[Scene:  aboard Pegasus.  Lord Darth Venomous is in his luxurious command chair…]
KORRIOTH:  Ahem.
[…uh, Captain Korrioth’s luxurious command chair…?]
KORRIOTH:  Well, technically, it is my  ship.
[…uh, Admiral?]
VENOMOUS:  Yes, Allan-a…uh, Al.  It’s his ship.  Which reminds me, Captain – isn’t K’tinghe finished with my flagship yet???
KORRIOTH:  Two more weeks, m’Lord.  He’s having trouble with the new particle disruptors – they keep blowing things up.
VENOMOUS:  Send him a subspace message telling him playtime’s over.  He can go blow things up on his own time.
KORRIOTH:  Yes, my lord.
VENOMOUS:  And speaking of subspace messages – anything yet, McManx?
T-BONE MCMANX:  Still no word from Eastern Intelligence, sir.  I’d imagine they’ve had long enough to notify us, but that’s just me.
VENOMOUS:  (nods) Very well, McManx, you may put that project on the back burner for now.
T-BONE MCMANX:  Yes, m’lord.
…
Denizens, it’s not out of the realm (no pun intended) of possibility that my presents to Prince Spatula II got thrown away upon receipt – but unlike previous years, they were not  returned.
Therefore, against my better judgement (at least, when dealing with these  people), I’m going to believe the best and give Steffi the Doublewide the benefit of the doubt, and believe that she allowed him to have my Christmas presents to him this year.
Thank you, Stephanie.  I trust he’s enjoying them.
(This one will stay on top all day.  Look below for new posts – today only.)
(ED. NOTE:  The following originally appeared in this space a couple of years ago.  I’m reprinting it now, with appropriate tweaks.
And Skip – my son, you may not understand this now, but the reason I’m writing this has absolutely nothing to do with you, and everything to do with why you not only don’t get to ever spend any time with me, but also why you (probably) haven’t received a birthday or Christmas present since 2003, thanks to your mother and your grandparents. (More on that later.)
And thanks to what they’re probably telling you about me, you might not even believe any of this – but it’s true, and I have the documentation to prove it.
I do love you, son.  I realize your mother and grandparents will try mightily to persuade you that I don’t – but I do, very much.  Someday – hopefully – I’ll get to tell you to your face.)
Well, we know at least one present won’t make it to my son’s waiting arms this year.
The bear I sent him – one of those little Teddy Snowflake© numbers that his mom’s so damned fond of – got rejected at the door by a “P. Stewart”.
(For the uninitiated, that’s Steffi the Doublewide Bitch Supreme’s fat-assed son-of-a-bitch daddy, Paul Stewart.  Same motherfucker who committed criminal tresspass back in 2003 when he barged into my house, uninvited – the Forney DA convinced me to subsequently drop the charges, something which I shortly thereafter wished I hadn’t done.)
Merry Christmas anyway, Skip.  One day soon, I’ll get to tell you my side of the story – they won’t be able to keep me away from you for your entire life, try though they might.
Stephanie Dawn Stewart Crager – front and center.
Skip’s Christmas presents have shipped.  Do yourself a favor and let him have them this  year, hm?
Thatisall™
Denizens, I don’t mind telling you that stuff like this brings tears to my eyes:
As you know, I never served in the military (they have a thing against lasagna guts and flat feet).  OneOfTheseDays™, though, I pray to God that my own son gets to greet me like that.
Lord willing, he will.
Happy Father’s Day 2007.
(This one will stay on top all day.  Look below for new posts – today only.)
(ED. NOTE:  The following originally appeared in this space a couple of years ago.  I’m reprinting it now, with appropriate tweaks.
And Skip – my son, you may not understand this now, but the reason I’m writing this has absolutely nothing to do with you, and everything to do with why you not only don’t get to ever spend any time with me, but also why you haven’t received a birthday or Christmas present since 2003, thanks to your mother and your grandparents. (More on that later.)
And thanks to what they’re probably telling you about me, you might not even believe any of this – but it’s true, and I have the documentation to prove it.
I do love you, son.  I realize your mother and grandparents will try mightily to persuade you that I don’t – but I do, very much.  Someday – hopefully – I’ll get to tell you to your face.)
(This one will stay on top all day.  Look below for new posts – today only.)
(ED. NOTE:  The following originally appeared in this space a couple of years ago.  I’m reprinting it now, with appropriate tweaks.
And Skip – my son, you may not understand this now, but the reason I’m writing this has absolutely nothing to do with you, and everything to do with why you not only don’t get to ever spend any time with me, but also why you haven’t received a birthday or Christmas present since last year, thanks to your mother and your grandparents. (More on that later.)
And thanks to what they’re probably telling you about me, you might not even believe any of this – but it’s true, and I have the documentation to prove it.
I do love you, son.  I realize your mother and grandparents will try mightily to persuade you that I don’t – but I do, very much.  Someday – hopefully – I’ll get to tell you to your face.)
“So, Spats”, I hear you guys saying, “how was your Christmas?”
Not too bad, I gotta say.  Got a lot of stuff I can use, and the sibling unit (who’s this close  to graduating from being called the “sibling unit” (grin)) got me a ticket to TCU-Iowa State (you may have noticed that a couple of entries from two weeks back originated from Houston?), which turned out to be one hellacious game.  And I built a new bed, which is a damned sight more comfortable than my old bed; my back is thanking me non-stop for that.
And, on top of all that, I was able to give almost everyone on my list what they wanted.  The sibling unit got himself a comforter, plus a CD-dubbing unit he’d had his eye on for a while; this allowed me to win the annual “who can outgive the other” contest we always have.
But – and you just knew  there hadda be a “but” in there somewhere – we must now focus on the key word in that last paragraph:  “Almost”.
(This one will stay on top all day.  Look below for new posts – today only.)
(ED. NOTE:  The following originally appeared in this space last year.  I’m reprinting it now, with appropriate tweaks.
And Skip – my son, you may not understand this now, but the reason I’m writing this has absolutely nothing to do with you, and everything to do with why you don’t get to ever spend any time with me, thanks to your mother and your grandparents.
And thanks to what they’re probably telling you about me, you might not even believe any of this – but it’s true, and I have the documentation to prove it.
I do love you, son.  I realize your mother will try mightily to persuade you that I don’t – but I do, very much.  Someday – hopefully – I’ll get to show you.)