Father's Day Kvetch!
Father's Day! And your humble Dragonmaster ---- formerly Padraig of Abbeyleix, son of Saemus the Strong ---- hath much to kvetch about, and doubtless there's a whole lotta stuff being tossed at my Wizardly person. Like most of you, I, too, am saddened by the loss of Tim Russert; no doubt today's Meet the Press will spend the full hour and beyond telling his epic saga. But the coming week is also a week of unanswered questions. Friday, of course, Master Pitka reveals unto the world the tale of his first big adventure in America --- OK, make that Canada, because, after all, Pitka is called upon to rescue the Toronto Maple Leafs from the 40-year-old Bullard Family Curse so that the franchise can bring home the Stanley Cup.
And to do that, Pitka must restore the marital nirvana of Leafs superstar Darren Roanoke and his estranged wife, who's now sleeping with L.A. Kings star (and Roanoke's eternal rival) Jacques Grande! [Boo, hiss!] But through it all, the wise Guru Pitka persists in his neverending quest for Peace, Enlightenment and National Television Coverage. (Of course, your Dragonmaster is all for the peace and enlightenment things as well; however, in my case, I'm still trying to get my Wizardly butt on ye byg scraen! For those of you who logged on late, the project is called Blackwolf the Dragonmaster's First Movie.)
There is more that I must kvetch about upon this Father's Day. Tonight happens to be --- or should I say, is alleged to be --- Broadway's biggest night: the 62nd Annual Tony Awards, hosted by Whoopi Goldberg. I say alleged because, as some of you may or may not know, Leslie Moonves over at CBS has laid down the law: fed up by the Tonys' ultra-low ratings, he last year warned the Tonys' higher-ups: make next year's show something worth talking about --- or you're fired! Alas, I sense that the latter will be the more likely possibility by this time upon the morrow. Then, there's this coming Saturday. While the rest of the City is busy making music, Debbie D, the Brown-hair'd Mermaid hath need of mine services again at this year's Mermaid Parade; but, with beloved Dick Zigun under investigation, I cannot help but wonder if this year's will indeed be the last. Having resigned from the City-sponsored committee that sought to revitalize Coney Island into a 21st-Century version of its early 1900 phase, and not seeing eye-to-eye with it, Zigun has, in what I can only describe as a fit of pique, chosen Reverend Billy, founder of the Church of Stop Shopping, as this year's King Neptune. Clearly there will be tons of shameless plugola for that documentary that tells his story, What Would Jesus Buy? Whilst I hope to stay out of the whole sorry business, and keep Debbie D out of it as well, there will undoubtedly be all these rantings about how I'm somehow involved in all this too. To such believers, I simply say: Shut up. It's bad enough I'm losing sleep over my personal adventures, to say nothing of those of my Mortal-born alter ego Master Richard, then you dum-dums would get me involved in all this? Enough nonsense! say I! Where in Merlin's name is ol' Poopstar (alias Triumph the Insult Comic Dog) when you need him?
Oh yeah, that's right --- Smigel's still on the Zohan thing. Ah, me. I guess I'll just hafta grumble for the balance of the week. Aargh!
Master Blackwolf
And to do that, Pitka must restore the marital nirvana of Leafs superstar Darren Roanoke and his estranged wife, who's now sleeping with L.A. Kings star (and Roanoke's eternal rival) Jacques Grande! [Boo, hiss!] But through it all, the wise Guru Pitka persists in his neverending quest for Peace, Enlightenment and National Television Coverage. (Of course, your Dragonmaster is all for the peace and enlightenment things as well; however, in my case, I'm still trying to get my Wizardly butt on ye byg scraen! For those of you who logged on late, the project is called Blackwolf the Dragonmaster's First Movie.)
There is more that I must kvetch about upon this Father's Day. Tonight happens to be --- or should I say, is alleged to be --- Broadway's biggest night: the 62nd Annual Tony Awards, hosted by Whoopi Goldberg. I say alleged because, as some of you may or may not know, Leslie Moonves over at CBS has laid down the law: fed up by the Tonys' ultra-low ratings, he last year warned the Tonys' higher-ups: make next year's show something worth talking about --- or you're fired! Alas, I sense that the latter will be the more likely possibility by this time upon the morrow. Then, there's this coming Saturday. While the rest of the City is busy making music, Debbie D, the Brown-hair'd Mermaid hath need of mine services again at this year's Mermaid Parade; but, with beloved Dick Zigun under investigation, I cannot help but wonder if this year's will indeed be the last. Having resigned from the City-sponsored committee that sought to revitalize Coney Island into a 21st-Century version of its early 1900 phase, and not seeing eye-to-eye with it, Zigun has, in what I can only describe as a fit of pique, chosen Reverend Billy, founder of the Church of Stop Shopping, as this year's King Neptune. Clearly there will be tons of shameless plugola for that documentary that tells his story, What Would Jesus Buy? Whilst I hope to stay out of the whole sorry business, and keep Debbie D out of it as well, there will undoubtedly be all these rantings about how I'm somehow involved in all this too. To such believers, I simply say: Shut up. It's bad enough I'm losing sleep over my personal adventures, to say nothing of those of my Mortal-born alter ego Master Richard, then you dum-dums would get me involved in all this? Enough nonsense! say I! Where in Merlin's name is ol' Poopstar (alias Triumph the Insult Comic Dog) when you need him?
Oh yeah, that's right --- Smigel's still on the Zohan thing. Ah, me. I guess I'll just hafta grumble for the balance of the week. Aargh!
Master Blackwolf
posted by Master Blackwolf | 6:09 AM
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