(+3 rating, 3 votes)

 Loading ...

I have had a lot of readers ask me more about my personal life.  Here are some of the questions I have gotten:

• “Who are you?”
• “What planet do you come from?”
• “Why do you smell so peculiar?”
• “Why do you keep bugging me?”
• “Is your medical diploma a forgery?”
• “Do you know how to fix a fuel injector?”
• “What about your kids?  Do they wear bags over their heads?”
• “Why do you use so many lists?”

Great questions.  I thought I would this the opportunity to tell you a little more about myself.

I grew up in a typical American picnic basket – except for the fact that it wast 200 feet tall.  Mom and dad never explained why they chose this style of home, except to say that it meant that we had easy access to enormous plastic forks and spoons.  It really wasn’t a bad place to live – aside from the 200 lb ants.

Our basket was in a farming community mainly populated with gigantic farming robots.  This was OK, but it pretty much ruled out playing touch football.  A couple of kids got squashed just playing SPUD, so football was a no-go from the start.

But living with robots wasn’t all bad.  They “LOVING CARE®” robot from the Cirrus Cybernetics Corperation was quite a good baby sitter.  I have such fond memories of looking into those two black holes, that tiny dot of a mouth, and the foam Mohawk as R2354 rocked me to sleep.  Sigh.

What did we do for fun?  Well, I was always one for a good game of croquet.  I told my mom I was challenged by the dexterity the game demanded.  She just thought I did it for the foxy chicks who played.

Our robot neighbors liked to snowmobile.  This was a bit odd because they did it only during the summer, and would wear a giant turtle costume while doing it.  They tried to talk me into wearing a turtle costume, but my modesty prevented it.

There were bad times, though.  The giant goat riot of 1972 was especially bad in our town.  They went crazy.  The took all of our coolers, filled them with fermented grass, and roared through the town in a drunken delirium.

Fortunately, the commando rabbits came to town and purged our town of these raucous mammals.

We all celebrated when the goats were gone.  The strong man cheered, the kid in the hat kicked his heels, a guy threw a lady in the air, and the mime juggled (and creeped us out some).    It was a din of jubilance.

The people of our town were so thrilled that they dedicated the new Piggly-Wiggly to the commando rabbits.  It still brings a tear to my eye when I think of it.

Our town, since it was a mix of humans and giant robots, was a center of cyborg construction.  This picture is of uncle Phil and his wheelie-wowas.  He thought they would be all the craze once the pet rock fad died down, but was sorely dissappointed when the Chia Pets took his place in the line.

There you have my early years.  It is pretty much the same old ordinary stuff as most of you.

I have to admit, I was a little nervous to expose myself in such a way to my audience, but it is really liberating.  It is good to know that I can open up and share my deepest self with all of you and you will accept me as I am.

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!