Toren Atkinson’s Absolute Blog

Armageddon Outta Here!

I just woke up so I’d better get this down:

I dreamt that there was a cult that was trying to bring about the Clearing Off – for those of you not familiar with Lovecraft that is when the continent of R’lyeh rises from the sea and Great Cthulhu wakes to prepare earth for the coming of his fellow Great Old Ones. So I was mixed up in this throng of cultists, all wearing cloaks and robes, and they were all listening to the high priest who was actually some sort of horrible monster. Then they noticed me and the girl I was with (I don’t remember her identity – she could have been someone I know from life or could have been some made-up dream girl) so we were chased. We ran into this tiny porta-potty-like bathroom and they were trying to knock the door down and catch our feet with wires under the door. We found some ratty cloaks – or clothes big enough to pass as such – hanging above the crapper so we put them on. Presently the cultists seem to lose interest so we opened the door. They were all heading towards the piers just down the road – they needed to be in the water to perform the rest of the ritual. It was then I noticed that the cultists weren’t all human either. Some of them had tentacles for legs and others had wide, needle-tooth grins and beady, inhuman eyes. We kept our cowls over our faces and tried to blend in with the throng.

When the bulk of the crowd started heading into the water I doubled back – I had by this point lost my companion. I went back into the lot in which the sermon had taken place. I heard chanting and looked up to see the high priest, who was in fact some other mythos entity like Bugg-Shash or Zoth Ommog or some other indescribable beastie, overseeing some sort of activity from the top of a wall. From behind that wall came a stirring, and great bellowing noises. I knew then that none other than Cthulhu himself was floundering to life on the other side of that wall. I got the fuck out of there. I tried to sneak away but Zoth Ommog heard me and tumbled down on his formless limbs to come and “get me.” I ducked into a tangle of debris, found a dark alcove and sat perfectly motionless. I watched the horror’s shadow pass by and over me again and again. I could feel him gazing into the area until by a force of will my hiding spot would be uncovered. I hoped that something would distract him and as if by my own force of will, creatures started appearing out of nowhere as if I were casting Summon Monster I (from D&D, folks). Whatever the source, I took advantage of the distraction and fled.

This was it – the end of the world, and I was left to figure out how to survive. I started climbing around and eventually found a warehouse where they were storing a series of cyclopean stone statues of Cthulhu. As I watched, they started shifting, and the urgency rose. I realized that the land I was standing on was likely to sink into the sea, so I started searching for a boat and some kind of provisions. The docks were abandoned of human life, so I managed to find scavange pitchers and filled them with tapwater, and I found a big bag of trail mix, but all I could find for a boat was this large metal raft that looked like an oversize cookie tray.

I don’t remember anything past that – I think I woke up. Will Toren survive the great cataclysm? Maybe I’ll get to dream up part two tonight.

In trying to think up a title for this entry, I came up with some new words

Carmageddon – a pile-up on the freeway
Farmageddon – a documentary title for an expose on how farming in American ain’t what she used to be.
Harmageddon – a series of Indian burns, charlie horses & pink bellies in grade 5
Dharmageddon – I don’t know
Karmageddon – see dharmageddon
Marmageddon – the creator of Marmaduke goes crazy and starts cartooning the myriad ways in which the greate dane could die.
Parmageddon – you open the fridge and the parmesan cheese falls out, spilling all over the kitchen floor.
Tarmageddon – two trucks carrying barrels of roofing tar collide head-on.
Warmageddon – the period when the sun juuuuuust starts to go Nova, but you think it’s nothing more than a hot summer day.

Her jambox is now mine, by way of our actions.

When I helped Deanna move, she gave me a little stereo that can record from CD to cassette. Wondrous what technology can do nowadays! I haven’t had this capability since about ‘96, so I’ve been obsessively making mixed tapes over the past days while I draw.

Now what am I going to do with them?

GROSS!!!

Chrisforsure, Dalia, Anghold and I went to Macdonald’s for dinner last night. On the way, we got on the topic of shingles, and I explained how it works. From there we moved on to haemorrhoids and piles. I explained how they work as well, and Stewie asked “how come you know all this stuff?” Well, apart from my general morbid fascination with gross things, in the same way that Anghold is very attentive of hygiene (and farts!) I am very percipient (phobic?) towards disease. When I get into a new relationship, swapping papers is a must. I’ve only ever had one girl balk at the idea – “don’t you trust me?” but I would think they should be put at ease that I am willing to prove to them that I am clean (and not reckless). So, forthwith, I shall relay my wisdom on these fascinating subjects!!!

Shingles . This is basically chickenpox revisited – it appears as a rash (very itchy and painful) across the side of the torso (and sometimes the face). You have to have had chickenpox in order to get shingles. I had chickenpox when I was a wee lad and when I moved to Vancouver I got shingles – it’s triggered by stress, you see! Yes, very stressful moving from Chilliwack to Van, and the latent virus blossomed into this wonderful new variety. I’ve got scars along my ribs from the damn thing.
Contagious: nope – except if you’ve never had chickenpox, you can get it from someone with shingles. And if you haven’t had chickenpox, you can be vaccinated if you haven’t already been.
Cure: Once you’ve had shingles, you won’t get them again.

Haemorrhoids. Oh, sweet haemorrhoids. Very common. I get them from time to time, and let me tell you, it’s a pain in the…

bathroom. Basically, the veins around your damn near killed ‘em become engorged. It can happen to anyone and really is a biproduct of that stupid monkey who decided walking upright would be a really good idea. If you get little spots of blood on your toilet paper – that’s haemorrhoid spoor. They can be mild or ouchy-ouchy, but usually go away in a matter of days.
Contagious: nope
Cure: These little guys aren’t really a disease per se, so there’s no “cure” so much as there is treatment…

Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One

When The Thickets went on tour a few years back we played at this restaurant called uh…Apollo’s? (Warren – your dedicated memory is required here) in some town in Ontario. In the bathroom, in the stall – they had a blackboard and chalk, which I thought was pretty clever: erasable graffiti. While I was there I thought it would be apt to write a few tips on how to keep your ass healthy, like so:

When you go to the shitter, don’t sit down longer than you need to.
When you have to go, go. Don’t hold it in.
Don’t skimp on the fiber: An apple a day keeps the haemorrhoids away.
Exercise, and if you’re overweight, lose it.
Drink a lot of water – soft stool is a good stool

Piles is just another name for haemorrhoids, but I’ve always associated it with Extreeeeeeeeeeme haemorrhoids. The kind that you use rubber bands to treat (I’ll let you look that one up on your own). I’ve never used any treatment (like Preparation-H etc) so I really don’t know what the effectiveness is. When they come for a visit, I just wait them out the same way I do for headaches and colds. It’s like a staring contest in many ways. Actually no, it’s not like that at all.

Scabies! I always used to get this mixed up with shingles, so I looked ‘em up. Apart from the itchiness, and the fact that they both start and end with an ’s’ and both have 2 syllables, they’re unrelated. Scabies is when a tiny mite burrows under your skin and causes an allergic reaction that results in itching and a hives-like rash, especially around your warm bits.
Contagious: yes.
Cure: Easy to get rid of with lotions and whatnot.

Banana fana fo ferpes – herpes!
I don’t want to hit a sore spot, but can we talk about herpes? Herpes is actually quite common. A lot of people who have herpes get it as a child from their infected aunt who lavished kisses on them. Cold sores are herpes. A lot of people are under the misapprehension that genital herpes and facial herpes (you can get herpes on the eye, folks!) are two different beasts. Well, the only difference is the location. You can transmit from one site to the other. Also, just like HIV – you can have herpes without showing any symptoms, and transmit herpes to other people. Toren recommends getting tested next time you see your doctor.
Contagious: Extremely. So unless you don’t care, be very careful about who you kiss (and where).
Cure: Nope. Nothing. Not a one. Sorry. You get herpes, it’s yours to treasure…always. The good news is that apart from the discomfort (itching, burning, pain) it’s really just a cosmetic disease, though I’m sure those with herpes would argue that it’s not something to take lightly. Actually – if you get eye herpes you can go blind.

And now I go draw jellyfish. If you’re not grossed out enough yet, I can tell you why poo is brown.

Coffee is for Closers.

Bill Murray, Tom Waits, Steve Wright, Steve Buscemi and Alfred Molina. Yes, I will go and see Coffee and Cigarettes when it comes to Tinseltown.

Did I mention this before? Bill Murray played Peter Venkman in the Ghostbusters movie. Lorenzo Music did the voice for Peter Venkman in the Ghostbusters cartoon. Lorenzo Music did the voice for Garfield in the Garfield cartoon. Bill Murray does the voice for Garfield in the Garfield movie. Weird, huh?
(Lorenzo Music is dead, by the way).

Clearly I am wasting time watching trailers online. Nevertheless, I heart Tony Shalhoub, and this film The Last Shot looks like it could be entertaining for a mainstream comedy.

http://leech.dk/dodge.html
You get three tries. Then post your score. Me: 137.04
Thanks M.T. Promises.

Laney, 39, a deeply religious woman who home-schooled her children in the tiny town of New Chapel Hill, 100 miles southeast of Dallas, called 911 just after midnight on May 10 and told a dispatcher: “I’ve just killed my boys.”
She said God ordered her to do it.
Deputies found 8-year-old Joshua and 6-year-old Luke lying in the yard in their underwear, their skulls smashed and stones the size of dinner plates lying on their lifeless bodies. Their 14-month-old brother, Aaron, was found in his crib, alive but bleeding from a fractured skull, a pillow over his face. He is recovering.
Laney’s husband, Keith, who apparently slept through the attacks, has supported his wife, attending several court hearings over the past year along with other family members.

I want to hear more about the husband who supports his wife.

Andrew Migliore announced today that the 2004 H. P. Lovecraft Film Festival
will be held October 1-3, 2004 at the Hollywood Theater [in Portland, Oregon].
The H. P. Lovecraft Film Festival is also open for feature film and short
film submissions. The H. P. Lovecraft Film Festival, now entering its 11th year, features an
annual banquet of features and short films based on the influential works of
H. P. Lovecraft, as well as vendors specializing in related work, and
discussions and interviews with filmmakers.
For more details: http://www.hplfilmfestival.com/

Last night Kirsten came over and we watched a few episodes of Mr. Show, and The Royal Tenenbaums. Well mostly I drew while she watched. And we ate chocolates. This afternoon I helped Deanna move and that was good. My only complaint was that there was too much time spent standing around not moving things. I didn’t stay for pizza and pop because I had to get home to draw, which I’m starting right now! Well, right after I go to the store for dinner. Lentil dahl will have to wait.

“I mean, where are the unicorns? Come on!”

I get flack from time to time when I tell people that I don’t believe in the human soul. Some people can’t believe that I actually believe that, but I do. As far as I’m concerned, human perception, memory, et al is nothing more than a collection of chemicals and electricity. It’s a pretty damn amazing and sophisticated system of chemicals and electricity, for sure, but from where I’m standing it’s perfectly reasonable to assume that it’s nothing more. Isn’t it possible that bags of organic matter can become self-aware over the course of four BILLION years? Must they have some soul (which I equate basically with magic) breathed into them by some mysterious higher power? We’re not that different from monkeys, who are not that different from rodents, who are not that different from insects, who are not that different from amoeba, who are not that different from plants. Do they all have souls? And if they don’t, what makes us so special? We’re all made up of the same gunk, after all. As Bjork almost said – how Lovecraftian of me.

What’s interesting is that, historically, it’s very rare that I offer up my beliefs vocally or in print, for the simple reason that 99% of the time people look at me like I’m nuts. But maybe, just maybe, more people than I think share my point of view. Here’s your chance to neatly encamp yourself in one or another category, in a completely good natured, non-judgmental and non-adversarial way.

SOULLESS——–SOULED
Toren————-Anghold
Marlo————-James
Naomi————Warren (leaning)
Janet————-Stewie
Joe—————Kate
Denzil———–Slater
Jess————–Kathryn
Mike T
Yvonne
Aaron
Kirsten
Jon

Comment with the side you’re on and I’ll modify the entry to get a big fat list.

And let’s be clear: I do respect the beliefs of others. Maybe I do have a soul, I don’t know for sure. I’m not trying to belittle or poke fun. I’m just interested in how my beliefs measure up to yours. And maybe my definition of soul is way off the mark from yours. Tell me about it.

Tonight is D&D. I’m going to be working like a guy who works a lot throughout the week and the weekend, and it looks like PALM (Saturday) is a no go anyway for the regular origami party-girls, so if you want to see me, you’ll just have to come by, because I won’t be poking my head out of the apartment until I’m done all my drawings except for food and possibly some short tennis bouts.

And you’ll notice I rearranged my links to the left – they’re now in order (more or less) of frequency of updates.

I was walking downtown with Kirsten today (The Chinese Garden in Chinatown is closed on Mondays, for future reference) and a lady who didn’t look so hot came up to us and pleaded for change–real “please help me” sort of stuff. I stopped in my tracks and started to dig around in my pocket to see what I had for her, and as soon as I started to do this she began saying “oh you’re an angel, thank you so much.” Now I like to keep bus fare ($2 as I’m sure you know) in my pocket at all times when I’m out and about, and when I pulled out all my change all I had was $2.10 so I said “all I can give you right now is a dime.” I didn’t know what she would say or do, but I certainly didn’t expect “A dime? What am I going to do with a dime? That doesn’t help me!” She continued berating me but I wasn’t going to stand there and take it so I put my money back in my pocket and we kept walking. That whole situation really bugged me. I’m not living on the street; I’m not destitute; but if I needed some money and a close personal friend, much less an imperfect stranger offered me a dime or even a nickel, I would give thanks. I wouldn’t throw it back in their face.

As it turns out, I could have given her the full $2.10 because my bus pass barely had enough time left on it for me to use it again (it was so close that Kirsten, who got her pass mere moments after mine was given the evil BUZZ of rejection from the transfer machine), but her ungracious attitude didn’t leave me feeling very guilty about that. I mean I know that she may be psychotic or going through withdrawal or something, but I think Jesus Christ himself would have that moment of chagrin where his internal monologue reads “oh…I see. My dime’s not good enough for you, eh?”