This is from a while ago. Although the photo is great, the best part was that even though he knew it was there he didn’t think it was that bad that he had to wash it before hanging out with his friends all day.

I wonder if he would be mad if I showed his brother and friends where my Magnum Sharpies are kept…

A short essay on the benefits of immortality by Roan.

Roan is fairly obsessed with guns and weapons (as most young boys are I think), and I’m fairly obsessed with making things. Sometimes this results in some pretty neat creations. The image above is a perfect example of one. I dubbed it the Elast-O-Blast©. I got the urge to make him one a while ago, but until just the other day I hadn’t seen a wooden clothespin in years. I can’t remember where I found it, but the minute I did, I put it in my pocket and then set it aside in the shed for the next time Roan asked if we could build something.

That ended up being the next morning.  I got to work and ten minutes later he was blasting everything in sight. He must have liked it because not only did he show it off to everyone who came by over the next few days, he also left it behind when he went to his dad’s just to make sure it didn’t get ruined. That’s pretty amazing. I also overheard him bragging to his friends “Yea, it’s awesome, and it took us like less than ten minutes to make. We’re going to make a huge one next, and then a bunch more little ones.”. For the record, I’m game for both.

Before any girls start flooding my inbox with naked pictures of themselves because they think I’m amazing, I feel it’s only fair I point out that I didn’t design the Elast-O-Blast©. I borrowed the idea from a very similar design my grandfather came up with when I was a little pain in the ass kid.

Want your very own Elast-O-Blast©?

cobrachronic@gmail.com

Before ANYONE says anything like: “I thought you love animals… ” or, “I can’t believe you actually…”, please just fuck off. I didn’t eat the fish. I didn’t bait the hooks. I didn’t drive the boat. All I did was reel the big ones in that no one else wanted to fight with. That being said, I sure did have a blast punching the shit out of those stupid fish.

We all got to catch a bunch, taking turns based on the size of the fish. Roan took all the wee ones.

I got all the monsters.

And Holly and Gage shared the in-between-ers.

After about 4 hours on the water we hauled in almost a hundred pounds of fish. All of it salmon and trout. The charter guide filleted them all on the side of his boat once we were back at the dock, and we took home around sixty pounds of fillets. I had a ton of fun and would definitely do it again. None of these fish are going to waste so I don’t feel too bad.

And this has got to be my favourite fishing photo ever.

I’ve been hanging out in the shed quite a bit these days. I do all kinds of little things while I’m out there. Recently the Dude gave me a large set of Dremel bits, which I decided to attempt some carvings with. When Roan saw some of the things I was making he asked if he could try. I showed him the basics of how to hold the Dremel, and what not to do with it, then he picked out a piece of scrap wood and got to work.

He made a memorial plaque for his grandpa.

I love this kid.

When the boys finished school their desks and lockers were cleaned out, and a ton of things brought home. Among those things was the first (and apparently also the second, although I never saw it and now no one can find it) of a five part series titled: Attack of the Dinosaurs and Aliens. Created by Roan and his friends Emmit and Devon, it features highly graphic images of humanity’s struggle to ward off invading intergalactic intruders, while simultaneously defending against deadly dinosaurs. It is unclear whether or not the dinosaurs and aliens came together, or if it’s just some coincidence they are attacking at the same time. If you’re interested, the entire comic is posted after the break.

The story begins… Humans locked in battle with a (fire breathing??) tyrannosaurus… Nukes deployed directly into the throat, abdomen, and balls… The balls are the key… Not the key to victory… The key to survival.

“OMG, Bing it!” cries a young recruit as he watches a large green headed alien take a nuke  in the dick… The alien farts… Dies… But not before blasting either a different alien, or a 4 armed human… Neither makes any sense… both are awesome…  In the distance, a flying saucer blasts a chopper in half… Humanity smells the bitter stench of defeat upon them… Defeat and alien fart.

The humans, distracted now by their successful dick missile celebrations, leave themselves vulnerable… Unaware… Unaware of the ufo hovering over head… Unaware of its silent ray… Its silent ray that begins to abduct them… Abduct them, and imprison them… The craft’s pilot, an alien with either a crown or a birthday cake on his head, shows no emotion… Hope is lost for the humans.

Some humans still fight on… Some survived the tyrannosaurus… Some survived the alien fart… Some even avoided the silent ray which abducts and imprisons… Others lift weights and wave flags, while watching their buddies air drum “Hot for Teacher”, unaware giant sword wielding aliens and pterodactyls are looking to avenge their dead, dick-less comrades…

Another tyrannosaurus… No fire breath this time… No dick-nukes either… No dick-nukes, no peace… The light starts to fade… The end seems imminent…

With humanity almost completely destroyed, the dinosaurs decide to socialize… Breath fire… Poop.

U… S… A… U… S… A… U… S… A…

With humanity almost entirely eliminated, the dinosaurs and aliens have only each other to fight… The tyrannosaurus attacks… His razor sharp teeth and thick skin give him an obvious advantage… The alien is no match.

About to be shredded by tyrannosaurus teeth… The alien removes his hand and blasts clean through the T-rex… Blood spills… Extinction catches up.

To be contiued……………

The deadliest assassins always…

…wear tube socks.

Roan is mildly infatuated with my height. He’s constantly asking me “Eric, who’s taller, you… or <insert name>?”. He often says he wishes he was tall, a complaint I hear from plenty of people, whether I’ve got a foot or a few inches on them. I’m no giant, I still see plenty of people taller than I am, yet somehow it still always comes up. I recently told Holly, after my umpteenth time of being asked to get something off the top shelf for someone at a store, that from now on, I’m asking a short person to get every item I need that is on a shelf below knee height.

I remember being Roan’s age and being in much the same boat. My older brother was much taller than I was, and I felt like I was never growing. I wanted so bad to be as tall as my brother, and then one day I was. I even gained an inch or two on him (which I think drove him nuts because he loved basketball, where height alone is enough to get you on a team most times). For a while it seemed great. I got a kick out of being taller than both my parents by the time I was in grade 9. A short time later I realized how unfair the world can be to the vertically privileged. The fact that everything is designed for the average person, tends to infringe on my comfort and convenience hourly. I have hit my head 17,000 times in Holly’s house since moving here 2 years ago.

I would give anything to go back to being Roan’s size for a little while. I can’t even get in the back seat of most cars, let alone have a slumber party in there. I’m guessing one day he’ll agree. Gage is already taller than Holly, and will likely catch up to me in no time. If things go as they did in my family, the second child will be more perfect in every way, thus making Roan much taller than both Gage and myself. The first time I see him hit his head, I’m going to remind him of how obsessed he was with being tall, and point out that you reap what you sow.

There are very few sports I care about. When I was a kid I loved hockey, but by the time I got to high school I didn’t want anything to do with sports. These days, the only sports I can stand to watch is women’s tennis, and UFC. I am starting to get into Gage’s soccer games more and more, now that his age group is starting to form strategies and work together. However, Roan’s age group still chases the ball like a school of fish and most of the kids look for praise from their parents after they touch the ball instead of moving up and getting open for a pass. For me, his games drag on and on sometimes.

Saturday was his second real game, and just before half time he decided he would like to try going in net. He let a couple goals in, but managed to make a bunch of really good saves. The one thing every other kid on his team failed to do while defending, was use their hands. They all get so used to not being allowed to touch the ball with their hands, that once they’re in net they try to stop every shot with their feet, and then attempt to boot it out of their end as quickly as possible. I kept telling Roan to use his whole body to stop the ball, then pick it up as fast as he can so he can compose himself and pass the ball to someone open. He did really good at it, but kept forgetting (although only momentarily) that just because he picked up the ball, doesn’t mean the game stops.

I’m not sure if Roan enjoyed being the goal defender as much as just playing, but I certainly enjoyed watching the game more. Plus, him playing that position compliments my coaching style which consists entirely of yelling two phrases: “Grab it!”, “Boot it!”. We’re going to miss his game this week, since we’ll be in Windsor, taking part in the walk for cancer, in memory of Holly’s dad. I hope he sticks with goalkeeping for a little while, and doesn’t get discouraged when people score on him (or start bawling like the kid he played against the week before). Gage played net for a lot of his games at that age, and did awesome. At that age the kids have no idea how to play their positions, so the goalkeeper is usually left without any help from his defensive line, and sees lots of action. If he only had to stop two shots a game, I guarantee he’d get bored and want out of net. In my opinion, it would be good for the team if Roan played goal. He’s the best on his team so far.

Last night Roan decided to design the kitties a new tower (above). The plan is to build this for them out of the wood we have left from all the recent repairs. Unfortunately, I don’t think Roan took an accurate survey of the materials at our disposal.

Holly and Roan were watching an episode of Top Gear, so I decided to model an appropriately scaled version of his design. I had to turn his 2D drawing into a 3D model (and take into account a few things he neglected, mainly physics), so I may have messed up the design a little. Roan didn’t seem to mind if I did. He just wanted to know how soon we could start building it. I think I’m just as excited as he is to start building, but we’re both going to have to wait until the foreman gives us the go ahead.

I have built a kitty tower in the past, but this one will be much nicer. I’m far more skilled now, and I have access to a lot more tools. With any luck, the finished product will look professionally made and be butt loads of fun for the entire crew of cobra cats.