December 22nd, 2000
I think Mother Nature is getting me back for the jab I made about the weather in an earlier rant. It came real close to freezing down here a coupla nights ago. That's right, it almost hit the magic number 32 on the thermometer. For me, that's close to arctic conditions. I went out and bought some thermal underwear and made plans to burn my desk. Unfortunately it was made of steel so Lan convinced me just to turn the heater on. She spoils everything if you ask me.
I WANT YOUR SKULL, I NEED YOUR SKULL
My apologies to Glen Danzig but a Freaky reader e-mailed me some pics of a weird cranium that had me scratching my head trying to figure out what it was. Seems that a he found this in the woods near Tampa and isn't sure what kind of beast it came from. You got any ideas what this skull use to be attached to? If so, lemme know.
(And why is it that I'm the first person people think of when they find a strange skull in the woods? I'm not sure if I should feel honored or if I should just accept the fact that I've become known as head freak of the internet. Oh lucky me....)
WHEN GOOD DOGS GO BAD
I went back to my road-trip notes for this week's Freakopedia article. Way back in July when I made a pit-stop in El Paso Texas I stumbled across a Mexican newspaper with a strange article about genetically modified dogs being used to patrol the border. Now call me a sucker, (I heard that) but I've never been able to pass up a good evil dog tale. Just check out my stories on the Ghost Dog of Wales, the Gang Banger Ghost Dog or even the more recent ghost dog attack in Selma So check out my latest article on man's best friend and see if you agree with the locals. Are there strange canines patrolling the Mexican-American border?
I was a little worried about my friend Darin over at Psychic High when I noticed his website was down a few days ago. Well now things are back up and running and he has explained the down time was due to an unusual level of solar activity that forced teachers and students alike to take shelter in their underground lead lined bunkers. I'm glad to hear things are OK now since Psychic High has always held a special place in my heart ever since they established the Derek Barnes School of Spontaneous Human Combustion, although I have sworn never to give another commencement speech there, ever again.
A CANDY COLORED CLOWN THEY CALL THE SANDMAN
Still having those weird dreams like I wrote about in my last entry. (And thanks to everyone who e-mailed me about what they mean) I'm usually a sound sleeper but these night visions have been waking me up lately. Maybe it has something to do with my birthday coming up or something. I dunno, maybe it's just from eating too many taco's before I go to bed. Hopefully I'll get over this pre-mid-life crisis before I'm aged before my time. (Can you tell this birthday is weighing on my mind?)
Anyway, gotta bolt!
Derek "playing with matches" Barnes