Squatchologist

Over the past several months I've been pondering my options, so to speak. Thinking about what I'm going to do with myself, how I'm going to make a decent living doing something I actually want to do, what sort of a mark I'm going to leave on this society when I'm gone. I hope to make an impact with my novels, of course, but there's no reason fiction has to be my only outlet. I can do other things too. But what...? Then, last night, it hit me right between the eyes. The answer. The thing I can do that will both contribute to society AND make my name a household word. I know now the path my life must take.
   I'm going to find Bigfoot.
   That's right, I'm going to get out there in the wilderness - what little there is left - and find the hairy ape-man of North America. But I'm not going to do it like those other crackpots, I'm going to do it right. I figure I'll need lots of scientific equipment, you know, the kind with lots of lights and dials. I'll need a helicopter too, and an iPad for some reason. And new boots. And some sort of flannel shirt because Squatchologists always wear flannel. Just like Canadians.
   How will that make me a household name? I'm not only going to find Bigfoot, and capture him, and bring him back to display in a series of cross-country railroad stops, I'm also going to make him the darling of the salons. And I don't mean hair salons or nail salons - where they really are talking about you* - I mean the intellectual salons. They still have those, don't they? Places where adults can have a calm, rational discussion about the issues of the day? Like Fox News? HA!
   Hoo-boy.... anyway... That's right, I'm going to make Sasquatch into the Mark Twain of the 21st Century. I'm gonna need corporate sponsorship, of course. I figure Nair would be a good first sponsor, seeing as how I'm gonna need to de-fur Sasquatch to make him presentable. And then maybe a Big and Tall Man store, because Sasquatch is gonna need a tuxedo. And a top hat.
   Yeah... sounds like a plan. All I gotta do first is get out there and find him. How hard could that be?


* my friend Andrea went to one nail salon where the ladies speak Chinese. Andrea speaks both Mandarin and Cantonese but she was born here so she speaks English without an accent. And, evidently, she looks a little more Korean than Chinese, so the ladies assumed she couldn't understand what they were saying. They weren't being nice. At. All.

Vega$ Opportunity

So I was stuck in traffic today - crap, crap, crapitty, crap, crap - and I was thinking that it would be really cool not to have to drive to get where I wanted to go. Driving's for chumps. And then I got to thinking about how somebody like Frank Sinatra used to take a helicopter between LA and Vegas back in the good old days. And then I got to thinking that I could really use a helicopter of my own, except that I don't have anywhere to park it around my apartment.
   Then I got to thinking, why should I want to be like Frank Sinatra, when I could be him? Figuratively speaking, of course. Sure would beat what I've been doing for the past decade.
   See, back in the day Frank was Vegas and Vegas was Frank. Sure, he was mobbed-up, but even if they were killers, the Mafia kept Vegas running like a top. Now it's all corporate and weaselly and about the bottom line. What Vegas needs is another Frank to come through and clean house. Since Frank is gone, God rest his soul, I'm willing to take up the mantle.
   I look good in a tuxedo - really - and I like to hang out with my cronies and have a good time. I can't sing, not a note, but I'm not gonna let that hold me back. I'm gonna take Vegas by storm, you'll see posters of me where you used to see posters of Danny Gans.
   And I pledge to you, the first thing I'm gonna do as the new Chairman of the Board is put a stop to this whole Celine Dion madness. Somebody has to take charge and it might as well be me. No thanks necessary, it'll be my pleasure.

COMMUTE - there - 35 minutes      back - 45 minutes
CONTRACT COUNTDOWN: 40 days

When Hef Is Gone

I don't want to alarm anyone, but at 83 years old and counting, Hugh Hefner is on the back side of his tenure here on Earth. He's going to be gone sooner rather than later, and when that happens, what's to become of the Playboy empire? The 'empire' is now pretty much reduced to the magazine - no more Playboy clubs - but that magazine is a cultural staple, everyone knows it and most people have leafed through its pages.
   I know that when I was younger I eagerly read all the interviews with Gore Vidal and Norman Mailer and absorbed all the advice on proper grooming and electronic equipment and the like. And the college football previews... I'm sorry... what's that? There may have been photographs of nude women in certain issues of Playboy? Really? Huh, how about that. I never noticed.
   I don't think anybody can underestimate the influence Playboy has exercised on American culture, coming as it did in the early 50's right after World War II and the Korean 'police action' ended. To say that the 60's as we know them would have been different without Playboy is an understatement, and the 70's was absolutely the Playboy decade, with its navel-gazing excesses and unrestrained permissiveness. Hugh Hefner and his magazine have, for better or worse, shaped the America we have today.
   But the question about what happens to Playboy without its founder remains. Since I am currently 'between assignments' I will volunteer, I will put myself in service to this country by taking the reins of the Playboy empire and running things as Hef does, three girlfriends at a time and all. That's right, I'm willing to make that sacrifice, I'm willing to put myself on the line for this country, to make it a better place by keeping the Playboy tradition alive.
   Time to get myself fitted for slippers and a smoking jacket, I'm ready to start work.