But not sexy enough to withstand the creeping crud. A devastating combination of cold germs and construction observation has kept me away from the keyboard this week. I should be back to blogging in a bit - maybe even later tonight if the Peeper gets to bed early enough. He should - he hasn't napped, which means about this time of the evening he turns into a combination of Doctor Evil with the energy of an evil version of Cathy Rigby as Peter Pan...
Speaking of Mini-Pea, he has produced two fascinatingly odd tales this week.
The first is "Scott", a sort of anti-God. Scott lives in the clouds, either that or on the roof (which has me more disturbed as a homeowner than disturbed in the theological sense). Scott is all-powerful, and can be anywhere (except he's invisible, so you can't see him) but what he mostly loves to do is shoot you. There's no appealing to him, and he will do whatever he wants to, and what he wants to do is shoot you, so he's kind of a Peeper version of Set or a divine George W. Bush, if you will. Scott was on the dinner table tonight until the Peep bashed him with his spoon.
The second my or may not be related to Scott. It is the magical poop (let's save space and call it the "MP"), a sort of gastointestinal Loki that leaps from the toilet prior to flushing and lodges itself in your ear. It may drive you mad, or may not, whatever. The connection between the
MP and Mister Hanky, the Christmas Poop of South Park infamy, is also unclear. There is some hint (at least, the Peep hasn't clarified this but certain statements of his might lead a parent to suspect) that the MP may be Scott's poop, thus connecting this malevolent deity to the coprotitic enemy of Mankind.
Frankly, after the past week, I'm okay with that.
But we did get the Hannukah Bush set up and it looks damn fine.