If you don’t already know, SafeTinspector is a Science Fiction geek.
     Not to the point of learning to speak Klingon or attending conventions and hoaring myself out for signatures, but certainly to the point where I frequently fantasize about cochlear implanted communication devices and I once seriously considered getting a barcode of my social security number on the back of my neck to prove a point.

     What point that might be I wasn’t certain at the time and am even less certain now.

     In the last ten years there have been two science fiction television series which I enjoyed tremendously. One of which was awesome as an epic but was hit-or-miss when taken in small doses. The other, ah….it was a science fiction orgasm from start to finish with only a few very minor and forgivable mis-steps.

     The first was Babylon 5 seasons 2-4 (we won’t talk about seasons one and five).
     The second was FireFly. Did you ever see FireFly? I watched all the episodes that aired on Fox, and I bought the series DVD set when it came out.

     It was the Dark Time on Fox when FireFly was on the air. The emperor and his advisors were mad, and no one was brave enough to assassinate them and end their irrational, capricious and evil rule.
     Shows were cancelled with little or no justification while others that were complete dreck were allowed to live long beyond the time when their rotten corpses should have been buried in the septic fields of Hollywood where the Pansies Grow Twisted. (I’m talking about YOU, John Doe)

     FireFly was cancelled. I was quite upset. But some time later they released the series on DVD. Geeks asserted their collective consumer power and purchased the set en masse. World leaders viewed the development with alarm. Prime ministers, dictators, retarded presidents, regular presidents and cartoon Mafia kingpins mobilized their forces and soon a FireFly movie was in the offing.

     Long story short: I went on a date with my wife last night. We saw Serenity, the FireFly movie. George Lucas, look at what Joss Whedon has done. He is handing you your ass. Do you accept your ass back? I think you should just leave it there, you don’t even DESERVE your ass back.
     This is how characters should interact. This is how dialogue should work. Here is how to do a really great action scene without going all cartoony with the CGI.

     It wasn’t a perfect movie, it wasn’t the greatest movie of all time (that honor goes to The Blues Brothers) but it is in the best movie I’ve seen in a theater since The Incredibles. I won’t do a review beyond this, though. I don’t want to give ANYTHING away to anyone thinking of attending a viewing in their area.

• Well, friends, that was weird. Anyone who read the huge advertisement for Verizon services that originally appeared under this post please be aware that is a new development. I’ve posted from the phone many times in the past without incident, and now I have another reason to dislike the cell phone company
• The rest of the date with Heather went really well. We had a nice dinner. We went home. We got romantic. We slept well. A wondrous Friday indeed.

Click HERE to see!

     We would like to extend our thanks and congratulations on your recent application to fill the opening within our pantheon of exceptionally gifted crime-fighting vigilantes/defenders of mankind.

     In order to more efficiently process your application, we would like you to complete the following questionnaire. Keep in mind that there is no pass or fail, so please answer these questions to the best of your ability.

(Front counter of a fast food restaurant. Jim stands behind counter mopping. There is a speakerbox on the counter. Greg, Hard-Start and Brad enter the restaurant chained together at ankles. Hard-start is in middle. Jim stops mopping to look at the men)

HARD-START

Like to see you walk a mile in my damn shoes, which even Jolt Cola can’t buy! 12 is not 13. Besides, even my pelvis is hungry. Listen to it rumble!

(hands on hips, grinding)

BRAD

Man, I’m so hungry I was thinking of eating Hard-Start’s rat! Besides, we’re WAY ahead of those sheriffs.

GREG

(hissing)

Hard-start!

HARD-START

Hard-Start Bagman!

(smiles attentively)

BRAD

I thought we talked about this, Hard-Start! Me and Greg will do the talking, OK?

GREG

Right, so just stay quiet.

HARD-START

(stops as SOON as Brad calls his name)

I have amazing cosmic powers of silence-got it from an old mystic, they say. Taught to him by the three hair stylists of Cerberus, who were openning up a salon down on fourth street called “Snips N’ Giggles.” I assigned myself a quest that day,

BRAD

Its not that we don’t want to hear what you have to say, because that’s not it at all, HARD-START!

HARD-START

Bagman!

GREG

(tugging chains)

C’mon.

(They proceed to the counter. Hard-Start is mumbling quietly)

BRAD

(excitedly scanning the overhead menu)

Oh, man, I haven’t had Windees since I got busted! Didn’t you just love Windees when you were on the outside?

GREG

Not one of the reasons I craved freedom. I bet the lunch-lady’s used chewing tobacco had more nutritional value… and fewer carcinogens.

HARD-START

Oooooh! Bitch could SPIT!

JIM

Hey, are you guy’s escaped convicts?

HARD-START

We’re selling these fine leather jackets, and each one comes with a noisy pocket. I have this rat named Lenny in my pocket. Would a convict own a rat named Lenny?

BRAD

(incredulously)

What, us? No!

GREG

Whatever gave you that idea?

JIM

The chains. Some of the stuff you guys just said. And, above all, the fluorescent orange stripes up and down your uniforms.

GREG

(looking down at himself)

We’re…

HARD-START

Sock puppets?

GREG

Watching our brother Hard-Start, here.

HARD-START

Hard start bagman!

Aunt Vicky came to visit Sam and SHRINK HER DAMN HEAD! New content! Click Here.

      Nature, were you trying to feed me again? You’re really nice, but this wasn’t nearly enough corn to fill my cavernous gut with corn goodness.

     I’m not the most attentive gardener ever to wield a hoe. And, to tell you the truth, I’m not even sure which of the scary metal things in my garage that actually is.
     I’d bet its the one with the little mustache and the shifty eyes.
     The buzzing noise gave it away. Damn hoe.
     Anyhoo, I thought these were weeds, but they turned out to be commodity crops instead. Amazing!

     One can only assume that Mother Nature figured I looked to be getting peckish ’round about September, so she worked real hard and arranged to grow snack-size corn in my back yard. Notice the wee lil’ ears of corn.
     The kernels were very hard, almost popcorn like. I was afraid to eat it, so at the risk of offending her Holy Magesty, I threw Mum Nature’s snack offering into the mulch pile.
     Ok, Ma, next time see if you can grow me a Whitman chocolate assortment instead. That or a Snickers creeper vine. Mmmm….

According to SiteMeter, someone found my blog by searching for ‘Federal Booty Inspector’.      Crap, why didn’t I think of that? Although not all booty can be considered safe, I think that much could be gleaned through the careful inspection–properly begloved with latex, of course–of as much booty as I can locate.      My wife, of course, finds the process uncomfortable. But it is for the greater good, Heather, so you must acquiesce and spread ‘em.

OK, gross. But how about this guy? The ‘Grim Sleeper.’ Click this link and read this story NOW. I don’t know if this guy is for real, and I don’t care. But he’s responsible for one of the most remarkable blog posts I’ve ever read. His current blog (he abandoned the old one in frustration over some minor technical issues which were beyond him) is http://mentalskidmark.blogspot.com/, and is also quite fascinating.

You guys remember Heather’s grandmother, Iris Gribble? The one that had the awesome car crash some time ago? Heather took the old limey war-horse to an apple orchard today. Iris felt the call of nature, dropped trou and left her mark upon the land. Heather retreated to the adjoining row of trees and began lofting Fuji’s at her from a safe distance. Eventually the torrent, apple and urine, subsided and, long story short, we’re making apple fritters tomorrow! yay!

     My feet are comfortable tonight, thanks for asking. You’re sweet, really.

I have a secret. Or, at least, I had one until I just now typed it Here On This Page: my nuclear family has a recipe for turkey based synthetic White Castle hamburgers.      They are delicious, nutritious, and not at all worse than the story you read about them. You know, the one where “Explosive Flatulance Kills Dog Boy and ‘Friend’.”      Tragitrue.

Physical abnormality spot survey: Pimple in ear Partially healed burn on hand, looks far worse than it actually is. slight headache stains upon shirt appear to have come from something exploding from my chin…hmm… ingrown beard-hair Feet gone to sleep in defiance of reverse curfew imposed upon all my various body parts. Rebellious little piggies. Saddle-worn pants wrapped around ass. Older than my daughter by several years. Actually fell asleep typing just then. That wasn’t a body part! Oh..

Sorry, you’re both wrong. Raisins are a girl’s best friend. But the bitch is so jaded she takes them for granted.

     Damn, fell asleep again. Lost…um…three minutes. Surprised the laptop didn’t doze off in the meantime. Have you ever fallen asleep typing? I must be tired.

Night night.

I know, I have enough blogs already.
I’ve gotten some pressure for more Sam related content, and she deserves her own blog.
Click Here

     What do you freakin’ want from me?!? You foul leg tips, you irreversible toe-mounts, you home for the last tuft of hair on the road to grounds-ville, you keep sending this unwanted data up the chain of command.

“I’m hot!” you whine. Whine whine whine.

     I mean, the house is mild and comfortable. My clothes are not so much confining as adequately concealing and no other part of my person, clothed or gloriously dangly, is even warm.

     WHY ARE YOU HOT?!? I scream and yell and I get nothing, except for a warm flush in my cheeks.
     Ice packs are impractical, fresh feather pillow stays cool for a dozen seconds before I flip flip flip looking for two square inches of fabric not-yet body temperature.
     I DON’T FIND IT!
     To bed I go, to hang my tootsies off the edge of the queen size pad, protrudering out of the sheets. Sheets the remainder of my body are perfectly fine with. My feet are not joiners. They sleep exposed.

“Left Out”
One of my more bizarre scenes. Its a quick read, and fairly surreal.
Contest! Can you spot the element I recycled from another scene?
Hint:It involved a panda in the old scene, and had the OPPOSITE effect.
Answers by email, winner gets a prize.
SafeTinspector@gmail.com

Oh, you want the scene? Click Here