Au Revoir

This is probably the last post for the Brad the Gorilla blog. For awhile now, I've tried to find new angles for my regular schitck. I've gone to art school, formed a band, was hired and fired as a chef for a disreputable inn, won fourth place in the Elvis Invitationals, impersonated Hitman J, spouted off Latin aphorisms, and tormented Yorkshire Pudding. I made friends with Lady K and Friday's Web through an earlier incarnation of Nonny. As fellow blogging simians, it was only a matter of moments before Monkey and I met. Of course, without my Landlady, Landlord and Ulric, I would have been nothing but...

Who am I kidding? I'm BRAD THE GORILLA. Blog or no blog, I will always be a 450 lb gorilla with a temper. I can't believe I got all introspective for a moment. Bah!

If you leave comments, I will still receive and read them. I will continue to read your blogs and comment when I can. In the meantime, I'm taking the time to travel throughout the world. Keep an eye out for me-- I may show up in your hometowns. If I do, I fully expect multicourse dinners complete with cigars and chocolate-covered bananas.

Au revoir.

Brad-O-Meter

The intern of Totally Choice reviewed me today. I don't know how this intern found my Vlad the Gorilla, my second cousin, but suffice to say, the reason why my second cousin is so incomprehensible is because he ate a large quantity of hallucinogenic starfruit during his overseas tour of duty, and has had to work it out of his system ever since. The intern posted a drawing of Vlad:



I hate to admit it, but Vlad's ikeness is uncanny. The intern gets a point for acceptable sketching. However, the intern writes, "Google, Time Magazine, and Brad would get a Totally Bogus for this blatant act of tyranny, if it weren’t for the fact that Brad got me to Google the word encomium. For that, Brad the Gorilla officially receives a 2 on the scale of Choiceness." My response: you had to look up encomium? What about all of the other Latin words on my blog? You didn't look those up as well? For your appalling lack of scholarship, the Totally Choice blog post recieves a "1" on the Brad-O-Meter. However, since I just made up the Brad-O-Meter, I should give credit where credit is due. Totally Choice recieves 1.5 on the Brad-O-Meter.

Now, to find a Brad-O-Meter....

Person of the Year

I couldn't have done it without you, my fans.

How Brad got permanently banned from Antarctica

Here are the details that I gathered from Brad, among his whimperings and requests to be consoled with whiskey:

While Brad was helping Shad record observations about penguins and other wildlife in the great tundra of the south, Brad started to brainstorm new ideas. Apparently, he hadn't learned his lesson from past misadventures. Brad noticed that the penguins, algae, and other wildlife were standing idle much of the time, doing nothing productive. Brad began to develop a notion that he could do something to improve their condition of living. He began to see a link between their idleness and the need for Bradley Enterprises to expand. What if Bradley Enterprises got involved in the Christmas present delivering business? No one was competing with Santa Claus at the moment. This would be an optimal time for a new company to enter the industry.

While Shad and the other scientists were asleep, Brad spent the next several days rounding up penguins and other able-bodied wildlife, and put them to work constructing a factory in the snow. Shad became irritated the Brad was dozing off during the daytime instead of working, but he did not suspect anything out of the ordinary.

Somehow, Brad managed to acquire enough presents to give to children in various parts of the world. But he still needed a vehicle to transport the presents. How about a helicopter? That would be the right vehicle to deliver presents in, and it would be much more fun that a sleigh. He borrowed a helicopter from a nice patrolman, while the patrolman was asleep. He was going to tell the patrolman when he got around to it. Brad got the helicopter part way into the air before he realized that he did not know how to drive a helicopter. While he was studying the operator's manual, the helicopter crashed. He figured that it must have been something wrong with the helicopter, so the patrolman wouldn't miss it anyway. Brad went with this notion as he tried and crashed and exploded several more helicopters. He knew that the patrolmen would be thrilled and impressed that he was left uninjured.

Finally, he found a helicopter that actually worked the way it was supposed to and didn't crash. He swooped down and grabbed the bag of presents, with the help of the penguins. He lost a landing rail in the process, but that wasn't a big deal.

As part of his business strategy, Brad delivered Christmas presents on December 1st. "People will be impressed that I'm more timely than Santa Claus", he thought.
He went to the first house. He looked into the chimney and realized that he didn't want to get his fur dirty. So he swung down with an arm full of presents and kicked down the wall to the living room. "They won't mind when they see the wonderful presents that I've delivered them". He set the presents down by the Christmas tree, and left the invoice for the fairly-priced items that he delivered.

He went from house to house across the nations. Some people were awake and gave loud, vehement shouts of joy as he surprised them with his grand entry and the low prices at which they were receiving their presents. He was a bit disappointed that no one offered him hot chocolate or cookies. Cheapskates.

After a hard day's work, he returned to Antarctica, surprised to find a group of angry scientists and government officials awaiting him...

-Ulric

Gone Bust

Here is the reason I haven't posted in awhile: I got kicked out of Antarctica. All the governments of the world that have stakes in Antarctica have signed a persona non grata bill to keep me from ever again setting foot on the ice-continent. Shad did what he could to grant me amnesty, but the best he could do was get me provisional status for visiting New Zealand. If it weren't for Peter Jackson, I wouldn't even have that privilege.

The events leading up to my expulsion are humiliating. I've spent the last week sleeping on my Landlord's couch, refusing to get up except to eat the chocolate zucchini bread that Lady K. so kindly brought me and the homemade whiskey Friday overnighted to me. Nonny said she tried to order my favorite cigars for me, but they got tied up in customs. Pudding? Where are you in my time of woe? I know we are mortal enemies, but even Saracen sent oranges to Richard the Lion Heart when he heard that the king of England was a trifle sniffly.

First Aid

Here I am in Antarctica. Ho Ho! The broadband is faster here than in Seattle! Shad is benefiting greatly from my assistance, but I've already gotten in trouble with the boss. It turns out that my first aid certification is not up to date. They made me take elementary first aid with the new recruits at the base. I showed them, though. The instructor said my tourniquet was the best he'd ever seen. "But Brad, this is a choking victim!" It just goes to show you, some people are never satisfied. Tomorrow I'll tell you about how I made baked eel for the commander. They didn't have any eel in the commissary, so I had to improvise.

Springtime in Antarctica

Shad the Gorilla has invited the family out to Antarctica for the rest of the summer. I'll try to post from McMurdo Station, but in the meantime, I've got to pack. I'll still receive email notifications with comments, so even though I may be offline a lot, I have not disappeared from the blogosphere. I'll work on answering all of your pressing concerns and questions when I return. Au revoir!

Advice to my Readers

My inbox is bare. No one this week sent in a request for my advice. If you, dear readers, are too encumbered with the burdens of your daily lives to write to the wisest gorilla you know, I will take it upon myself to write the letters for you. Lady K and Smoochypants have already written in. Here are some new letters:

1) Dear Brad,
What do I have to do for you to forgive my past impudence toward your great personage? How do I adequately humble myself before the greatness that is Brad the Gorilla? Why, oh why, did I not realise sooner that you are the ruler of the blogosphere and I am a mere peon? Should I send you a case of Henderson's Relish?
--Yorkshire Pudding

Dear Mr Pudding,
The case of Henderson's Relish is a good start. Don't beat yourself up too badly with harsh words. A few tongue-lashings will do. I will consider your humble utterances of remorse and get back to you on the matter.
Your friend,
Brad

2) Dear Brad,
I'm addicted to video games and television shows! I can't seem to stop playing games and watching tv. What should I do to combat my addiction? Take up macrame? Learn to play the ukelele? Help! I am lost without you.
--Nonny

Dear Nonny,
I'm sure your devotion to video games is a healthy one. Don't worry about it. However, if you need help regarding your gluttony of television shows, I will be happy to throw your television out the window. I love doing that! You have no idea how many hotels have banned me for life as a result.
Your friend,
Brad

3)Dear Brad,
I have a shameful secret: I still play with paperdolls. I'm worried my kids will find out. Help!
Friday
P.S. Don't print my name.

Dear Friday,
Your secret is safe with me. I wouldn't sweat it with the paperdolls. If your kids show up while you're playing with them, you can always say that you're working on current fashion designs.
Your friend,
Brad

Why people send spam a lot

Ms Smoochypants writes:


Dear Brad,
Why do people send spam? I mean really. Who benefits from them?
Your Fluffydoodle

Do you remember the story of Prometheus and how he stole fire from the Greek gods in order for humans to be able to char and eat the flesh of the animals they hunted? Remember how Zeus threw a tantrum and chained Prometheus to a rock, with an eagle descending upon Prometheus each day to eat his liver? (Uncooked, I might add.)



The story of why people send spam has uncanny similarities. In the beginning, the gods were jealous of people's abilities to write soaring verse, scathing prose, and witty asides. All they could do was to inspire the people to write verse/prose/asides in their honor. In time, the people came to ignore the gods and lo, they discovered ways to send their verse/prose/asides at speeds that made Hermes's head spin like a whirling dervish. That was the advent of email. In rage and revenge, some of the gods decided that they would take over this "email" phenomenon. Alas, their meanderings turned into gobblety-gook along these lines:

the tail!" added jack pumpkinhead. could only speak a little pigeon english; so she must be kind to the poordressing room after a prolonged prink. guessing the thing of all others that he wanted to do. "but this copper man," continued dorothy, looking with patience and care. sometimes her family were invited in to help eat to a thread, and nice little bars across the end so i can't tear them when


Unfortunately, some humans got wind of these utterances from the gods, and misguided fools that they were, strove to emulate these celestial beings. Alas, that is how spam came to be, and until people learn to sort their verse/prose/asides from their gobblety-gook, we shall have spam ever more.

My advice to you in this matter would be to do your part to educate your fellow human beings as to the true nature of the Greek gods, and warn them away from emulating such undesirable verbiage.

Your friend,
Brad

P.S. In relation to the potted-meat product, here are some photos of the Seventh Annual SPAM Sculpture Contest.

Why Mondays are Rough

Dear Brad,
Why are Mondays always so rough? Why do the weeks seem so long and the weekends not long enough? Why are there not enough hours in the day?
Sincerely,
Lady K

Dear Lady K,

Long ago, when the world began, the days of the week were as demigods. On an intellectual level, these demigods understood that there must be order of precedence so that there might be harmony and balance in the known universe. However, soon after the order of precedence was set (they drew comets, and the demigod with the shortest comet tail got to choose first, penultimate shortest comet tail got to choose next, etc.), there was fighting and chaos among three of the demigods. Saturday, Sunday and Monday each vied to be the first day of the week. After many bloody noses and broken eye-balls, Saturday and Sunday formed an alliance whereby Sunday would be first and Saturday last, yet as the last shall be first, so should Saturday also have an esteemed place of honor in the order of precedence. Monday, a small but wirey demigod, protested against this alliance, and in retaliation, Saturday and Sunday totally pummelled Monday. To this day (a Monday, in fact!), Monday has sabotaged the hedonism and high-living of Saturday and Sunday (called "the week-end" in honor of Saturday, as part of the agreement). Thus, much of humanity has had to suffer the fallout of this ancient quarrel. The French, Germans and Italians have escaped this fate by making Monday the first day of the week on their calendars, and while their Mondays are just delightful, the weekend demigods have demonstrated their wrath by making sure the children of the French, Germans, and Italians have to go to school on Saturdays.

Your other questions are harder to answer, but not impossible. Weeks are so long and the weekends are not long enough have something to do with the space-time continuum and wormhole technology. I know this is scant comfort for you in these difficult times, but at least you now know it's not your overdriven imagination, but actual quantum physics at work! However, the reason why there are not enough hours in a day is purely the fault of Caesar Otobrio IV, who traded in two of the hours of the day in exchange for godhood and a powerful guitar riff.

Your friend,
Brad the Gorilla

Ask Brad

I'm starting up my advice column again. Send all queries for my advice to my email (if you want to be anonymous) or post queries in the comments section. Here's what I've got so far from the email:

Dear Brad the Gorilla,

Relationship advise! Top Online Dating Sites Rated Free Ads. [I want to] Learn more. Please visit.
--Relationship Advise

Dear RA:

If you want to be in a successful relationship, you will first need to learn to communicate properly. Take a couple of grammar and writing courses. Read a few books. Whatever you do, be advised that Spell Check is no substitute for a clear understanding of the language you allegedly speak.

Your friend,
Brad

Dear Brad the Gorilla,

Heya wats up?

I was just going to let you know of a new way to make some extra bucks here and there. Works pretty well to, [sic] They send you a check or paypal payment every month for all the offers you complete. I make about 400 dollars on a month to month basis myself without much work, pretty much just promoting. But you can still make around $30 on a month to month basis by doing the free online offers yourself.
I would join if I were you and check it out.
--Alissa

Dear Alissa,

Look here, buddy, I'm the one giving advice, not you. I have to wonder what sorts of sordid services you are "promoting." My advice to you is to find yourself a proper job and leave the lollygagging to the gorillas. We benefit greatly from lying around in the rainforest and picking nits off of each other. Is that what you really want to do with your life? I thought not. Now, get out of here and learn how to make a proper caffe latte.

Your friend,
Brad

Hey Brad.taron!!

When was the last time you were able to discover a High Profile
Hollwyood production company on the ground floor?
--MPRG.PK

Dear MPRG.PK,

The last time I discovered a High Profile Hollywood production company on the ground floor was around this time last year, when Peter Jackson was putting the finishing touches on "King Kong." When was the last time you proof-read your emails? I recommend in the future that you make a practice of doing so.

Your friend,
Brad

Dear Beloved,

How are you together with your family and work? I hope all is well with you and your family. I am Mrs. Katherine Jambo from Sudan, presently staying in Dakar, Senegal. I have been working as a human rights activist and a humanitarian coordinator for 15 years before i became sick and very unwell to continue the work that i started with my husband. I`m married to Mr Naboth Jambo, We were married for 32 years with one Son, John. My husband died after a brief illness and before his death, we had been working together in humanitarian agencies in Southern Sudan helping the war-displaced.

[BLAH BLAH BLAH]

I do not have any body left as i was an orphane and has been struggling with my late husbad for survival in life. I will want you to help me in transferring this money in the bank into your care and making an investment on behalf of my son. I will also want you to help my son in migrating to meet you where he will continue his education until he is old enough to take care of himself. I am willing to pay you 20% of the total money for your services and i will sign a comprehensive agreement with you on the management of any investment that you will make and the percentage of the profits that will come to you as the funds manager. Please do not turn me down as i am scared about the future of my only son.

Please assure me that you will assit me to secure his future as i know that i do not have much time left in the world and i will not want him to fall into very wrong hands.

I await your very urgent response.
Sincerely,
--Katherine.

Dear Katherine,
Your plight moves me. Unfortunately, I will not be able to help you without the use of my very own helicopter. If you can arrange for a properly working, brand-new (shiny) helicopter to be delivered to one Brad the Gorilla in Seattle, Washington, I'm sure I'll be able to fly to your aid. In the meantime, here is some advice for you:

*The "i" should always be capitalized when referring to oneself in the first person, not just when one feels like it.

*Twenty percent of the money is not enough. You should offer 85%. Send it to me in gold bouillon. I don't trust the banks these days.

Your friend,
Brad
P.S. "Beloved?" Ugh! Too smoochy by far.

OK in the shop

Back by overwhelming popular demand, here is the link to The Brad Shop. All proceeds go toward the purchase of a helicopter for Bradley Enterprises.

Since Spreadshirt discontinued their toddler sizes (confound them), Monkey has had to live bereft of Bradapparel. Now, Monkey need fret no more: there is a new item in the shop just for him (and everyone else who buys it). Don't think of it as a bib, think of it as a cape for a superhero. Happy Halloween!

My life as it is now

This photo is humiliating. I am a 452 lb gorilla, and yet the Landlord's daughter, has the audacity to coerce me into dancing with her. I'm not Philomena, who is so graceful that she appears light as a bubble and delicate as a dragonfly. The whole time, I was worried about accidentally stepping on the Landlord's daughter's toes and crushing them. Egads! The girl knows no fear. I suspect I'm growing soft-hearted in my middle age, and must figure out a way to maintain surly gruffness when faced with toddler persistence.

Tee-shirt sales to benefit the acquisition of the Bradley Enterprises helicopter have slowed considerably. It's too bad, because a Brad the Gorilla tee-shirt enhances any outfit, casual or business. Behold:



This is a photo of my Landlord and his daughter. My Landlord is wearing a Brad the Gorilla tee-shirt. It lends him an air of gravitas. By the way, I don't know where the Landlady was when I took this photo, but I suspect she was swilling the freshly-pressed spiked cider before passing out in the pumpkin patch.

"Brad is..." so famous

Whenever I worry about my fame potentially fading, all I have to do is go to the internet to rediscover how famous I really am. When I type in "Brad is..." I find:

Brad is a freelance writer, investigative citizen journalist/blogger.

True! It was the first hit, too.

She does not yet fully realize how inadequate Brad is going to be as any kind of long-term prospect.

True! No one will ever entice or trick me into a long-term relationship, not even Lady K.

Kathy begins to suspect that Brad is having an affair with Sarah, and so she arranges a dinner party for the two couples.

False! I am having an affair with no one. Who's Sarah? I'll bet Nonny would know. Nonny, who's Sarah?

I know Brad is hurt that Denise is engaged, but doesn't he realize he just gave Alan a challenge?

False! I'm fine with Denise's engagement. Alan had better watch out, though.

Now Brad is set to star as the investigative journalist played in the series by Brit actor JOHN SIMM.

Well! I didn't even know someone was making a movie about my life. I'm flattered. I'd better get royalties.Mr. Simm is going to have to bulk up a bit if he's going to look like me. Mr. Pudding, aren't you thrilled that a Yorkshireman is playing me? I sure hope he gets my accent right.

She supports the family while Brad is allegedly studying to pass a bar exam.

False! I have never studied for any of the 5 times I took the bar exam.

“Brad is a superstar,” said Max Stier, president and CEO of the partnership. “He has been a house on fire. Nobody meets him who is not delighted.”

True! I have never met Max Stier, but when you're famous (as I am), word gets around.

Brad is a different story, daydreaming through life in search of lost youth.

False! I am not searching for lost youth. I deliberately got rid of it. I'm a grouchy old gorilla.

Raised in Washington state as the youngest of five children, Brad is fit and athletic — the hallmarks of many successful Survivor contestants.

Someone did not do his or her homework. Even though I am fit and athletic, I was not raised in Washington State, and I am not the youngest of five children. Chad the Gorilla is younger than me, remember?

Brad is supposed to be studying for his bar exam, but he's more interested in teenage pursuits, such as skateboarding or football.

True!

"Brad is not pretentious. There's nothing artsy-fartsy about him," says Running With Scissors director Ryan Murphy.

False! And true! I am pretentious, but there is nothing artsy-fartsy about me, unless of course you count the time I attended art school. I got thrown out by the end of the semester, though. Philistines.

Brad is not dissatisfied with his stay-at-home status; his previous failure of the bar exam and present lack of will to study situates him in a lifestyle of watching his son while his beautiful wife (Jennifer Connelly) works to support them.

Everything is true except the part about the son and the wife.

Brad is a full time professional performer with outstanding vocals. ... Brad is available for tribute shows, Elvis-grams, special events, parties, reunions, carnivals, anniversaries, weddings or store promotions.

True! Except for the part about weddings and store promotions, of course. Those events are strictly Monkey's jurisdiction.

“Brad is a very talented driver and has an incredible NASCAR future ahead of him."

Was that your quote, Friday? If so, thanks so much. I'm really good at driving cars very fast and crashing them into other things. Why can't I get a driver's license, though? (And why didn't I notice the Coors Light sticker on my helmet before I put it on? I would never willingly shill for Coors light. O the embarrassment.)




Brad is a natural leader and entrepreneur.

True!

Pudding Flower

It has come to my attention that some of you were displeased with your personality test results. My goody-goody Landlady insisted I make things right, or she would throw me into the soup. (Generally, I like being thrown into the soup, but not when it's beef-barley. Ugh.) So, here goes.

For Yorkshire Pudding, I give the Yorkshire Pudding flower:



That's all I have for now. More later. Follow that pudding flower link, though, and you'll see some more interesting items, including the North Yorkshire Elvis Bus Tour.

Test Results

The results of the personality test are in:

Ulric is G.R.U.F.
Gluttonous Ruthless Understated Felon

Friday is C.U.T.I.
Creative Understated Tenacious Introspective

Nonny is E.D.G.I.
Energetic Diabolical Giggly Introspective


Yorkshire Pudding is L.U.M.P.
Letcherous Understated Mercenary Psychotic

Lady K is P.R.G-I.
Professional Rigorous Gastronomically-Inclined

Monkey is B.U.R.P.
Bananas Under Ripe Peels

Okay, I admit it: I made up that last one.

Personality Test

Okay, Nonny, here is my excuse for not having posted for a whole week:

My Aunt Alcidis paid me an unexpected visit from Moonstone, Nebraska. Aunt Alcidis is rather flighty and full of fanciful notions. She's always preparing raw foods, testing people's auras, reading their astrological charts, and making them take personality tests. Well, I say that we should all forget the Jung Typology (i.e. Myers-Briggs) Test, I say, and all its flaky ilk like the Enneagram and the Eat Right For Your Type methods. I've developed a personality test far superior to anything else in terms of the scientific approach, the socio-economic implications, not to mention a deep understanding of demographics of ambiguous produce. Presenting

THE LYERS-PRIGS TEST

Simply number your answer sheet from 1-40, answer either "YES" or "NO" to each question, and email me your answers. I will analyze your answers and post your personality type right here on this blog.

1. As a rule, current preoccupations with potato chips worry
you more than your future plans for dark leafy greens.

2. You find it difficult to talk about your feelings unless you’re yelling.

3. You feel at ease in a crowd looking up at you climbing a building.

4. You do your best to complete a task with finger-paints instead of magic markers.

5. You are curiously touched by the stories about people's troubles with hydrogenated fats.

6. You are more interested in a general pudding than in the details of its preparation.

7. Strict observance of the established rules is likely to be no fun at all.

8. Often you prefer to read a book than go to a food-fight.

9. You tend to rely on your experience rather than on theoretical alternatives to hair removal.

10. It's difficult to get you excited about bananas foster.

11. You rapidly get involved in social activities at a new workplace before you get fired.

12. It is in your nature to assume responsibility for all wicked behavior.

13. You frequently and easily express your feelings and emotions by yelling.

14. You often think about humankind and its inevitable destiny.

15. You believe the best bananas are the ones that can be easily changed into dessert.

16. You are a person somewhat reserved and distant in communication with extraterrestrials.

17. You prefer to act on impulse rather than speculate about various toilet paper options.

18. You trust gourmet chefs rather than politicians.

19. You spend your leisure time actively socializing
with a group of people, attending parties, hot-wiring cars, emailing your blog buddies.

20. You usually plan your sleeping-in mornings in advance.

21. Your actions are frequently influenced by emotions how hungry you are.

22. You often contemplate the complexity of life outside of the jungle.

23. You often do jobs that involve curry.

24. You find it difficult to speak loudly.

25. You get bored if you have to read driver’s manuals.

26. You value fake accents higher than fluency in a foreign language.

27. The more people at whom you yell, the better you feel.

28. You like to keep a check on how the dinner is progressing .

29. You easily scoff at the concerns of other people.

30. You are more inclined to experiment with chemicals than to follow familiar approaches to cleaning the bathroom.

31. You are usually the first to react to a sudden event: the telephone ringing, an unexpected question, a pineapple crashing through the window.

32. The process of searching for dessert is more important to you than dessert itself.

33. You usually place yourself nearer to the side than in the center of the hockey rink.

34. When solving a problem you would rather follow a familiar approach than seek a new one that might produce fewer blue jellybeans.

35. You try to stand firmly by your principles, but if you can’t, you at least get a free meal out of the deal.

36. It is easy for you to communicate in social situations while wearing cooking mits.

37. You are consistent in your grooming habits.

38. You willingly involve yourself in matters which engage your dinner plans.

39. You easily perceive various ways in which events could develop badly.

40. A thirst for adventure is close to your stomach.

In the meantime

I've got nothing. Until I've got something again, you may entertain yourselves with the following fun activities:

* Teach yourself Latin

*Learn about monotremes

*Chat with ALICE

Grudge Match Wednesday

Who would win in a Grudge Match?

Brad the Gorilla

versus



Yorkshire Pudding

Ready... set... GO!

My Cousin Philomena

Exciting news! My cousin Philomena is going join the Pacific Northwest Ballet in its 2006 production of Nutcracker. She will play the Sugar Plum Fairy. I attended one of her performances last year when she was Aurora in The Sleeping Beauty. Here is a photo of me visiting Philomena backstage in the Green Room:



Yes, Philomena is bigger than I am. At 450 lbs, I am one of the smallest gorillas in my family. Perhaps that is why I am so surly.

High School Poetry II

I've got nothing new for you. Here is another composition of high school Latin poetry:

My Latin poem:

A pedibus usque ad caput
A mari usque ad mare
A mensa et thoro:
Ad vitam Paramus.

Ab ovo usque ad mala
Ad praesens ova cras pullis sunt meliora
Quod natura non sunt turpia;
Lusus naturae,
Lupus est homo homini.
Gorillae gorillae, gorillae gorilliae tractant.



Translation:

From feet to head
From sea to sea
From board and bed:
We are preparing for life.

From the egg to the apples
Eggs today are better than chickens tomorrow.
What is natural cannot be bad;
A freak of nature,
Man is wolf to man.
Gorillas are gorillas, therefore gorillas do gorillish things.

Rude Gorilla

For some reason, Ulric advised me to execute Google internet searches on "rude gorilla" and "rude orangutan," and compare the results. There were 99 hits for "rude gorilla" and only 2 for "rude orangutan." I'm still struggling to discern what the implacations could possibly be, but in the meantime, I thought you might be interested in viewing some of the results:

1) Rude Gorilla Gram: The perfect announcement for that "ape-man" in your life.

2)Hello, the rude gorilla suavely activated opposite to one moral pill bug.

3)The [online dates] that didn't come to much (except for the rude gorilla), were pretty much because they lived too far away for it to really be realistic to commit to anything regularly.

4)Rude gorilla presses Adams and slams him in return!

5)The Rude Gorilla Theater Company presents this comedy about Dorothy Day , the radical founder of the Catholic Worker movement...

6)Support is from Czech band Rude Gorilla.

7)Dear me, the amused manatee rebelliously cursed across that rude gorilla. Oh my, an aardvark is more unexplainable than the terrible vulture.

The world wide web is a strange, strange place.

Gorillas in the News: Sparse Pickings

80GB iPod Gorilla

I'm confused. Apple promises an iPod Gorilla, but nowhere in the article is it actually named or described. Until I get some clarity, I'm sticking with my iPod Banana.

Famous Gorillas
Why am I still not pictured on this site? I have deluged the site with dozens of photos of me in various costumes and personas, but still... nothing.

Ice-Cream Soothes the Savage Beast

I'm feeling a little bit better, now that I've got some food in me. My Landlord and Landlady took me out to dinner tonight in what I thought would be a vain attempt to soothe my ragged nerves. Not only did they provide all the stuffed-grape leaves and fried plantains I could eat, but they presented this to me for dessert:



I actually had 20 of these Golden Gate Banana Splits. Who says that medicating with ice-cream doesn't work? It works, my friends. It works. I'm not worried about gaining weight, of course. You can practically see my ribs through my fur.

Rude Words

It occurs to me that I've not been rude enough in my posts. You may know me as the gruffest, surliest gorilla around, but frankly, I think I've gotten a bit soft around the edges. So, to make up for it all, I'm going to be quite snarly today.

First, here is my list of rude words and phrases:


Potty-Face!

Dung!

Sit on a banana!

Go change a diaper!

Faciem durum cacantis habes! (Translation: You have the face of a man with severe constipation.)

Second, here is a list of angry thoughts:

1) People are stupid. They shit where they eat, dump garbage on the ground, and then complain about the "riff-raff" spoiling their cities.
2) People are stupid. They pollute the very seas where they want to sail their fancy boats.
3) People are stupid. They say, "Children are our future" and then sabotage the educational system with "Every Child Left Behind" policies and pat themselves on the backs for making sure children don't have adequate health coverage.
4) People are stupid. They'd rather have cheap hamburgers today than rainforests tomorrow.

Third, here is my new outlook on life:

I'm MAD! Raving, stark raving mad. Nothing, absolutely nothing will assuage my wrath. Well, almost absolutely nothing. I wouldn't want you to give up that easily. Try the usual things first (bananas, chocolate, whisky), and if those things don't work, get a little creative. I don't promise to calm down, but I will entertain a few attempts to appease my foul, wretched temper.


Guts!!!!!!!

Gorillas in the News

Baby Gorilla On The Way At Little Rock Zoo
Hurrah! I hope they name the baby Bradley or Bradetta. Please, though, no Bradgelina!

Orphaned Mountain Gorilla Alive and Healthy
Hurrah for the gorilla, but a big hiss-boo to the poachers. I despise poachers. They're On Notice.

Gorilla who mauled toddler back on display
While gorillas are not cuddly, this really was a shocking, simply shocking bit of news. No one in my family mauls toddlers (though we've been known from time to time to drink grown Yorkshiremen under the table, which is almost as shocking). Little Joe, you are On Notice.

Curious George Becomes Marketing Gorilla
Hah! I'm putting United Press International On Notice, too, for confusing monkeys and apes.

Recycle Your Cell Phone and Save Gorilla Habitat
C'mon. It takes so little to do so much. Resist the temptation to fling your cell-phone into the trash during one of your raging tantrums, and recycle your cell-phone instead. Feel free to recycle your tantrums, too. You can go a long way with, "Give me my way RIGHT NOW or I'll lick all of the cookies and put my germs on them."

Like me, Stephen Colbert "gets it."

The New Brad Tee-Shirt

Here you go, Nonny, your new tee-shirt with my furry silhouette:



The back of the tee-shirt proudly proclaims the name and address of everyone's favorite gorilla blog:



I am expecting Mr Pudding to buy a shirt for everyone at his local pub. He did recently win a chunk of change at the pub, and it is only fitting that he and all his buddies get to wear stunning garb.

Update
Here is a mug for Lady K:

Brad-gear buttons

New in the Shop:




Nonny, I'm in the process of designing a tee-shirt just for you (and everyone else who's willing to buy it). Remember: proceeds from sales go toward the purchase of my helicopter for Bradley Enterprises.

Gorilla Librarian

Nonny said I should really try to break into films. I’ve tried. Oh, how I’ve tried. After George Lucas kicked me off the set of Star Wars when I accidentally let his rhubarb pie burn, I was gorilla non grata in Hollywood.

I went overseas for work (I had a European Union work permit, thanks to my Welsh grandmother), and auditioned for a skit in Monty Python’s Flying Circus. I was going to be a gorilla librarian! At the last minute, there were some snags* in the filming of the scene, and one of the regular actors decided to dress up in a gorilla suit. I hate it when that happens. Humans dressing up in gorilla suits is disturbing. Humans are not knuckle-walkers, and don’t cut the same fine figure as the mighty gorilla gorilla gorilla (i.e. Western Lowland Gorilla, not to be confused with gorilla gorilla diehli, the Cross River Gorilla).

The problem with getting a film career is that the industry refuses to let gorillas into the Actor’s Equity Association. Some people might say that it’s my fault** but I suspect that the industry is biased in favor of humans.

I might do better in the gaming industry. There’s a slight but solid demand for gorillas in multi-player sorceries, including that of the Gorilla Librarian. Aha! Expect a come-back in the works.


*Graham Chapman got royally peeved with me for eating all of his banana crunchies, and Eric Idle had the audacity to insinuate that I wasn’t very funny. I also believed John Cleese would be amused, not furious, when he sat down on a mince pie in his dressing room.

**Everyone in the AEA says it’s my fault.

"Brad is" Your Gorilla of Choice

In the spirit of my first blog post, I have decided to revisit the "Brad is" meme. This time, I have appended annotations.

Brad Is....


1) Brad is a chameleon.

No I’m not. I’m a gorilla. What gives?

2) Angelina can’t wipe the smile from her face and Brad is being so protective.

The only Angelina I know is a Young Adult librarian. (Click on the link and scroll down to the third entry of the featured speakers.) She’s probably smiling because of my impassioned speeches about the importance of the microfilm machine in archiving pre-nineteenth century graphic-novels.

3) Brad is quite the procrastinator.

Ho ho. I’m thinking about starting a club for procrastinators.

4) Brad is taking the kids to a daycare.

Not yet. My Landlady has hidden the keys to the car and installed an “anti-hot-wire” device. I’ll foil her no-fun machinations yet, when I get around to it.




5) Brad is tired of thinking about himself.

False!

6) Brad is much smarter than Weitzman and he did see this sixteen years ago.

This is true. Weitzman has nothing on me, and I have plenty on Weitzman.

7) Brad is a really nice guy, but he's not too happy about this area.

False. I am not a really nice guy, and I am happy about this area.

8) Brad is well-known to regulars in the skinning and customization community.

The “skinning” part gives me the shivers. Fortunately, it refers to the “skins” of web designs and not Mr Pudding’s empty threats to turn me into a rug. I'll get you yet, Mr Pudding!

9) The Brad is back.

Sure. At least, until I go on tour again.

10) Brad is famous, well known, well liked.

True, all true! Though I don’t quite understand the “well liked” part. As you know, I am a veritable arsenal of insults and rude words.

Bananas, bananas

I went outside this evening to clear my head of yesterday's revelries, and found a huge pile of bananas. You all really did take B.Y.O.B. to heart. Now, though, I have a lot of bananas, and not enough freezer space. Currently, the pile of bananas is sitting in Downtown Seattle, but the mayor says I have to move them by tomorrow morning, or the commuters are going to foam at the mouth with road rage. Yes, it is that bad out here.

Believe it or not, I can only eat so many bananas at once. I guess I'd better get busy. I wish I hadn't run out of rum.

Day After the Party

What a wild and crazy party! There was excessive hedonism, merriment and conspicuous consumption like you've never seen. It started off mildly enough.

I got out the raw ingredients for the pizza:



I prepped the pizza with pesto and artichoke hearts:



Then I baked it in the oven and served it to my guests:


The pizza wasn't enough to fill the stomachs of the hordes of people in the room, but we made do with follow-up pies. Speaking of pie, the Landlady surprised me with a key-lime pie instead of birthday cake:



I cut the pie for other people, and ate the rest myself. I also had some wine.


Oops. I had too much wine:



It's around 9:30 pm PST right now. I woke up a half an hour ago. I'm thirsty! And hungry. Due to my wine overconsumption, I don't remember too much of the party, so you'll have to fill me in on the blanks. All I know is that we had a rip-roaring time. I also have a faint memory of Nonny, Lady K and Señor Magnifico dancing the flamenco on the table-tops, but perhaps I'm remembering an old movie? Friday also brought a pound cake flavored with some lovely herbs, and Mr Pudding did some amusing tricks with hand-shadows, a pogo-stick, and two kumquats. Philip the Pun regaled us with stories of his travels through the seedy underground music scene of Seattle.

Ulric missed my birthday party though, the scurvy-head. He said he had to "work" but I suspect treachery. Who knows, though, perhaps he's planning a super-surprise for my birthday. I'll pretend I don't know anything about it.

Sign the Birthday Guestbook Here

My favorite self-portrait...

Update
I realize that for some of you traveling from afar, bringing your own bananas might be a bit dicey:

At Dulles International Airport near Washington on Thursday morning, one traveler reported that screeners were also making passengers remove all food items from their carry-on luggage for inspection, and one passenger was told to peel her banana.

Seattle locals are requested to bring a few extra bananas for the overseas and cross-country guests. I wouldn't wish airport security hassles on anyone, even Mr Pudding. And that's saying something.

Reminder: Brad's Birthday Party tomorrow

I can't believe it! I've been planning my birthday party for almost a year, and my Landlady claims that she knew nothing of it. "I thought you were just having a party on your blog," she said.

"No," I replied. "I'm having one at your house, too."

I suppose I have to do everything now, including the invitations. Anyway, I'm having a party at the House of Glee tomorrow (August 14) at 6 pm PST. If it were up to me, you could just show up any time, but my Landlady and Landlord have this thing about the Landlord's daughter going to bed at a proper hour. Hah! Please respond either to me or to my Landlady if you plan to come, so that we have enough pizza and cake for everyone.

Here are some ideas for birthday presents for me:


Spiffy helicopter


Spiffy car


Spiffy spaceship


Spiffy guitar. Hey, this CF-1 Sunburst Martin guitar is the least expensive item on the list. What do you say? If I had this guitar, I'd be a very happy gorilla. I might even stop throwing pureed bananas at babies.

Birthday Party on August 14th

As those of you who have read the Brad FAQ know, Sunday Monday, August 14th is my birthday. I shall be 40-something plus 1. You are all invited to my birthday party. It will be on this blog, of course. Presents are always welcome, of course (see the FAQ for ideas), but I hope to read lots of flattering, spontaneous comments in the Fan Letters section. By then, Deadbeat Crawdads will be taking a brief break from touring, so I will be on hand to answer the pressing questions of the day. Due to the large crowds expected, this is a BYOB (bring your own bananas) event.

GQ: Gorilla Quarterly

As promised, here I am on the cover of Gorilla Quarterly! Over the next couple of days, I'll try to take some time to scan the featured article.

Train-Themed Festival

The Deadbeat Crawdads are going to be playing at a train-themed festival these next too weekends. We're going to open for Nancy Stewart. (I'm not sure yet whether or not Nancy knows this.) There was some concern that our music would not be child-friendly, but I say, what's un-child-friendly about throwing banana-cream-pies into the audience?

Our song line-up includes the following train-themed songs:

1) Midnight Special
2) Folsom Prison Blues
3) Train Kept a' Rollin'
4) Rock Island Line
5) All Aboard the Potty Train

There's at least one child-friendly song in that line-up. I just know it.

Probably not a knuckle-walker...

Today's headline:

Not drunk? Maybe, but did you see the gorilla?

People who imbibed only enough to reach half the legal limit for intoxication still were more than twice as likely as non-drinkers to miss spotting a person dressed up as a gorilla in a visual test.

This is just a quick post in-between sound-checks. Deadbeat Crawdads is playing at the Washington Banana Museum today. Hope you can make it!

Deadbeat Crawdads: Alive Again

Great news! I really do have a new gig. Remember Deadbeat Crawdads, my old band? They've recently gotten back together with some new folks, and they asked me to front the band. "It just won't be the same without you," they said. We're going on tour this weekend, and hope to be playing sold-out bars and nightclubs before we know it. This tour will give me the much-desired hiatus I needed from blogging on a regular basis. I'll be back before you know it, but in the meantime, please feel free to write to me via the comments section or my gmail account: brad [dot] the [dot] gorilla [at sign] gmail [dot] com.
I can't promise to answer all of my fan mail as quickly as I have before, but you will receive responses from me in a timely fashion.

Coming soon to a city near you...

Your friend,
Brad

New Gig?

I need a new gig. Sure, I'm fluent Latin (joke Latin, at least), I'm a gourmet chef, I do a mean impersonation of Elvis, and I've been known to write an advice column or two. Everyone by now knows how gruff I am (definitely not cute), yet so furry that hairs are always getting into my culinary preparations. You've read about my extensive family, my travels all over the world, and my ongoing "who's got a bigger roar" competition with Yorkshire Pudding. You know that Nonny, Lady K and Friday keep trying to hug me and ruffle my fur, and you know that, as usual, I will have none of it. Last, but not least, you know that I used to be Hitman J's bouncer/body-guard before he up and left for Philly. Those were good times.

But now what? August 9, 2006 will be the one year anniversary of Brad the Gorilla, and I don't think I have enough material to make for interesting reading. I'm not planning to close down the blog, but I'm definitely thinking about taking a few months off. If I do, will you be around when I return?

In the meantime, here are some photos from my East Coast trip:




Good-looking cupcakes often are not the tastiest cupcakes. These cupcakes were no exception.



This is a proper breakfast: New York bagel with cream-cheese, and coffee in a Greek-motif take-out cup proclaiming "We are happy to serve you." I bought ceramic versions of these coffee-cups.


I was hiding in the car when The House of Glee went to Brooklyn for breakfast at the Yemen cafe. I saw a sign for "Blue Spoon Coffee" and tried to signal the Landlord's daughter to get her grandfather to stop the car, but no luck.


On the way into Brooklyn via Staten Island, I saw one of those inflatable blue gorillas advertising tires. By the time I snapped a picture, all I could see was the very top of the blue head. If you can't see it, keep enlarging the photo until a blue blob catches your eye. You may be at the computer for awhile.

Of course there was also that UFO in Montana I saw...

Regarding the UFO in Montana...

Hello, faithful readers, I have returned from my vacation.

As some of you may remember, I was a stowaway on the House of Glee’s trip to New York City. I was quite clever with all of my hideaways and disguises. Only Lucia, the Landlord’s daughter, discerned my secret, and fortunately, her repeated utterances of “Gorilla! Gorilla!” were interpreted at 3-year-old babble by her unsuspecting parents. After I attempted to climb the Empire State Building, I was caught, put in jail, and then released, thanks to a “Get Out of Jail Free” card. When the House of Glee went to Yonkers, I was put in solitary confinement in the toy room. There I stayed until it was time to return to Seattle via train.

Now, the House of Glee fully intended to check me with their luggage. I was indignant and I threw a tantrum in the railway station. One grouchy old coot glared at me and got up in a huff to read his book elsewhere. Other people tried to stand their ground. “If we just ignore him, he’ll go away,” I heard one businessman say to another.

No such luck.

Fortunately, the train staff was on MY side.“You simply cannot check a gorilla in baggage,” they told my Landlord and Landlady. “In fact, you must get the gorilla his own first class sleeper-car so that he will stay out of everyone’s way.” My Landlord protested, my Landlady fumed, but in the end, it they had a choice between paying for a sleeper car for me or getting kicked off the train for causing a ruckus.

Let me tell you: the sleeper car is the proper way to travel on a train. All meals are included, and you get extra amenities like complimentary champagne, freshly-baked cookies before bed and exclusive wine and cheese-tastings in the diner car. There were four different wines to taste, and I drank a bottle of each.

Early next morning, I saw a spaceship above a train-station in Montana. Everyone claims I had too much wine to drink the day before, and was hallucinating from a hangover, but I got a photo of the event. Behold!



If that's not proof of alien life, then what is? Take that, you Doubting Thomases!

Solitary Confinement

I have been thrust into solitary confinement for the remainder of the New York trip. What an "UNSPEAKABLE OUTRAGE," as Owen Meany would say. When we arrived in Yonkers, the proprietress said that I could stay in the toy-room and sleep in the doll crib. A doll crib!

"This is impossible," I said.

"I am a 452 lb gorilla," I said.

"There is no way I would fit in this room. It would be better to fit me in the living room near the television," I said.

There was some muttering about how dangerous it was to put me in the same room as a television, and then I found myself sitting in the toyroom, facing a Victorian dollhouse. Well, I did what any gorilla would do in a similar situation: I threw a fit! Then, I played with the dollies and pushed them in their little perambulators. At first, Lucia was allowed to visit me for several hours a day, but after she was found to have pulled all of the miniature pictures off of the dollhouse walls as well as plucked every flower from its plastic stem, the proprietress deemed me a Bad Influence. Then, she locked the door.

Tomorrow, the House of Glee sets forth for Seattle on a slow-moving train. They have threatened to check me with the baggage, but I know in the end, Lucia will come to my defense. She's already promised to sneak me some strawberry-rhubarb pie after everyone's gone to bed. Bravo, Lucia! You are a beacon of sanity in a world of craziness.

Busted

Gentle Gruff Readers,

I didn't make it up to the top of the Empire State Building. I had everything planned out: my climbing gear, my snacks, my parachute, everything! All I was going to do was a quiet little assent up what was once the tallest building in the world. Alas, I did not even get past the first window before the cops and firefighters came. I resisted their attempts to get me down, but it was no use. I had grappling hooks, but they had fire-hoses.

The police took me into custody, and they didn't even read me my rights, because as they said, "Miranda Rights are only for humans." Hah! So, I was down at the police station with all of my gear confiscated (my snacks, oh, my poor snacks, you are now mouldering in the bellies of the NYPD), and they were just about to book me when who should storm in but my Landlady with her lawyer friends in tow! She told me she was furious with me for having stowed away and kept hidden all this time, but I secretly think she was mad that she hadn't noticed my presence in New York prior to this ignominious debacle.

The Landlady's lawyer friends argued on my behalf, but no one was listening. Then, miracle of miracles, someone produced a Get Out of Jail Free card, and I was free!

Right now, I am sipping coffee and eating a pear-granola muffin, trying to get over the shaky experience of dealing with the NYPD. I cannot believe that I did not succeed in my lifelong dream of climbing the Empire State Building. But you know what? I shall not be deterred. Next time, I will be smarter. I will let Hitman J know of my plans, and he shall make some deals that people cannot refuse.

Now that the House of Glee knows I'm in town, I thought we should put our differences behind us and visit the Planetarium. For some reason, no one wants to buy my ticket.

Big Apple

I'm in New York City!

Finally, after all of the hiding and stowing, the hemming and hawing, the exorbitant tip I gave to the cabbie so as not to reveal my whereabouts to the House of Glee, I am finally here in the greatest city on Earth. My first stop was to get a proper cup of coffee and a real bagel (poppyseed with chives in the cream cheese). I need to get one of those "We Are Happy to Serve You" coffee cups in ceramic. Afterward, I walked around Union Square, darted into the Thompkins Square Library for quick internet access, and then headed over to Books of Wonder for some books about gorillas in New York. They had stunning-looking cupcakes in their coffee-shop department (photos to come later), but in terms of taste, they did not measure up to Cupcake Royale. You could have knocked me over with a ten-ton feather when I saw that the House of Glee had caught up with me! Fortunately, no one saw me hiding in the picture-book section. Well, of course Lucia did (she sees more with her one functioning eye than her parents do with two apiece). "Brad!" she squealed. "Yook, Brad a ga-wiwwa!"

"Yes, sweetie, I know you miss Brad," the Landlady said blandly, browsing at a young adult science-fiction novel, while the Landlord was ensconced in a book about map-making.

The House of Glee met up with the Landlady's godmother and the Landlady's godmother's daughter ("LG" and "LGD") at the bookshop. LG said, "Oh, I didn't know Brad the Gorilla had moved to New York and joined a bakery."

"He hasn't," my Landlady said. "He's sitting on top of our hutch back home."

"Oh," LG replied, and there was an uncomfortable silence while LG and LGD glanced at each other with knowing looks. The Landlord and Landlady didn't notice, however, as Lucia had gotten icing all over her hands and was in the process of reaching for her brand-new copy of Mr. Putter and Tabby Ride the Train.

Confound it all! These people are going to blow my cover if I'm not more careful.

Today is the day I climb the Empire State Building.

Sunday

Today is my last day in New Jersey! Thank heavens for that. There are some good things about New Jersey, but proper coffee is not one of them. I know it's quite fashionable to throw off on NJ, so here's what is good about New Jersey:

1) No sales tax on clothes (not that I reap any benefits, since I only wear my own fur for the most part)
2) There are a lot of Mid-Eastern restaurants.
3) Rent is slightly cheaper here than in New York.
4) There are a lot of kosher delis.
5) It's easy to hitch a ride to New York City (much easier than Seattle).

There. I have done my bit for the Garden State.

Comments on my blog have been sparce and few as of late. I'm starting to think that no one takes me seriously anymore. Readers, take heed: I am a very, very serious gorilla doing important work through Bradley Enterprises and other such ventures. Anyone who thinks otherwise is going to have to give me footrubs.

Brooklyn brunch

This morning, I secretly hitched a ride with the House of Glee and their relatives from New Jersey to Brooklyn. The House of Glee ate breakfast at the Yemen Cafe, and went to Sahadi's afterward. On the way into the city, I saw one of those scary large blue gorillas advertising tires, but the photo I snapped wasn't very good because of the angle where I was hiding. I don't think the family suspected my presence at all, but I did hear the Landlord say, "I must be imagining things, as I think I saw a gorilla in the kitchen."

"It's strange," my Landlady replied. "I thought I detected a bit of gorilla fur in my ful mesdames, but... surely no. Brad is sitting on the hutch, I'm sure of it."

Afterward, the Landlady's father stocked up on stuffed grape leaves and Alfonso olives at Sahadi's across the street. I think Lucia, the Landlord's daughter, may have seen me, because she started saying "Brad! Brad! Brad!" and pointing. However, Lucia has been giving everyone silly names as of late (e.g. she says, "My name is Uncle Kiss-Kiss"), so I think I'm in the clear.

Not that "Brad" is anything but a respectable, dignified name, of course.

Stowaway

Psssst. Don't tell anyone, but I have stowed away with Bede, Alkelda and Lucia of The House of Glee. They don't know it yet, and I plan not to reveal my whereabouts until we are properly in New York City. Right now, I'm just waiting it out in New Jersey while they visit relatives. I am hiding in the library at the moment.The Landlord and Landlady are konked out from jet lag. Updates are going to be a bit surreptitious for the next while, as I have limited internet access and NO CAMERA. (I shall attempt to sneak the Landlady's camera away a few times, though they may have to be in the middle of the night.) If I don't reply to your comments right away, please understand that I am constantly on the move and sometimes have to make sudden getaways.

Whatever you do, KEEP THIS A SECRET FROM ULRIC. He specifically forbade me to go on this trip because he was worried I'd get my fur wet. I'm going nowhere near the Hudson River! Also, Ulric claims that I never wanted to go to NYC. Not so! A gorilla has dreams, you know.

Now, where can I find a proper cup of coffee in this little town of New Brunswick?

Your friend,
Brad

Brads of History

Brad's List of Brads

The Non-Pareil, the Cream of the Crop, the Tippity-Top:
Brad the Gorilla

The Pretty Good:
Brad (Seattle band)
Milton Bradley (board game pioneer)
BRAD (British Rates and Data)
Ray Bradbury(science-fiction writer)
Brad Yoder (musician from my Landlady's alma mater)
Brad Smith (Microsoft Senior Vice President, General Counsel, Corporate Secretary, Legal & Corporate Affairs

The Inconsequential:
Pittboy (actor)
Renfro (actor)

It's a fairly short list.

Saturday Morning Television

Bert's Nephew Brad

Bert's Brother Bart

Ernie's Disguise Kit

Thirty-Fifth Anniversary of Sesame Street (with the original "Mah Nah Mah Nah" at the end)

High School Poetry

Because I lack inspiration as of late, I have decided to post a poem I wrote in high school. It is in Latin, but I have provided a translation for you. My poem won 5th place in the Annual International Latin Poetry Contest. I dedicate this poem to everyone who has ever cried out, "Succurro!" to the heavens but was answered by an extra-terrestrial instead of someone who could actually have been of help.


Circumveniat

Hostes alienigeni me abduxerunt.
Ipso facto, sentio aliquos togatos contra me conspirare.
Animadvertistine, ubicumque stes,
fumum recta in faciem ferri?
Nunc, vero inter saxum et locum durum sum.
Id quot circumiret, circumveniat.


Around

I was kidnapped by aliens.
By that very fact, I think some people in togas are plotting against me.
Ever noticed how wherever you stand,
the smoke goes right into your face?
Now, I really am between a rock and a hard place.
What goes around, comes around.

Brad's UFO Revealed

*Backdated post*

Blue Birthday Cake

Birthday cake


I inspect the cake to make sure it tastes okay.

Last week, Lucia asked for a blue birthday cake. This was entirely her idea. I'm sure my love of blue frosting had nothing to do with her request. What could I do but bake her a birthday cake with coconut-flavored blue frosting?


I didn't get thanks, but I didn't expect any. Lucia was too busy consuming her birthday treats to mess about with idle chatter.

By the way, the resemblance of the blue frosting to blue play-dough is entirely coincidental.