DAILY MONSTER 67
Good morning. I hope you’re having a good day so far and that much inspiration will find you before the sun goes down. Or after sunset. Nothing like a late night burst of ideas. Which seems to be when some of our star correspondents seem to get especially active. Please take a look:
I fear that Monster 67 triggers the mustachio alert. Boy, how does he groom that thing? Not at all, from the looks of it. All that wax would probably be too expensive. What do you think 67 does for a living? Another scientist? Movie director? Bank robber? Rank bobber? Temp jobber? And what has 67 gasping in surprise? Or am I misreading his expression? Clearly, you know what’s going on. If you can, please take a minute and let us in on 67’s secrets:
In other news, my deadlines continue unabated. I should have one or two stories of my own for you in the coming weeks. For now, here is a little tease from my upcoming — and just now completed — ink & circumstance column that will appear in the March/April issue of STEP inside design:
It’s about the dangers of being nice. The thing should be on the stands in mid- to late February. Check it out if you remember. Until then, it’s time for me to hit the hay. I’ll probably dream of you. Why? Because
344 LOVES YOU
As an opera virtuoso Nigel left much to be desired.
But he had such lofty aspirations as a young pod! His devotion to the art had been insatiable. He practiced incessantly – for his mother had always told him that “practice makes perfect!”
He practiced so much that he could not keep a roommate, his landlords canceled his leases because of noise complaints, and after years of having to house her own aging son, his own mother told him to “give it a rest, why don’t you?!” With that he tried to stop, for he always listened to his mother… but much to his dismay, his mother was right once again…
She had always said that “if you keep making that face it will freeze that way”. And much to Nigel’s horror – it had.
(now what does he do with himself?)
…and on the 1st day of the beginning and commencement not to mention start of the 11th year, Atol the Not Dim Bulb finally blew his fuse. He did so in such an effusively zeitgeist (though not gratuitous) manner that Not General Electric honored him for his faithful commitment to uphold the good name of their company by securing a place for him in the NGE Hall of Fame. He now resides, peaceful and serene, inside a dust-free mason jar mounted upside down on a piece of anodized laminate.
Thanks for the monster, and the sneak preview for STEPInside (I think I’ll request a sample copy, for work, and see if it is something we would add to our collection).
Katy – wow. And you up all early – is that US time? Gah! Nice job!
and I keep forgetting to say – great fan art! The static drawing was awesome, and the animated one was too – keep it coming!
This monster reminds me of Salvador Dali and that creepy mustache he had.
A sophisticated being, James was most proud of two things: First being his extensive knowledge and appreciation of expressionist paintings, Second being his perfectly groomed mustache.
Unfortunately for him, one fateful December morning, after learning that “the scream” was damaged beyond repair, James too screamed. He has since stayed in this position. Some say he just snapped. Others say it’s in honor of the scream. Some just say he likes to show off how long he can stay in one position.
…actually, Not Dim Bulbs aren’t put away in NGE Reliquaries at all. Nor do they really expire upon de-fusing. That was just a far-fetched tale: no advanced civilization would shut away their elders out of view, to be ignored and collect mothballs. When Not Dims blow a fuse, or ‘a moustache’, that is when they retire and join the other blown Not Dims in warm southern climes, to play chufflin’board and binga.
“Yeah, you hear about ol’ Atol?”
“I heard rumors, are they true?”
“Uh-huh, he didn’t blow his moustache until he was on the other side of ten years!”
“Incredible! I want to meet this legend!”
Since retiring, Atol has been very active, giving seminars on how to extend the life of one’s moustache. He still makes time for a game of chuffle and a spot of tea with friends and fans.
Paxil Tab meets The Scream and sings Fiddler On The Roof.
Victoria – so wouldn’t “Not General Electric” morph into “Specific Electric”? 🙂
I am in North America – so I guess that is not quite as impressive… 😉
you’re all so creative – and Owen that is GREAT.
Katy funny girl – and do color me impressed: Holy Herculean Early Morning Riser, you posted before 6am!!!
The last thing he remembers from his 8th grade shop class is someone shouting, “Seymour, look out for that vise!”
Glaxella always tried to downplay her mustache. “It’s not THAT bad, dear; hardly noticeable” said her mother. “And besides, anyone who can’t see past a small flaw isn’t someone you want as a friend anyway.”
Glaxella sighed, knowing that no matter how much she buffed her head, ironed her lab coat, or stretched her jaw, her facial hair would only ever attract BAD attention from Blatt Blatterson. Still, she dreamed of the time when Blatt would see past her mustache and realize how much she pined for him – him and his shiny hovercraft. All of the popular girls would watch with silent, seething envy as the two of them sped past on their way to some romantic getaway.
Yes, she thought. That’s the ticket. She stroked her mustache as she daydreamed. She’ll show them all.
A little dab’ll do for Faxon Schnurrbart, current spokesman for the newest Original Brylcreem venture. A bald hair cream spokesman you say? Proposterous! But the Brylcreem team is trying a new approach, using advertising dollars to fund their new mustache cream campaign, Mustacheiobryl® (patent pending).
Mr. Schnurrbart is still in shock after learning he got the job. But with such a fine looking stash, I’m sure he’ll fit right in. He’ll be gracing the cover of Mustache Monthly in February. Be sure to check it out.
Admiral Tukel pulled at his long mustache. He stood proud at his helm. It was his bridge. His ship. The many crew members, his only family. He gazed out over the ocean of space before him. Where would their orders take them next? What battles would they endure? Was a peaceful tour in line for the crew? He pushed the thoughts, piling up as they were, out of his mind. He took one more look out the port view screen before turning and proceeding to the main hanger. His highest ranking officers traveled with him on all sides. He surveyed all the cabins and rooms as he passed.
They reached the main hanger and some rather stuffy individuals were there waiting for them. The Admiral looked at them coldly and moved toward a slightly raised platform. As he stepped up, one of the officers approached a control panel. A lever was flipped and the platform rose into the air. Admiral Tukel’s posture was stern, holding great conviction in all he performed.
“On this 27th leap of the Baltik Soarer, it is hereby decreed that Ex-Admiral Plaki Tukel be stripped of all command pursuant of his conviction for high-treason against the Council of Five Lights. Further, his sentence to be carried out immediately as customary for all offenses of this nature. May the Lights have mercy on your essence.”
The platform locked into the upper airlock and the monitors flickered as they showed the proud Admiral not moving a muscle. He looked up at the camera and raised his hand in salute. Every member aboard, with the exception of those carrying out the decree, saluted the monitors. The officer at the airlock controls, saluting with his right hand, pressed a button with his left. As the air escaped into the vacuum of space, the Admiral leaped into the air and gave out an excited yell of joy, as though on the best ride any one individual could ever experience, shooting out into space.
Sorry,I’m Japanese.I speak English little.
According to Google Language, the translation is as follows: It is enormous, don’t you think? So it probably is the imaginative power which everyday everyday can write the monster is rich. When after 344 days finishes writing, it becomes news, don’t you think? Probably will be.
Dalvador Sali upon hearing of his imposter.
Abdullah Shigulla steht auf der Bühne des alljährlich stattfindenden Muezzin-Song-Contests. Wundervoll schmettert er seine Lieder durch die Menge, ein wahres Stimmwunder dieser Mann. Speziell für diesen Anlass hat er seinen sonst hängenden Schnurrbart mit hochprozentigem Glukosesirup gestylt. Nicht dass er etwa so eitel wäre, nein, der starke Luftwirbel, erzeugt durch seinen schallenden Singsang, könnte die Barthaare zwirbeln, und hin und herschwingen lassen. Die Gefahr, wegen des immer wiederkehrenden Kitzelns eine Niesattacke zu bekommen und damit aus dem Rennen geworfen zu werden, wäre zu gross.
So zurechtgemacht kann er nun völlig risikolos seine Stimmbänder vibrieren lassen, so oft es ihm beliebt.