for me to look at again in this new light. I simply never had any idea what drove me to create art like that, to spend hours obsessing over them, until something about each one clicked in my head and I said, “Yes, this is real now.”

For those concerned by all these migraines, rest a little easier knowing that I have an appointment with a doctor on Friday morning to discuss them.

April 16, 2006

Risen

Filed under: General,Movies — Tom @ 11:07 pm

I awoke in the very early hours Saturday with sickening stomach pains and a general confusion and achiness. My first thought was food poisoning. I rolled around and around in bed for hours, jerking in and out of sleep violently as one position proved more uncomfortable than another, or one became suddenly very uncomfortable. Strange smells filled my head at times – pungent, sickening, vomit-like – and, in my sleepy stupor, I blamed my pillow for harboring odors that I’d somehow never noticed before. It wasn’t until I woke up the next morning when, squinting and wincing at the the post-dawn lowlight filling the living room, I asked Alissa to close the blinds, that it hit me: I was having a full-blown migraine. And it was the first time in many, many years that I’ve had such a thing.

As I’ve noted in the past, I’ve had visual migraines on and off for quite some time and seem to get them every couple of months. Sometimes they’re accompanied by a migraine headache of varying severity, sometimes not, but they’re always paired with a common element of confusion, crankiness, touchiness, and loss of appetite, among other things. But yesterday I got the Big One, and it knocked me out good.

Now, a full day later, yesterday is a bit of a blur – a lot of pain, but not a lot of details. I spent a good deal of the day in bed trying, in vain, to get some sleep, and a lot of time in the shower – not getting clean, but simply sitting under a hot spray of water that pounded my head and, for a short time, alleviated some of the agony. The rest of the time . . . I just sat, doing nothing. It was a long, long day.

Somehow, out of curiosity, I had the sense to weigh myself shortly after getting up, having felt so bloated and painful overnight. I had lucked out and weighed myself the day before and was shocked to see that, somehow, I was 3.5 pounds heavier in the course of one day. This is important because, as the day wore on, I found myself entirely unable to eat and even unable to drink for the most part, save for a part of one cup of water and a cup of Diet Coke. When I finally went to bed – suprisingly late, given how little sleep I’d gotten the night before (but remember that state of confusion I mentioned – anything can make sense in times of extreme pain) – I ate one piece of bread. The migraine was slowly making its way out of my body and some sense of hunger had returned in the form of extreme stomach pain. Eating that one piece of bread was a mighty undertaking for fear that it would simply be vomited back up almost immediately. It wasn’t, and I slept fitfully for a second night, but somehow still much more restfully.

When I awoke this Easter Sunday morning, I felt refreshed and alive – the light was brighter and more beautiful, the air cleaner, everything, in general, better than it had been even before the migraine, not to metion nearly 6 pounds lighter than I’d been just 24 hours before. I’ve been reading Dr. Oliver Sacks’ Migraine and was amazed at how accurately he portrayed the reports of his patients, how they awoke after a migraine with the same near-euphoric feelings that I had. You have to wonder, is it simply making it past the migraine that feels so good, or was the migraine a kind of cleansing that makes the sufferer more aware to the rich beauty of life? I ask because, in days leading up to the migraine, I had been really, unpleasantly unhappy, a general unprovoked kind of dissatisfaction and a feeling of aimlessness – I felt like I was being ground down by life. And then this horrific event took place – due to some combination of triggers like stress, food, overexertion, need for sleep, you name it – a sudden attack that threw me off guard, and afterward I’m left thinking only about the good while marvelling at the time I wasted on the negative. Was the migraine a kind of flood gate that functioned to cap off something that was simply going to drown me otherwise? I’ll never know, thankfully.

Maybe it can be looked the way women describe childbirth: it was horrible at the time, but what resulted from it was wonderful. You never quite forget the pain, but you also never quite remember exactly what the pain was like. The human brain is amazing like that. It can allow something so severe and unrelenting to occur, yet leaves you afterward with only enough memory to know that it happened and that it hurt, but not enough memory of the pain that you don’t prevent it from happening again. Otherwise, like childbirth, who would willingly go through it again? If you awoke from a migraine feeling as if life was as crappy as it had been the day before the migraine, would anyone willingly suffer through the next one?

April 11, 2006

You’re a one-man death machine. Make this city bleed.

Filed under: Music — Tom @ 8:29 am

A week on, I have digested Queensryche’s Operation: Mindcrime 2 about a half-dozen times. The first time was a turn off – I found little to enjoy about it and couldn’t see much of a reason to return to it. I forced myself to check it out a couple days later and a few good songs stood out, mostly in the first half. A few more listens and I find that the entire first half of the album is pretty solid, if nothing particularly spectacular.

That all comes to a crashing halt with “The Chase,” however, which is the track that Ronnie James Dio makes his appearance as Dr. X. It’s utterly ridiculous. Silly. Embarassing. Unlistenable, at least without giggling. Seriously, the moment I hear Dio uttering his lines, I chuckle. He sounds terrible, singing in a lower range than normal to accomodate Geoff Tate’s more limited range (time has indeed taken its toll on his once amazing voice.) But in general the track is just dumb – it sounds forced, as if Tate was trying to make a reason for someone else to guest on the album.

And speaking of guests, Pamela Moore is back as the spirit/memory of the long-dead sister Mary. I had no problem with her appearance on the original album, but, again, paired with Tate here the result is nails-on-chalkboards grating, with her voice warbling all around Tate in an irritating caterwaul, as if they were competing to see who could sound the most anguished. It’s a toss-up.

The album’s biggest problem is that I just don’t care all that much. Is Dr. X killed by Nikki? Don’t know, can’t tell, don’t care all that much to dig through the story to find out. How did Mary die? Don’t know, either, and the promised resolution to that semi-vexing question isn’t very obvious (I still haven’t found anything that suggests an answer.)

The most daunting question posed by the album is simply “why does this exist?” And I have no answer for that, either. Nikki is released from prison and we get to hear his views on American society 18 years after he left it. He’s haunted by memories of Mary and wants revenge for her death and the sins he was coerced to commit, so he seeks out Dr. X. In the meantime, Mary appears to Nikki in dreams, I guess, and eventually drives him back to the very drugs that bound him to Dr. X in the first place. At the end of the album it seems as if everything is wiped away, all the trauma and violence of Nikki’s past was simply delivering him to the realization that he and Mary could have had it all, because love is all around and it’s wonderful and beautiful. Nevermind all the people he killed, those are just some minor details. It’s about love. So romantic.

Honestly, I’m not really sure if that’s what it boils down to, but that’s sure what it seems like upon the conclusion of the album’s final song, the overwrought ballad, “All the Promises.” It’s an unsatisfying end, but then the album and story, in general, are unnecessary. As a piece of music, it’s not bad – as previously mentioned, the first half is the most inspired the band has sounded in a decade. So while it’s not bad, it is inconsequential, and it doesn’t beg me back for more.

April 10, 2006

Beesness

Filed under: General — Tom @ 11:47 pm

As I was taking out the recycling tonight at about 10pm, I encountered a little lost bee buzzing angrily around one of our lights out front. Being the one closest to the front door, and where Alissa leaves with Amanda every morning, I had to put the confused bee to rest. Raid was applied in a most cowardly fashion – a brief opening of the door, a spritz of the noxious stuff at the bee, and a quick, solid slam of the front door. A few moments later, after peering suspiciously through the peephole (as if a tiny bee could be seen through it,) I cracked the door open again and found the bee writhing on the ground – but only for a moment. By the time I had resolved to crush it, it stopped moving. The menace is no more than a mere carcass that will likely be carried off by hungry roaches overnight.

Hey, what happens when you get stung by a rabid bee? You get beebies. (Alissa thinks it should be rabees.)

What happens when you get attacked by a rabid infant? Babies.

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