In the next 3 years, you will never be able to find that store or taverna or restaurant again.

Which is named "Shottle Bop"

This one's a little dark...

Connect the Dots

Look, a brand new game!

First thing you do is, count the dots. Make it as amusing as possible, keep yourself from freaking as the doctor interprets the MRI results.

"Two lesions on the cerebral cortex..."

"Right." Mentally, you're scoring your first points by drawing a line between the lesions.

"This one's worrying - on the corpus collosum."

She points, nine times total. In your head, you connect the dots of disease. Every one is another shot at an early death.

This is the map of your brain. This is the map of your brain on a lightboard.

Any questions?

Ouch, deb. That's a kicker.

Hypervigilence 101

There’s only one map that is important to me. I carry it around in my head. This map changes with every new house, apartment, barracks or room I’ve ever been in. It’s created within days of moving into a new place. Turn off the lights, take off my glasses, close my eyes, it doesn’t matter. Today, without counting my steps out loud, I know how many stairs from the loft to the first floor. From the stairs to the end of the hall by the front door. No matter what, I have a map to freedom from the fear within.

Wow. Very strong.

deb, did you see today's Boondocks? [link]

The site at Raq's link kept freezing up while loading, so I gave up on it and found the cartoon through Yahoo!: [link]

Does this come under the heading of "any publicity is good publicity, so long as they spell the name right"?

As an added point - as far as I know McGruder is still on hiatus, and these are reruns of his early stuff.

Nope, apparently Daymond and Co were not amused. One thjing I'm finding is that the whole Generation Rap/HipHop "I come from the hood! I come from the street! It's all about RESPECT!" shtick, however genuine in intent, is completely deficient in the "self-deprecating humour" department.

And yep, that's a rereun. VERY old 'toon.

My drabble for "maps"

Of course I’m lost. There’s not really a map for this, not that I could read it anyway. No sense of direction. I think it might look like that street sign in M*A*S*H, only instead of cities it would look like TRAGIC But Brave: 15 years. Full recovery:30 years back that way. The old rules are fraying just a bit as I know I’ll never choke on a final exam again and Dutiful Daughter’s just a cul-de sac. I keep trying to get over to Artist, momentarily distracted by the quick fix offered in the alley near Suicide. I’d hardly be the first Artist to sample that package. But once again, I decide that even not knowing where you’re going is better than stalling out, and I watch, with no little envy as people I know begin merging their lives together while I creep along on the surface streets. I had no plan when starting this journey, just a fuzzy picture of me on a book jacket with my hot assistant, Yves.

oh, and on an unrelated note Victor, I owe you a poem called "21 Ways I am an asshole", I think.