The Valiant Spaceman Spiff
The day India lost, Vishnu predicted that a blog post is on its way. Well, he was right, in a way that is, though I am least bothered in callisthenics that the Indian team thinks it is indulging in every time it is out on the field. You get immune to the pain,the heartbreak. Ok in a way, I'd admit I AM in fact ..um.. a touch hurt.. Just a wee bit. In fact, I'd just about give an arm to see India play in the next round
Um. I dont like betraying that you know. The valiant Spaceman Spiff is hanging on the edge, the very edge. His last dose of BorkFluid, and he has 2 years to go. Two years to go in the madhouse, and he is down to his last vial. He cocks his Super Zonk, the 45 magnum of Intergalactic space, and he is at one transformed into all those long whispered, half forgotten characters that The Old Man once told him about. What was he called? Ah yes, Clint Eastwood. Wasnt that the name? Yes. Imagination is verily the key. Though the valiant Spaceman Spiff is chained to the dank prison floor, and has little or no hope of seeing out the next two years, he doesnt lose whatever little is left. He clings to it, and the wings of his fantasy enable him to roam the Intergalactic Medium a free man, as he once was, nay, freer than he ever was.
So where is the room for hate? The Valiant Spaceman Spiff, superhero that he is, also has his Idols, his Heroes. It is true that they have badly let him down. But has he not done the same to thousands of innocent victims of the Scum that populates the Galaxies today? They have forgiven him , at least so he hopes . They understand what immense pressure he was under. He hopes they know that he didnt mean to let them down. So how can he be angry, when he himself is grovelling in the dust, riding on the last wings of his fancy? Ah no, He is not angry. This is the season of forgivness. The season of change. Maybe the warriors he idolized for long have been enfeebled by long years of care and playing with The Fire?
Maybe , like his heroes, his time has come too. Maybe, Valiant Spaceman Spiff wont walk so proud any longer. Maybe the scurvy , slimy Turks wont flee from his glance any longer. Maybe he'll just be an old centurion sitting in a forgotten Bar in the Slums of the Universe, forgotten, bloated, an old degenerate freak. In fact he already is. He walks free no longer. He remembers the chores that his cruel taskmaster assigned for tomorrow. A broken Superhero, he trudges on to the banalities of everyday existence. He takes a sip from his vial to face up to the hardships his life entails...
Gee, maybe I shouldnt read so much of Calvin and Hobbes
Um. I dont like betraying that you know. The valiant Spaceman Spiff is hanging on the edge, the very edge. His last dose of BorkFluid, and he has 2 years to go. Two years to go in the madhouse, and he is down to his last vial. He cocks his Super Zonk, the 45 magnum of Intergalactic space, and he is at one transformed into all those long whispered, half forgotten characters that The Old Man once told him about. What was he called? Ah yes, Clint Eastwood. Wasnt that the name? Yes. Imagination is verily the key. Though the valiant Spaceman Spiff is chained to the dank prison floor, and has little or no hope of seeing out the next two years, he doesnt lose whatever little is left. He clings to it, and the wings of his fantasy enable him to roam the Intergalactic Medium a free man, as he once was, nay, freer than he ever was.
So where is the room for hate? The Valiant Spaceman Spiff, superhero that he is, also has his Idols, his Heroes. It is true that they have badly let him down. But has he not done the same to thousands of innocent victims of the Scum that populates the Galaxies today? They have forgiven him , at least so he hopes . They understand what immense pressure he was under. He hopes they know that he didnt mean to let them down. So how can he be angry, when he himself is grovelling in the dust, riding on the last wings of his fancy? Ah no, He is not angry. This is the season of forgivness. The season of change. Maybe the warriors he idolized for long have been enfeebled by long years of care and playing with The Fire?
Maybe , like his heroes, his time has come too. Maybe, Valiant Spaceman Spiff wont walk so proud any longer. Maybe the scurvy , slimy Turks wont flee from his glance any longer. Maybe he'll just be an old centurion sitting in a forgotten Bar in the Slums of the Universe, forgotten, bloated, an old degenerate freak. In fact he already is. He walks free no longer. He remembers the chores that his cruel taskmaster assigned for tomorrow. A broken Superhero, he trudges on to the banalities of everyday existence. He takes a sip from his vial to face up to the hardships his life entails...
Gee, maybe I shouldnt read so much of Calvin and Hobbes
posted by '~-)Sandman(-~' at 7:36 AM
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