Important Things

So, yes, it’s Christmas this week.

Like in two days.

Maybe it was nine. I really can’t recall. (Don’t laugh. When you get my age, this sort of thing starts to happen. That’s what I’ve been told, though. How age affects the mind is still a mystery. But it does.)

Now, here’s the thing:

I’ve decided to announce a few things of importance.

First off, the Patriots won the AFC East. Again.

Steelers deflate balls, too.

Second, it’s the season of the Krampus.

This excites me lots and lots.

They say the best way to get the Krampus to pay a visit is to insult his brother, Santa Claus.

This doesn’t work.

I’ve tried.

Thirdly, and lastly…

…well, I did have something, but I forget what it was.

I’m old, remember.

Oh I remember!

Merry Christmas, everyone! Make sure to eat a few cookies for me.

Each.

The professor Fights

“Look here,” I said, and I must admit my frustration was growing lots and lots, “I’d like to rent this book.”

“Can’t,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because this particular book only has the buy option.”

This professor was standing in a bookstore on a college campus. Let me tell you now–like right now–college books are very expensive. And renting college books is expensive.

Just a little less expensive.

So, I tried from a different angle.

“Check this out, the sudden,” I said, “this book is called ‘The Life, Death & In-Between Space of Dr. Lewis Dayton Clark.'”

“So?” And she pursed her purple lips together (I don’t think they were natural, mind) and put her hands on her hips.

“So,” I concluded, “it follows that no one wants to buy a book about the in-between space of Dr. Lewis Dayton Clark. Therefore, it must be available only to rent.”

There were a few chaps that started to laugh behind me.

The girl pointed a finger in my direction. “You have an attitude. I’m getting the manager.”

And she flounced off.

I left, of course. With the book.

But I ran into the manager and the girl outside.

The manager chap, I must say, was a bit puffy and fat. He was eating something. Must’ve been interrupted. He was cranky, too. Red cheeks, see.

“YOU!” he bellowed. “You’re not allowed to rent that book!”

And he tried to snatch it from my hands.

But this professor being quicker than a snake swimming around in an ice pond, snatched it away before he could gain possession of it.

Check it out! Snake on an ice pond. See, kids, I DO NOT make this stuff up.

“Look here,” I said, “look here right now, you puffy, ignorant Yucketh!”

That took him–and her–aback.

“I happen to be a professor. The professor. I told my students they could rent this book. And you…YOU! You dare?! I shall turn you both in to the Union at once.”

So, that’s when everything went downhill.

They didn’t exactly buy my story and I didn’t exactly buy the book.

#Won/Lost

Introducing my new spirit animal!

Chatroom, Elbows & a Red Footed Booby

So, here’s the thing that just bounced to mind, the sudden, like an olive bouncing from a salad to the floor.

(No one likes olives, aways, see.)

TPL has a chatroom.

An official chatroom! This makes me feel sorta proud, not sure why.

Now, the sad thing is this: TPL has had a chatroom for some time. But I’d forgotten about it. We really must schedule a chat sometime. The difficulty is, see, scheduling a chat that everyone can get in. What with time zone differences and all.

It’s so vexing. Help! I’ve got no idea how to run a chatroom.

In other news, the professor nearly broke his arm.

I probably told you this.

I’m making it sound way more exciting than it really is.

Elbow’s are so weak.

Also in the professorish news:

If I was a bird…this would be me, yo:

Red Footed Booby

Tiger vs Tiger Salamander

So, I’ve got a very pressing question, the sudden.

Would you rather be a tiger…

…or a tiger slamander…

An odd question, I’m sure you’ll agree.

Let me start at the beginning, tho.

See, the professor was in a Discovery Store in a mall. Well, sorta like a nature store.

I walked in ’cause there were these things about:

This professor was only looking for a minute before a young man came up. He had bushy eyebrows, lots of hair, and thick glasses.

“Hey,” he said.

He also worked there; I could tell by his shirt, see.

“Many hey’s in return,” I answered. Didn’t want to be bothered, really.

“Can I ask you a question? Good. Would you rather be a tiger or a tiger salamander?”

Now, this was a thing. Not too hard of a decision either. See, tigers are definitely more vicious than tiger salamanders–that’s what I was thinking, at least.

“You know,” I said, “I’d rather be a tiger. A black one, tho.”

And that’s when the fellow got really excited.

“That’s what you say now!” he said, gesticulating wildly about. “But what if I told you tiger salamanders can transmit Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis which is the cause of the disease Chytridiomycosis, which is a danger to most frog species.”

“You just blew my mind.”

“Which means,” he continued undaunted, “tiger salamanders can be the greatest weapon ever, if you’re fighting a population of frogs.”

“I see, but–“

“Which means, even though on the surface a tiger seems way more powerful than a tiger salamander, tigers are not as effective against a population of frogs as a tiger salamander would be.”

“Wow, what a thing–“

“See? Size isn’t everything. Sometimes slimy wins out.”

He laughed at his own joke there.

“But,” I countered, “let’s suppose, just for kicks, giggles, and whatnot, that a particular tiger–a real beast of a fellow–hated frogs to no end. In fact, he made it his sole ambition in life to go around and squish them up. What then? Maybe just as effective as the tiger salamander?” 

The fellow was shaking his head. “Not at all. Chytridiomycosis can spread to way more frogs! Way more than the tiger could ever crush.”

There was silence for a time.

Finally, he said:

“And that is why I’d rather be a tiger salamander than a tiger. Did I change your mind on it, too? Would you rather be a tiger salamander, too?”

I looked him straight in the eye, and said:

“No, I think not. I’d rather be a tiger still. And the first thing I’d do as a tiger is find you (as a tiger salamander) and squish you right and proper.”

I left.

What Should The Professor Do?

So, the professor has been under attack recently.

And I’m running.

Usually I fight.

But I decided to run, just because.

Of course, I shouldn’t run.

There’s something cool about this.

I should fight.

There is a groin shot here.

So, anyways, you see, this is what’s been happening.

People are trying to play matchmaker with the professor, and it’s quite a vexing thing.

See, this is my philosophy on the matter: They see a perfectly dastardly professor who is heartless, filthy, and mean, and they want to change that. So, they try to get him matched up with a girl.

But this won’t work, see. You can’t change the fact that I’m heartless.

Still, it’s like being under attack.

This is what a matchmaker looks like. Goodness.

So, the professor must either hide or go to war.

What should I do?

I think I’ll get violent and throw a revolution.

Would you like to join?

Yo.