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Kindl(e)-ing – The Haitwo

It’s a Brave New World!

Just adopt our fantastic

Plastic point of view…

 

Dial E- for Evil…     Part the Second

Back to the I-Pad for some Nook-ie

 

A Brave New World?

I’ll hold my breath, E-rat, but I don’t think it will get better. [1]

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

I am not about to jump on the e-book e-band e-wagon!

 

I am having trouble enough wrapping my head around the latest trend of a book cover’s need to graciously announce to me that it is indeed ‘A Novel. [2] Call me old-fashioned. Why would I give myself over to the E-side?

 

No amount of gigas of convincing will work. I won’t be going back to your I-pad for any Nook-ie.

 

I will not be moved; I will not be shaken.

 

I will tell you why.

 

Hell no – I won’t glow!

 

I like to curl up with a good book, not a flat screen thermonuclear reactor.

It probably isn’t THAT bad, but I’m just a wee bit nutso. Remind me of the fact that my cell phone is giving me a tumor via my ear canal and I will immediately cast it aside in horror and return my eyes to the road. My ear will tingle for about three days until I ‘goldfish’ [3] that little factoid and resume my cellphone lifestyle and textual relationships.

It’s not that I’m a Technophobe; I’m more a Tumorfreephile.

I fall asleep with books and wake up with them either on my head or being utilized as a pillow booster seat. I dread the idea of some variety of Kindley ™ product pulsing by my face all night like a lightbulb and latex creation from circa 70’s Doctor Who. [4] Best case scenario: I’d wind up with <> burnt on my retina as a permanent after image.

Thank you-no!

 

I am not a Nook!

 

I will be the first to admit I have never had a love affair with Barnes & Nobles. I’ve always been a Borders girl and really have a bad case of ‘Readers without Borders’ Syndrome.

 

Dear Borders,
I’m sorry using my 25-50% off coupons every week made you go bankrupt.
It was really super fun while it lasted!
Love,
Me

 P.S. I miss your Sugar and Spice holiday coffee drink. I bought a quart of the syrup for 3 dollars at the bankruptcy sale and it doesn’t taste the same. I like to believe it is from the lack of love and not the fact that it was 6 months past expiration.

 

I have had to return to a Barnes & Nobles world with my tail between my legs and we are mixing as well as Merlot and late night e-mailing.

 

I have also encountered The Nook Man.

 

Firstly, Sir, your waving of your little device in my face while surrounded by two stories of books is a little too ‘Le Roi est mort, vive le Roi!’ paradoxical for my tastes.

Secondly, you are kind of a d*ck!

 

I guess looks can be deceiving. He looks like Burl Ives.

Hai Kulture, Pop Culture, Entertainment, Humor, Poetry, Essays, Television, Cryogenic Burl Ives

That’s close (but without the ‘snow face’)

So more like…

Hai Kulture, Pop Culture, Poetry, Essay, Enterainment, Television, Humor, The Cryogenic Stages of Burl Ives

Eh, close enough…

I don’t think it is beyond reason for me to expect him to be holly and jolly and not douchey and well…douchey.

I’m pretty much black and white. I love many, many things and hate the remainders. (Pudding: YUM! Rice Pudding: Abomination!). There is no middle ground and I am quick to judge. Once you land in my mental Gitmo, you aren’t likely to see the light of day and feel the warmth of my sunny disposition again. On my first queasy return to the dark woods and green mile carpets of B&N, in the very first minute, I witnessed this exchange:

 

Poor Confused Woman with Child: Can you tell me where the art books are?

 

Nook Man in all his Nookiness: The information desk is over there. *sniff*

 

Oh-that sniff. Never, never, never punctuate a sentence with a sniff. I may be a little over-sensitive to snifferage as I am often mistakenly mistaken for a person who may steal from your establishment [5], but I’m not unreasonable. I’ll forgive high pollen counts, flu face fauceting, I-just-rubbed-my-cat-all-over-your-face issues, and nostrils packed with The Anthrax. This was the sniff of privilege. This was the sniff of ‘I can’t be bothered’. This was the ‘I am Nook Man-hear me sniff!’ sniff.

 

This was the sniff of rude. Welcome to my circle of enemies.

 

He knew damn well where the art books were. He is an employee of the store. I can’t believe all he ever does is march up to his little oh-so-clever Nook nook every morning and begin to play with his snake oils. Not to set foot anywhere else is just a wee bit too Kafka-esque for anyone. Even if he was unsure, it was merely a matter of ‘upstairs’ vs ‘downstairs’ to hold the side of nasal dismissal and be passing helpful.

He became the bane of my Barnes and Nobles existence right then and there. Now, as I pass through the double double-doored vestibule lined with ‘Please Steal These’ short-listers, I take pause. I prepare for battle. Directly across from the entrance he waits behind his little wall, smug and sniffing with a penchant for sweater vests like it’s College Fair Day and he has a pamphlet too precious to spare me for an institution I had better safety net more than the Wallendas did.

I am ready for you Nook Man. I push past the 3 dollar Self-Henna kits that call to me. I bounce through the heavy doors with some difficulty, as they aren’t very bounce friendly. I stand directly across from him. I feel the brief intake of air across my cheek as he prepares a sniff. Innocently, I turn my head from side to side, as if getting my bearings and say ‘a-hole’ just under my breath as I bounce off to my desired bits of shelvery.

Sweet, sweet subliminal victory!

 

Recently, for some reason, he was dressed in Darth Vader garb, but with his ‘Burly’ countenance looked more like an off his meds Lucas shambling about a Skywalker Ranch BBQ. Steeled by the sugary liquid courage of two raspberry Italian sodas, I approached, feigning interest in his Nookery. I flashed him my most Industrial Light & Magic of smiles and with eyebrow arched at his wardrobe, simply informed him: ‘That’s not really working out for me…’

Exeunt Hai and Bouncing.

 

I’m loathe to admit this, but if Nook Man was indeed a more ‘the holly and the Ivesy’ grandpa character, he might have an e-customer in me. Every year, Yukon Cornelius and the gang decorate my entertainment center. I would have trusted this chap on beard alone with the same unquestioning acceptance I give a waistcoated snowman who leaves snail tracks in the snow without any means of momentum. Sadly, his tale of ‘Bumbles,’ told by an idiot lantern, is full of light and pixels and signifies nothing.

 

I’m Uneasy Being Green

 

Pop Culture Hai Kulture Essay Humor Poetry Entertainment Soylent Green Meme

Soylent Meme

 

People have tried to convince me that e-readers are green. I think I’ve bundled enough newspapers and separated enough glass from plastic to read a book and still hug a tree. Books (and probably the occasional 3 dollar Self-Henna kits) are pulped and repulped daily to make – get this – more books! They have a life cycle and I’m fine with that. I don’t want to tread on any butterflies in that regard. [6]. I don’t really know if green is the new black. Soylent Green was about as green as you can get and that was made out of SPOILER ALERT. [7] I don’t really want to munch down on Edward G. Robinson with as much gusto as I would give the opposite of Fig Newtons. I don’t know what Soylent Read is made out of, but I know it’s not paper. [8]

 

Angry Birds and Albatross

 

I already have a plethora of albatrossi around my neck.

Is someone really going to steal my stupid book with the wizard on it?

 

Pop Culture Hai Kulture Haiku Essay Poetry Entertainment Tech Humor

Rhyme of the New Technology

 

 
  Hai Kulture Poetry Pop Culture Essay Humor Entertainment  ‘Hey there Kindle Lady! You look real sassy! Do you know where I am? I’m over here, splashing around in the sand and the surf! Do you know where my stupid book with the wizard on the cover is? On my chair! Come on and join me! I give your Kindle a 98% chance of *poof* before your toe hits water! [9]

 

 

 

You had better chain that albatross round your neck like a wallet in a nu metal band.

 

There’s Sex-e and there’s Sexy.

 

There’s no E- in aphrodisiac.

 

Books are sexy. The smell of books can be intoxicating. The scent of a bookstore always tickles my nose like the faint musk on an absent partner’s bedside. I have dreamt of walking through bookstores in varying amounts of underthings. I have felt the breeze of turned pages kiss my skin. I have heard the lover’s whisper of word laden parchment as it unfurls. I have pulled volumes atop me to feel the weight of their embrace. I have danced forbiddenly amongst shelves in my nightscapes.

 

Radio Shack- not so much.

 

I’m buying an ethernet cable-why do you need my address?

Creepy.

 

 

E- and I- and You – Not Me

 

Books hold too much life to be binaried by I’s and E’s. They tell stories. Characters grow, live, laugh, cry, and die amidst their pages. An author, a person, a human being shares these tales, binds a glimpse of their soul between two covers. Books are to be held and to be loved.

When is a book not a book? When it’s a download. When is a bed not a bed? When is a chair not a chair? When it’s a museum piece. Behind velvet ropes there is functionality without any use. We can look, but we can’t really touch. How much can be felt without truly feeling.

How can I bury my nose in a book when all I’ll do is smudge the screen?

 

I fear for the words on glass as much as I do for the ones behind it.

 —Hai [10]/[11]

 

 

 

 

Meta-Notoriety    (↵ returns to text)
  1. No offense, Aladdin, I’m more a ‘Never had a Friend like Me’ girl. *wah wah wah waaaaahh wah* I love that part!
  2. Really? REALLY?!?! I never would have known!

    I operate under the assumption that anything that truly feels the need to announce that it is ‘A Novel’ will most likely wind up as ‘A Coaster’.

  3. I transit very poorly from short-term to long-term memory. Sherlock Holmes described the human memory as an attic and I can never seem to pull the string hard enough to get those weird folding laddery-step thingies to fall out of the ceiling panel-mabob.  I call it ‘goldfishing’. My friends call it ‘quirky’. My mom calls it ‘the implication of recreational drug use’.
  4. Oh BBC Radiophonic Workshop – was there nothing you couldn’t do with discarded washer woman gloves, Christmas lights, and a never-ending supply of abandoned gravel pits!
  5. These strategically ripped tights are the retro-grading height of geekanista people! I’m not the bloody Artful Dodger!
  6. ‘The Sound of Thunder’ by Ray Bradbury. Step on a crack – you break your mother’s back. Step on a butterfly – yu fook upp evreetheeng!
  7. Hai Kulture, Pop Culture, Haiku, Poetry, Essay, Humor, Entertainment, Film, Soylent Green

     

    C’mon! Am I really spoiling anything here?

    It’s people! IT’S MADE OUT OF PEEEEEEEEEEEEOPLE!

    (I hope you had fun doing that Mr. Hartman. You always made me smile. 🙁 )

     

     

     

  8. It’s not paper! IT’S MADE OUT OF NOT PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
  9. I just returned from a beach vacation with every stupid book with a wizard on the cover intact. <<Click Here for Booyah!>>
  10. I’ll continue to fight the good fight. But my heart is heavy, for I know, Dear Reader, that in a way this message was brought to you today by the letter
  11. Ku-dos to ‘The Balcs’ for  giving me the idea for this piece during a 5 minute text conversation that started on Huxley and degraded to a want of mini nachos.

Kindl(e)-ing – The Haiku

Page turner? <Tap Screen>

Books dwindling Kindl(e)ing

All Pulp’d Fiction

 

Dial  E  for  E-vil…     Part the First

Fahrenheit 1832

 

I enjoy books.

 

I like to turn pages. I like to hold books. I need chaperones in bookstores, as I wear my old coat to buy the new book. When I travel, books are security. [1] I can always retreat to the safe haven of dog-eared page 112 in a strange place. At home, I stack and shelve good books, like a Collyer Starter Kit. [2] I throw bad books across the room. I  awake  on the sofa to a book on my face and reading glasses pokes to my side more times than I care to mention.

 

I like to read.

 

And mostly, I read garbage. [3] / [4]

 

Cast aspersions and arch eyebrows all you want at wizards, dragons, and vampires – the song remains the same: I enjoy books. I like to read.

 

Reading is FUNdamental

 

Reading is a rainbow.

 

I said: ‘Reading is good. Can we start the story now?’

 

Sure, here’s the story…

 

Just let me find my book.

 

The thing is – I can’t. On a recent Amazon mousing-spree, I discovered two new words for my urbane dictionary. Well, two words and a not-word bit:

e-book only 

 

Look at that ‘e hyphen’. *shudder*

It doesn’t belong there. It just dangles like a hair to be plucked, a hangnail to be trimmed, a strange alphabetic blotch you better have checked by your physician. Your book has a growth and it’s not long for this world.

My books were gone. [5] Well-they were there.  Let’s not split e-hairs. I just couldn’t get them in the mail. I just couldn’t hold them. I just couldn’t love them. My books had become The Boy in the Plastic Bubble [6]

The Amazon screen just stared back at me coolly. It didn’t understand me. ‘You can still have them’, it seemed to say with a mocking, haughty flicker,’No fuss. No muss. No mail.’

‘The time has come to futureproof your reading, Sweetheart…’

‘…or weren’t you aware?’

‘Just wait five seconds for this little bar to fill and…’

My palm slapped the screen as if to cover a cathode monster’s face with no afghan at the ready. The static monitor charge tickled my fingers like the coax of a faltering, unfamiliar lover.

I buried my face in invisible pillows to avoid the smug wink of the monitor and the inevitable subliminal sales pitch as old as time. Words used to convince and cajole since Neolithic wheel salesmen walked the Earth, hair slicked back with  primordial ooze.

‘You know you want it…’

 

It didn’t know me.

 

I wanted fuss. I wanted muss. I wanted packages.

 

I wanted books.

 

Things to read. Things to hold. Things to love.

 

Not things to click or slide or flick or drag.

 

Things to open.

 

Books.

 

Books are meant to be opened –  for they are gifts.

 

I Sing the Body Electric!

 

And turn a deaf ear to the sirens’ call of the Body Electric-Electric…

Pop Culture Haiku Literature Tech Kindle Entertainment Humor

Fahrenheit 1832 

 [7]

(To Be Continued)

—Hai

 

 

 

 

Meta-Notoriety    (↵ returns to text)
  1. Books are grand security blankets. However, Sir Hops-a-lot, valiant Knight of the Pond Table, always does his part at night.  He lost an eye defending me during the Great Shadow that Looked like a Clown Attack of  ’80. I love you – Sir Hops-a-lot!
  2. Those Darn Collyer Brothers (’47, Columbia Pictures) I have been told I would straddle the hoarder fence, if there wasn’t so much junk in the way. I’m fine. I just have stuff. I haven’t taken to booby-trapping stacks of old newspapers. Now, Ariel the Mermaid-she’s a hoarder. Go intervent her.
  3. Wizard or Dragon on the cover? Check. Enticing cover art that looks like it should be called ‘The Wizard’s Concubine’ and has nothing to do with the story? Check. Possible vampires turned private investigator? Check. My reading list is about as predictable as plucky hero amnesia in a JRPG.
  4. I’m not alone. Most of The KuJo read garbage – *ahem* – ‘escapist literature’. Seward was reading Unexplained! Strange Sightings, Incredible Occurrences, & Puzzling Physical Phenomena! New Edition! by Jerome Clark the other day. He said he appreciated the front cover enthusiasm.  
  5. The majority of the middle rungs in Glen Cook’s Garrett P.I. series.  Noir detective in a fantasy setting? These books-so not garbage. Check them out!

    (While you can…….)

  6. Ohmygah! Travolta carrying paint cans in the opening of Saturday Night Fever : cool. Travolta flopping and rolling down the street carrying paint cans with the aid of a robo-rubber glove sticking out of the side of transparent beach ball : e-books.
  7. The temperature at which Silicon burns.  Truism. I crunched some numbers.

Ku-less – Hai-lidays: Weekend of the Wheaton

Pop Culture, Entertainment, Television, Wil Wheaton, Geek Love, Labor Day,

Wheekend of the Wheaton

 

This Labor Day Weekend

Hai Kulture Vs. The W2

In The Mud!!!

[1] / [2]

 (With download of Mud App for I-Phone or Droid)

 

Hai Kulture Presents: The Get More ‘Like’ s than Wil Wheaton Weekend

 

On a Facebook near you

https://www.facebook.com/Haikulture

(So near-it’s just a single click!)

Get The Invite! “Love’ the ‘Like’

And please, please, please…share it with your friends like a warm and friendly STD…OF LOVE!

Only you can prevent Wil Wheaton’s popularity over our own.

Fizzy Fruity Drinks with little umbrellas all around!

(Sponsored by the Society for Shamelessly Increasing Traffic on This Website)
(It’s the last time-we promise—–Hai 🙂 )

 

 

 

Meta-Notoriety    (↵ returns to text)
  1. Mud  App optional. Mud App only applies where applicable. Hai Kulture is not responsible for any data loss due to the downloading of the Mud App. Hai Kulture is not affiliated with Mud App. Hai Kukture would actually prefer if you didn’t download Mud App as these are new shoes. I mean where are we going to change? Do YOU even HAVE a spare tankini?

    Mud App may cause an increased compulsion to gamble. If using, downloading, or even thinking of Mud App and you exhibit signs of a heart attack – please consult a physician. Actually, if you show signs of a heart attack, consult a physician in general. It seems like a good idea. Oh and definitely if you start bleeding out of an orifice-any of them. Do not download Mud App on an empty stomach. Do not use Mud App if Mud App persists for more than 4 hours. Do not operate heavy machinery while using Mud App. Do not get Mud App in eyes. Do not taunt Mud App.

    Do not ingest Mud App as rumor has it is made from that stuff that was in Stretch Armstrong™ and that was bad.

    Remember- your Mom wouldn’t let you get one after watching the news. Then she called your friend’s mom and said ‘Stretch Armstrong™ is filled with space toxins’ and your friend’s mom made him throw it out. He was mad at you for weeks. He stopped sharing his fruit roll-ups with you and almost made Charlie McGlusky his best friend in your place. Remember Charlie McGlusky?! That freak ate paste and almost replaced you on the great 3rd grade totem pole of popularity. Do you want that to happen again over some stupid Mud App????!!! No!!!!!!!

    Those were dark times. It isn’t worth it.

  2. You know who probably IS downloading Mud App – Wil Wheaton. Do you want to be like him? I mean if Wil Wheaton jumped off a bridge…

Shark Weak: Da Fonz – Da Hai-Two

Jukebox. Pinball. Lights.

 Broken Washer? No Problem!

Leather clad Clapper ™

 

 

Shark Weak: Part II

Unjumping the Shark: The Fonz-a-thon Equilibrium Principle

 

 

As a nation we have turned our back on the Fonz. We mockingly celebrate The Shark for a week every year and celebrate mocking The King of Cool with idiomatic stigma.

 

Keep your ‘Shark Week’ – I’ll celebrate ‘Jump Day!’ September 20th:  A day in 1977 the huddled masses bathed in technicolor glare, held their collective breath, and began a long, slow raspberry in the direction of Arthur Herbert Fonzarelli.

 

Let the ill and somewhat spittley winds blow as they will for I know that Fonzie achieved a Nirvana of Cool that day. The path to enlightenment is discovered through vision, deed, and righteousness.

 

Vision – He saw the shark.

 

Deed – He jumped the shark.

 

Righteousness – Swim trunks and a leather jacket for ‘Ye it was asked among the people is there a raiment more righteous?’ Fonz 3:16 [11]

 

In modern tropism, what The Fonz achieved that day was a ‘Lockdown’ [12] : a single crystalized moment of awesome awesomness that embeds itself in one’s psyche. This moment becomes the fundamental image of recall overriding all other impressions of a show’s run.

 

Pop Culture Haiku Entertainment Television Humor LOST Lockdown The Fonz Shark Weak

The ‘Lockdown’

 

Above: Brain Neuroimaging- PET result of a ‘Lockdown’

Subject was asked to recall impressions of a certain TV show

 

This kernel of pure awesome trapped in the amber of recall is so ingrained that it can blind one to the exponential lessening in awesome that inevitably follows thereafter. In fact, in our Hai Sci labs down at The Kujo, we ran some Nielson correlations. At its most potent, The Lockdown has been known to act as a dayglo and blacklight beacon, so powerful it can shepherd one through a mediocre final season of randomness and about 45 minutes into a finale of ‘You said you wouldn’t!!!!’ [13]

 

Hero worship can subsist for eternity on the endless Mobius strip of re-runs.

 

With regret and the advent of Nick-at-Night and TV Land, I caught glimpses of a tarnished idol that I never saw in the endless re-run loop of childhood. What I saw wasn’t cool – but chilling. The Fonz had been Oliver!’d [14]. The Fonz was teaching at a tech school like a poor man’s Kotter. With nary a shark in sight, I crushed that uncool shadow of The Man into a blip of light with a quick remote press.

 

But I come to praise Fonzarelli, not to bury him.

 

Whatever chinks in his worn leather armor I refused to witness, cannot be placed on the doorstep of his garage apartment (which he probably didn’t even have anymore-because who was he?) The blame cannot be placed on the Fonz, the shark, or any amount of jumping betwixt the two. The blame lies on writers, producers, and executives who simply don’t stop. The same triumvirate who foist a thing like Urkel on us and then poke him like a baited bear so he dances on our screens until he is in need of cataract surgery.

 

Oh there be sharks in these waters that even the Fonz cannot conquer.

 

There is a saturation point in entertainment that no one seems to bother with. A boundary defined and determined by what Hai Sci Laboratories calls The Fonz-a-thon Equilibrium Principle:

 

Pop Culture Haiku Entertainment Humor Television Fonzie The Fonz Jump the Shark Shark Weak

Too much of a cool thing = tragedy

 

 

(AAYYY) N= U+M+M+M

 

as N ∑ ∞ [15]

 

Too much of a cool thing eventually becomes tragic

 

Leather Jacket: Cool

 

Leather Pants: Tragedy

 

One Eyepatch: Cool

 

Two Eyepatches: Tragedy

 

Sombrero: Cool

 

The Alamo: Tragedy

 

Just know when to hold, fold, and walk away Burbank.

 

I never wore my sky blue Fonzie tee until it was bursting at pubescent seams. I retired it with reverence to a drawer and I’m sure it now resides entombed in cardboard like an Ark of The Covenant in Awesome, shining with black light and dayglo cool in the shadow warehouse called Mom’s Basement 13.

 

It may be faded. It may be worn. It may slightly pink on the hem from when Kristy Federwitz and I decided to make a ‘million dollars’ by selling Kool-Aid and slightly brown from when she threw mud at me because we didn’t.

 

But it isn’t a rag.

 

It isn’t unrecognizable.

 

It still is the Fonz and it still is cool.

 

—PepperJack

 

 

 

Meta-Notoriety    (↵ returns to text)
  1. ‘And lo it was said unto the people:”It would be easier for Dick Dastardly to stop that pigeon than it would be for Scrappy Doo to not receive a punch in his annoying mug from everyone he met.”
  2.  LOST (SEASON 2:EPISODE 17) or the day I discovered my DVD player had a zoom function
  3. Cuse and Lindelof (def): FUCKERS
  4. OLIVER!’D (def): A derivation of the ‘Cousin Oliver’ trope.Much like that annoying little waif with the bowl and the bottomless stomach, a young child character is introduced as a distraction on an iron lunger TV show with a hand out wanting ‘more’ of your attention and laughter
  5. TAKE THAT ‘BEAUTIFUL MIND’ GUY WITH YOUR NOBEL PRIZE IN HOT BLONDE THEOREMS AND YOUR JENNIFER CONNELLY WIFE. THIS SEMI-ATTRACTIVE BRAIN IS GETTING THE NOBEL PRIZE IN NOTHINGNESS AND while I might not have Jennifer Connelly – ALL MY MAGAZINES ARE STILL INTACT!

War of the Wheaton – The Hai-Five

Beauty heartbroken

By smug kilt-wearing gamer

I ask: What the Fawkes?!!?!

 

 

Something Wheaton This Way Comes… Part the Fifth

Fawkes Pas or The Guilded Butterfly Incident

 

 

 

(If you have a copy of Grieg’s ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King’ start playing….

 

…now)

 

(And if not – Hai has kindly provided you with a copy 🙂 —Love, Hai :-*  ) [11.5]

 

In_the_Hall_of_the_Mountain_King

 

Time to turn down the lights…

 

Now, where were we?

 

Ah yes…

 

Pop Culture Haiku Entertainment Television Humor Wil Wheaton (Evil)

W For Whendetta

This guy.

 

The Wheaton.

 

W-Squared.

(or W2 with the new superscript button — Love, Hai)

 

Good ol’  ‘Wilbo’.

 

Time to step up to the plate for strike three.

 

(Are you up to the dramatic fasty bit at the end of the song? I’ll wait…)

(So…how was your day?)

(Ok. Ready? Let’s go!)

 

Ummm…

 

He’s kissed Felicia Day. I’m just going to throw that out there.

 

AND he made her fictitiously sad! [12]

 

Pop Culture Haiku Entertainment Television Humor Wil Wheaton (Evil) The Guild Felcia Day

The beautiful Felicia Day besmirched by sadness :(

(Not to weaken my argument, but it is impossible to find a distressed picture of Ms. Day. She is far too adorable. [13] After an extensive Internet search, the most I could come up with is ‘Codex nonplussed’. )

 

(This pops the seal on the can of worms of nonplussines. Do I mean ‘vexed’ or ‘unfazed’? Hey-I didn’t decide to go on the neologism rampage in the past decade! Let’s just say, at most, she was ‘plussed’. Arguably not a word, but if people are going to flip words derived from the Latin on their tail, I’m going to start making things up. Plussed: it’s both ‘vexy’ AND ‘fazy’. Pencil THAT  into the margin of your Funk and Wagnalls!)

 

(And don’t go saying she’s somewhat come-hither in the above photo. Squint a bit and she’s slightly ticked off. Work with me here! It’s late and I’ve spent two hours sifting through photos of ‘The Day of Sunshine’ [14] looking like a cute fluffy bunny who has momentarily misplaced a carrot. An extremely plussy, cute, fluffy bunny in the above case.)

 

She was sad. Season 3 & 4 of ‘The Guild’. I have it on DVD. Come over and I’ll show you or just check it out at:  http://www.watchtheguild.com/  – so I don’t have to tidy up.

 

I’ll give you one guess as to the cause. Here’s a hint-it rhymes with Wheat Thin.

 

Good. Glad we are on the same page again.

 

No one should make Felicia Day sad or even borderline plussed.

 

Wheaton Strike Three (Rounded up): YOU BASTARD!

 

Gotcha!

 

Let the ‘Blood Feud’ commence!

 

Sorry – Wilbo. It really is nothing personal. [15] / [16]

 

It’s just all the cool geeks are doing it. 🙂

 

FIN…?

 

—PepperJack

 

 

 

 

Meta-Notoriety    (↵ returns to text)
  1. This is a bit of a Spoiler Alert : Redundancy from the Hai Kulture 2.0 reboot, but I honestly was extremely pleased with myself when I figured out Audio Player and snuck it in that afternoon after Seward posted. It stays! —Hai
  2. I love Felicia Day. Just a little.
  3. She is adorable.
  4. With all the adorableness, it stands to reason she is cute also.
  5. In all honesty, I have nothing against Wil Wheaton. He’s an open gamer, ‘out-of-the-dungeon’ geek, seemed like a pretty cool (and non-litigious) guy when I met him, and even parodies himself ala ‘The Shat’.  [16] I have nothing but respect for that. He’s alive and well and living in exile: http://wilwheaton.typepad.com/ . Check it out. It’s true; he’s not a dick.

    (But I did change my spellchecker to recognize ‘Wilbo’ – so the whole blood feud thing – I really should go through with it to save face.)

  6. There are those who deem referring to William Shatner as ‘The Shat’ insulting. I disagree. He’s not ‘shat’; he’s ‘The Shat’. Difference = huge

War of The Wheaton – The Hai-Four

Battle Pen to Sword

Who is mightier? Sharpie ™-

The tip always felt

 

 

Something Wheaton This Way Comes… Part the Fourth

 Fan (dissed) Service or Origins ™ Story

 

 

It’s time for a little face time with W-Squared

 

 

Pop Culture Haiku Television Entertainment Humor Wil Wheaton (Evil) Wesley Crusher

Meta Evil with (W-Squared) 2

 

It’s like looking into a mirror looking into a mirror staring into The Abyss. [9]

 

I have met The Wheaton on two occasions. The first was during the Crusher salad days at a Sci-Fi(nance) convention. [10] Wheaton was the big ringer that day. He had left the show about a year back and all the buzz was Starfleet Academy.

 

‘When will there be Starfleet Academy?’

 

‘Oh, Wil-I can’t wait for Starfleet Academy!’

 

‘Something about cookies and milk and Starfleet Academy’ punctuated by a squeal.

 

My friends and I attended this venture with the dual purposes of dropping 80 dolllars of mid-nineties currency on plastic junk and taking Wil Wheaton down a peg.

 

Damn that likable rogue! He gave a charismatic panel. He was healing people who touched the hem of his trendy kitsch t-shirt. He was personable while signing autographs.

 

(Yes-fine! I will freely admit I waited two hours in line for his autograph. Not that I really wanted it. I didn’t. Honest. Every geek girl who was crammed in that Shriner Fest capacity hotel and liked robots or would react to a ‘Don’t Panic’ [11] lapel button was in that line. I’m not stupid – that was one hour and forty minutes of chatting up geek girls before we turned a corner and Ensign Dreamboat hoved into view.)

 

The attack on Wheaton was three pronged that day and hatched while pawing through back issues of Doctor Who Monthly.

 

Prong One: The Befuddle

 

I slid a picture of Charles Gray from The Rocky Horror Picture Show across the table toward his awaiting Sharpie ™

 

The Wheaton: “But…? This isn’t me…”

 

Me: “Why would I want a picture of you?”

 

And The Wheaton laughed.

 

He saw the sea of starry-eyed Starfleeters.

 

Wheaton knew the deal.

 

Touché

 

He remained firmly entrenched on all his respective pegs.

 

(The Wheaton: 1  Prongs: 0)

 

 

Prong Two: The Flip

 

My friend slides an actual picture of Crusher in all his Ensigniness to the unwitting mark.

 

Friend: “Could you sign it ‘Wilbo’? ”

The Wheaton: “To ‘Wilbo’?”

 

Friend: “From ‘Wilbo'”

 

The Wheaton: (awkward pause with confused frowning) “…uh-uh…”

 

Set phaseres to phased.

 

The pegs looked tenuous.

 

(The Wheaton: 1 Prongs: 1)

 

 

 

Prong Three: The Last Word

 

We yelled “Your TV Mom is hot!!!” and ran away.

 

Ha! Touché back atcha!

 

The old double touché

 

(The Wheaton: 1 Prongs 2)

 

 

Wheaton Strike Two: Give the people what they want!

 

Were we really the first ‘Wilbo’ that day??? C’mon!

 

Doctor Zachary Smith from Lost in Space signed his photo ‘Tiger Smith’ in homage to the time he boxed Robot and let me tell you – that chap had class.

 

‘Wilbo’ Wheaton has never boxed with a robot!

 

(Although according to Queensbury rules, I don’t think I can call that a legitimate strike.)

 

As a footnote to this, the second occasion I met Wil Wheaton was at a book signing for ‘Just A Geek’. The line was much thinner. The starry eyed glances were more fleeting. We chatted a minute or two and I relayed The ‘Wilbo’ Incident to him. He laughed and graciously signed the book ‘Wilbo’ of his own accord.

 

Fine.

 

Wheaton Strike One and a Half

 

Well played, Wheaton. Well played.

 

(To be continued)

 

—PepperJack

 

 

Meta-Notoriety    (↵ returns to text)
  1.  Abyss (def): endless void or a movie with Ed Harris and some watery CGI mooks. Either way, something you don’t want to stare at for too long.
  2. Term for a convention of no particular theme and a hodge-podge of guests whose only connection is cancelled shows, free time, and needing a buck. This one was called Origins ™. Sweet, sweet irony.
  3. That little green globey guy’s tongue is the Mick Jagger lips of SF.

The War of The Wheaton – The Hai-three

Blush-Giggle-Clap-Clap

Bounce-Dance-Giggle-Squeal-Swoon (*groan*)

Enter: The Wheaton

 

  Something Wheaton This Way Comes… Part the Third

Dreamboat Willie or The Starfleetin’ Incident

 

 

That boldface *groan* – that’s from me.

 

A little Author in the Haiku Aether moment.

 

It is a groan of dismay and not because I suddenly found myself surrounded by Aether. [6] / [7]

 

It has never been easy for ‘Geek Boy Seeking Geek Girl’. Shake your trusted Crown Royal ‘Bag of Holding’ and your assortment of D-20s in the wrong direction and you can clear a room of potential suitors faster than Odysseus back in Ithaca-town. [8]

 

Remember this simple equation kids: D+D=D+O+A

 

Not mathematically sound, but it increases the circumference of your social bubble.

 

Then…

 

Enter: The Wheaton

 

Back in the day, Wheaton set the geek bar.

 

These days, I cannot even imagine the flaming hoops one has to jump through to impress geek girls as they sit about and wait for vampires to ask them to prom.

 

In the mid-nineties, there was only one shadow to live in. A man-boy sized shadow.

 

Wesley Crusher.

 

Oh look! There he is now…

 

Poking his nose into my Aether!

 

This is mine! Get your own Aether!

 

 

 

Pop Culture Haiku Entertainment Humor Television Wil Wheaton (Evil) Wesley Crusher Wesley Crushing

Ensign Smiley Britches

GAH! Look at that smug smile!

 

He’s probably fresh from saving The Enterprise…again!

 

I once had a girlfriend who thought him ‘The Dreamiest’.

 

 

(Her words not mine and words said quite frequently- quite frequently with squealing…quite frequently with squealing and little bouncy dances with hand clapping. Squeal-dance-clap. Rinse and repeat, long before The Zumba was all the rage.)

 

Could I really fault her for it?

 

No, Crusher was made for geek girl crushing.

 

However, I am not one to take things like this lying down, standing up, or even arms akimbo. Jealous hands are the idle’s playground. Taxing the limits of my Print Shop [ver. some single digit], I took it upon myself to produce, as novelty gift toppers (and mostly for the purpose of giggling and cuddling reception), four issues of ‘Starfleetin.’

‘Starfleetin’ was a mock Wheaton self-produced fanzine detailing his exploits to get the defunct Starfleet Academy television series made. These exploits usually entailed W-Squared awkwardly auditioning girls in his basement and being disturbed by his mom bringing down grilled cheese sandwiches and lemonade. It also featured an advice column where he just tried to get girls’ numbers.

I had it in for him a little…

Pop Culture Haiku Television Entertainment Humor Wil Wheaton (Evil) Wesley Crusher Wesley Crushing Starflrrtin'

A Turin Shroud of Anti-Wheaton Comedy (recovered from a 3.5 tomb at 3am after a 5 hour seacrh)

 

The back of StarFleetin’ vol. 1 issue 1 (circa god knows when)

 

Featured: Ask Wilbo! advice column and an audition notice for StarFleet Academy: The Independent Film. (Bring/Wear Bathing Suit-No Fatties!)

 

 

 

 

(In reading the hard copy I’ve recently rediscovered said girlfriend once referred to The Wheaton as: ‘The Dreamland Cookie in my Bedtime Glass of Milk’. Set phasers to wrongness on so many levels.)

 

Ah- at least revenge is a dish best paid Ten Forward!

 

 

 

Wheaton Strike One: Never make another guy’s girl do the clappy-dance.

 

…and stay out of his Aether!

 

Pop Culture Haiku Entertainment Television Humor Wil Wheaton (Evil) Wesley Crusher Wesley Crushing

Good Wil Hunting

(To be continued)

 

—PepperJack

 

 

Meta-Notoriety    (↵ returns to text)
  1.  Aether (def.) The thick vapors that make up space and hold all the planets and stars and wobbly bits in place. According to the Victorians [7], you could breathe in it if you were wearing a pith helmet and fly to the moon in it if you had a steam-punk’d frigate.
  2.  Victorians (def.): People long on pocket watches and short on astro-navagation.
  3. Spoiler Alert:understatement. Odysseus popped back to Ithaca after a little side jaunt and killed some suitors.Circa 1174 B.C. was a very rough season of ‘The Bachelorette’.

Ku-less – Hai-lidays: The War of the Wheaton: Arch Nemesis Day!

Something Wheaton This Way Comes… Part the Reprieve

 

The Christmas (in July) Truce

 

Happy Birthday to WilThe Wheaton Wheaton!!!

 

Pop Culture Haiku Entertainment Television Humor Hai-liday Wil Wheaton Arch Nemesis

Arrrr! Here There Be Wheatons!

 

The Official ‘Kujo’ Hai-liday for July 29th is:

 

Arch-Nemesis Day

 

Now go out there and foil someone’s dastardly master plans while they arrogantly explain them in great detail to you!

© 2011-2017 Hai Kulture (Designated Author Written Content) All Rights Reserved -- Copyright notice by Blog Copyright

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