SNYDERMANIA: wHen piGs flY #20

Sunday, September 5, 2010

wHen piGs flY #20

snYdertooNs 2010

THE LATEST NEWS ON THE EIGHT FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON, A KOOKY COLLECTION OF QUIRKY STORIES, WRITTEN BY YOURS TRULY

The book is scheduled to release in November and will be available at the following venues:

Tempe Auto Repair, Tempe, Arizona,
Island Style Kitchen Designs, Haiku, Hawaii,
Second Use Building Supplies, Seattle Washington
Island Sports, Beaver Island, Michigan
GELI Book Store, Bangkok, Thailand

7 comments:

JJ said...: This is my favorite one to date!; September 5, 2010 at 10:25 AM
Tgoette said...: LOL! Loved this one! Keep 'em coming! Your cartoons make my day.; September 5, 2010 at 10:40 AM
Sproglet said...: Mwaw haw haw haw :D Love it!; September 5, 2010 at 11:56 AM
Momma Fargo said...: Clever, clever, toilet lever! Loved this one!; September 6, 2010 at 10:48 AM
Guely of Sweden said...: Geni-al!; September 7, 2010 at 3:03 PM
Clif said...: The Justice League missed you today, #167 Dad!; September 11, 2010 at 5:07 PM
#167 Dad said...: JJ,
Thanks. professor.; September 19, 2010 at 7:27 PM

NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.

FIELD OF DREAMS

Well, you know I... I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't. That's what I wish for. Chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it. To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases - stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag. That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?