When Titans Collide!

The air was filled with an electric energy just before the fateful reunion took place. Tens of thousands had gathered from across the world to witness what would surely be a momentous event. As the crowd began to swell and the media swirled in circles a host of angles sprang forth from the heavens and shined their blessed light down onto the earth. For MRT and CyberD finally reunited after a decade apart. They reached out and grasped hands and the crowd roared with celebration. Camera bulbs flashed and a symphony orchestra spontaneously erupted with Beethoven's Ode to Joy. The two titans of mankind stood for a moment amidst the throngs of mortals before sitting before a bountiful feast.

Much was said between these two warriors of old but even more was communicated. They regaled each other with tales of wonder that defined a decade long journey of exploration and adventure. No topic was off limits with these two stalwart titans as politics, religion, and Indiana Jones were discussed at great length. Then when all the food had been eaten and the wine and been drunk the two icons of time stood up from their feast and agreed that such a reunion would become a regular part of their heroic rituals. Finally, after an exchange of business cards and emails they parted ways with thoughts of the next reunion in their mind's eye.

And now for something completely different

I took the DART (or Dallas Area Rapid Transit) into work today. I rarely do this but I'm turning over a new fiscal leaf and that means cutting gas expense for the month. Every time I ride the DART, I always grab a free copy of this city newsletter called Quick. Anyway... I stumbled across this article in it by a gentleman known as Alibaster K. Abthernabther. I cannot describe the genius of this author. You really must read it for yourself. In fact, as it turns out - this quasi-fictional-man-about-town has his own blog. Feel free to visit it frequently. I know I will. Sadly, I could not find his article from Quick on the blog so I am re-posting it here for posterity.

Dear Gary Coleman,

Good day to you, good sir. My name is Alibaster K. Abthernabther. I am a best selling author, champion yacht racer, hot-air balloon enthusiast and fellow recreational adventurer.

Welcome to our fair city! I could not help but notice the local news reports declaring that you had been spotted near and around our Deep Ellum entertainment district, filming a motion picture wherein you apparently wrestle a gentleman dressed in a taco costume.

That is to say the gentleman you were wrestling was wearing a taco suit; not you, Gary Coleman. Perhaps you were both dressed as tacos? Really, I'm not too clear on who was dressed as what, though I am quite sure that at least one of you was in a taco disguise. Nevertheless! Do you think for one moment that I have forgotten about the Ancient Golden Monkey Femur of Khali-Ahhh? Well, rethink that, my friend. Your goons may have knocked me out and tried to erase my memory with 100 CCs of hydromydrophenelin, which may have worked on a lesser man. But I am constructed of mightier stuffs!

I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. Actually, I don't quite remember yesterday particularly well. I think I was doing whip-its behind a Dumpster yesterday. That's a "maybe," though.

However, last week I remember quite vividly. So I remember the events of Nov. 8, 1942, as vividly, if not more so. U.S. and British forces had just landed in French North Africa. It was mere coincidence that you and I would meet there, searching for the same prize.

The legend of the Ancient Golden Monkey Femur of Khali-Ahhh needs not be retold. It is as infamous as it is sexy, and as sexy as it is deadly. It's an infamously, deadly, sexy, legend. But it dare not be repeated.

Mere hours after our dinner with the prime minister of Oonk, as dusk begat twilight begat dawn, we were embroiled in fisticuffs atop a mountain peak, naked and slathered in baby oil. Possession of the precious Golden Monkey Femur would go to the victor. And we both know that you were the victor that night, Gary Coleman.

Mark these words, old chum: I will reclaim what is rightfully mine. Most likely by the time these very words meet your eye, the Ancient Golden Monkey Femur of Khali-Ahhh will once again be mine.

Yours,
Alibaster K. Abthernabther

A giant falls...

I have to apologize. It's been too long since my last post. It's been a busy time in the life of the Cyber family but what happened this weekend has pulled me out of my cocoon. When I heard the news that Tim Russert died of a massive heart attack in his office on Friday I was truly saddened. Perhaps surprisingly saddened. Surprised because you always hear about this celebrity death or that celebrity death. You even hear about those that are taken in their prime. But Mr. Russert's passing was terrible to hear. Perhaps it was because he was the one political news man that I cared to tune in and watch on Sunday mornings. Perhaps it was his professional and unbiased approach to journalism that impressed me. Perhaps it was that intangible quality that you sense in people that tells you they are hard working and family centered. But for whatever reason I am saddened. My heart goes out to the Russert family. I cannot imagine how devastating it must be for them right now. As for the greatest political show on television: Meet The Press... well, I know my disappointment for the loss of a great journalist is shared by many.