The Museum

I am very angry right now, "She" drives me nuts. Anyway, yesterday I took the posse to the Art Museum . We took over the place, we drew, we strutted, a few times we were even frightened. An old guy yelled at us for sitting on the exhibits while we made our fantastic drawings, I gave him the, "HELLO!, I'm the D.O.M!" look, and he went and got us some benches. It took him a while because he was about a million years old. He came back with the benches and gave me the, "HELLO, I stormed the beaches of Normandy you sissy", look. Then he said to me (in his mind) "Now use the benches before I mop the floor with you". Then I snapped back (in my mind)"Lets go kids, Daddy hates the museum". But outwardly we just kept on drawing. As the old man was walking away, I said to him (in my mind) "I love you". He turned around and said to me (in his mind) "I know ya do kid, I know ya do". Then he was gone.

Old Time vs Old Timey Music

My Mom gave me a CD called Old Timey Bluegrass favorites, not "Old Time" but it actually has "Old Timey" in the title. This got me to thinking. What's the difference between "Old Time" and "Old Timey". I've been a big fan of Earl Scruggs since I was a kid and I like most of the "oldies". Maybe "Old Time" music is more like Patsy Kline and Doris Day. "Old Timey" sounds like it may have more of an up tempo to it, more toe tappin, good time drunkin knee slappin, ho-down, moonshine music. Of course knee slapping is when you're too drunk to get up to slap your wife, so you just slap your knee. I think the definition of "Old Time" means when the record is over, the bottle of sleeping pills hits the floor as your forehead hits the table. And when an "Old Timey" record is over someone gets hung.

Obsession

Building my Gatling Gun,I think of nothing else all day. I woke up at two in the morning with the idea of how to make a better firing mechanism. I feel like Richard Dreyfus in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, when he built that big mud mountain in his living room. I'm neglecting my wife and kids. I have no time for them. Whatever they want means nothing to me. I don't know why just yet, but God wants me to build this thing. And build it I will. I just got back in from the workshop with the new modifications done. I need to let the wood glue dry, so I can't test it until tomorrow, and the test will be directly into someones face (unless God tells me otherwise).

Sunday Night

I spent most of today working on my newest Gatling Gun. It's almost finished. I just need to hook up the firing mechanism. Tomorrow I'll stop at the hardware store and pick up some small pulleys to help reduce the friction, it should be a major improvement from the original model. I can't wait to test her out. Hopefully I'll have a new video of it in action in a couple of days.

New and Improved Gatling Gun

She's not quite finished.

Sunday Morning

So, Tom Jones version of Danny Boy is cranked, and I'm out in "Mann Lee" studios, working on my revised Gatling gun. I can't move or sing like Tom Jones, so I settle on my best Elvis impersonation to do the lip syncing. I think I pulled it off nicely. The karate moves in sync with the orchestra, the occasional shooting at the "audience" with my finger, I was magnificent. Anyway, I had a problem with the gun jamming and also with the whole firing mechanism. I think I have it so that I can load a lot more elastics and it will fire much more smoothly. Also I want to build a stand for it that is more like a real Gatling gun. One that can pivot from side to side, as well as up and down.

Tuesday

Just got back in from Mann Lee studios. I'm glad the warm weather is finally here so I can begin mass producing the very dangerous Rubber Band Galting Gun. I've strayed a little from the original plans. The "D.O.M. Squirrel Shredder" will have a beefier set of barrels so I can load more powerful rubber bands. I'm hoping that eight, two foot long barrels will do the trick. I hope to get some video of me killing or at least maiming the squirrel that's been haunting my wife's dreams and eating all the bird seed in her feeders. Our fake owl, Oscar, does a magnificent job, but he scares, not only squirrels, but all the living creatures withing a 200 foot radius of the bird feeders. So he has to go on the far end of the fence so I can lure the squirrel within striking distance. The plan is to set up a blind ten or fifteen feet from the feeder. Then when the squirrel comes a calling, I unload an unholy barrage of elastics, pelting him senseless. Then when he is on the ground, quivering with fear and shock, while his family looks on in horror from the woods, I smash the Gatling gun to bits over his broken and bruised body. Then I climb into my circus cannon and fire myself into the side of the neighbors house.

Ruben Junior!!!!!!!!!

So, Mrs D.O.M gave me the green light to get a little baby rooster this spring. It was either I get a $1000 Raven or a .25 cent rooster. She went with the rooster. I don't think she actually "agreed", but she didn't scream her usual obscenities at the idea. I think it was more like "no f-ing way are you getting a raven", which meant go ahead and get your rooster darling, I love you. I need to raise it from a tiny little chick, because it's to be my soul mate. A day doesn't go by that I don't think of Ruben, my little bantam rooster, who died tragically last winter. I miss his bad-assness. I miss him chest bumping my boot when he was mad at me (which was all the time). He hated everybody, but he hated me the least, which is why I loved him. The search for Ruben Jr is on.

Thank God for Charles Darwin

Happy Birthday to one of the all time greatest humans. He's right up there in rank with Einstien, Twain,Scruggs, Shakespeare, Da Vinci and The Fonz.

A day in the life of The D.O.M.

So I'm walking back into the building after I went out to my truck to get a tool I needed, the sun is shining, it's a beautiful day. As I'm walking, this thought pops into my head,out of nowhere, just like a pop-up on the computer, "Am I a modern day James West? And if so, who is my Artimus Gordon? Then I started wondering if Artimus knew that he wasnt the star, maybe he thought he was James West and the real James West was the lovable sidekick. Then I started thinking that I had more in common with Artimus than James, I mean of course I could shoot, fight, rope and ride (not horses, they scare me) like James, but I'm more of a quirky genius like Artimus. What's even more troubling is that I've always considered my self to be a white version of Link from the "Mod Squad". Fast forward a few hours and I'm in line at Dunkin Donuts, and all of a sudden(in my mind) I'm singing Yankee Doodle Dandy, and shuffling all around the store just like James Cagney, dancing up a storm. Outwardly I'm next in line, half asleep while this is going on. Then I began to wonder where all this craziness came from, and an America runs on Dunkins sign came into focus. So at least I'm not crazy, I found a logical link. So I order my iced coffee and while she is making it, the donuts come into focus and I scream at the top of my lungs (in my head) "DARE I GET A HONEY STICK! So she gives me the coffee and asks me if there will be anything else, and I meekly ask for a honey stick. She replies "just one?" . I reply (in my head). "Just one? No , give me the whole tray you whore". So I have my coffee and donut and I'm making my way out of the parking lot, I reach into the bag for the donut and the donut says (not sure if it was my head or the donut's head) "not now, wait until we get on the highway, stupid." So I pull my hand out of the bag, but I could only wait about thirty more seconds and I grabbed the donut. Just before I bit into it, the donut (?) told me that it hated me. I bit into it and just laughed.

Groundhog Day

So Al Gore was dragged out his coffin this morning, by a group of local vampire hunters, and brought into the wintry daylight. He hasn't been seen (except by me)since before the first snowfall. Legend has it that if Old AL sees his shadow, Climate change will switch back to Global Warming. If he doesn't see his shadow, he declares that another ice age has begun and we're all doomed. Either way, they feed him a sacrificial live woodchuck and nail him back into his coffin until the next Nobel Prize is awarded.

I don't know what this means

I was in the bathroom and I was about to wash my hands when, instead of soap, I put toothpaste on my fingertip. I noticed what I did before I tried to lather up, but this is worriesome none the less.