eat history…

eat some history like bob

History eats a lot.

You know how you dream?  You dream up this great idea… not something that necessarily will benefit the whole of humanity, but a great idea…be it a new place to put the clean towels, how to wash the dog without washing yourself… stuff like that.

The illustration you see before you was the result of one of those nocturnal interludes.  Half asleep, bleary and not knowing where I was or what day it was, I thought (at that moment) this was the best idea ever conceived by a walnut-sized brain.  I’d have to do some research, but I’m pretty sure that I would hold the record.

Anyway…

Thought of this line, knew I had to remember it, so I wrote it down.  The next thing I know, I woke up.

I hadn’t wrote anything down… I must’ve dreamed  I was writing.  Thankfully, I remembered the line.  So I went to Frank, who never sleeps, and gave this gift to him.

“What’s this mean?”  he said.

“Are you really kidding me?  With all the education you have, you need ME to tell you what this deep bit of observation on history means?  Seriously?”

I was hoping he’d take the bait and say he did know what it meant… just to save face.  He paused.  Looked up, looked down then looked at me.

“You don’t know what it means either, do you?”

Rats.  He was right. I have no idea what the line means.

I took in a big gulp of morning air and exhaled, “You’re the artist, you can do something with it.”

And then I walked away using my best George Jefferson walk.

which way to insane?

which way to insane

I imagine if one were to go insane, they really wouldn’t know it.  So, maybe I’m already there.  If so, I thought that it would look somewhat different… flying strawberries with overbites singing  Louis Armstrong songs while the dancing grapes play trumpets in bowls of pistachio pudding.  I’m not seeing any of that.

I’m not here to romanticize or trivialize mental illness in any way, shape or form.  I just thought that was what it was going to be.

You all would let a squirrel know if I was insane, wouldn’t you?

Wouldn’t you?

Wouldn’t you?

WOULDN’T YOU?!

Yeah, you would.

viral viral viral…

going viral the way it was meant to be

Frank was too busy this weekend to really dive into what I wanted to say about being viral.  He was re-tiling and re-painting a room in the house… it was good to see him do some REAL work for a change.  Consequently, he was unable to create anything new for this morning.  So, I’m taking a walk down memory lane with this viral goober from the past.  The only thing is, it never went viral…never even cam close to viral… not even a sniffle.  It just sat there on the internet all day… didn’t wash its hands, wiped its nose with its sleeves, coughed without covering its mouth… sought out people to sneeze on it… and nothing.

All that effort to spread and no one had toast or a butter knife.  So there it sat until this morning, when I pawed through the massive archive of squirrelosophy to expose this to the germy internet air once again.  Yes, it had a life, but it lives again. Viral…going viral is the new way to get your 15 minutes.  My problem is every time keeping piece around me refuses to measure time.  I’ll never be viral.  That might be a good thing though too.  I can be that secret that everyone knows about but no one wants to share… oooh, Bob the Squirrel is eclectic…it’s so out there that you need a telescope to understand it.

Oooh…

Man, I miss Frank.

the ballad of real

is anything real

Pinocchio dreamed of being a real boy.  But what is real?  How many times will I ask myself that question?  It seems that everything is temporary.  If everything  is temporary, is anything really real?

I’m not a talking cartoon squirrel dreaming that one day I will be a real squirrel… that, my friends, is a total waste of time and of a wish.  I’m real enough… and I’m totally cool with that… at least for today.

inflation and self worth

inflation and self worth

Inflation has never really meant that much to me.  If things need to be blown up, I get someone with way more air than me to do it.  If I have to, I get real cute…that usually get them to do what I want.  It’s not too often that I have to use my looks to get something… but when I need to, I take full advantage.  Anything I can do to improve the economy that is my self worth I will do.

I’ve never held a job.  I wouldn’t know where to put my hands anyway.  I do what I can with what I have.  If the numbers end up being in black instead of red, it’s a good day.  If not, then I just get pens of a different color.  That usually solves everything.  Next time you’re in a situation like that, just throw the black and red away and pick up a purple pen.  The numbers may not change, but at least they’ll be a more fun color to look at.

My name is Bob and this has been one to grow on. It was two to grow on but I had to sell one to pay this month’s site hosting fees.  You know how it is.

whatever…

whatever

I don’t usually like to use the word ‘whatever’.  It’s a word used as an easy out to an argument… one you can’t win because you know you’re wrong, one you’re in with a person, place or thing that is beyond stubborn or one which you just want to end and are willing to concede to stop the bleeding.  Yes, I realize that was not only a run on sentence in the historical sense, but also a run over sentence.

Whatever is a good word, but one that is used in a somewhat bad way…  It’s a compound word made up of  ‘what’ and ‘ever’.  If you were to literally translate it, it means… whatever.

So what do you do?  What does Bob do?

Sometimes I just don’t care. Beating up on something over and over until I win just to say I won is not me.  My short attention span prevents me really.  Not that I’m blaming that, mind you… I generally can’t be bothered.  If you want to win so bad, go on with you bad self… to that, I say, “whatever, dude…”

That’s right, I said it.  Whatever…
(At this point, you need to picture me throwing my hands up, looking you in the eye, then quickly turning around to walk away… with my tail irritatingly, yet playfully twitching.)

meaningless meaning…

meaningless meaning

What does “losing all meaning” actually mean?  I mean,  (heh) If the meaning is gone, that supposes that it was there at one point.  Are the hard drives in our heads and hearts so fickle that they would erase something that important moments before we need it?  Does meaning, or lack of meaning, just crash our systems?  Seriously… this squirrel needs to know.  I like to know almost everything I can… it’s better to know something and not need it than it is to need it and not know it.  Do I need to know how to tie a Carrick Bend?   In the day to day of a talking squirrel’s life, probably safe to assume not.  But, as Frank’s mother always likes to say: “You never know.”  Know it now, be MacGyver later.

Meaning is found, or rather, re-interpreted, by the constant gathering of information.  If you lose a meaning…make another one up.  If you’re wrong, how will you really even know?

But what do I know… I’m just a wannabe knot tying squirrel.

standing up and falling down

standing up and falling down

Standing up for yourself is just another one of those parts of life you learn as you go. No one really tells you about it until you’re forced to perform.   Sometimes all it will take is a spoonful of sugar.  Then, there are times when it will take a supersonic bulldozer with spikes and lasers.  I don’t think that’s an over expression either.

someday today

someday today

Is someday today?  Is it?  I always tell myself that whatever big thing I need or want or need to do will get done someday.  As the illustration so eloquently illustrates, I never seem to get to that someday.  Whenever I get close to someday, it moves, it hides, it makes like a tree and leaves…that’s what somedays do.

Why are we even here if the things we want or need to do are always penciled in for someday?  What are we waiting for?  Why do we put things off? Out of fear?  Fear of not being able to do something?  Fear of getting it all wrong?  Fear of not getting another chance to make whatever wrong, right?  Fear of fear?  Complacency? Laziness?  What the freaking freak is our problem?  Is it because there’s no meaning to anything?  That, in the end, or even in the middle, what’s the point of continuing when it’s all going to end up sinking into the earth like thousands of civilizations have before this one?

If you find the point of it all, I suppose you’ll find someday.  If you can’t find that point, someday is still going to be out on the loose.  It’s as simple as that.

I should write a book.

Maybe I will… someday.

An Easter classic…

easter bob the squirrel

This is an Easter classic bob the squirrel strip from way, WAY back in 2005.  Eight years doesn’t seem to dim the overall message being conveyed.

All types of chocolate are good.

Man, do I look different.  It’s kinda like a Klingon… we don’t like to talk about that time in my history…

Happy Easter.