Saturday Morning

Is there anything more disgusting than "old school" oatmeal? Does it have to taste like human flesh?

The Doc's Cerebral Side

Andre was magnificent!

New Years Resolution: Number 6

Learn how to juggle.

Turning Point

I've been thinking lately about the direction that The D.O.M. has been headed down. Once I was on the path of holy goodness and light, with a litle bit of rage thrown in once and a while for balance. But I've strayed from this path. I need to, once again, use my fists of purity to bring much need love and justice to this wonderful planet. I need to spend some time in the forest.

Sunday Morning

This morning I've been working(hiding from my family) on cutting some more pieces for the ballista I'm building. I downloaded the plans from "Ernest Borgnines Viking Toys for Men". An online site geared toward manliness. I'm making it out of mostly recycled oak that I pulled out of a dumpster. The lunatic ward at a drug rehab center was throwing away their oak beds, so I scored two of them. One went to my stepdaughter Taylor and I cut up the other one. I made the trebuchet out of some of the wood and the rest is going toward the ballista. I think it's quite fitting to use wood from a bed that mental people screamed themselves to sleep in for building medieval weapons. Too bad Taylor has to sleep in the other bed. She swears it's haunted.

They made me who I am, and Collectively They've Killed More Men Than Smallpox

Here is a photo taken at "The Rendezvous of Madmen", held every ten years on the Isle Of Malta. My Uncles Dick, George and John along with my late father Tony, were guest speakers. The finale was when my Dad beat to death a group of locals, with the arms he tore off their Chief.

Leo saw his shadow

You know it's spring when Leo, the turtle freak, gets to come out to graze.

The Warwolf

Today I dug out and dusted off the trebuchet I built a few years back. The old girl is in need of some repairs. Her counter weight broke last year so I made her a new one today. I'm going to clean her up and give her a fresh coat of poly. I'm also thinking about adding some wheels. I'll post some video when all the buffing up is done.

I Am One

Yesterday I was walking around Western Ave Studios, checking out all the artists, when I came to a peculiar looking studio. I happened to glance in at the artist, just as he was looking up from his holiest of holy torches, he fixed his gaze upon me and pulled me into his studio without saying a word. As I glided into his world, I had a feeling of being, not only light as a feather, but All Knowing as well. He got out of his chair and gestured for me to have a seat at the "Torch of Goodness". His movements were not unlike a zen tea master from a distant past. He handed me what I needed and in seconds I was staring into a glowing glob of molten glass. The more I looked into the glass the clearer my mind became. All the stress and turmoil, all my past sins, I could see clearly in the glass. They were melting away. When the last of my madness was gone, he spoke to me in a language I'd never heard before but somehow understood. I wept freely. I was overcome with this new sense of joy and wonder, like a newborn baby drawing his first breath. The next thing I knew, I was back in Vicki's studio, on the couch, waking from a nap. It was all a dream, or so I thought..... until I opened my hand!

Spring!

Its here. By the smell outside I know my skunk friend has risen from his wintey slumber. He's been living under the chicken shed for a couple of years now. I can see a set of tracks coming out from under there from my deck. I also think he has developed a fondness for chicken eggs. I don't think they'll eat a chicken though.

I'm The D.O.M. God Damn It!

Why am I playing a game of Kerplunk with two imaginary people, trying to entertain two surly 6 1/2 year old girls(who refuse to play with me). I should be out there, on the perimeter, stoned immaculate, trying to pull my fist out of somebodies chest. I'm stuck here in this useless existence, all my talents wasted. I use to belly flop off of tall buildings onto the homeless. Now look at me, a balding, bifocaled, scatterbrained freak. Maybe building this ballista is just what I need to get out of this rut. It has to be big enough to destroy my barn, or my workshop. Some senseless act of destrucive foolishness is what I need to get myself grounded back in the now. Its been a long winter, my stupid riding lawnmower has come into view, peaking its naughty little head out of the snowbank its been hibernating in. Maybe I can shoot some kind of explosive, excrement filled projectile at it when all the snow melts. As a kind of celebration of spring, and the arrival of all my bird friends.

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.