|"Everything Ends": Eulogy for Lis Sladen
||[20 Apr 2011|08:30pm]
Elisabeth Sladen passed away yesterday at the age of 63. It was a shock to the entire fandom world, most of whom had no idea she was even ill.
Sladen is best known, of course, as Sarah Jane Smith from Doctor Who. To say she was a legend was an understatement. She was one of the finest and most important actors in one of the greatest sci-fi series in history. Sladen was second only to her friend Nicholas Courtney – who died recently as well – in the sheer amount of history she had with the Doctor. She interacted with five different Doctors in her time – seven if you count the crowd scenes in “The Five Doctors.” I don’t know the count for sure, but she has probably appeared in more Doctor Who screen stories than anyone else – a lengthy run in the Pertwee and Baker years, two standalone specials, numerous appearances in the modern series and four years of her own show.
To American audiences in the 1970s and 1980s, Sladen defined Doctor Who as much as Tom Baker did. I still remember watching grainy, fuzzy PBS feeds of “The Time Warrior” in black-and-white in 1987 with a TV that had a coat hanger for an antenna. To me, she was every bit as essential to Who as the TARDIS and the sonic screwdriver. You never forget your first Doctor; you also never forget your first companion.
In a profession where everyone gossips and someone’s always got a grudge against someone else, Sladen was grace personified. In three decades of reading every article about Doctor Who I could find, I never once saw a negative word spoken about her, and she never had an unkind word for her colleagues. (Except the K9 prop. Damn tin dog was a total diva.)
She wasn’t the first sidekick, she was far from the last, but in many ways, she served as the template for all of them. There’s a deleted scene from the most recent series, in which Matt Smith as the Eleventh Doctor tells his companion that he needs a young human around to help him catch what he can no longer see. Sarah Jane ESTABLISHED that archetype; she helped raise up the companion role from an exposition receptacle to a full-on partner.
In a way, she didn’t so much change the concept of the sidekick as she did refine it to its original point. Aside from being exposition-bait, sidekick characters in genre fiction were generally meant as “audience identification” characters – the ordinary person alongside the Doctor, the partner helping out the superhero. I suppose the whole point of Robin was so kids could imagine they were right there alongside Batman saving the day.
But really, these tended to crash and burn. Who thought Robin was cool back in the day? Kids didn’t want to imagine tagging along after Batman; they wanted to BE Batman. And few Doctor Who fans were enthralled by the idea of the wide-eyed naïf whose whole job was to say “But I don’t understand, Doctor, what’s going on?”
And most of the time the text has Sladen doing exactly that. It looks to be deeply frustrating, and to be sure. But she always found ways to make it something better. The Doctor liked to call her “My Sarah Jane,” but she really became “our Sarah Jane.” Because she was one of us, an ordinary person caught up in the madness of the Doctor’s wake who saw amazing things and ultimately put it all to use to become a better person and go on to become amazing herself. We could see ourselves alongside SJS, very easily; she’s the person you’d most want at your back at the apocalypse. Which was of course a weekly event in Doctor Who.
There’s a bit between her and Tom Baker in “The Pyramids of Mars” which is like a one-minute master class in mining the material for gold character flakes. It’s from 2:50 to 4:00 in the video below. Go ahead, I’ll wait:
If you were to read the words on the page, the intent is perfectly clear: The Doctor is mysterious and important and Sarah Jane is flighty and distracted. But the way she and Baker PLAY it, it’s completely inverted: The Doctor is pompous and full of himself, and Sarah Jane is totally not buying it for a single second. She’s the only person in the universe who knows who he really is. It’s a fairly standard opening for the series at that time, a bit of quick establishment to have them talking about something when the story gets rolling, but they play it brilliantly. Now this seemingly throwaway scene is considered one of the best moments for both Baker and Sladen.
Most of the development of the companion didn’t really take place until decades later, but it all still started with Sldaen. Nowadays, the companion character is equally as important as the Doctor. Hell, when Billie Piper left Who, BBC brass were worried that nobody would watch it just for David Tennant. The sidekicks have taken over the show, and in a lot of ways it’s because of Lis Sladen.
It’s ironic sometimes how art works out. Nobody wrote Sarah Jane expecting her to be great, certainly not a four-decade favorite; she was just the latest disposable partner. But sometimes coincidence piles on coincidence. She was closer to the Doctor than most of his friends, first like a daughter in the Jon Pertwee era and later like a sister to Tom Baker. She even shared his name – he often went by Doctor John Smith when he needed an alias. By the time of her own series, S. Jane Smith had a sonic screwdriver, two android sidekicks and a passel of young wards to teach the ways of the universe.
I doubt anyone remotely had that in mind when they created the role. But in the end she was the closest thing the Doctor ever had to an equal; she’s the closest thing fandom has ever had to a female Doctor.
Sladen once said that she treated every modern Who appearance as if it were her last, but was always pleasantly surprised to get another go-round. But it was appropriate; her latter-day character was steeped in regret and loss, and her greatest lesson was to learn from loss and grow to greater things. In her first modern appearance, after spending most of the episode pining away for the Doctor and mourning ages long past, feeling as if her life has been wasted, she gets it together and delivers one of my favorite televison speeches about moving on from loss:
“The universe has to move forward. Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love. Whether it’s a world, or a relationship … Everything has its time. And everything ends.”
Everything ends. And sometimes we value things the most precisely because we know they’ll end. Goodbye, Elisabeth Sladen; goodbye, our Sarah Jane Smith. We’ll never forget you.
|The Two Fisted Car Grabber Theory of History
||[01 Apr 2011|08:11pm]
Hello, all: I'm going to be posting all my Notes from the Cancer Wars updates on the Wordpress site from here on out, at poguesrun.wordpress.com. In the meantime, though, here's the most recent one:
The secret to my staying sane throughout all this is simple: Armand can never hold enough cars.
Stick with me here. This is a long one, but in a lot of ways this gets to the point of what it is ABOUT.
That photo above, titled “Champion two-fisted car grabber,” is to me the most iconic and representative photo of the entire first month. Just look at him. May 13, 2009. Day five. He’s weak and nearly dying and has a large hole sliced in his abdomen and a gut-eating tumor the size of a cabbage and he doesn’t care, he just wants to stuff as many toy cars into his hands as possible. It’s even in his expression: “Damnit, I know I can get a grip on just one more, Pops.”
Yes. Yes, you can, son-of-mine.
I cling to a single truth in my life, the central thesis of the entire way I interact with the universe: Everyone gets to choose who they want to be.
This is a rock-solid, universal truth. Everyone gets a choice. There’s ALWAYS a choice. No matter what. This does not, of course, mean that all choices are pleasant. When someone says “There is no choice,” what they’re really saying is, “Any other choice but this one carries such consequences that I don’t consider them to be an option.”
We are not necessarily the sum of our experiences; we are rather the sum of our reactions to our experiences. We don’t often get a choice in what happens to us. But we do get to choose what the hell we’re going to do about it.
When you run headlong into a situation like this, you have plenty of choices. Not all of them are healthy, and not all of them help.
I sometimes say, “There really wasn’t any choice but to move forward,” but that’s not correct. There were plenty of options, up to and including “hide in my room and cry for six months in a row.” They just weren’t very GOOD options.
When you’re faced with this, you can choose. And the choice I made surprised even me.
Armand has picked up a lot of habits from me. One of those I find least appealing in myself that is also reflected in him: A tendency to push the limits about two steps past whatever is wise.
To be specific, Armand does not test his limits. He knows exactly where they are – a spacetime location we shall deem L – and precisely where to find L+1. Interestingly enough, he’s also aware of what’s beyond L+1, and never pushes for that. He always wants to go exactly one step beyond. One more car in his hands. Five more minutes at the playground.
If the playground is impossible – say, if he’s lying in a hospital bed hooked up to Skynet and an internal food drip and a valve connected directly to his heart – he knows the playground isn’t an option. But dammit, that playroom down the hall IS. It might be a huge hassle and NEARLY impossible, but he knows it lies within the realm of possibility, even if he has to personally drag that IV pole everywhere with him.
And on those times when he’s even worse – antibody weeks, for instance, when he’s morphined to hell and back – he knows he probably can’t make it even that far. It would be wisest just to lie in bed and sleep and maybe put together a puzzle. But doggone it, that playmat is right there on the floor and just maybe he can make it to THAT to play with his Batman toys.
And so it goes. Armand won’t ever stop. I used to dub him The Intrepid Child because of his endless wandering and roaming. After the cancer I upgraded that to The Unstoppable Child. He may slow down, he may have to alter his course, he may even have to pause, but somehow, someway, he will find his way around any obstacle. He runs headlong towards adversity and doesn’t even blink.
As I said, this is not actually one of my more appealing traits. When I phrase it like I did above, it sounds heroic and self-affirming, a great show of ambition. But just as often it manifests as a lack of self-discipline, a willfully petulant refusal to bow to what is plainly obvious, a tendency to focus only on what is in front of you and of personal interest to you, to the detriment of all else.
I picked it up from my father; Armand picked it up from me. In his case it translates to a habit of grabbing for the cookies no matter how many times you tell him no. In my own case, I almost constantly try to go for just one more thing, even if I know it would be wiser to back off, especially as something nears its end, as if it becomes better when there’s less of it and I have to wring every last second of satisfaction out of a thing, and then some. Never enough. Never satisfied. It’s gotten me into plenty of trouble in my time. It gets Armand put into time-out about five times a day. He’ll sneak one more toy or one more cookie whether or not he actually thinks he can get away with it. “Accept” is a four-letter word in my book. And apparently his.
And yet – this is the key to his survival. Armand is too damn stubborn to let it get to him. Armand always LIVED. There’s too much of the world to see, too many playgrounds yet left unexplored. He wants his five more minutes on the slide, dammit – and after that he’ll push for five more. Look at that glare in his face in the photograph. He’s not thinking about the pain or the sickness or the weakness. He is thinking about getting one more damn car into his hands. He will not back down even in the face of imminent death. Nothing will ever make him stop.
I am my father’s son in many ways. And Armand is mine. And in this way, I would be like him.
The only choice in front of me that made any sense was to follow the path my son blazed in my name: Keep moving. Any damn way I could, no matter how weak. Keep moving and never stop. Live five more minutes. Don’t be happy with just “enough.” Always one more car.
Less than a week into this, I didn’t know how it was going to go. I didn’t know if he was going to survive another week, I didn’t know if he was going to ever meet his sister, I didn’t know if we could make it through the months to come without our brains completely melting down. All I needed to know was that I was going to go five more minutes and get my hands around one more car.
Everyone chooses who they are going to be. My son chose to never stop. And I chose to be like my son.
|Notes from the Cancer Wars: Prologue
||[27 Mar 2011|06:09pm]
I'm doing a retrospective blog about my son's illness of the last few years. I still don't know how my family made it through all that, but maybe by looking back, we can make sense of it all and figure out what the hell the "new normal" is.
You do a lot of self-editing when you live with cancer. None moreso than childhood cancer.
Some brief backstory for those just tuning into our show, already in progress: My son Armand Zefram Pogue was diagnosed with stage-IV neuroblastoma, a tumor on his adrenal gland that swamped his entire abdomen, on May 8, 2009. He was just barely two years old. His odds of surviving were just barely in the double digits. He’s doing great now – cancer-free after a solid year of some of the most intensive treatment imaginable, although we have enormous amounts of physical therapy to deal with the aftereffects, and relapse is a constant concerns.
I have not said a lot, in the meantime, of what it’s like to live with this. And in retrospect, I wasn’t even aware of how much I wasn’t saying. I was never one to hide how I felt, from myself or my friends. I was pretty open about what was going on and how we were dealing with it. But as time passes, I’ve come to realize how much was sublimated – how much was going on that I didn’t even know myself. The first thing that went was my artistic intstinct – I barely took any photos and rarely did any writing. I kind of regret the photos; at the time, it was too painful to actually record in any kind of depth, so all we have now are a series of mostly fuzzy phonecam pics. Even now I only have two photos of his central line. But they’re enough to remember this big points, anyway.
The writing, though, was shut down completely. In the last few months, though, I’ve come to start over and rethink a lot of it from the beginning. Mostly it’s because of the second anniversary coming up in May. We are right around the point where there are more days in Armand’s life where we’ve been living with cancer than there are without. I’ve also been feeling the strain of post-traumatic stress – strange as it is to use that term, which I so closely associate with warfare, the experts assure me that this is a very real thing that happens to parents after the fact. (And for that matter, in a lot of ways this WAS warfare.) A little bit had to do with our Disney World vacation – not in a bad way, mind you, but in many ways that marked a handy delineation point, between “death walks alongside us every day” and “the new normal, whatever that is.”
Anyway, when my mind goes into overdrive, I did what I always do – I write. This is the unedited version of what it was like to live through this stuff, in more or less random order as it comes to me. This is for everyone who ever wondered what it was like, or those who told me “I don’t know how you deal with it.” Truth is, I didn’t know then and I still don’t know how. In a few ways this is my attempt to figure it all out. The odds are very strong that this is the worst thing that will ever happen to my family – I’m aware that worse is possible, believe me, but statistically it’s not very likely we’re going to be hit with anything worse. Now that we’re on the back end, and I try to figure out what normal means, this is my attempt to make sense of it all.
Here’s your fair warning: This is the emotional and mental side of one of the worst things in the world. Heavy-duty content fills the waters ahead.
If you’ve read this far and plan to keep going, you’re probably one of the countless people who stuck with my family through all this and helped us out, most likely in ways you don’t even know about. Even if you barely knew this was all going on but you were my friend, you helped. Thanks for that.
More to come soon.
Paul F. P. Pogue
|An update from the cancer wars
||[10 Mar 2011|08:10pm]
Operation Nerd Voltron was a great success. Patty Rogers’ friends here in Indiana and the combined nerds of the world brought in a little more than $1,000 in 48 hours – much higher than I remotely expected or hoped, with contributions from as far away as Australia and Germany. You have our deepest thanks, whether you contributed, reposted to your blogs or just sent good thoughts our way.
We had a wacky situation-comedy-esque turn of events when it turned out we were beaten to the punch. Turns out there’s a new foundation in town that gives away iPads to children with cancer in Indianapolis – so new, in fact, that Patty is the first kid at Peyton Manning Children’s Hospital to actually get one. On the upside, we did get a bit of advance warning, so in the face of this change, we did what any self-respecting nerd would do: blinged the holy living heck out of the iPad. Carrying case, keyboard, and the like, plus an iTunes card of truly epic proportions. I considered a diamond-encrusted case but decided that would be a little, you know, excessive.
Since this money was given with the express purpose of “make Patty be a little bit less crazy,” we put aside the rest of the cash that would have gone to the iPad and told her to let us know what she’d like to do with it, with the only requirement being that it should be something she’d really enjoy. (The look on her face when hearing this news was, in fact, worth all the effort in and of itself.) The rest will be handed off to the family to help with expenses as soon as it transfers out of PayPal. Any further donations will go straight to the family.
All our thanks and love to everyone, and a special shout-out to the Aidan Brown Foundation (aidanbrownfoundation.com), who I hope will have great success in their ongoing mission to equip every cancer-fighting kid in the city with an iPad.
Both the Pogue and Rogers families were enormously touched by the tremendous outpouring of support for someone in need. Not only was this a much-needed practical help, it was also a reminder to all that no matter how bad this looks, they are not going through this alone.
To keep up with Patty Rogers’ continuing fight on the front lines of the cancer war, just check out www.caringbridge.org/visit/patriciarogers
Thank you all so very, very much!
Paul F. P. Pogue
(P.S.: This ended up being posted far and wide on blogs I’ve never even heard of, thanks to the efforts of many of you. If you posted the original request to your blog, could you please re-post here so people know how it turned out? Thanks!)
|Calling out the nerds for a good cause
||[07 Mar 2011|09:11pm]
Some of you know me, some don’t. My name’s Paul Pogue, Indianapolis, Indiana, lifelong nerd, father to three-year-old cancer survivor Armand Zefram Pogue.
A couple of years ago, Armand was diagnosed with just about the worst case of cancer imaginable – a stage-four neuroblastoma that put a tumor the size of a cabbage in his stomach and left him with survival odds in the low double digits.
Armand is doing great now, two years later, and is cancer-free. But recently our circle of friends was hit with the cruel hammer of irony. One of my close friends these many years is Sarah Rogers. Last week her 12-year-old daughter Patty was diagnosed with stage-four neuroblastoma – exactly the same kind Armand had, and possibly an even worse case, with a tumor wrapped around her spine and another in her lung.
Right now she’s at Peyton Manning Children’s Hospital in Indianapolis, getting the finest care available – as it happens, in one of the very same rooms in which my son spent so many days fighting for his life.
My goal is to help Patty stay a little more sane. If there’s one thing my family knows after 240 long days of inpatient treatment, it is that the days can go on endlessly. Armand got lucky – he had a DVD player and later an iPod to while away the days. And for a cancer patient who can barely even sit up, there is nothing better in the world than an iPod.
Unless, of course, it’s two years later and the world now has the iPad.
Patty Rogers doesn’t have her own computer, and even a laptop would be kind of hard to work with in the hard days ahead when she might be flat on her back for a long time. But an iPad? Perfect. So I want to help get Patty an iPad ASAP and help her stay just a little bit more sane. But I can’t do it alone. I’m putting up $50 to start a fund, and Apple’s already agreed to give her a discount. I’d like to ask the nerds of the world to lend a hand – 50 cents, five bucks, ten bucks, anything you can give. (And if this missive has somehow made its way to you and you're not a nerd, rest assured your contribution is equally welcome :). )
If we go over the limit needed, I’ll just throw in an iTunes store card to fill her up. If we go a lot more, I’m handing it straight over to the family for gas, food or whatever they need. Cancer is EXPENSIVE, and not just the medical treatment.
For convenience’s sake, we’re taking the online donations via Paypal. Send it to email@example.com and put “For Patty’s iPad” or something similar in the header.
One other request: If you have a blog or anyplace online where people listen to what you have to say, please repost this and see if anyone else is up for helping. Think of it as an all-nerd alert!
I know it’s asking a lot. But I also know that my family and I wouldn’t have made it through the last two horrible years without the enormous support of everyone around us, and I want to do everything I can to help Patty Rogers get the same help.
Want to know more about her? Check out http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/patriciarogers/. If you have any questions or want more confirmation that this is on the up-and-up, drop me a line at firstname.lastname@example.org and we’ll talk.
Thanks a lot, everyone!
Paul F. P. Pogue
Veteran of the cancer wars
|Armand vs. Dalek
||[14 Jul 2008|06:24pm]
(The first recorded encounter of a Dalek scout with Armand Zefram Pogue, a.k.a. the Destroyer of Worlds, the Living Death that
|CrawlsWalks, the Primordial Annihilator, known in some circles as the Ka Faraq Gatri -- the Oncoming Storm.)
TIME-PERIOD: TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
KNOWN-WEAKNESSES: COOKIES, NAPTIME
FURTHER-ASSAULT-INCOMING! E-MER-GEN-CY-TEM-PO-RAL-SHIFT! SHIFT! SHIIIFTTT!
|part of the MeMeGeneration
||[30 Dec 2005|07:53pm]
[My name is]: Paul
[in the morning i was]: concerned about bills
[all i need now is]: a halfway decent job in my field
[love is]: always a surprise
[i'm afraid of]: screwing up a good thing
[i dream about]: the future on an alarmingly consistent basis
-- Middle name: Francis Patrick
-- Birth time: 7:47 p.m.
-- Birthplace : Fairmount, IN
-- Last place traveled: Terre Haute on sunday
-- Eye Color: hazel
-- Height: 5 feet 11.5 in
-- Zodiac Sign: Aries
-- Your heritage: irish, some finnish
-- The shoes you wore today: leather boots with utterly extraneous straps
-- Your hair: brown
-- Your weakness: sushi
-- Your perfect pizza: meat lovers with extra meat and cheese, plus meat
-- Your most overused phrase: this is frakkin' annoying
-- Your thoughts first waking up: just five more minutes, mom, i'll make it to school on time ...
-- Your current worry: bills
-- Your plans tomorrow: black tie new years party
-- Your best physical feature: eyes
-- Your bedtime: later than it should be
-- sunrise or sunset: Sunset
-- gore or horror: horror
-- eastside or westside: northside ;)
-- stripes or polka dots: stripes, especially on fine ... never mind.
-- Planes or trains: planes
-- metal or hardcore: metal
-- Pools or hot tubs: hot tubs!
-- Do you think you've been in love: absolutely
-- Want to get married: very much so
-- Like to take baths: yep! candlelit, warm, bubbly
-- Get motion sickness: no
-- Like talking on the phone: not particularly
-- Like thunderstorms: intensely, unless there's tornadoes involved
-- Play an instrument: no
-- Workout: sometimes
-- Like reading: yep. Including far too many comics
-- Body part: eyes, hair and legs
-- Kind of fruit: orange, apple
-- Music to fall asleep to: ofra haza
-- Car: 1967 Mustang Fastback, baby! Or maybe the 2001 Bullitt edition, since I can't restore cars, like, at all
-- Number: 23
-- Thing to do: video games, movies
-- Horror movie: silence of the lambs
-- Color: Black
-- Food: pizza, meat, eggs, bacon, ice cream, that sort of thing
-- Age you hope to be married (again): 32
-- Numbers and Names of Children: wanting one, will probably get three: Autumn Rose Ashes, Archer St. George, Willow Lilith
-- Describe your Dream Wedding: Medieval-ish, with some modern overtones, and her in the dress from Labyrinth
-- How do you want to die: FAST. mid 70's sounds good
-- What do you want to be when you grow up: Not sure I ever will, but a full-time writer of nonfiction would be cool
-- What country would you most like to visit: hmm ... Turkey?
-- Best eye color: green
-- Best hair color: red
-- Best personality trait: fun and funny/lighthearted, loyal, sweet
-- Best height: doesn't much matter
-- Best articles of clothing: short skirts :)
-- Best first date location: movies! or a nice hillside
-- Best first kiss location: by a lake or any body of water
-- I eat: whatever my girl cooks :)
-- I think: way too much
-- I am: always out on a limb
-- I adore: my friends, my dear love
-- I suck at: pushing dangerous thoughts out of my head
-- I am obsessed with: the day after tomorrow
-- I can: quite possibly change the world and feasibly erase reality with my mind if I try hard enough
-- I can't wait: to meet the future
-- I am annoyed with: the way the jerks always seem to win and the nice people get shafted. Still working on fixing that, though
|Back to the Meme front
||[19 Dec 2005|11:54pm]
The Fantastic Four Things Meme, nicked from Caligatia and Hawkward. Because this is all about talking about ME in the end, you know.
FOUR JOBS YOU'VE HAD IN YOUR LIFE:
1. Corn detasseler
4. Standardized test grader
FOUR MOVIES YOU COULD (AND DO!) WATCH OVER AND OVER:
1. Buckaroo Banzai!
2. Flash Gordon 1980!
3. The Castle of Cagliostro!
4. The Incredibles!
FOUR CITIES YOU'VE LIVED IN:
1. Fairmount, IN
2. Muncie, IN
3. Indianapolis, IN
4. Umm ... another part of Indianapolis, IN
FOUR TV SHOWS YOU LOVE TO WATCH:
1. The West Wing
2. Aqua Teen Hunger Force
3. Battlestar Galactica
4. Justice League Unlimited
FOUR PLACES YOU'VE BEEN ON VACATION:
1. New York City
2. Los Angeles
3. New Orleans
4. Butler County, Pennsylvania
FOUR WEBSITES YOU VISIT DAILY:
FOUR OF YOUR FAVORITE FOODS:
2. Bacon and eggs
4. Teriyaki chicken
FOUR PLACES I'D RATHER BE RIGHT NOW:
1. Nice shiny new apartment on northside
2. Working full-time as a reporter
3. Five years in the future
4. Bed (with my love)
|I already know the answer to this one
||[07 Oct 2005|11:57pm]
Today's lyric: "Future to this life," Joe Walsh and Lita Ford
In the heart of the darkness
a light still burns
Takes you back there
to a memory of her.
In the heart of the darkness she's still there
She's always holding on to what you shared.
Is anybody out there gonna take your hand
Hold you close and help you understand
There's a future to this life
and it burns in the night
In the soul of a woman
cut from her man
When he carries a burden
that love never ends
In the heart of the darkness
when the night comes down
You're left with the promise
that love will be found
Is anybody out there gonna take your hand
Hold you close, try to help you understand.
There's a future to this life
and it burns in the night
For the future to this life like a sign in the sky
Burns for you and I ...
|Bestest autograph EVAH
||[07 Oct 2005|06:05am]
It is a fact that cannot be disputed that the Mr. Potato Head Darth Vader, aka Darth Tater, is the wackiest, coolest Star Wars collectible OF ALL TIME. (Those who know me will know what an astonishing statement this is, especially in light of the array of Slave Leia collectibles on the market. But it's true.)
There is only one way to improve Darth Tater's coolness, and that's to go straight to THE MAN for some clarification.
|God help me, getting into memes
||[21 Jun 2005|11:10pm]
Stolen from Mer. Fill in your answers!
1. I _____ Paul.
2. I want to _____ Paul.
3. Paul is ______.
4. Paul and I are _____.
5. If I was alone in a room with Paul we would probably _____.
6. I wish Paul could _____.
7. Paul should ______.
8. Paul reminds me of _____.
9. If Paul were an animal, he would be a _____.
10. One day, Paul & I will _______.
|It is the year 2005 ...
||[01 Jan 2005|10:36pm]
It is the year 2005... the treacherous Decepticons have conquered the Autobot home-planet of Cybertron. But, on secret staging grounds on two of Cybertron's moons, the valiant Autobots prepare to re-take their homeland...
||[06 Dec 2004|05:12am]
Patty, I never knew you had it in you. Should have suspected, though.
And James, I never meant for Our Little Secret to get out. The Internet Knows All.
|i'm still in a dream, snake eater
||[01 Dec 2004|04:04am]
Solid Snake: Still the baddest-ass mofo around and greatest video game hero ever, no matter what time period he's in.
|I'm always the last to get with the program
||[28 Nov 2004|06:56pm]
"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself - nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes."
"A good society is able to face schemes of world domination and foreign revolution alike without fear."
||[04 Jul 2004|02:43am]
I have a new sidekick.
Behold the two faces of Tsu-chan: Innocent and ... up to no good.
Life throws interesting things at you from time to time when you least expect. Tsu-chan is very, very interesting and even more unexpected.
||most recent entries