Party Old and Die Hard

Alternative Titles for this post:

Party Hard and Die Old

Die Hard With a Lamp Shade On

Live Free and Party Hard

Bruce Willis You're Not

Appalachian Christmas Card

Photo Copyright © 2008 by Michael Casher. Snowfall Effect by LunaPic.

Little Green Man's Christmas Memories

The Return Of Tapper

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Look for "The Return Of Tapper" December 1st on This Blog 

Sporting Sentiment From The Old Sod

My County Kerry roots made me do this: Hat's Off to 12-0, #1 Notre Dame.

Bob Moon's Happy News: Super Earth Planet!

New Planet Discovery Made Bob Moon All Excited

A Message From Tapper

The Little Boy Who Could

Watch this video on Michael Casher Tube

Clash of the Tag-A-Longs

Li'l Debil and Bobo clash head on while visiting Danville, Kentucky

Hood Up For Fall

Round Bob Moon Face

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Clean Classic Rock

The Dave Clark Five at 60's Rockelodean

Little Green Man Unmasked

The Other Rapture Story

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The Good-Bye Goose

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Your Summer Reading

I know it's only early May but, for me, school's already out for the summer. That means I need a big break from blogging. A permanent break. So, here's your summer reading. Sorry, I couldn't make it a vertical list but the new Blogger interface makes it impossible to add a picture (like me) to a post and have justified paragraphs and centered lists at the same time.

Last year I could do that but now I can't. Well, I'm finally done blogging here at Blogger.com — and everywhere else on the Internet — and all these posts will soon be incorporated into an updated Kindle eBook, replacing the old Four Bloggers of the Apocalypse. Then this blog will be a maintained for as long as I can maintain it. My sidebar and footer content may change but I don't intend to write new posts. Now you see why I desperately need a long summer vacation. I feel like a half-dead horse that's still being beaten. OK, here's your summer reading list:

A Man for No Seasons, Animals Do Fall Down, Making Holes in Fish, Noisemakers, Secret Scribes, Summer Food

Another reason I'll be giving up blogging is because Google has screwed up the Blogger interface so bad that it now takes me almost two hours to write and post a single entry. Blogger was the best blogging platform on the Web and now it's the worst, thanks to Google, who couldn't care less what I think. Well, I've got other things to do. In fact, just about anything else. Google screwed up Blogger, YouTube and Picasa, by buying them and then bitching them up. Even the Chrome browser is bitched up. It can't process Shockwave data AT ALL. But, if you don't use Google's Chrome browser, you won't be able to use Blogger, YouTube or Picasa without a shitload of log-in and other problems. What horseshit. Let me parrot a great Nineties line: I'm outta here.

And, yep, it's almost impossible to control the fonts on your blog posts. Notice how the first paragraph of this post is one line too low. That happens a lot, on a lot of my blog, regardless of the template I use. I can't fix it, either. It seems to me that Google puts in whatever saves them space on their servers. Pooh on that crap. And, yep, you got it, Jack. This is my last post. Too bad. It could have been a lot of fun.

Pooh On Nibiru

If you ever wondered why I never made a podcast before, just listen to my voice. If you think that's awful, you're lucky you're just seeing a publicity photo of me and not the real thing fidgeting and squirming around on camera. I don't know how to do subtitles or I would have. And I didn't want to do this podcast through YouTube — where I could add cool annotations that people can read while they're trying to figure out what the hell I'm yapping about — because then YouTube would own my ass. Being trapped in Appalachia is bad enough.

So, let me walk you through the toughest parts. Toward the end of this video I'm saying things like, "Don't make any more room in the garage for tents and stuff. And don't dig out any more of the basement. Take yourself out to lunch. Take the kids to the movies. Buy your dog another dish." OK? If that doesn't help, just use your headphones. Or just skip this post altogether. That's what your scroll bar is for. See what I mean? I'm not trying to sell you a thing. I'm just giving you my opinion since I doubt very much that an opinionated former Martian is something you can just whistle up, like a dog, whenever you're in the mood. 

"And like that," as Kojak used to say.

Meteor!

That's right, I'm not showing my face today because I'm hiding in the basement. I'm hiding down here in the basement today because I saw It Came From Outer Space on TV yesterday. I taped it off a classic TV station two years ago and watched it again today because I like those 1950's sci-fi B movies better than the computer-generated junk you get today. So then I got scared and then I hid in the basement. I suppose you want to know why.

OK, I know that wasn't a meteor in the movie It Came From Outer Space. It was an extraterrestrial spaceship. Man, those aliens must've been dumb if they had to get to Earth by blasting their way clear across space like they were shot out of a stupid cannon. Anyway, I'm hiding because I'm a former Martian. I'm a former Martian and I'll never forget that no matter how many Hershey bars I consume or how many cups of mountain-grown roasted coffee I drink or how many slices of pizza I eat. Especially while I'm watching my favorite old sci-fi B movies. Like Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, It Came From Outer Space, Invaders From Mars and Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman, one of my favorites. Anyway, Martians like me were afraid of meteors. So now you know.

Of course those movies weren't as good as Forbidden Planet or The War of the Worlds or even This Island Earth but during the routine cheesy parts you can make a quick trip to the fridge for a snack and not feel that you missed anything you haven't seen before. That's the real beauty of B movies, you know. You get stupid shit that would probably never happen in real life but it scares you just the same.

But, hey, I've been rerouted again by TV. What I'm here blogging about on my old Acer PC in my basement is meteors. The hell with spaceships. The hell with comets. Comets never hit planets (OK, except Jupiter) but meteors hit them all the time. Like big-ass burning bullets from the sky. Twice in my life I saw the night sky turn bright as day from meteors as big as Buicks hitting Earth's atmosphere and then burning up and scaring the bejeezus out of me before they hit the ground somewhere and when they find them, they're only as big as a softball or maybe a football. What a sneaky trick from outer space.

So, yeah, I'm here in the basement hiding out because I think there'll be a meteor shower tonight even though there's absolutely nothing on the news about one. But, hey, I'm no fool. Meteors are just like outta control people and mad dogs. They attack when you least expect it. So, if you want my advice, take cover. Hide in your basement. Take a sandwich with you.

Meteor Update!

I'm Not Food

One of the things I'll never get used to about living on Earth is being food for other animals. Every year I remember less and less about my former life on Mars but one thing I can tell you for sure is that we Martians were never served up as dinner for the lesser species on our planet. I suppose it's because we were all vegetarians but that's beside the point. Eating animals is bad enough without being eaten by them in return.

I know, I'm lucky that I've never been chomped on by a lion or a tiger or a bear but that still doesn't make planet Earth the Land of Oz. Every summer I'm on the breakfast, lunch and dinner menu of every insect within a mile of me. Sure, I can use insect repellant but who has the time to swab or spray on that stuff every time you head outdoors? And forget about taking a nap on the porch on this bug-infested sphere. The last time I dozed off on the glider I woke up about three pounds lighter and all of it blood. If I want to donate blood, I'll visit the Bloodmobile, thank you.

And who wants to swim in the ocean? Besides being salt water that you don't want in your mouth or stomach or eyes, it's full of really creepy, wiggly things and great big toothy things that think you were put on this Earth to be their supper. Screw that. Hell, I'll gladly give up eating them if they'll stop nibbling on me. But you can't make a deal with them because they have no clue what you're saying to them when you haul ass for the beach with jelly fish stings all over you. They think you're just going to McDonald's to fatten yourself up a little more for them.

Lakes are OK, now that the lampreys are under control but there are still eels. And water dogs (mud puppies) in Pennsylvania streams and catfish as big as rowboats in the Mississippi. Still, I can't imagine what it's like to jump into a lake or stream in Florida just to be tackled and spun dry and then drowned by an alligator because you just look so damn tasty. And they're only a fraction of the size of crocodiles in Africa and Australia who would down your ass in one gulp for an appetizer and then have Water Buffalo for the entree. And I cringe every time I think about being swallowed whole by a python, wondering if I'd suffocate to death before I dissolved to death.

Here in Pennsylvania I only have to watch out for bears and coyotes and that's why I rarely go out in the woods or go hunting anymore. Oh, yeah, I always had a rifle or a shotgun when I went hunting but as I got older I worried about falling down or falling asleep or having a heart attack or a stroke and being alive and helpless as a pack of coyotes divvied me up for lunch

So, now I don't hunt anymore and I don't mountain bike or even walk wooded trails by myself, with or without the protection of a firearm. And I don't doze off on the chaise lounge on the patio anymore, either. I watch TV instead and drift right off after a nice meal or a little snack and I don't worry about being food for anyone or any thing. Besides, nothing could be a better sleep aid than a meal followed by a boring show on TV you use as company after you turn off the VCR or DVD player. That movie can wait.

The trick then is to not dream about being food or waking up with a crick in your neck or numb legs or chocolate drool on your shirt. Still, it's better than having to dress for the weather and a lot better than being on some carnivore's menu.

Little Green Man from Mars: The Blog

This is a promotional video for the Little Green Man from Mars blog.

Little Green Man from Mars: The Book

This is a promotional video for Michael Casher's sixth science fiction novel.