History yet lives!

The Masters of Going Faster warped into River City at hyperspeed yesterday, to the delight of many, including Yr Humble Narrator. Dropping back into normal time for a few fleeting hours, Scott, Ivy, Sky and Winter McCloud dazzled a standing room only crowd of students, art lovers, comic book fans, and one old college buddy at Chao Auditorium on the River City University campus, and then dazzled a much smaller crowd of us at a nearby spaghetti restuarant afterwards, until I, being a no-fun, had to pack up the babies and grab my fiancee and get back home, because, you know, SOME of us aren't wildly successful auteurs and still have actual day jobs we have to go to. ::grin::

It was fabulous to see Scott and Ivy again, and their daughters are wildly impressive human beings. I actually find my daughters to be even more impressive human beings, but, well, one could argue paternal bias there. Whatever the case, everyone seems to have had a good time, and I have never been prouder of my girls than I was of them last night. I just wish The Baby could have been there, but she had fun playing ponies with the upstairs neighbor, so that's okay, too.

Now it's the next day, and the Flying McClouds have blasted off to bring enlightenment, delight and dizzying joy to yet another set of space/time coordinates on this poor benighted globe, and I am merely left with my memories of an excellent evening, if one that was, alas, cut tragically short by the demands of surly reality.

I was very pleased to be able to gift Scott with a customized Zot! HeroClix figure I've had for several years. He seemed to be honestly delighted by it, which honestly delighted me, as well. (See? I don't give people stuff because I'm a nice guy, as all you deluded fools foolishly believe. I do it for my own selfish pleasure. Nyaaah.) I like the fig and will miss having it, but, to be honest, I never get to play clix any more, and even if I did, I can't think of a theme team that Zot would easily fit onto, so I think the little fella has gone to a far far better place than any he has ever known. Scottspeed, Zachary Paleozogt! May your bootjets never rust, your robobutlers never bust, and your Jennies never fuss as you hurtle perpetually to some needy person's rescue.

For more and better textualizing on Our Dinner With The McClouds, check out SuperFiancee's irrefutably superior write up of the event. No, really, do it now. She's MUCH nicer than I am, anyway.

On another college related note, somebody named Mr. Boy takes time out from his busy evening masturbating to Hanson Brothers videos so that he can drop the following comment on my Martian Vision site:

"Mr. Boy" 1:34 am (11 hours ago)

One day, maybe not soon, but one day, you'll have sex with an actual, honest-to-goodness woman. Yes, it's true. And then, one would hope, you'll realize what a FUCKING LOSER YOU ARE! Holy shit! Get a life, will you!

And while you're at it, stop blaming Kurt Busiek for the sorry mess your own life is.

For the record, my life is very nearly perfect except for my day job, which sucks wild goose dick at an alarming intensity and velocity. I do not necessarily blame Kurt Busiek for the fact that I am currently working a day job which sucks wild goose dick at an alarming intensity and velocity, but sure as Jehovah made great big piles of steaming smelly pigshit, the odds would be much better of me finding a job I'd like better if Mr. Busiek hadn't told a whole bunch of malicious lies about me on this h'yar Interweb thingie a few years ago. Regardless of that, outside my day job my life is a delight beyond my poor powers of description to adequately delineate, and none of that is due to Mr. Busiek, but rather derives from the presence in my life of the fabulous SuperFiancee and the wondrous SuperKids, to whom all praise must and shall be ever rendered, world without end, amen, amen.

As to how much sex I've had with actual, honest to goodness women, well, most if not all of my ex girlfriends, as well as my current lovely paramour and light of my life, have email addresses and could probably supply references, but such things are almost certainly not for the eyes and/or ears of the obviously adolescent Mr. Boy. So I will leave him to his boy-band slash fic and it to him, while noting that one day, maybe not soon, but one day, I'll get a critical comment or email from an actual, honest to goodness grown up with an IQ above 90, and then, one would hope, I will realize that somebody out there with an intelligence greater than lettuce actually has something negative to say about me, and I'll have to sit down and give that some serious thought.

Until that time, though, all I can say is (a) when a thousand different fucktarded dumbasses are sending you anonymous hate spam on the Internet, you must be doing something right and (b) until and unless SuperFiancee wises up and kicks me to the curb, I can never be anything any sane person could possibly describe accurately as a 'loser'.

That is all. If you didn't already go there (fool!) then go now to SuperFiancee's blog and leave her plenty of nice comments, because, you know, she's the class in this act. Pretty much all of it, in fact. Fortunately, she not only has enough for both of us, but for an entire Scout Jamboree, to boot.