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.

Am I the only one?

While standing in line at the supermarket, did you ever wish you could turn yourself into a rocket and just launch yourself straight up and crash thru the roof, while raining confetti on everyone, with see ya later losers written on the confetti?

No time to be The D.O.M.

I just recently joined Facebook. I also have a "Myspace" page, two blogs and two cell phones, one of which has internet access. The Facebook page make absolutely no sense,it's not even fun, but I am addicted to it. When I'm not on Facebook, I can be found watching a never ending stream of drawing tutorials. My physical body is turning to jelly(jelly that is full of rage) and I'm losing my mind. I have not a point. Need to get back on track, I need to be "combat ready" once again.

What if.....

I(or you) had a net cannon. You know, the kind of cannon that fires a giant net at a caped buffalo and the the poor animal drives itself mad trying to get free. My reasoning, OK this is all hypothetical and would never ever do this, my reasoning is, there are some crazies that roam the various cities of, lets say, New Hampshire. Lets also say that you knew that one or more of them had superhuman powers, like running really fast or jumping really high for no reason. My (or someone like me but not me), thinking is this. What if we could capture them and then somehow rehabilitate them to the extent that we could enter them in contests(with cash prizes) that showcase their particular "special" powers. This is where the net cannon would come in.

I'm Afraid!

So I was at the bar in Bertucci's yesterday, waiting for my meatball pannini, and I'm watching the lead up to President Obama's swearing in. I was absolutely awestruck at the whole DC scene. The mass of humanity, the positive vibe going around, just amazing. If I was anyone but the D.O.M., I would be crying. I only cry when I watch John Wayne movies. Any way, I'm watching and the camera is bouncing around showing all the celebrities and politicians that are in the crowd. The camera stops on a group of big time politicians, Bill Clinton was among them, all very happy. Then I caught site of this giant face behind Clinton, he wasn't smiling. He was just staring into the back of Bill's head, like he was trying to set it on fire with his mind. It was Al Gore, no one was paying any attention to him which I found odd because of his size. Not that he was fat, it's more like, he was one and a half his normal size. Like you blew him up in a copy machine. So I'm staring at him, hypnotized, and he turns his head and looks right at me, right into my eyes, that's when he smiled. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. It's like he saw me through the television. At that moment I realized that no one else could see him. At that moment I learned the true meaning of fear...

Quando quando quando

Engelbert Humperdinck (can I say that?) is cranked up to 11. Can it get any better? The kids and I have been dancing up a storm. The last of the "IL Bastardo" is in my gullet. Vicki isn't here, thank God, she'd kill us. Puppets everywhere, my lame music is crankin. It all started with me trying to teach the girls their spelling words. They know them all, but whenever I asked them to spell one, their response was making me want to punch them in the face. Me saying "Spell the word think" was answered with them rolling their eyes in the back of their heads and spinning around uncontrollably and laughing at me. To me they seemed bored out of their bat shit crazy minds, so I came up with a plan to burn off some energy. Dance party! I made them go get all the puppets and cranked up some Chuck Berry. I poured myself a glass of wine, and it was on. Next thing you know I was boogieing in the kitchen with a cookie monster puppet. What's weird, among all this happiness, was when I was in the kitchen dancing, I thought to myself "I hope someone breaks in right now, so I can kill them" Other than that we had a fabulous time. Things seem to be winding down, it's jammie time for them (I've had mine on all day), and Mrs D.O.M. should be home soon. I need to get this place back to normal.

The D.O.M. Is Getting Tired

There's got to be something wrong. I'm listening to Waylon Jennings radio and I'm drinking lemon tea. I should be punching someone or something in the face to this music, instead I'm in my jammies sipping herbal tea. Hold on. My feet are cold. I have to go get my slippers. Ahhh, much better. Anyway, I feel myself slipping away. In the words of the World Champion Loon, David Alan Coe, "I need a little time off, for bad behavior" I think I'm about due to go climb a mountain. Trouble is I'd rather go hang out at the bookstore. Sometimes I think the old D.O.M. needs to hang up his "Fists of Justice" and get himself a corncob pipe, and kick back. I feel kind of like Santa, when he almost canceled Christmas.

New Years Resolutions : 4, Stop stealing pens.