Two Busted Out Of The Cuckoo's Nest...

Okay, it took a bit longer than I expected, but I’m home. Why the silent treatment since last time? I may not have been on what you'd refer to as "model behavior", so I lost my computer privileges. To backtrack - do you remember that third kid from the Tim Hortons? I guess he finally found his inner zombie at the local police station (or would it be a Mountie station? I get confused from all the Dudley Do-Right Canadian stereotypes). He ate a local drunk, and they put him in a cell by himself ‘til they could get the paperwork together to ship him over to…wait for it…yep, the five-star loony bin where I’ve been cooling my heels. Clearly, Canadian doctors find a pulse to be optional when transferring a prisoner.

I was so doped up in that first month that you probably could have put a bull elephant wearing a smoking jacket and fez in the day room and I would’ve asked him to play checkers. And I probably would’ve lost. So, forgive me for not noticing the undead curling team kid showing up. Luckily, one of my schizo buddies down the hall started hearing stories about someone who had been wheeled in with full Hannibal Lecter regalia. He got a private suite, for obvious reasons. And he really started making a name for himself (Chompy MacGillacuddy, I believe it was) when the biting began.

Thankfully, Virtual Stranger got my message about needing a rescue in time to prevent a further outbreak. Granted, by the time he got there we had to put the whole place on lockdown - let’s just say that most of the patients and staff had those hungry eyes by that point (and no, not the kind that Eric Carmen sang about). Luckily, Stranger doesn’t mess around – he likes guns. Big ones. His personal fave is a sawed-off number he named Daisy (whether or not his marriage to said weapon of choice is legal in California is a story for another time). We outfitted the rest of the crazies with some choice weaponry, and there were surprisingly few friendly fire incidents. Don’t worry, we took the boomsticks away from them once we cleared the building. But if you should be near Toronto, and you see someone walking around in a robe carrying a pink plush bunny – call the cops. Jimmy the schizo may have been a big help clearing a zombie-infested nuthouse, but you don’t want him hanging around your town. Trust me.

So, home in time for V-Day. And from the looks of my inbox, we’ve got a lot to talk about. Check some of these out:

StinkyPete999 wants to know why the networks want to make him cry by burning off so many of his favorite shows – Dollhouse, Better Off Ted, Scrubs, and the list goes on.

DDollDevotee questions whether Amanda Palmer’s engagement to a certain Sandman author is real, or just some kind of wacky PR stunt.

DedMilkfan is ecstatic about the Dead Milkmen getting back together to write some new material and wants to know if they will be coming around on tour.

SBabyHead is curious why the Spiderbaby piece I promised months ago still isn’t written…

A lot of very valid questions – and being incarcerated in a Canadian sanitarium isn’t going to last long as an excuse, so I better get to work on some answers. Hope to rant to you more regularly soon – and maybe we’ll even see a Valentine’s soundtrack to mark my two year blogaversary…