s n a p p e r h e a d

Server Query: Whole Internet Responsible Entity

My Dearest Squire,

First-of-all, I’d like to apologize for my informality; I realize many people prefer the acronym—but I feel real funny (the ate-the-whole-bag kind, not the Tosh-point-oh kind) when I write SQWIRE. And I don't care what those fanatical fundamentalists say, I know you’d never expect us to only refer to you formally, using Server Query: Whole Internet Responsible Entity all spelled out and linked. Am I right?

I'm writing because I wanted to express my appreciation and especially to tell you how thankful I am for your continued presence in my life and for all the things you’ve made possible since I began worshiping at your alter about a dozen years ago.

Thank you the mostest for introducing me to my girlfriend. We have been together now for seven years. It never would have been possible without your match.

I also want to mention my thanks for your most recent assistance in locating festivus presents. I could never have accomplished it all without your bay, stock, and zon, as well as all the other places I‘ve located using your goog.

And thanks for the myriad amount of other assistance you consistently provide me and my loved ones, Squire. From my move two years ago—89.254.159.# to 37.803.624.#—to my daily in-and-arounds, everything is always better with your craig, quest, and dango. And now, with your FiOS, I enjoy your blessings at the absolute fastest fiber-optic-speeds currently available.

My highest gratitude goes out to you. I owe you for my blog and my renderings, my communications and my favorite porn, as well as so many other little things, which I am extremely thankful to you for, Squire.

Because you were never born—but, instead, came into existence over a period of years—I realize you don't have a birthday I can celebrate. Do you? I also know supreme entities of your magnitude don't possess the low-level of consciousness required to read and reply to this letter. None the less, this letter is sent to you with all my respect and love.

Your ever-faithful acolyte,

Veach Glines

Every generation laughs at the old fashions, but follows religiously the new. — Henry David Thoreau

Jet-Smooth Luxury

In the mid-90's I bought a baby-blue, "stock," 32-year-old Chevrolet Biscayne and drove it for six years/26,000 miles. It looked almost new when I bought it. It drove like it was almost new, and it cost me what I would have paid for it—new—in 1964. The only down-side to owning it was when parking it, getting into it, or stopping at intersections with the windows rolled down...strangers were compelled to talk to me about it. The invisible societal barrier that I'd grown accustomed to—the one which facilitates a quick trip to the grocery store without being constantly accosted by questions and conversation—had been removed by the car.

I received many compliments: "Hey great car. They sure don't make em that way any more." and, "Wow! Classic Detroit Steel, amazing!" Some criticisms: "I can't believe you are driving this on the roads!" and, "You don't actually take it out on the highway do you?" As well as the occasional derision: "You're a fool. I can't believe you're using that irreplaceable antique as your primary mode of transportation!"

Compliments made me feel uncomfortable because I didn't design it, build it, or paint it...so thank you felt all wrong...I'd normally reply with some form of: Well, I really like driving it.

I would usually field criticism with humor: It prefers roads over ditches, or something like, The highways and speed limits are the same as they were in '64, when this baby was born.

And, I'd normally meet derision with facts: I paid three grand for it. What did you pay for yours?...So if I promise not to tell you how to use your expensive chunk of steel and rubber, will you promise not to tell me how to use my cheap one?

One time, this last one backfired. Some guy replied with a smarmy, "Eighteen hundred, what of it?" and the phrase left my mouth containing the words cheap piece of shit, which sounds so much more derogatory than expensive chunk of metal and rubber that I had to quickly get in my irreplaceable antique and jet it down the highway.

The greater part of what my neighbors call good I believe in my soul to be bad, and if I repent of anything, it is very likely to be my good behavior. What demon possessed me that I behaved so well? — Henry David Thoreau (from Walden)

The Decade's Best Fantasy Films

My favorite fantasy films of the 2000's span the sub-genres of superhero, fairy-tale, sword and sorcery, as well as contemporary and low-fantasy (set in the real world). Only in the fantasy category could I allow the ten-best to encompass eighteen films.

The greatest compliment that was ever paid me was when one asked me what I thought, and attended to my answer. — Henry David Thoreau

The Decades Best Animated Films
The Decades Best Horror Films
The Decades Best Comedy Films
The Decades Best SF Films

My Very-Own Favoriten

The thumbnails below link to my favorite posts from last year (which include my art, non-fiction, a comic strip, and creative non-fiction). My favorite month of quotes were December's Cartoon Characters. None of my fiction made this list, I (maybe always) feel they need more polish.

This year will hopefully be as good—or better—than last, for you, me, and everyone we know.