The Ominous Comma

In order to wow and woo Camille, the Comma Momma of Exceeding Hotness and generally impress her with my husbandly might and in so doing justify my “vacation” of domestic labor to my near-forsaken readers, I have decanted the essence of my manly maintenance tasks into a Digglet, a poetic formation much like sonnet, but without the tedious constraints of rhyme, meter, and narrative coherence.

For the romantically impaired who might otherwise miss this glorious contribution to literature entirely, this is it directly below:

Eighteen: The Number of My Love As Divided by the Mean Average Quantity of our Dependents Who Themselves Are Often Less Than Friendly.

Shall I compare thee to a Memphis day? Thou art less humid and lacking in highway incompetence.

Among the buzzing bugs of May, thy bidding I dost do with not any complaint thou couldest have heard inside the house.

Lend now thine compassionate eye to love’s recent labor of goodly effort and much dedication:

Still Warm From Much Sweat and Manliness

Ask Not For Whom the Bell Trolls in the Night, Lest You Be Subpoenaed For That Knowledge.

(Nice Paintjob, though)

Still Fathoming My Feverish Imaginations For A Way To Cut A Piece To Fit This Gap Without Losing Any Of The Fingers Of Which I Have Become So Accustomed.

And think not of love’s less recent labors lest thou loseth the entire mood I have striven to engender in thy heart-like place:

Forsooth, though they be never cute again as back in yonder day, before many seasons they too shall know the cry of the midnight diaper and the vomitation of ceaseless dairy consistency.

——

How many other denizens of humor-blogs.com are celebrating poetry month?

Alltop.com?

Didn’t think so. Feel free to subscribe to the smug literary superiority of the Ominous Comma.

In this video your Author, in the sort of earth-splattering expose that has made him a legend in the musical science-fiction community, reveals the hidden connection between classic Star Trek and modern music, particularity the efforts of the critically acclaimed Death Cab For Cutie.
Captain Kirk And Ben Gibbard from Brent Diggs on Vimeo.

Hear it for yourself below.

But you might want to have your phasers set for stun just in case.

——
Hypnotically luring hordes of readers to endorse me at humor-blogs.com.

alltop.com

I would like to take this opportunity to welcome myself back to my own blog after my cruel and all too usual sentence of domestic servitude.

Having paid several installments upon my debt to society*, Camille the Hot Comma Momma has seen fit to parole me, not so much out of any sense of clemency I suspect, but rather to meet with certain humor-thirsty Comma-addicts, address their needs, and with any luck inspire them to recovery, wholeness, and life outside our front yard.

Let me make good use of this temporary freedom by thanking my guest bloggers for the tenderness and concern they showed in infiltrating my house, launching a hostile takeover of my site, and generally making themselves at home in the unguarded heart of my Ominous empire right when I needed them the most.

I would also like to causally mention to the authorities that these same characters can be found:

here

here

and here.

However in spite of the indignities I suffered at the hands of these site-encroaching blog-squatters,** they did provide one invaluable service.

No matter what other unspeakable humor-siphoning rites they performed while in control of the Comma, they must have included an exorcism somewhere on the schedule because my own personal slice of perdition, Doctor Harold Toboggans is nowhere to be found.

For that, my dear mutineers, you have my eternal gratitude.

I’ll be sure to visit you in prison.

—–

*The International Society of Attractive and Hardworking Persons Married to Your Author. Membership: 1.

**Although you may not technically consider this surprise occupation of my blog squatting, that would only be because you didn’t see what they left behind in the master bathroom.

—–

Do you remember the days of single digit ranking on humor-blogs.com?

I do, and with a simple click here they can be ours again.

Heady days are also available at alltop.com

It took me two months to figure out Brent’s password, but I finally did.

Sure I could have hired some nerdy brainiac for like 50 bucks … but the satisfaction of having done it personally just tickles me pink.

Plus I didn’t have 50 bucks.

So I started with “1, 2, 3 … ” and so forth.

His password, fortunately, can only be 9 digits long; I only had to go to 999,999,999 before I figured out that the jerk must have letters in it too.

Oh, very clever Brent.

Very clever.

So I began again. “1A, 2A, 3A … ” and so forth.

Three weeks in, I no longer slept or ate.

-And I lost count at 87A4B669.

“Brent!” I sobbed into the air. “Truly you are a worthy adversary,” I cried.

“What if his password is case-sensitive?” asked LadyTerri.

I don’t remember much after that. But somebody had apparently thrown the Christmas tree through the living room window. I had been trying to get around to taking it down for some time already, and while this was an appreciably and straightforward solution to the issue, it would have been better to open the window first.

With the cold February winds blowing through the living room, it was clear that my plans to infiltrate Brent’s Platform of Evil would have to temporarily be postponed: by sheer bad luck, The Ominous Comma would continue to survive on borrowed time.

At this point I was also forced to conclude that going through the 51,999,999,896,000,000,052 possible permutations of his password wasn’t going to be a very practical solution.

Plus people might think I was obsessing.

I decided to sneak into his house instead.

Brent going to Texas for a wedding turned out to be just the break I needed to crack this case; with him safely out of the country, I could do a little unobserved personal reconnaissance. My three private investigators got his address within hours, and it turned out to be only about an 11 hour drive.

I put the long journey to good use by playing Tinsel of Doom backwards and at varying speeds, searching for secret messages. I found numerous. For instance, during the song Danger Couch is Coming to Town you can distinctly hear the following:

“And then I will kill LOBO, and
dancing upon the charred and blackened
remains of his clearly superior blog,
I shall build an empire that dominates the Blogosphere!”, -You have to add all the nouns and verbs to tie it together. But once you do that, the sinister message is clear as a bell., I’ll have to minimize my commentary on his startlingly tasteful decorative skill; while lacking the acid-spitting robot watchdogs I was expecting, his house is pretty cool as far as evil geniuses go.But I was on a mission to find Brent’s password, and that seemed nowhere to be found.I needed to think like Brent.

So I put on Brent’s evil pajamas, and padded down to his evil refrigerator and got one of his evil beers. And then I sat in his evil living room eating his evil popcorn and watching his evil DVD No Country for Old Men. That movie was awesome. But what was up with that ending? Did all the writers suddenly get tired and just say “Ah, whatever“?

Cursory searches provided little information, save for some rather incriminating evidence here and there.

I didn’t strike gold until I went into Brent’s den. The evil in that room was nothing short of palpable, and his new computer hummed and throbbed with electronic malevolence.

So this is where it all happens, I thought to myself. My God.

Fearfully, I pressed the ‘On’ button, and the booting cycle began. And after a few moments, a deeply synthesized voice greeted me.

“Good evening Brent,” it said. “What despicable evil shall we inflict on LOBO today?”

Terrified, I clutched my mouth to hold back a scream. I became dizzy and grasped desperately at the edge of his desk for balance, accidentally tearing a Post-It note by his mousepad loose.

I staggered backward in into the hallway in barely-muted horror.

Only then did I dare read the Post-It.

It said:

Reeling in the mixed emotions of victory and fright, I felt myself overwhelmed by the urge to vomit. Quickly finding a nearby bathroom I flicked on the evil light, lifted the evil toilet lid, and roared Technicolor chunks of popcorn, beer and bile for what seemed like an eternity.

Shakily, I went to wash my sweating face in an effort to regain composure.

It was then I noticed a small brown furry object on the counter.

At first I thought it was a caterpillar.

As the slow realization of what this strange object really was sunk in, the hair on the back of my neck began to rise.

It was Doctor Toboggan’s mustache.

Overwhelmed with panic, I shrieked and fled the house.

Unfortunately, we may never know what Brent has done with the rest of poor Doctor Toboggans.

… But would we really want to?

——–

With Brent on his evil way home, Lobo can be found bravely basking behind the beatific bulwarks of Predator Press.

Insert gratuitous mention of humor-blogs.com and Alltop.com here.

And now, a word from our author:

Off To The Wedding from Brent Diggs on Vimeo.

Of course you would have to know Beth to understand why we would ever brave the terrors of Texas for her wedding. I can’t really help you with that, but here is an uncompromisingly accurate biography of the bride freshly clipped from the DangerCouch MySpace Propaganda Center.

Reader Profile: BethieRose

Today Danger Fans, we are going to pay tribute to one of the greatest readers ever to stalk a VideoComedyMusicEntity like Danger Couch. We are, of course, referring to none other than BethieRose .

Born to a family of itinerate circus performers, Bethie was raised on a tiny atoll in the Pacific Ocean, on an islet so small that upon high tide, all inhabitant had to stand to their feet in order to keep their heads above the surf.

Oblivious to the hardship of her life, Bethie had a happy, yet wet, childhood, filled with the excitement and adventure known only to children at the farthest reaches of civilization. Her daily routine included shark fishing, primitive agriculture, and trapeze practice with her family.

No one knows how long this blissful existence could have continued if fate had not intervened, but it did. One day a tragic jello explosion rocked the tiny atoll, leaving Bethie as the only survivor. Swearing vengeance upon all gelatin manufacturers, she set out on a quest the would shape the course of destiny.

She traveled around the world, studying every form of warfare available. From arm-wrestling to economics, and from Tai-chi to ping-pong, she mastered them all, studying night and day, fueled by her hunger for revenge.

However, much to her disappointment, she never found any gelatin manufactures. In a shocking development, she discovered instead that no new gelatin had been produced since 1956. Her inquiries revealed that jello and other brands had been for years, freeze-drying and repackaging the tons of uneaten jello found in school and hospital cafeteria around the world, and profiting handsomely from the recycled rubbery rubbish.

Having lived for vengeance for so long, she was lost without the possibility of retribution. Aimlessly, she drifted around the United States, taking odd jobs. In Tempe she worked as a construction foremen, in Wichita as an oral surgeon, finally she ended up in Atlantic City working as a mob enforcer.

She flourished in her new position, and as “Bethie Sweet Cheeks,” she was soon sending shutters of terror into even the most hardened criminals.

Then one day fate again intervened to change her life forever. Sitting a local emergency room with a vicious paper cut, Bethie heard a sound not usually associated with traumatic injury: she heard laughter. Slowly she hobbled over to a giggling group of doctors and nurses huddled around a computer. There her eyes first beheld the grandeur and spectacle that is Danger Couch.

Instantly, a change came over her as the fires of rage that had fueled her careers up to that point spontaneous extinguished, and a delicate flower of joy grew from the smoldering ashes. (actually, it wasn’t so delicate, it was more of a dominant, heat resistant flower that sucked the heat from the last coals of her anger.)

She left the ER a changed woman, dedicated to making the world a safer place.

Today, she works at the pentagon as a executive assistant, were she enjoys telling the generals where to go. She also does her part to spread the peace engendering comfort of Danger Couch among the military leader of the free world.

A difficult and thankless task to be sure, but Bethie is most definitely the woman for the job.

Happy Friday again.

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