Stanmageddon: In Which One Meme Dies And Another Is Born

My friends from Balticon have done me proud!
Comes now the news that last night, as they rocked
And rolled within a hotel room, too loud,
It seems, for one old man, who, it seems, knocked
(Or had some hotel lackeys do so) at
The door to our P.G.'s suite for to ask
They keep it down or just desperse. The cat
Who took my drinking buddies so to task
Was no less than Stan Lee! Oh, how I wince
To think the mighty fallen so that one
Who's caused such noise in his day now has since
Become such a naysayer at clean fun.
Scotchpocalypse is dead, I see; long live
The Stanmageddon. It has much to give.
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BONUS SONNET: Con-Fabulation

O would that we could have been having drinks
With Sasha Pixlee when he saw, last night
A sight that few could handle well, methinks,
Without our faces going bloodless, white
With shock. O DragonCon, O fandom, you
Bring out the beast in many. Last week I
Saw one Gene Simmons Batman plunge into
A crowd as he fell down the stairs (to fly
Was quite beyond him); this week Grover stalked
A bar in ol' Hotlanta -- in his hand
A bright red dildo. Wonder if he talked
That incoherent, growly way, too, and
If Sasha talked right back while hauling off
Four litres of fine absinthe for to quaff.
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In Which I Gloat Over The Riches That Are Mine

Sunset, but which direction is true west?
It must be Saratoga, where you've stopped.
The sky aflame in all directions, best
Observed when slightly sloshed (or if you've dropped
Some ice cream down your cleavage and a lab
Awaits to lick it off -- or both; best not
To be too choosy). Even when it's drab
With just a dozen shades of fire, you've got
To let the awe take over. Such has passed
This day in my hometown, spent with a friend
From far away, who's seeing it new, a cast
Of good old pals alongside. Now I'll spend
A quiet ev'ning by the river. How
I wish you all could be with us right now.

In Which I Split In Two And The Sides Do Battle

A liquor store is just across the street
(But it's the busiest street in Cheyenne).
A pouch of cocktails really would be sweet
(But it'a so dreamy here beneath the fan).
A walk provides much-needed exercise
(But calories eschewed need not be burned).
It's cheaper than a bar, and no barflies
(But you've got plans for all the coin you've earned).
The day has disappointed me. I'm sad
(But you've already planned an early night).
Just one mojito wouldn't be so bad
(Would there just be one? Ha! Put up a fight!).
Ok, so what should we do in its stead?
(Just watch a DVD, then go to bed.)


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In Which is Formed #WinosForLHC

A live stream as they start the LHC?

Well, sign me up; I cannot be alone

In wanting to watch them make history!

Now in the past it has been error-prone,

This vast machine. Its kryptonite is bread,

Its dipole magnets at one point did need

Repair, and in '05 there wound up dead

One Jose Lages -- tragedy indeed.

Now in the past, for NASA, we have done

Our part to bring success, so why not for

The search for Higgs-Boson? It might be fun

To watch the next experiment, and more,

To raise to science a nice glass or two

Of mead so Loki lets us play on through.

In Which I Believe I'm Staying In Tonight After All

Martinis with the girls, that was my plan
To celebrate what is my Friday night.
But as I find a window and I scan
The snowy streets, one fact doth come to light:
What now is fluffy snow will get packed down
By rush hour's vast herd of cars and trucks
Until quite nearly ev'ry road in town
Could double as a hockey rink. Aw, shucks.
I do have errands that had best not wait,
But they can happen ere sunset and then
It's best that I head home. T'will be too late
By then to venture safely out again.
Perhaps if holidays weren't here to cause
A surge in drunken drivers I'd not pause.

In Which An Anniversary Is Commemorated!

Just seventy-six years ago this date,
A wise decision happened to occur:
That Prohibition by the stupid State
Of alcohol was not so bright as were
Some other things we happened to append
To our fine Constitution. How "repeal"
Rings musically to mine ears. I'll spend
A happy hour quite soon, I now reveal,
A-toasting this, the wisdom of those who
Did vote in 1933 to lift
The ban on booze. I'll have a drink or two
In celebration. Then maybe I'll drift
Into good writing mode, or just play chess.
With freethinkers it's anybody's guess.

In Which I Pass A Pleasant Afternoon

My Bonfire is a special kind of gal,

She's curious, amusing and will try

Most any crazy thing I think of. Shall

I tell you how we made a lunch hour fly

And turn into a total afternoon?

First sushi lunch, Cthulhu on some rice,

I had Sapporo, too, but she was soon

To head to work, which wasn't all that nice

But we made good the time we had. What more?

The sushi joint just happens to be near

Our friendly local Barnes & Kipple store

(The tale behind that sobriquet, I fear

Is too involved for this here sonnet). Just

A simple, perfect day. Repeat we must!

In Which I Prepare For A New Adventure!

It's Friday in my strange, shift-working world,
And nearly time for me to call it quits.
I stretch out with a smile, my limbs uncurled,
Preparing to go north to match my wits
With my friend Jana on a real chessboard
Instead of one on Facebook, and to quaff
Some margaritas. I'll emerge restored,
I think, from Chugwater (now don't you scoff;
It may be podunk to the untrained eye
But it is all about who lives there, no?)
I'm sure that soon the time will simply fly
Too swiftly and 'twill be time to come home.
Oh -- wish me luck, would you? She's kicked my ass
Of late. I'm tired of losing; e'en with class.

In Which I Rewrite A Lambert Hendricks & Ross Classic Because I'm Feeling Silly

In order to keep me well on my leash
A threat was made one time to take away
My bottle. You may well imagine - sheesh! -
The furore that ensued. "No!" I did say
Unhand that; 'tis well known I can't get well
Without the fruit of many a fair vine,
Yea even were it only Muscatel
(Though I prefer a somewhat nicer wine).
And though ye may beat my head out of shape
As long as I am left enough to toast
My health and yours, yes, please leave me my grape,
Then truly you may lead me out to roast
In hot sun or on fiery coals, your choice.
With whistle wet you'll barely hear my voice.

In Which Cheyenne Becomes A Hipper Place And I A Happier Cheyenneian

Cheyenne's martini bar is quite a place,

Suite 1901, in the Frontier shack

Downtown. The drinks alone will melt your face,

So good they are; nor is there any lack

Of other blandishments for such as I.

We missed the live bluesman who played last night,

But won't again, myself and funny, spry

Melissa. Owner John, to my delight

Says he has plans for tunes five nights a week.

There's only one TV and that is small,

And the decor? Quite tasteful, smooth and sleek

Mid-century modern - that's my fav'rite! Call

Me anytime, you locals, when you go

My second home awaits me there, you know.

SONNET DARE: In Vedauwoo Or Denver, I Get Lost

While both are places I've been known to roam
With more than one six-pack of Guinness, one
I much prefer; it's closer to my home,
And lovelier by far in morning sun
Or eve'ning starlight: that is Vedauwoo.
In Denver's traffic I am always lost
Unless on foot on Sixteenth Street - though, too
I'm often lost in thought and at great cost
There, with the Wazee Supper Club and, yes,
The Tattered Cover, wallet beaters both.
As for the Mile High City in my car?
I'm hopeless. Better for me, by my oath
To climb on rocks and up there drink my beer,
And take in all the silence I don't hear.

In Which The Gig Is Tonight! Tonight! Tonight!

Tonight's the night I've waited for so long,

Bhtch Comes Alive tonight at the Morseland!

And while I don't think I will hear a song

I wrote for them, I know that this here band

Will rock the socks right off my dancing feet

(Though that's not hard; I do eschew those things)

And make me laugh like new again. Too sweet

'Twill be to hear again how Brickyard sings,

The Blowman on guitar, Hairbo on bass,

Our Chickenshake on chickenshake, and, too,

The Killer Queen on drums and then - my face! -

Toupacque Bougeur as well. It has been too,

Yes far too long since such has been my chance.

All hail for me this happy circumstance!

In Which I Find A Sliver Of Jack Kerouac's Denver On Concourse A

This airport bar reminds me just a bit

Of what an Amtrak bar car used to be.

Two random music guys happen to sit

Right down there on the barstools next to me.

The barmaid pushes local whiskey and

We try it, laughing at the tasting notes,

And Stranahan's would seem to be the brand

(Though a bit sweet, if 'mong the counted votes

Are mine -- it's like a highball, I would say

Though I knew not that Colorado streams

Ran clear with 7UP, but that's the way

The real world works -- far stranger than my dreams.

That's how good times occur with Steve and Wes.

One never knows what's coming up, I guess.

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Take A Slightly Inebriated Bike Ride

A few beers 'neath my belt from Kevin's pad,

Deep Blue between my legs under a sky

Both deep and dark, a bright moon and a tad

Too much effusive joy to act as guide

I pedaled swiftly home. The Greenway's glow

In moonlight kept me safely within bounds

Though my gaze was turned up more, toward the show

Up there, as Venus shyly made her rounds

Close to our satellite, which so has caught

Our thoughts, imagination for so long.

Just slightly off my stride, I perhaps ought

Not to have been a-biking, but no wrong

Or harm came to me; truly I felt charmed

And now am home all safe and yes, unharmed.

BONUS SONNET: Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, STS-128

I'm sorry, but tonight I started late.

I left uncorking off until the hold

For our Discovery's liftoff. O Kate,

When will you learn that to propitiate

That dumb jock, Thor, you have to start off right

When Space Flight Now begins cov'ring it live?

'Twas clear he liked the asti, nice and light

And bubbly-sweet, like mead. Now I contrive

To be better prepared for our next try:

I'll stick to asti since I've got a lot.

You folk, try others. We'll yet see her fly

(This time sans bat). Let's give it all we've got.

Winos for NASA, now's our time to shine!

Tomorrow night, our efforts must combine!

In Which I Basically Phone One In

I've been invaded by my mom and dad,

And last night, as they say, I overtrained.

I've no regrets, but really I'll be glad

To see this day end. Really, I'm quite drained.

Much wine, too little sleep, too much to do --

My parents shop hard when they come to town,

And there is dinner yet to whip up, too

And dominos to play ere I lay down

To properly sleep off all last night's fun.

But no hangover's ever going to stop

My writing this, my daily sonnet. One

Day I'll falter, let this program drop

But it won't be today, so here it is:

A meta-sonnet. Sure, I am a whiz!

In Which We Discover What Mosquitos And A Refreshing Cocktail Now Have In Common

Anopheles is quite a pretty word
Until one looks it up and quickly learns
Of how her bites and habits long have spurred
The spread of a disease that in its turns
Kills millions of us ev'ry year. For most
Of history, at least that while we've known
Malaria is spread by this one host,
We've tried to kill mosquitos ere they've flown
To share their protozoans - though sometimes
Quinine's been pressed into this ageless fight
(Best served with gin, in tonic with some limes).
But now a newer method's come to light:
Transgenic work on skeeters makes them less
Hospitable to malarial pests!

All Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

Today Endeavor finally took off!

A perfect launch that almost made me cry

(But as we know, and yes, you all may scoff

I often seem to have caught in my eye

Particulates at launch time, causing tears).

Today was to be my first meet for drinks

With Sigler, yes, the FDO of fears

Both great and small. But Friday now, methinks

Is when that's to occur. I am content

To wait 'til then. A party's in the works:

Scott Sigler, others too, who will have spent

Some days in Laramie, diligent as clerks

At The Launch Pad, learning space science and

Hobnobbing with Phil Plait and Haldeman.

In Which I Am Still Hung Up On My Love For Guiness

This morning I learned of a contest rare:
To celebrate two hundred fifty years
Of brewing nectar quite beyond compare
The Guinness brewery brought me to tears
Of joy. I still recall my first small sip
Of Guiness Stout; 'twas nineteen eighty nine,
I was away at school, on a short trip
To Rhinebeck with some friends and feeling fine.
Between us and the swanky restaurant
Lurked BevWay, and we stopped there to restock
Our beer supply. I mentioned that I'd want
To try that stuff someday. My friends in shock
Bought up a bunch and we dashed back to school...
For Guiness ever since, I've been a fool.