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Gentle readers, I have placed below the "fold" photographs documenting certain events of this afternoon, which events I have come to believe I must relate to you, even though I think it likely that you will dismiss them as the product of an "over-active imagination" or a "nervous disposition". Indeed, I fear that you will think me mad. Nonetheless, the only proper course is disclosure. I have come to know certain things — awesome and terrible things — about what dwells in the ancient hills of North Georgia. I must risk my reputation if it means that even one person is prepared — as I could not have been — for what he will find stalking amongst the sagging homesteads and rusting cars of White County.

I went in to work somewhat earlier than usual this morning, and the early alarm clock seems to have caught me in a dream that I now recall as follows:

I am walking down an urban street at night with what seems to be the United Nations of young hip people. (I'm not sure what I'm doing with them. The street is too close and shadowy to be one of Atlanta's; it seems European, though it could be New England.) I speak briefly with one not-so-hip fellow who I imagine to represent Russia. He appears in every way to be Jerzei Balowski (played by Alexei Sayle) from the Young Ones.

I end up speaking with a tall blond gentleman who is the center of the group (both socially and spatially), and I tell him that I think we're going to Russia's party, though I express that, having met Russia earlier, I am skeptical about the quality of this party. The gentleman stops and turns to face me and, with an aristocratic air that is both commanding and winningly inclusive, says “I am Russia, and my parties are legendary”.

It turns out the first guy was from some former-Soviet satellite state or something.

Anyway, the “legendary” part turns out to be true, as I find myself in a beat up car with three people who were friends during my college years (none of whom have recently commented on this site). They are desperate to get into Russia's party because they have heard that he is generous in handing out party drugs. They think that I can get them into the party because I was with the UN crowd earlier. I'm torn between wanting to do a good turn for my (fairly pathetic) former friends and a sense that their quest is a ridiculous, pointless waste of time. We drive through a crowded parking lot while I try to think of something else to do, and that's about when I wake up.

Weird, huh?

So to sum up: I committed a faux pas and then failed to take any action to separate myself from some stupid people's stupid agenda. In my dreams, I am Charlie Brown.

It's true. I've tried it and it works. If you start your 2006 or later Toyota Rav4 in park, with neither the pedal nor the handbrake engaged, and then:

• Raise the handbrake,
• Pump the pedal brake twice,
• Lower the handbrake,
• Press the pedal brake down,
• Pump the handbrake twice,
• Release the pedal brake,
• Raise the handbrake, and then
• Pump the pedal brake twice,

...the Vehicle Stability Control and Traction Control systems are deactivated. (Depending upon how you look at it, these systems either keep you from making certain stupid maneuvers or keep you from regretting the stupid maneuvers you try to make. Put simply, the TC and VSC keep you from burning rubber.) The little swervy-car light on the dash comes on, and a computerized voice* reminds me that my car, despite being a baby SUV (i.e., a tall mid-sized station wagon) has about the same horsepower-to-weight ratio as a Mazda RX-8. Vrooom!

(Sg, the fact that you have survived to read this owes something to the fact that the TC and VSC systems are automatically re-activated whenever the car is turned off. Mom and Dad, I promise not to enter the Freedom Code when Sg will be riding with me.)

I'm going to try some different combos (maybe including the windshield wipers and radio preset buttons) to see if I can unlock invincible mode.

* Computerized voice may be imaginary

Hey, while we're on the comics tip, check out these awesome and hilarious illustrations by Jack Kamen. A quick search indicates that most or all are from EC Picto-Fiction (a short-lived family of exploitation titles that combined black & white artwork (see below) with blocks of text). The source for these is Mr. Door Tree's incredible Golden Age Comic Stories Blog.

Oh my god, that's horrible. For how much?

(More after the jump…)

In the very beginning (and I know this is hard to believe, Sg), Family Circus was even more boring than it is today:

We went to a Pumpkin Patch down near Newnan with my parents before Halloween. In addition to a whole lot of pumpkins, there was a petting zoo and a hayride. A number of photos (somewhere between too many and too few), some with captions, can be found after the jump.