Mothers Of Invention

I've been trying to figure out how to make a million dollars. Crazy as it sounds, all you really need to live comfortably is about $1,000,000, from that you can live off the interest alone, if you assume a modest interest rate and you don't go crazy buying fur-lined sinks or electric dog polishers. You could live even better if you had $2 million or $3 million, but I don't want to get greedy.
   So, aside from winning the lottery or selling a novel or a kids' book, there has to be some way to make a million bucks. I considered – briefly – a career in bank robbing, but I don't look good in a ski mask or in prison orange. Assuming I got away with it, I couldn't just go deposit a million bucks in an American bank, there would be questions. I'd have to go on the run to some third-world country I probably wouldn't like very much. Criminal enterprises are right out, gotta keep it on the up-and-up.
   I thought about a bake sale, if I could make and sell 1 million cookies for $1 profit each, I'd be on my way. My oven is kind of small, though. And I think I'd get bored after about 500,000 cookies and lose interest.
   I thought about door-to-door soliciting, but encyclopedias are online these days, and most places don't want you snooping around bothering people who aren't going to buy your stuff anyway. And I don't like shotguns pointed at me by angry homeowners. I thought some more.
   When I was an undergrad I lived a block away from the plasma donation building where all the Drag Worms would get money for their bottles of breakfast. They'd go in mostly sober and come out 45 minutes later with $9 in their grubby fists. I could hook myself up to an IV, I suppose, but I don't think I have enough blood in my body to add up to a million dollars. I was fast running out of ideas
   Then it hit me. What do people these days need more than anything else? Tattoo removal. Something that seemed like a good idea when you were a drunk 20-something becomes a bit of a regret in your 30s and downright embarrassing in your 40s. And tattoo removal can be very, very expensive indeed, so I wouldn't have to do too many of them to make my dough.
   But over time the market for tattoo removal runs out. Some people actually like their ink, after all, and wouldn't get rid of it for anything; eventually you'd run out of people who need your removal services. And then I had my eureka moment. You gotta get 'em coming and going. So here's the plan: I open a chain of tattoo parlors, and then right next door open a chain of tattoo removal parlors. And then next to that open a chain of liquor stores, so you can get some Irish courage no matter if you're inking up or inking down.
   See? That's what a liberal arts education gets you right there. Clear thinking.

Pasadena Vampires

Children of the Night have invaded the Crown City. I know this because I seen 'em, down on South Lake.
   I've been really cranking on my latest novel for the past week and half or so, putting in eight, ten hour days because, honestly, what else do I have to do when the sun is up? Working so diligently, however, I have been kind of falling down on my grocery shopping. Anything I have to eat is something I have to take time to prepare. Except for cereal, and you can only eat just so much cereal in a day.
   Anyhoo... long story short, this afternoon, about 2 PM, I got hungry. And not just 'I could use a bite' hungry, this was 'my next door neighbor is lucky I'm not a cannibal' hungry. I had nothing thawed and I polished off the last of the crackers and baby carrots last night, so I had to go out.
   I've been trying to eat sensibly, so fast food was right out. Luckily, there's a great place just down the street, the Mediterranean Cafe, good food at a good price. I could walk there but I didn't, I wanted to get back to work more on my book.
   It was then, as I drove through the parking lot, that I saw them. The Children of the Night, the minions of Vlad Dracul, the nosferatu, das vampyr. They were walking out of KooKooRoo, which surprised me because I thought vampires craved blood, not chicken. But, whatever.
   The six of them wore jet black garments except for some splashes of silver, their sable locks flowing over their shoulders, and both the boys and girls were deathly pale, but with dark eyes and blood red lips.
   ... okay, hold on a second...
   Now that I think about it, they were probably just some Goth douchebags out for lunch in between angsty discussions about how much they hate their parents and getting together for another round of Vampire: the Masquerade.
   Dammit, I thought I found a little excitement today.

From My Bookshelf

I'm feeling sort of martial today, what with the Fourth being last weekend and all, so I chose the best - and first - of the war stories.

The Iliad by Homer translated by Robert Fagles
   If you want a war story, one full of blood, guts, betrayal, personal grudges, sex, gods, goddesses and dirty tricks, you can't get a better one than the Iliad. It's the story of the last weeks of the last year of the ten-year-long Trojan War. It starts with Achilles - greatest of the Greek warriors - refusing to fight because Agamemnon took his treasure, a girl names Briseis. See? Two pages in and already there's sex and betrayal. What more could you ask for?
   Classics was one of my majors in college, and I actually translated a bit of the Iliad from ancient Greek. While there are other translations out there, this one comes very close to the poetry, majesty, and stomach-churning violence of the original. This is not a book you'd just sit down and read, most of you anyway, it's one you turn to when you want to immerse yourself in the language.
   It ends with the death of Hector, Hero of Troy, Breaker of Horses, son of King Priam. Most people think that it ends with the Trojan Horse, but that's from the Aeneid. Which was written five hundred years later by Vergil, who was Roman, not Greek.

Quote: "Giant Ajax hoisted [the rock] high and and hurled it down, crushed the rim of Epicles' four-horned helmet and cracked his skull to splinters, bloody pulp - and breakneck like a diver went the Trojan plunging off and away from the steep beetling tower as life left his bones."

   How about that? Pretty descriptive, huh?