Today is the day when my mother was supposed to get killed. Someone who was unhappy with the means by which she discharged her judicial duties (allegedly) made a threat on her life. Fortunately, this individual (allegedly) was considerate enough to specify the exact date on which the deadly deed would be discharged, so I was able to give her her birthday presents early. She remained pretty unflapped in the face of this threat to her continued existence. She was a little surprised when I suggested that she actually take measures to protect herself, like borrowing something semiautomatic to supplement the pistol she customarily packs under that black robe. Yes, she's heavily armed, and also knows three different varieties of martial arts. I once saw her disembowel a rabid dog that threatened my sister using only the edge of a dime. I would like anyone else out there contemplating threatening her to know that she's really, really, dangerous.
In the afternoon, I called and left a message on her voice mail instructing her that, if she's alive, I would like her to let me know. She was supposed to get killed about a half-hour before I called. The clerk who answered the phone did not seem unusually anxious, suggesting that nothing fatal had happened thus far in the day. Several hours after I called to inquire about her living status, my mother finally called back. By then, my air of detached amusement about the whole situation was fraying ever so slightly.
In other news, my friend Doug just sent me a lovely package containing a CD in which he burned about a gazillion mp3 files. In addition to a gapingly large assortment of tunes, there's a hilarious outtake track in which Casey Kasem has a fit because he has to read a sad "Long Distance Dedication" about a dead dog right after an fast tune. I have no idea why it's funny to hear a popular public maudlintertainer indulge in the same kind of foul-mouthed rant that we lesser mortals spout off from time to time. This is probably a tape that's been kicking around since Casey was more than just a caricature of himself, but it's been given new life by the immense reach of the Net.
Doug also sent me his old webcam, a once-enchanting toy of which he's now grown weary. I guess even the naughtiness of one's fellow cyberians flashing their naked stuff to strangers on NetMeeting grows tiresome after a while. Once, a couple "called" Doug on NetMeeting and basically made out on camera, while he sat there, stunned at this obscene twist of fortune. He logged off before the juices really got flowing. Sadly, I would not have had the sense of embarrassed moral decency to avert my eyes as he did, which is probably why he figures I'll get a bigger kick out of the device.
While I easily have enough work to occupy several young men of my size and cranial capacity, I spent a little time late last night setting up the camera. For educational purposes, I set up a mock "sincam" to see what kind of tool I was dealing with. An idea came to me as I was fooling around with the cheesy eyeball-styled apparatus: a twist on the ubiquitous "live" webcams that might provide a little cynical ballast in the proliferating market of home sex-site businesses. It will take me several days to acquire the necessary accoutrements, but I soon hope to be broadcasting my own low-quality sexual content to the stunned and aroused citizens of the world. I'll post a notice when the first show is set to begin.
It seems wrong to discuss my mother and my new sincam in the same tale, but these modern times make for strange bedfellows.