Snypiuer

Snypiuer finds his laptop barely alive. Snypiuer pokes laptop with a stick. Snypiuer does a "Make laptop strong" dance. Snypiuer pokes laptop with another, pointy-er stick. Snypiuer yells at laptop. Snypiuer threatens laptop. Snypiuer attempts to gaslight laptop by insisting it's the laptops' fault Snypiuer is angry with it. Snypiuer apologizes, says he'll change, he'll treat the laptop better. Snypiuer pokes laptop with an even pointy-er stick. Snypiuer berates laptop. Snypiuer's niece walks in. Niece: ""What's the problem!? Snypiuer: *As he yells at laptop and viciously pokes it with his pointy laptop poker* "BAD! BAD LAPTOP!!" Niece: "Didn't you get the extended warranty?" Snypiuer: *Stops berating and poking laptop and stares at niece* "Ummm" Snypiuer checks. Snypiuer explains to laptop that if it hadn't of made Snypiuer so angry, Snypiuer wouldn't have been so harsh with it but, even though it's the laptops' fault and since Snypiuer is such a good person, it should appreciate that Snypiuer will send it in for repairs. Niece: "You're weird." *Gently pats laptop* "Good laptop, don't listen to the meany." Snypiuer will check-in when possible! No idea how long will be without laptop.

Roll for initiative?!🧙‍♂️

*Knock-Knock* You: Who's there? Death.💀 You: Ummm . . . Death?!😱 Yeah, you got 15 minutes. Sooo, tell you what; Imma go smoke some cigs, have a beer, and I'll see you in *checks his watch*, 15 . . . 'kay then *walks away*. WHAT DO YOU DO?☠️

The Banal, Everyday Doings of Some Random Dude and . . . Who's That? I'm thinking a couple of people who are constantly on the fringe of monumental happenings, yet completely oblivious to it. They're the people in historic pictures or videos that are always looking the other way or paying total, rapt attention to whatever is absolutely ordinary and trivial, rather than the vastly important and consequential - so-much-so, that they NEVER have even the slightest idea of what they missed. I can't figure out a way to flesh out a story for it, BUT if I could, I'm afraid I'd have to call it an autobiography!

O.K., I've been considering your point of view for a while and have a few questions: What if you take your time and your cereal begins to turn mushy and loses cohesion, blending with the milk? What if you add cut up fresh fruit, like strawberries, blueberries, etc. and the juice blends with the milk and the cereal absorbs some? What about cereal that changes the milks color or taste? Would any of these situations make it a soup? If yes, is it then, just a matter of how long the ingredients are combined that dictates a cereals' "soup-ness"? If it can BECOME soup, at what point does it? Does eating it quickly keep it from being a soup, while eating it slowly allows it to become one? If combining the ingredients begins the process of it becoming a soup, couldn't it then be considered a soup at that moment? If an individual CHOOSES to eat it quickly in order to stop it from becoming a soup, can that individual be considered "pro-choice" in terms of cereal being a soup or not? If an individual eats it slowly because they believe that it is soup from the moment the ingredients are combined, can that individual be considered "pro-soup"? FINALLY, and this comes down to the true heart of the matter, who is right: pro-choice or pro-soup?!

HELP!!! Just heard a question posed on a T.V. show and I can NOT stop thinking about it, here it is: Is cereal a soup?

Reach out. I'm O.K. I tell myself. Another day. In my life. I don't know if I will be able to make it. Another day. Or any more. When every day. And all before. Are the same. When despite how I try nothing changes. Time to start. Another day. That's the same. Like all before. In my life. Just hoping I will be able to make it. One more day.

I find myself roaming the city late at night lately. Wandering the backstreets, seeing what I can see. I find violence and the outcasts mainly. Along with the lost and those, society would call freaks. Late at night, in the dark the city is another world At least, that's the way it seems. Filled with loneliness, reaching for someone to hold onto. A sadness, built on broken dreams. Beneath the neon, deep within the shadows is a yearning A reflection of what was or what could be. And though it feels as if an emptiness is seeping Somehow, I still feel it calling out to me. A solemn knelling that echoes through the city. One that rumbles low and deep. A Siren call that can't be fought as it entrances. A lullaby of a different sleep. It slowly fades away as sunlight seeks to wake the city. Mornings kiss, releases the city's hold, we are free. The city grows quiet, as the dark of night begins receding. A silent hesitation before the ending of a dream.

I got this from Dan Lewis' "Now I Know" newsletter and REALLY found it informative. No need to know WHY I find it informative - by the way, it didn't work (who'd a thunk that cats would pass out when dropped from an airplane!?) In the book "Nuking the Moon and Other Intelligence Schemes and Military Plots Left on the Drawing Board" by Vince Houghton, the historian and curator of the International Spy Museum explained how cat-guided bomb would work: The bomb was based on the undisputed premises that (a) cats always land on their feet and (b) hate water. The plan was to hang a poor kitty in a harness, from the bottom of a bomb, with some kind of device that allowed said kitty's movements to guide the bomb as it fell. If you dropped it in the vicinity of a naval target (such as a German battleship), then the cat's natural instinct would be to think, "Holy hell, I'm falling into water. I hate water, so let's try to land somewhere dry. Like that German battleship over yonder." And then BOOM! Suicide kitty is a martyr to the cause.

THANKS! That is about the best complement one can get. The fact that I just threw it together in order to figure out the cadence in my head and others say they feel it pertains to them, well, just thanks. It's even more amazing to me since I, myself, don't feel it pertains to ME at all, because when it comes to MY childhood dreams, up to now I have accomplished . . . hmmm . . . well . . . . . . aww, craps.

O.K., I started to hear a cadence in my head. I was trying to figure out what the cadence was from, because it seemed so familiar. So, I put some random words to it and came up with this poem. It, kind of, makes sense. A bit jumbled and disjointed if you ask me and I, kind of, feel it's not complete but I'm just going to claim it's nuanced and evocative. And yes, that one word you think I misspelled is spelled correctly - told you . . . nuanced and evocative. Once I finished it, I stared at it for a while and suddenly it hit me, the cadence is from a song. It's not the whole song, just bits and pieces that repeat, instead of flowing in the proper order. I haven't heard it in years but must have recently heard it in the background somewhere. Once I figured it out, I started to think of different directions I could go, but decided to leave it as is because, right now, it's INSPIRED by the song. I believe a rewrite would just end up being a Weird Al-esque parody. Let me know if I've managed to write it in a way that lets you hear the cadence and figure out the song. Remember, it's just snippets that repeat and not in order. Hints: Pop; part spoken word; old but not an "Oldie" (Motown, doo-wop, etc.); singer-songwriter. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ We had dreams, when we were young. About all the things, we would have done. By now. As time passes by, dreams they die, And we find ourselves where we're at, Somehow. Childhood dreams are lost. Or simply fade away. We tell ourselves that it's o.k. They were only bits of childish games We once played. Late at night, When everything is still. An emptiness, deep inside. No matter how hard we try, We just can't feel. A lifetime spent, Seemingly lost And alone. A wasted life of wasted time Wasting every chance to find A home. We had so many dreams Once When we were young. Dreams of all the wonderous things. That By now We wish We had done.

Don't know the story, just the premise: A colony of lemmings are growing up on the mean trails while living on the wrong side of the fence. There's an old . . . rabbit? . . . maybe a mole or gopher? . . . I don't know . . . whatever, it tells stories about the times before the fence. Not sure which side is actually the "wrong" side. Is the outside free while the inside is like a prison, where there is constant fear of homeowners and pets? Or is it the other way around? Living outside is constant fear of coyotes or traffic while inside there's a garden and plenty of water? Just don't make it an Outsiders or even a Blackboard Jungle knockoff. Also, there CAN NOT be ANY character that wears a leather jacket, has sleepy eyes and is prone to brooding and angstingly (d*mn skippy I made that word up!) shouting phrases like, "You're tearing me apart!" NO REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE-ING! A nod to The Lords of Flatbush or American Graffiti would be acceptable, but just a nod.

I get a newsletter about getting published and, every now and then, leads are given, this last one has a Fellowship grant listed. Not sure if I should list the job leads, but figure the Fellowship is O.K. If anyone wants the job ones, let me know and I'll pass them on (not sure how long they'll be valid): Fellowship for the Dorothy and Lewis B. Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers - "The Cullman Center’s Selection Committee awards fifteen Fellowships a year to outstanding scholars and writers—academics, independent scholars, journalists, creative writers (novelists, playwrights, poets), translators, and visual artists." If that describes you and you'd like $85,000 and full access to this New York Library's resources, submit your application here before September 27th at 5pm ET.

Snypiuers' Niece: Hi. As you know, my dearly beloved uncle made an unwise decision to eat a filet-o-fish sandwich that had been sitting on the table for 6 and a half hours, what you haven't been informed of is, the very next day, he made the equally unwise decision to eat a dozen shrimp left on the table for an unknown length of time but, to be honest, they were room temperature at best. Due to his ill-advised culinary decisions, there was a brief, but violent reaction. So, it is with a sad and heavy heart that I regret to announce that my beloved uncle Snypiuer has . . . Snypiuer: Hey, what'chya doing? Niece: Go away. Snypiuer: That a GoFundMe? What'chya making a GoFundMe for? Niece: Go. A. Way. Snypiuer: Let me see! *reads* HEY! What do you mean "unwise" and "ill-advised"!? YOU gave me them! And I feel great, I got the digestive tract of a vulture! Wait . . . is this a GoFundMe for my FUNERAL cost!? Are you trying to scam people by claiming I'm dead!? Niece: ARGHHH! You ruin EVERYTHING! *stomps away* Snypiuer: You can't kill me! Not the Kid! I AM IRONMAN BABY! Niece: *in another room* Mom! Take me to go find another fish sandwich! Snypiuer: You come for the King, you better . . . wait . . . what do you mean "find"? *follows niece* WHAT DO YOU MEAN "FIND"!?

O.K., one of my favorite books is Villains by Necessity written by Eve Forward (READ THIS BOOK - you can get a paperback online for, about, $40 or so, free if you have kindle - I think), or you can go here: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/71705/villains-by-necessity-redux which is her Royal Road site and she's rewriting it (slowly) and you can get a small taste of it. ANYWAYS . . . What would YOU do if you were one of the last evil beings in a realm where Good has won and sealed off the source of all evil - no more Evil gods, demons or corruption. Nothing but GOOD. All "bad" people have been given amnesty if they change their ways, "monsters" and evil creatures have all been hunted down and all "evil" kingdoms overthrown. Then there's you. Are you an Evil god or demon that hasn't been found yet? An assassin? Thief? Monster? Or just like kicking puppies? What is YOUR story in this situation?