Direction, please.
Yes, friends... this is Hammermill Days, the blog chronicling Big Green's bizarre existence. You haven't stumbled onto some daycare center message board. I'm just doing a little compassionate backfill for one of our number who does not respond well to his responsibilities. I'm speaking of our mad science advisor, Mitch Macaphee, who cannot take it upon himself to devote a few stray hours to the upbringing of his invention, Marvin (my personal robot assistant). Oh, the trials of surrogate fatherhood! Now I'm left with filling in for an absentee mad scientist. This is awful - I've forgotten all the rituals, the nostrums, the pat-on-the-head kind of shit. And, well... Marvin is so damn needy. Something in his programming, I think. He craves approval almost as much as he needs 3-in-1 oil. In spite of this, I made the mistake of recommending an amateur theatrical debut for our mechanical friend. (I'm not good.)Okay, so... Marvin is going to be in the local school production of the Wizard of Oz (in three acts); he's appearing as the tin man, of course (no costume needed), and he's freaking scared to death. Why? I don't
know. Stage fright. Some kind of computer virus. What am I, psychic? I told you, I'm no good at this parent or guardian thing. I can't even keep track of my pet rock, let alone a full-grown robot. Sweet mother of pearl, why can't Mitch take some responsibility? He's just obsessed with his work, that's why. And that's enough to scare the paint off the walls, quite frankly. I've told you about the anti gravity experiments. That's small potatoes, friend, very small. Listen... you didn't hear it from me, but old Mitch has been working his bony fingers to the marrow cooking up this global warming phenomenon everyone is talking about. I suppose you thought it was the result of tailpipe emissions and coal-fired power plants, eh? Well.... think again.Mitch started getting interested in climate change a few years back. Think of this as a kind of mea culpa, actually. You see, we threw together a little number we call "The Dino Song", which goes a bit like this:
Dinos had a good time on the trolley!
Dinos had a good day at the fair!
Dinos had a holiday 'til the sky turned mean and gray
Their underbellies went a-gushing jelly and they died in searing pain!
That jolly little number became a particular favorite of Mitch's, not because of its musical or poetic merits (or lack of same) but because of the subject matter. Hmmmmm, he thought (yes, he sometime generates visible thought bubbles), If the sky turned mean and gray then, why not now? Which was followed by an utterance along the lines of BWAA-HA-HA-HA-HA!! ... which I believe is the Pashto term for "this is good." Anyway, that's when he got to work.
Hey... sometimes a man can't be a good parent because he expends all his goodness elsewhere. In Mitch's case, it's a little different. So that last observation, well... just forget it.
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