I am participating in a traditional ritual observance, in preparation for which I have forced spiced stale bread cuboids into the excavated abdominopelvic body cavity of a deceased avian creature. I am now charring the corpse in an enclosed flame chamber while periodically dousing it in its own heated and released bodily fluids, with the ultimate goal of consuming mass quantities of its flesh with my nuclear family unit.
Thanksgiving dinner! I will enjoy it.
My first official act this morning as a wise old man of age 33 was to rewatch the film Coneheads. AS YOU CAN SEE I AM HANDLING SRS BSNS TODAY.
My birthday is neat, but I'll be even more excited in four months when I can celebrate being 33 1/3.
Incidentally '33 is the release year of Duck Soup, one of my two favorite Marx Brothers films. If you'd really like to give me something for my birthday, go watch that film and let me know what you thought of it. (My other favorite Marx film is A Night at the Opera, but since that came out in '35 I won't harass you to watch it for another two years.)
The Fifth of November, 1955
Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
The scientist hanging a clock,
Who knew on that date,
That fortune and fate,
Would reveal so much more to the Doc.
Doc Brown, Doc Brown, he did invent
Such objects of folly, with good intent,
He tumbled and fell in his lavatory
But soon after took to his lab'ratory
For though he'd been woefully injur'ed
A vision unfurled in his bruis'ed head
Great Scott! Great Scott! From this disaster
Great Scott! Great Scott! The Flux Capac'tor!
And what did he do with it? Build it!
