What this means is that it’s time for a traditional “sorry I haven’t posted in a while” blog entry, which I have decided to do in advance of the real dry spell. The Jigsaw season finale will not air for a bit, because I used that time to go Xmas shopping for my family and I have too many paid deadlines coming up that demand my attention.

I’m pleased that I’ve finally figured out what I want to do with the Spam column, i.e. do a weekly illustration based on the contents of a junk email, but again, there just isn’t enough time in the day to guarantee anything. Which is a shame, as I was just starting to build momentum. Sigh.

Meanwhile, it’s the final day of 2008. Tomorrow, I request that everyone take the time to kick 2008’s corpse in the face, just to make sure it’s really dead. Made it through the year, folks. Give yourselves a big toast. But check the jam for botulism first.

Working two jobs today. Best get moving.

Watch festively in Quicktime.

Silent Night cracks me up every time.

(seasons greetings in the comments)

So if you like puppetry (I’m assuming you do), it’s worth throwing a link to Puppetvision in your RSS reader of choice.

www.puppetvision.info

First, it was too long. So the first upload was a big waste of time. Then I split it in half and uploaded both halves. But the second half, the sound was so far out of sync it was unwatchable. So I recut the file. Sound was still out of sync. I repeated this process four times, it took a few hours of my life, and I finally gave up and went to bed.

Where I proceeded to dream, vaguely, about YouTube for a couple hours before needing to get up to use the WC.

When I returned to bed, I discovered the dulcet tones of Rick Astley were lodged in my head.

Yes, somehow, in the night, I managed to Rickroll myself.

This is more embarrassing than the Xacto knife in the leg.

Watch in Quicktime hereabouts.

One thing that is nice about this new era of Hope is that I suddenly feel less pressured to preemptively defend sincerity.

Yes, this video is 15 minutes long, and is a fairly straight-forward behind-the-scenes look at the making of the Regibor puppet. Not a lot of irony here; I thought maybe somebody might be interested in how I work. Especially the younger viewers.

Also, and there’s no reason why you’d know this, but I’m working on a show at a local theater (Live Arts, for the Cville-knowing), and I’m designing a puppet and some live special effects. It’s a youth show, and all of the production staff have youth apprentices, and my apprentice is this super-awesome middle-school kid named Danny. Seriously, if I could spend about a week teaching this kid a few things, I could retire and let him work the play. He’s really awesome, and has a great love of puppets, and I feel like I’m not giving him enough to chew on.

So yes, this video is partly a placeholder so I don’t have to end the series on the Xmas special, and so I can have a bit of time to film the last two episodes. But mostly, it’s a special episode for Dangerous Dan. And even just a few months ago, I would have felt the need to apologize for that, but now, I’m fine with it. Because dammit, it’s my show, and if I want to direct it towards a single viewer, I don’t see anything wrong with that. Sincerity is GOOD.

And no, I have NO IDEA what happened halfway through to make the screen suddenly go completely bonkers with digital artifacts. For a behind the scenes show, I can’t be bothered to care. I blame iMovie.

Actually, that’s a whole other rant, not one even worth having in this space. Selah.

Comments? You can leave those if you like.

FROM: Kermit Couch
SUBJECT: Don’t be ashamed of your wrist anymore.

I totally want a Kermit couch.

Comments always welcome.

Watch this video with QuickTime.

I was setting up to film Thursday evening. I was frustrated that the script had taken me so long to work out, but I was pretty sure I’d be able to knock it out in a couple takes and get it out before the end of Thursday.

And as I was framing the shot, I noticed it was already pitch black outside. Especially with a bunch of lights pointed at the windows. And I pictured what the shot would look like in front of dark windows, and deep down in my gut I just knew it was wrong. I can’t really explain it, but it just wasn’t funny at night.

I’ll admit, this isn’t the funniest episode I’ve ever written, but it’s got some laughs. But somehow the whole premise felt forced without visible sunlight. So I set my alarm and got up early this morning to film. And it felt right again. Sunlight just made the jokes work somehow. It’s not a theory of comedy I’m familiar with; I typically think about timing, and wording, and gesture, but until now I’d never thought about temporal setting. It’s a concept worth exploring.

A quick e.g.: the famous Marx Brothers routine in Duck Soup where they’re all dressed up as Groucho and play the mirror game in a doorway… that wouldn’t have been funny at all at two in the afternoon. I use as my evidence… the fact that it isn’t really a Marx Brothers routine, but rather a classic comedy staple, one of those old Vaudeville routines that everybody had a variation on. But we think of it as Marx Brothers because theirs just works better. And I think it’s because it takes place in the middle of the night (also the Marx Brothers were flipping geniuses, which might have a little to do with it, but their version is certainly more frequently aped than Charlie Chaplin’s, and I hear he was somewhat well-known for his comedy stylings as well).

Oh, and yes, that’s what Frank looks like now. Or at least until I decide to resculpt him. The last thing I wanted to do with this episode was to have a scene talking about how Frank looks. That’d be tacky, donchya think?

There are some adorable fauns in my backyard. I need to stare out the window at them for a bit. Ta. Comments always welcome.

Similarly, you may no longer append the word “punk” to a noun in order to describe what is inevitably a minor subgenre of science-fiction. If you must over-specify your particular thematic fetish, you must justify this with a name that accounts for the historical and/or aesthetic origin of said fetish.

Also, until further notice, use of the word “literally” will be restricted to those who apply for special permits, which are limited in number; those who need access to the word due to employment in or relating to literary criticism will be given higher priority.

The word “essentially” is now retired, and requests that you respect its privacy by never using it again.

We apologize for any inconvenience.

episode 318 will appear Friday afternoon, due to a desire to film during daylight hours.

FROM: Daren Watts
SUBJECT: Welcome to the world of big monsters in pants and big possibilities.

Watch this episode in Quicktime.

This one tortured me.

Figuring out all the ins and outs of the insert shots. Contemplating how exactly I could make various puppetry moves happen in a single shot. (Kranium and Regibor. Regibor leaves. Milton enters. Milton and Kranium. Milton’s hand moves. This crap ain’t easy.) Devising an entirely new camera rig that allows for moderate stability while also moving the base of the tripod much further away, meaning more room for puppeteer near the camera (I’ll likely throw in some BTS footage in the next few weeks that’ll include the new puppetry camera set-up).

This one also cracked me the hell up.

Girl can attest. Once I got to capturing footage, I started cackling like a gargoyle on meth. Many, many shots just made me laugh (which is, of course, the whole point), and I couldn’t believe how well it all meshed together. Hell, the initial render even went quickly, much to my astonishment. What started as a punishing task ended as one of my favorite episodes thusfar. If only because of Lump.

Also proud for the fact that in the last month, I’ve worked comedy threes, comedy fives, and comedy trees. Today, I brought it around the tree. The miracle few know what I’m talking about. Thanks, Duggan.

It’s cold, and I have much to do later. I think the bed is calling me. In fact, I heard it mere minutes ago. And that couldn’t have been the bourbon calling, as we’re almost out, and it’s not that desperate. So.

As always, comments are appreciated. As always, you won’t leave them.

The lateness of this column is due to my waiting to see if anything interesting actually showed up in spam this week. Apart from hearing cheap Viagra called “testromaniac pillules”, it’s the normal batch of meds, watches, Nigerian princes, and UK lotteries.

Except for one message inquiring whether I need any plastic molding or plastic parts from a factory in Dongguan, China. Which, considering the state of the economy, might actually be an authentic email; with all the businesses going out of business and scaling back production, I could see the Chinese manufacturers looking to pick up some extra bucks by randomly asking strangers if they need molds made of anything in particular.

To tell the truth, not much struck me as either funny or important in this week’s batch. So I post this purely to maintain the numbers at the top.

New episode underway. More posts in the following week.

Watch this episode in Quicktime at this here link.

I did mention that this was an old routine, yes? You didn’t think I’d throw it away in such a cavalier manner, did you? Of course not. Reduce, reuse, recycle.

Last night I had a dream where I found myself having to seize control of a high-speed Winnebago as it barreled down curvy highways. I ended up skidding violently into a guardrail on some complex interchange outside of Chicago. When I woke up, my back was killing me. Somehow, my dream gave me whiplash. This is a first for me, and possibly for the world.

In any case, you are likely reading this sometime after the American Turkey Holiday. When I decided to switch to a Thursday update schedule, I sort of forgot that it meant updating on Thanksgiving. Not that I mind; Thanksgiving has never been an “important” holiday to me. And true: this particular one sees me working at the movie theater for all of the prime bird-eating hours, so it’s not much of a holiday at all, really.

Still, I do feel a little weird posting a new video on a holiday when the video has absolutely nothing to do with said holiday. Not as weird as the creators of the detective show LIFE must have felt when their brilliant episode about a murder in a shopping mall on Black Friday aired a week and a half before Thanksgiving. But weird nonetheless.

I note that Xmas also falls on a Thursday this year. And, if I do my math right, episode 320, the season finale, is scheduled to appear on that very Thursday. Which means… well, which means I need to start writing new fake holiday music. And, perhaps, contemplate the possibility of gearing the episode so that it serves as an entry point for the show. Because, after all, the movie theater does have a digital projector. And there is a long-standing tradition, now sadly dormant, of having short programs before the main feature. Hmm…

But to the giving of thanks. I… I have to say, I’m thankful to the people who smile. Especially those who smile at me, or because of something I did or said. But overall, smiling people make the world a bit better. So thanks to them.

And thanks to any and all who are reading these words. It’s hackneyed, I know, but you are the reason I keep doing this. It’s not like I make any money from this ridiculous experiment. Thank you for your patience and kind words. My life is resoundingly better because of you.

What else should I be thankful for? It’s hard to say, as my back meds have just worn off and I’m feeling a bit cranky. Remind me of anything important in the comments, would you? And save me some leftover turkey. I want sammiches.

I am often disturbed by my spam.

Oh sure, it’s occasionally unsettling to get email from yourself proclaiming great advances in member-hardening technology.

It’s even yet still more heebie-jeebie generating to get an email with nothing in the subject line OR THE ADDRESS LINE, saying merely, “Hi John!” That had never happened to me before, and I admit it gave me a bit of a shudder. But that’s not the kind of disturbance I really mean.

No, every week, I must admit, the numbers reported above are ever so slightly skewed. Because every week I have to make a choice as to how to classify the email forwarded to me by my elderly relative in South Carolina.

I have never really known my father’s side of the family. It was an intriguing prospect when I found one of them was online, despite his advanced and further-advancing years. We exchanged a few brief email pleasantries, and I fully intended to get a longer conversation started when I had a chance.

Within a week, I received my first “FWD: I CAN’T BELEIVE IT.” (That probably wasn’t the original subject line, but it conveys the general impression of similar, familiar subject headers.) It was, if I recall, a mildly conservative rant presented in a vaguely humorous style. I deleted it without too much thought, thinking the occasional email forward was a price I was willing to pay to have access to that branch of my family tree.

Soon, more FWDs arrived. Mildly off-color jokes. Aggressively Christian anecdotes. No personal messages attached; always forwarded three or four times before reaching me. All the messages were very right-wing Republican; for a time I would read them in order to get a better idea of how the other side thought and felt. I saw it as a way of learning more about this relative, too; it was clear we were of two different worlds, and his was a very conservative, old-school Southern viewpoint.

Unfortunately, it further became clear that it appears difficult to adhere to such a viewpoint without accompanying doses of jingoism and bigotry.

Messages began arriving around Christmas of 2006 calling for, of all things, a ban of the Christmas stamp offered by the Post Office because it had an image of a Christmas tree illustrated with Arabic letters. The message was filled with hateful misapprehensions about Islam and awful, awful things about those who practice said faith. It was then I first felt the disturbance I’m feeling today.

More hate-filled messages arrived, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. This is a relative I could barely remember, whom I have not talked to in 20 years. What would I be able to say that would be contextualized well enough to have any lasting effect? I doubted I would be able to influence this relative in any way without first making an effort to become a greater part of his life, and yet I found the idea of knowing him at all more and more distasteful.

Then the messages stopped. It was a curiosity, to be sure, but I was also relieved. Had he passed away, I would have heard, so I just assumed that the messages were tapering off naturally.

Some months later, clearing out my spam filter, I realized the truth: they were all being shuttled off into the spam corral instead of finding their way to my inbox. I discovered this last year. I still haven’t done anything to correct it.

All the messages from him are now labeled as “might be spam” and held in my special reserve box. It makes it incredibly easy to ignore, to delete without pause, to just shake my head at the fact that after all these years, I discovered a racist older relative I never knew I had. Welcome to the Generation, kid. We’ve all got one somewhere.

But this newfound project of actually paying attention to my spam has given me pause; what is the correct course of action, here? It’s clear that this relative is incredibly distrustful of any non-white, non-Christian folks. He’s rabidly pro-American (in that way that is actually fiercely un-American if you know anything about history). He’s ultra-conservative. I have yet to see a homophobic email forwarded, but I’d be incredibly surprised if he were tolerant at all of anything other than strict hetero-normative sexuality. In short, judging by the things he sees fit to forward my way, he doesn’t seem like someone I want in my life. And were he to know anything about me, I severely doubt he’d want me in his.

In my younger days, I likely would have written him a polite email asking him to stop forwarding me hate speech. Now, I’m not so sure. He’s old. He’s very old. So are many of the people like him. His particular brand of violent terror is dying out. I could just go on letting my spam filter keep his messages out of my day-to-day life until they come to a natural end.

Or I could say something. Recently I keep composing angry responses in my head, violently disputing each and every claim of each email. But I don’t write them down. I don’t see a violent response doing any good. But maybe it would. Maybe the shock of having the boychild reject every principle you hold dear might actually lead to… or cause bitterness and pain, or do nothing. Such an action on my part is purely selfish, no matter the reaction.

So to respond with love? To attempt to address the issues in a calm manner? What would that do? Would it do any good? Would it change his mind? SHOULD I attempt, at this point, to change the mind of a man I barely know, simply because we share some DNA somewhere? What’s more, how to generate the love necessary to pull it off? I don’t care how closely related you are to somebody; it’s actual closeness that matters. I can’t automatically love someone I wouldn’t recognize in a small, not terribly crowded room. And without a love to transcend my automatic dislike, I doubt anything gentle would be persuasive or sincere.

Should it be done? A response is a commitment on my part, a commitment to try and forge a relationship with this long-lost relation. To do so would allow me access to a deep history of my father’s family, something I’ve never had. On the other hand, if my father’s family is filled with hateful bigots, perhaps it’s history best left undiscovered.

I got that Christmas stamp forward again this week. The spam filter missed it. I kept it on my phone for a day before deleting it. I just don’t know how to react.

What say you? Opinions, anecdotes, similar dilemmas, all welcome in the comments.

Watch this episode in QuickTime.

Two weeks without a computer. That’s exactly the sort of thing I was thinking of when I built two extra weeks into the season schedule. Of course, I expected the time to be used for sickness or sudden travel, but being without a computer works, too. Or doesn’t. QED.

I haven’t talked about NaNoWriMo in a while (this is where I’d link to some posts on the old Forum discussing various NaNo issues; that is, had I not entirely borked the Forum while setting up this current website). It’s interesting to note that the year I started doing these videos was the same year I quit NaNo, probably for good. Before that, I had participated successfully for three years. What I found in year four was that I had learned everything I needed to know from NaNo — I had taught myself how to self-impose deadlines for personal projects, how to reach certain difficult goals in an unreasonable amount of time, and how to be creative despite feeling not at all in the mood to be creative.

Which is to say, the Jigsaw Video Thing is a direct descendant of my time with National Novel Writing Month. Strange but true. To be sure, I got halfway through my fourth NaNo and realized I just didn’t want to write anymore… partly because I already had what I thought was a pretty good first draft of a novel (from a previous NaNo), and felt that if I were going to spend a bunch of time working on a novel, I should probably spend the time on that as opposed to writing something new. And partly… NaNo was taking time away from the things I was actually working on. I discovered that, because of the way NaNo had made me think about fitting in creative time into a busy schedule, I was essentially doing weird versions of NaNoWriMo all year round. I didn’t really need it anymore, because I had absorbed it.

So no, this isn’t an autobiographical entry; I don’t know that I even know a single person still participating this year (feel free to correct this misapprehension in the comments). But I do still have utmost respect for the experience, and am happy to give Baty and the rest another plug, such as it is.

Plus it was a nice segue into next week’s episode, which I also filmed today. It will be posted on Thanksgiving, but it has nothing to do with turkey. Or Turkey. But more words on 316 when 316 is realized.

And because I like to show off, this is one of those episodes I’ll remind you that I did the whole thing with only two hands. Wire is your friend.

From: Chiefjusticemohammed Uwais
Subject: GOOD DAY

You know what? You’re right. It IS a good day. It snowed today. That probably does deserve all caps.

From: Anita Mansah
Subject: PLEASE READ WELL

Oh, I intend to. Thanks for looking out for me.

From: aw-confirm@ebay.com
Subject: Phishing: eBay Unpaid Item Dispute for Item #29025…

My, it was nice of you to tell me you were Phishing. Saves me the trouble of ignoring you.

From: “Desmond Clayton”
Subject: Your new female guest will love that you are blessed.

I’m sure she will. Did you intend to write a rhyming couplet? Kudos.

From: danceaward2009@tiscali.it
Subject: DancEurope2009: The way to show your dance competition performances in the best theatres of Europe’s Capital Cities.

Um… what? I think maybe you’re looking for Bill T. Jones. Or, really, anybody who gives a crap about dancing.

From: AccesD
Subject: Participez au concours « AccesD au Cirque du Soleil »

Oui? Non.

From: BLOCKBUSTER
Subject: GET SMART and KUNG FU PANDA are at BLOCKBUSTER®

Well, there’s a mighty fine reason to avoid Blockbuster. Not that I needed another one.

From: Shell Oil Customer Service
Subject: YOU ARE NO(5)

I AM NOT A NUMBER, I AM A FREE MAN.

From: Mrs. Mimi Kirian
Subject: OK?

…yeah, I am. Though I could use some more tea.

On the subject of spam, comments are always appreciated.

My computer is finally back from the shop, and all appears to be well (apart from the mysterious switching on of system noises). Actually, potentially better than well; only a few days of hard use will tell for sure, but the new logic board may be actually making the system run, you know, better than before. Which is to say, my computer may now work as it’s supposed to, as opposed to the two-legged cheetah it was impersonating before. We shall see.

In any case, I owe you some videos. Rest assured, I haven’t been completely slacking off in the interim. The next three episodes are plotted out, and there will likely be a quick address from Kranium tomorrow or Sunday on matters philosophical.

Also, I now have a part-time job working for the Vinegar Hill Theatre, meaning I come home smelling of popcorn. This is neither here nor there.

In the meantime, here is a photograph of my pal Mike Keenan playing guitar for John Brown’s Body in Richmond a few days ago. Taken with the Goophone.

• Number of messages sorted through: 465
• Number of spam messages missed by filters: 39
• Number of real messages marked as spam: 4

OH MY GORT.

The news that comes through the electronic circuits at my spam box is TERRIBLE this week. I mean, I thought we were in a land of beauty and light since last week proved that dreams could come true. But apparently, according to this email, the sitting President just killed the First Lady-Elect. Really! Says so right in the subject line: “Bush Killed Michelle Obama”. And the email says I got it because I’m subscribed to some MSN email list. MSN — that’s MicroSoft Network. That’s the first three letters of MSNBC, and Keith Olberman wouldn’t lie to me about something this grave! Sure, I haven’t heard any other mention of it, but that’s the beauty of email! You get news as it happens! Sometimes before! Hm, “If you do not wish to receive this MSN Featured Offers e-mail, please click the “Unsubscribe” link below.” Why on earth would I want to do that? How else am I going to find out who President Bush kills next?

“BAD economy? Low salary? Buy an University Dip1oma/Bacheelor from us, No Study/Exam needed peurpi 5o”
They’re RIGHT. It IS a bad economy. My salary IS low. But look at this — these poor Bacheelors must be selling off their Dip1omas to buy food! The world is an absolute mess! I’m not currently seeking a Bacheelor, but there’s a phone number I can call. Bless their poor hearts, I bet it’s their mom’s house. Or moms’. I hope it’s the latter; what a terrible time to be an American if a huge Catholic family of Bacheelors all had to sell their degrees and themselves just to keep their one mother happy.^*

Granted, I’m pretty low on work myself. I can’t even finish any of my freelance illustration work because my computer is still in the shop, and Apple can’t find the right part anywhere, and I almost started crying on the phone with AppleCare things are looking so bleak. I’m typing this on an ancient machine that can’t even run Firefox, and I’m wearing fingerless gloves because the heat is off, and I just don’t know how much longer — Wait, hang on, what’s this? “The Art Of Craft Ltd®”? Subject: “Part Time Job Offer”?! It’s got one of those circle-R things after the name, this must be BIG. Lessee, Henry Wilson blah blah blah growing art company in Spain — well, I mean obviously you’re from Spain, with a name like Henry Wilson — Ah, I see! They want to hire me to be their representative in the States, because they can’t be bothered to travel all the way here to pick up payments for their art products. All I’d have to do is accept the hundreds of thousands of dollars in cheques, money orders, &c and wire it to them in Madrid. And I get to keep ten percent off the top! Oh, so tempting, but unfortunately, as I mentioned before, my computer’s in the shop, so I’m afraid I’m not reliable enough to be able to wire all that money in a timely fashion. Poor Señor Wilson, you’ll have to find another representative.

Oh NOES! Now I’m getting an email from Citibank telling me they’re going to suspend my account! Oh, no, it’s okay, if I click the link going to tv5korat’com/web’da-us’citibank/longurl-I-wont-bother-typing, they’ll keep my account open. Hooray! But… but wait, no, I’m using an ancient machine with Internet Explorer, how am I supposed to read that file? And look! American Express is shutting me down, too! And Chase Bank! And Wells Fargo! And ANZ Internet Bank! I didn’t even have accounts with most of those people, and they’re preemptively shutting down my accounts! I’M DOOMED.

At least there are a lot of people offering me naked photos of Cindy McCain. Maybe I’ll get to see them before the President makes her his next victim.

Doom & gloom? Share your troubles in the comments.

^*Fun with apostrophe jokes! Grammar is your friend!

It is starting to rain in Virginia.

I woke up this morning thinking about the moment in the West Wing when Joshua Malina, in charge of a hopeless Democratic campaign in Orange County, a campaign that for some reason is neck-in-neck with the Republican incumbent despite the fact that the Democratic candidate is dead, there’s this moment when towards the end of the day, clouds start forming overhead, and a storm starts brewing, a literal one to match the metaphorical, and Josh Malina walks outside and looks up at the sky and shouts “NOW,” and with a clap of thunder, rain starts pouring down.

Today feels a bit like that.

For the second day in a row, the first human being I’ve encountered in the day has been an Obama worker. Not campaigning, not doing any last-minute conversion, just making sure I know where to vote and have a ride to get there. Today’s representative was wondering if Girl had voted yet (she had), and both made sure I knew to vote for Tom Perriello and not just vote for Obama. Everyone has been extremely polite, no-nonsense, and incredibly well-organized. I’m not really their target audience — I was going to vote already, I voted in the primaries, I’m an active voter for years — but Girl was newly registered in VA, so our house got the full campaign treatment. I was happy to have the privilege of watching the GOTV movement first-hand.

I made my way to the polls a little after 10 this morning. Beautiful warm autumn day, upper 50s, clean-smelling air. Rode my bike downtown, unsure as to how long I’d be waiting, what to expect. On the way I noticed that all but one of the (admittedly few) McCain houses on the street had taken their signs in already. Charlottesville is a very blue town, but it seems oddly prophetic that the handful of Republican households in my neighborhood are retreating from showing obvious support for their candidates. I hesitate to make assumptions as to their motivations, but like I say, it’s interesting.

The polls were not the madhouse we were told to expect. Then again, I did pick 10am for a reason; just after the last pre-workday voters, just before the lunch break voters. Outside of the polling place, the Obama and Perriello campaigns had lots of staffers offering copies of the ballot, with instructions on how to fill it out, and again offering a reminder to vote for ALL the Democrats, not just Obama. They also had a table filled with snacks, pretzels and granola bars, a mountain of water bottles, obviously well-provisioned should one of the four+ hour lines form at any point. Also of note, there was not a single campaign worker from any of the Republican campaigns. The Republicans have clearly abandoned Charlottesville. Or at least downtown. Probably a wise enough move; even Goode has a hard time downtown.

Inside, the lines were short but well arranged to accommodate as many folks inside as possible. People in line were smiling and chatting, some folks had brought a huge box of doughnuts and were sharing them with their neighbors. This polling place was set up with both electronic voting machines as well as paper ballots, and both were getting a fair amount of use, with a majority using the electronic machines. These were not touchscreen, but rather click-wheel design, one of the better designs I’ve seen (very hard to choose the wrong candidate, as you have to highlight the one you want and press a button). Unsure as to the paper trail possibility of these particular machines; something I’d guess Waldo knows. Should probably ask him, come to think of it.

All in all, the entire process took twenty minutes, tops. I left the polling place with a stupid grin on my face, and a Perriello worker outside gave me my “I Voted For Obama” sticker. Just then, it started to rain. My grin got bigger, I thanked all of the people working outside, hopped on my bike and rode home, getting absolutely soaked in the process.

I’m still exhausted from the Film Festival. I’m behind on three different projects. I’m fairly broke. I slept on my hand weird, so my wrist is sore. None of that matters right now; I’m sitting here staring at the big serif letters — “I VOTED FOR OBAMA” — and I am starting to tear up. Awash in a wave of uncharacteristic optimism, I’m contemplating just how much work so many people put into working for Obama and Perriello, and I’m proud of how well they did it. Proud of my fellow citizens for devoting so much time and energy to a cause, not for personal gain, but because they just want their country to be better. I have never before in my life seen such an outpouring of truly selfless action, so many people putting their community first, their country, their fellow man. My inner cynic tells me this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but I don’t know. People might actually be getting better and being better to each other. It’s hard not to get a little choked up.

In that West Wing episode, the dead Democrat does end up winning; Republicans don’t vote in the rain. Here in Virginia, the rain is coming in fits and bursts, but it might be enough to make history. Yesterday the polls were showing Perriello in a statistical dead heat with Goode. A bit of heavy afternoon rain could make all the difference.

As for the President, I suspect Mr. McCain will wait until Arizona is called, and then will concede shortly thereafter. I can’t imagine him conceding before finding out what sort of margin he receives in his home state. But by then, it should be pretty clear that he hasn’t won Pennsylvania, that he hasn’t won Virginia, and that Colorado is about to go blue as well. As soon as they call Arizona, the night is over. And the victory parties begin.

Thank you, America. You’re making me feel patriotic for the first time in my life. Keep it up.

I’m as surprised as anyone that I didn’t take advantage of the fact that this was episode 314 to make a reference to pi.

But then, it’s sort of a miracle that there’s an episode at all. Too busy to even explain how busy I am. Or, indeed, to finish writing this post.

I’m pretty sure I have invented the concept of the “pen garter,” but feel free to disagree with me in the comments.

First off, stickers.

Durable, nigh-weatherproof vinyl stickers. White and black ink on clear, so the edges of the sticker vanish around the card itself. Contagious Graphics did these, and they were also responsible for all the stickers back at 305 South years ago; I can tell you, after years on the back of my (black) Scion, the ink of many other stickers has faded, and a few stickers have started peeling and looking ratty. The Contagious Graphics stickers are pristine.

Unsure as of yet as to the distribution channels for these stickers. For now, probably just if you see me, I’ll give you one, or if you order something, you’ll get one included. It doesn’t really fall under the Etsy terms of use, so until I get a stand-alone storefront, they’ll probably just be special gifts.

Here’s a close-up of the sticker image:

Of course, stickers are exciting and everything, but I’ve been burying the lead a bit, because I just finished the prototype for the Milton Inertia Figure.

Not really an action figure, though the arms and legs are bendy. Pretty much it is a nice object that will tend to stay at rest, unless sufficient force is exerted upon it to cause it to go against that tendency. Much like Milton himself.

These will all be hand-made my me, so quantities will depend on time and materials. I hope to get a handful of these done in the next couple weeks, enough time for people to give them as gifts during December holiday things. If I’m feeling incredibly productive (read: unemployed), I may also do another run of the Jigsaw Tree Ornament Things from a few years back. No promises on that, but it wouldn’t shock me.

IF YOU WISH TO PREORDER either of these things, you should drop me a line. Pricing is still TBD (I haven’t done all the math I need to do to set a price), but it’ll likely fall between $15-$20.

Dat’s it. Episode tomorrow should prove to be a super-quick one, as I’ve got Film Festival stuff all weekend. Paying job, unfortunately, does occasionally take precedence.