Christmas Memories

I remember Christmas 2008 fondly. Gabe and I had quite the blast.

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Classic Waakoop photo

I found this classic photo taken just one year ago. It was during one of my lectures to Cooper about who knows what. Probably about the tiring but necessary fiduciary responsibility of despotic regimes.

And on the importance of being appropriately dressed.

Put some clothes on, hippie.

White Puppy, avert thine eyes.

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I'm a Rocket Man

Guidance? Check.
Telemetry? Check.
Weapons? Check.
Desire to fly out to space and rain terror on my enemies? Double check.

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Red Team Wins

Today I...

went to the Aquarium. I saw many amazing things. I liked the whale sharks best. I especially like how the little fish follow the largest around. I will be a great leader like that some day.

Later, Coop and I played chicken, but were not allowed to do so in the water. So we battled out of the pool. I of course won. My dad, inept as he is, is still taller and placed a solid kick to mommy's knees.

In this picture, I am saluting Cooper, wishing him a good match. I of course don't really mean this, but the forms must be observed.

My prize was pizza. Which I used my Matrix fast skillz to eat.

The day was not all sunshine and roses, however. Here I have been told that I cannot, under any circumstances, have my own ginormous aquarium. I had great plans for its use. Sharks, lasers, pirana, and man o' war would serve as strong incentive to my enemies and subjects alike.

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I {heart} Chuck

Some of you nerds may think I'm talking about that mediocre NBC sitcom "Chuck," in which a nerdy dude (you empathize) gets to kick ass and tap a tasty piece (you dream).

Nay, I refer to The Chuck, the killa, the unstoppable Chuck Norris. My shirt is an homage to his power. It reads, "Chuck Norris is the reason Waldo is hiding."

I do appreciate Chuck for his skillz - though mine outmatch him. I truly admire him for the RESPECT he commands, though. Seems that around here people (COOPER) are forgetting who runs the show and who is supreme ruler of the Sunroom, Living Room, and basically the whole house. I think if I could grow a killer 'stache, maybe Coop would recall that I, like Chuck, will make his mind explode with my stare should he displease me again. Say by eating my fraking cookie. "Oh he's so cute and cuddly and don't get mad at him for eating your last nilla wafer, he doesn't know any better." Bullshit. That kid is going to get a roundhouse to the noggin, and how.

Chuck - you and I know what it means to be disrespected. But you have mastered how to regulate. Teach Me.

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My Young Padawan

Coop and I sometimes go on walks, where we discuss many topics and get to know each other better. Today's topic,
"The Advantages of Dictatorship Over Meritocracy from an Economic, Sociopolitic, and Security Perspective"*

Sometimes we just talk about American Idol. Adam Lambert is clearly the most polished, but Kris Allen is sooooo adorable!


* this is a trademarked name - I sell my lectures on Audible.com.

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Because I Said So!

The Waakabee does NOT want to take a bath, so you can go frak yourself.

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You're In MY World

Today I...

...reestablished my dominence over the Coop. It may be his birthday and party, but it's MY WORLD and I can take his cake if I want to. He should have offered it up as an offering like the rest of my good monkeys do, but I'll take it by force if necessary.

I {heart} cake. Especially yours, Coop.

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Even Tyrants Get Sleepy

Today I...

...cuddled with mommy.

Until I'm old enough to have my own bed made of the finest linens and softest mattresses... mommy works best.

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Shenanigans

Today I...

...am doing the paperwork that comes along with being a supreme ruler. You know, death warrants, citations, orders approving water-boarding, troop movement, and various poems & haikus about how much I love ice cream and despise peasants. Aunt Jenn is helping me with the work load. Truth be told, her penmanship is sub-par, but when you're at my level, you have to put up with some level of incompetency from everyone.

Later Taneille spontaeously offered to by personal valet and footstool. Just kidding, I gave her a severe lashing to teach her some manners and persuade her to see things my way. Red heads. Sheesh.

Then I showed her what eating a ginormous Cheeto would be like.

And that naturally led us into a discussion about Mardi Gras. I explained what I had seen the ladies doing on "Girls Gone Wild: Sheaux Me Your Teets" (nice DVD collection dad!)

...and it turns out that Aunt Jenn has a tramp stamp (naughty!)...

So I got to thinking... I should let Taneille write on my belly. Why? I think that whole Mel Gibson facial war paint in order to intimidate foes is so very 1991. I'm more into Tupac (R.I.P.) and his belly tatt that said something (and I'm paraphrasing) like, "I dig chicks. And AK's. And F*&^ the Police. Oh, shit someone's shooting at me," and then he died.

Not that I want to die, but I want to convey that same badass image.

Wait, why do I need ink to do that? I've got that covered in my look of steel.

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Double Word Score

Today I...

...won at Scrabble.


The word is "Frak", as in "Frak you I win, bitches."

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Chicken Food

What do I and a 4 lb Guatemalan fighting cock named "El Diabillo" have in common?

Many things.

1. We are killers.
2. We enjoy sleeping on a bed of feathers*.
3. We eat gravel to aid in digestion. Good for the gut & gizzard.
4. We go CRAZY at the sound of a good Alux Nahual song.

*Mine happen to be stuffed into a mattress/pillow/cover. His happen to be the feathers of his enemies, plucked for both their softness and as "coup" or trophies of war.

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Hello Future Key Chain

Even future dictators/world emperors like soft and fuzzy bunnies. I mean, I also kind of can't wait until he lines the collar of my emperor cloak, but until that day, he's fun and cute and cuddly and soft and warm and lovely and I want to keep him forever.

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Ground Control to Major Tom

The Waakabee aspires to be an astronaut. Correction. He aspires to be an Astro-Viper. Having the ability to rain terror down on my foes from the nigh-unreachable edge of space is something every growing boy dreams of. Note the similarities:

My dad was so excited at the prospect of being an astronaut that I had to let him try on the helmet. It was kind of a pity thing, like letting the snotty kid at school have your last kleenex because well you know he needs it and the social interaction of just handing him this one tissue will make his day if not his week and besides he's just so fraking pathetic that you want to yell, "take this kleenex and wipe your damn nose, kid!"

Look at this simpleton. The insipid slack-mouthed cow-eyed smile. You can practically hear "JINX PUT MAX IN SPACE" going through his brain. What a toolio.

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Goodbye Gunkels

Fare thee well to my favorite back yard neighbors, the Gunkels.

They are moving to Kansas City, that shanty town on the river that wishes it was St. Louis. Not that I give two shits about St. Louis, either, but I figure if I need to setup a Midwest capital (for my empire will be divided into provinces with regional capitals), why not do it where they invented watered down American beer? Plus their baseball team has at least gone to the World Series recently. Suck on that Royals.

I will sorely miss Miss Jessica's cookies and I know my parents will miss inviting themselves over for coffee. How Mr. Josh never slapped my dad around and taught him some respect is beyond me. If I had the reach I would.

And Jadon - don't forget that you are still my pick for governor of Latin Americaville. The Mighty Mayan and El Waakabee can show those people how to be great.

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Grill Master

You may think that I'm cleaning the grill to help prepare for dad's cooking of tasty meats. Maybe I am. Or maybe I'm readying the grill to roast the internal organs of my enemies, before eating them with some Chianti and blanched asparagus.

You decide.

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Combat Training - Liberty Town

Today I did some combat effectiveness and PT drills with my number two, Freddie.

We took to the local park where they have some highly useful apparatus and did drills to increase our endurance, our agility, our combat skillz, and strength.

First, a run through the jungle gym, or as I like to call it, "Blue Playground of Death."

Next, a fight atop "Survivor's Rock." Two men ascend, only one man summits. Here you can see Freddie taking a stab at playing King of the Mountain, but I have the high ground. Don't try it Skywalker. I'll slice off your limbs faster than you can say "George Lucas credit default-swapped my childhood".

When finished, we rush down to our parents' picnic area and engage in hand-to-hand combat training. Or maybe I'm just getting a high five for stomping Freddie's ass. You decide.

Lastly, we take a break to hang out on the fence and watch the nearby train go over the tracks. It's awesome. Oh, and our deadly fighting skillz and overall prowess have attracted one of the lovely ladies in the area. This I let Freddie take care of. I have too much global domination and terror planning to do to be distracted by the fairer sex.

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Birthday Party!

Well, if you can believe it, I have survived three years under my parents' inept care. And I have thrived. Proving that what doesn't kill you, you will have an opportunity to kill later in life.

We'll be partying up at the Little Gym later today, if you care to join us. My crew and I will be rocking out, bounce-housin', watching our dads hit on the tasty trim that works there, and generally going apeshit while high on juice boxes, birthday cake, and Goldfish.

Oh, and cover charge is 1 awesome present. None of that Go Diego Go crap, either. Protecting the rain forest is for *%$$^!$.



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Don't Pisgah Me Off!

Today I...

went to Pisgah National Forest.

Checked out Asheville and the surrounds as a possible future base of operations. Every good Evil Genius needs a mountain redoubt, an alpine fortress, a rocky home away from evil home.

First stop, the Pisgah National Forest. Some dope bought this, and then his kids squandered their inheritences so trivially that they were forced to "gift" it to the good people of the US.

Dumbasses. If you're rich, how hard is it to stay rich? Not that hard! Just hire some peasants, teach them to manage the land, and stay rich on their hard work, blood, and tears. It's a classic model that has worked for THOUSANDS of YEARS, and these d.a.'s managed to frak it up in one generation. Seriously.

Anywho...I think I'll put my castle riiiight over there.

Among other things, I had my mother push me around as I inspected the scenery, the waterfalls, and the local fauna.

I also used my time along the Blue Ridge to work on my Jedi hovering powers.

Also, I'm not sure, but I think should I claim this area as my own, there may be a strong guerrilla resistance in the area in the form of hillbillies. I look forward to the challenge, mountain men.

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