Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Death From Above

We're thisclose to trotting out Dr. Monponsett, but the doctors thought that it might be better for everyone if we put her into a medically-induced coma until the Sox finish their series in the Bronx. Seeing as how Johnny Demon did us in last night, I have to score one for the doctors

It's been a fun summer. The Monponsetts pay very, very well.... especially seeing that all I do is cook for the family and walk the border collie. I spent, by my own conservative estimate, 420 hours sunbathing this summer.

I feel for the Colonel, who was most likely counting on spending the summer with his wife- but, as they say.... sometimes people's heads explode, and you just sort of have to adapt.

 Seeing as the Colonel's well-being sort of falls into my realm of responsibilty as the babysitter, I decided to take him to the air show at Otis this weekend. The Colonel is a military man, and I figured that this would be right up his alley.

I love air shows.... Your Tax Dollars At Work. Living near the air force base, I get to see lots of planes/copters/jets/etc flying over the Compound. Generally though, they're mostly doing the straight mission- while I'm sure that pilots occassionally do Top Gun-worthy buzzing of the tower shenanigans, I've never seen them goofing around any closer to the base than Duxbury Beach. They'd fly really low, waving out the door they usually shoot from... and, if they looked good from a distance, my friends and I would show a little leg/chest/smiling.

Hey... freedom isn't free, they're defending us, and they deserve to see a bit of teenage thigh now and then. We all have to do our part, and my babysitting money is untouched-by-the-IRS cash. I honor our troops.

Depending on how you like to view air shows, it's a good/bad idea to attend one with a military man. The Colonel knew all about every plane that showed up. "They use those to attack tanks" or "Those are interceptors" was pretty much all I heard on that sweltering day.

I  just like the power, and could care less about the job the planes perform. I get a real rush out of watching some man-made falcon come screaming down out of the skies, with that ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sound they make scaring all the children for 5 miles in any direction.

Gabrielle and Melissa were alternately terrified and excited as the show went on. Melissa is just young enough that she thinks planes are a sort of bird, and she tended to cower behind the Colonel or I whenever one got too close.... "too close" meaning "she could hear them." While she's just a kid, this is probably the proper reaction to a fighter-bomber.

Gabby was more philosophical about the planes. "What do they do?" This is tough to explain to a child, as "They kill whoever disagrees with our foreign policy" is a tough answer to drop on a kindergartner. "Those make sure that the soldiers on the ground are protected" was the best answer I saw the Colonel give. This beat my answers, which- depending on how much wine I'd consumed- went from "They've come to get pic-a-nic baskets" or "You know when we go to the gas station....?"

I was a little disappointed that the air show didn't feature any actual bombing. I'd love to see them Billy Mitchell an old battleship out in Buzzards Bay, and I have enough Showman in me to know that this would be a kick-ass finale. I suppose that would get messy in a couple of years, but still...

I tried to get pictures, but they all sucked pretty badly. You could see a black mass against the sky, and zooming in only made it UFO blurry. I also tend to blog when the Colonel is at work (or when Senator Kennedy isn't over hogging the computer), so I had no means of identifying the individual jets.

I think you'll all be OK... as long as we cover some sports before the kids want their lunch.

The Red Sox, as we mentioned, are in the Bronx for a three game series with the Yankers. We're all in full Jihad mode here at the Compound, and we're giving NY tourists the requisite Wrong directions again. "Right over that bridge, up Rte. 3, take the Hanover Mall exit." Yup, it's wrong. Nope, I don't care.

I went to NYC with the Monponsetts once, and spent most of my free time walking around the town. I was treated quite rudely, from when I took too long crossing a street to where I stopped a stranger on 42d St. to ask where the museum was... and he sent me to a peep show called "The Cook, The Thief, The Lover, And The Big Black Ex-Marine Who Ended Up Banging All Of Them." I missed it when I watched this year's Tony Awards, but maybe the judges were put off by the lengthy title.

Regardless... I view America's leading city as sort of a big sewer, and I wish nothing but misery on those who wear their colors. Eff them... this is no time for innocence, and the good die young and hard here in the Olde Towne.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Boom Chowderhead

Elle here, holding down the fort in advance of Monponsett's return.

There isn't a set recovery time when someone's head suddenly swells up because of yet another Red Sox collapse. Shucks, I guess the collapse isn't even complete yet, seeing as we still lead the AL East.

Yet... like some people who can tell when rain is coming by the pain in their bad knee... there may be those among us who can pretty much see the Yanks overtaking us in mid September, when the summer heat has gone and there can be no mistaking the onset of the Dying Season. When that happens, it's only natural that the head would swell up to watermelon-size.

At least that's what the doctors told me. They don't have/need a name for it. They even seemed reluctant to talk about it, for reasons beyond the fact that my basic raison d'etre in the Monponsett family is to walk the dog and to cook the family's meals.... which isn't as easy as it sounds, seeing as the Colonel (I don't know his actual name) is perfectly capable of polishing off an entire spiral ham or a dozen ducks eggs in a sitting. I spend a lot of time going to and from the local farmer's market, and the people there are quite used to my comings and goings.

But back to the swollen head stuff. I had a sense that the doctors knew more then they were letting on. Maybe heads are blowing up all over New England. The police write it off as murders or suicides. The local news ignores it... maybe at gunpoint. You only hear hushed whispers on the street.

How deep does the conspiracy run? Perhaps only a dogsitter has the time to tie together all the loose ends... or should I say loose shards of brain matter?

A recent scientific report (3 people surveyed) showed that 100% of all Americans put no faith at all in the findings of the Warren Commission. I mean... some whacko is able to squeeze off two perfect shots into the head of a moving target? A heavily guarded US President gunned down in the street like a mad dog? Factor in the CIA and the Mafia and the Cubans... there's just too much smoke for there to be no fire.Something happened... and it most likely is nothing at all like whatever Mr. Warren and his gang of stooges say.

Picture this.... The crazed lunatic misses JFK and hits the Texas guy. The CIA or the Mafia manage to put a bullet right into JFK's neck... and, as he begins to die of that wound, JFK- a Boston kid, remember- realizes that he won't live to see the Sox win it all. His head then explodes from the sheer horror.

I have another theory regarding Tecumseh, but I'll hold off on that one until I cook and blog for a Shawnee family. Back to the chowderhead.

Granted... a person being able to inflict enough psychic force upon themselves to cause their own head to explode is pretty hard to swallow.... but so is that Magic Bullet theory, and mine has baseball in it. Given the acceptance of Exploding Red Sox Fan Head Theory, I pretty much got this entry done AND solved the Crime of the (last) Century. Not bad for a high school girl, no?

I ran this theory by Senator Kennedy when he was by last week (he stops in now and then to use the computer), and he admitted- off the record, of course- that my theory was no less sound than the Warren stuff.

As for Dr. Monponsett.... she's back home, her head is normal sized, and we're planning her return to coincide with the start of the NFL season. We're gonna try to avoid baseball.