FINALLY! FINALLY! A CHALLENGE FOR KEEPER!!!!

This man is Keeper.

I have waited MONTHS to write this. MONTHS! Do you hear me? MONTHS!

Thanks to someone in Germany who is the FIRST...let me repeat...the FIRST person to email me with a musical stumper for Keeper.

For those of you new to this blog, Keeper has agreed submit to musical challenges submitted by Froynlaven readers. But none of you ever submitted anything. I don't know why. I couldn't have made it easier. To the right you'll see an email where to send said challenges. It has never been used. Ever. By no one.

THAT IS...until this week. I got an email from someone in Germany. Yes. Germany. I guess they care over there. So thank you, Germany. All of you. (Or at least one of you.)

So here's Keeper's Musical Challenge. It's a doosy. And I'm giving Keeper until Monday, October 5th. If Keeper succeeds in the challenge (as voted by Froynlaven readers) he will receive a slightly-used copy of Nancy Drew Mad Libs.

So, Keeper. Here it is the challenge submitted from Germany:

You are to sing the themesong to Animamiacs in as many different languages as possible. I don't mean you have to sing the themesong many different times. No. You are to sing the themesong once while incorporating as many different languages as possible. Perhaps the first verse in Dutch. The second in Spanish. You get the idea.

Now, I realize this is hard. But you are Keeper and we are not. Upon successful completion of said task...I am prepared to sweeten the deal with these incredible prizes:

This never eaten York Peppermint Patty.

And this...

Key ring I found in our dry, dead grass.

So, there it is Keeper. We look forward to hearing from you...

The Lost Poems Of Maya Angelou

I can't get enough of poetry. Man, oh man! I love it! I do! I love poetry so much I wish I could marry it. But I'm already married. I love poetry so much I wish I could buy it a steak dinner. Poetry is so wordy and stuff like that. I love stuff like that. (Which is why I love poetry.)

I love poetry so much I wish I could go to Disneyland with it and ride the Matterhorn. We'd scream and laugh and then stand in line for another ride. Me and poetry. After a long day of fun, we'd drive back home. Poetry would fall asleep in the car while holding the balloon I bought it.

WHICH IS WHY...

I'm so happy I found a small book in my backyard as I was not watering. We're not allowed to water here in Southern California because we're in a drought. We're allowed to play with the hose and stuff, we just can't turn it on. It's fun to hear the dead grass crunch under your feet.

So there I was, not watering and crunching dead grass, when I spotted a small journal. I don't know how long it's been there, but it must have been years. The grass was too green and lush and alive for me to see it. But not anymore. Thank goodness for crunchy, dead grass!

The book was dirty. I don't mean dirty as in naughty. I mean it had dirt on it. And dead grass.

I opened it up and to my surprise it said, "Property of Maya Angelou." (I don't mean that the book spoke those words. It was written there.)

Inside were a bunch of hand-written poems. I don't know how many Maya Angelous there are out there. But I think these were written by THE Maya Angelou. I can't prove it. I'm just saying...

So, I read a few of the poems and thought I'd share some of them with you. Here they are. See if you can spot a theme...

THE ROAD

Weeping mournfully I uttered nothing

Lips pursed in quiet silence trickled

The man in the hat

The man in the hat

Greeting muted passings on the long long road

Meaning

Meaning

Running clippingly as fresh baked yams mocked gleefully

Meaning

Meaning

Strong were the words of solitude

Anger at their mention

Hatred like a doo doo.

Meaning

Meaning

INTO NOTHING

Corn knows no other way

It cannot grab with fleshy paws

It cannot sing the song of the perennial

Corn knows no other way

Corn knows no other

Corn knows no

Corn knows

Corn

Cor

Co

C

Doo doo

HELVECTOR ENVONSO

June bug, crackerteeth and crow

Why?

He devised his own

Out of his own

June bug!

The long shadows weeping iridescent globules while their own voices shattered and rambled but un-noisily, un-willingly, un-applogetically, un-to and un-der the OTHERS who themselves sat lazily and doo doo.

SIX YEARS WITH VANNY

The Ruggs were one of the first families in all of Las Vegas to get an AMC Pacer. It broke down as my sister drove it off the lot. That should have told us something. Regardless, we loved that car. We loved that car because it was weird and different. We were weird and different.

Since that time I had always searched for a car that was weird and different. I spent many years with normal cars. Six years ago my search for weird and different ended and at last I found contentment.

For many years I had flirted with the idea of a VW Eurovan with a pop-top roof that became a bed. But why did I need one? I didn't. I didn't camp. I wasn't a hiker. I had a home with a bed. I also didn't need the little table and tiny refrigerator that came with the Eurovan. We had a large table in the house. We also had a refrigerator. For years I fought my desire to own a Eurovan Weekender.

But six years ago I heard devastating news. Volkswagen was discontinuing the Eurovan. The last model year would be 2003. After that...the Eurovan would be no more. Well...that's all I needed to hear. I would get a Eurovan. I told my wife that it would be a good idea because we could sleep in it if there was ever a devastating earthquake. She didn't buy it. But she was also tired of having me talk about Eurovans. I wore her down.

And so, six years ago...I drove my brand new Eurovan off the lot. I waited for it to break down. That would be fitting. It didn't. It never has. And...I love that car.

I love that my daughter likes to do her homework in it. I love that when her friends come over she asks me to pop the roof. I love that Germans are so smart. I love that it's so impractical. I love that people sitting in the back have to face each other. I love that Germans are so smart. I love that, in those rare moments when we spot another Eurovan on the highway, we wave at each other. We wave because we know we are both weird and different.

I don't love that my Eurovan only like 91 octane gas. I don't love that it is less than fuel efficient. But...we make up for it with our other boring car. Boy is it boring!

So, Vanny...thanks for six years of fun. Thanks for being German. Thanks for having no more than three buttons. Thanks for having a pop-top bed. Thanks for having a little table. Thanks for being weird and different.

FINALLY! A POLITICAL FAMILY I CAN RESPECT!!!

My hat's off to the people of Japan! Are you listening NORWAY? Heck, are you listening everyone else in the world? Are you listening old-school, political dynasties?

Well...move over!

There's a new political force in the world! And I for one, plan to revere them. I might even move to Japan. I have to talk it over with my wife and stuff and figure out what to do with the dogs. But I'm thinking about it. And what I say goes! Most of the time. Occasionally, anyway. Maybe not that often. But sometimes what I say goes!

I better slow down a bit. But I'm so excited and in awe and excited and in awe and stuff that I need to remind myself to breathe.

Last week, the people of Japan elected a new Prime Minister. His name is Yukio Hatoyama. He's gonna clean up their mess over there. I don't know much about their mess, but evidently it's a real mess. I could research it but with things being so hectic and crazy and stuff, there's not a lot of time. Just know, they have a mess and Yukio Hatoyama is gonna kick ass cleaning it up. Got it?

But, that's not the best part. The best part is his wife. Here's here picture. I've blown it up and made it bigger because I think she's AWESOME! Here's her picture!

Now here's the same picture, except it's just of her left eye.

I kinda hoped that would have been bigger. But, who cares. That's not the point. The point is that the new first lady of Japan is someone I CAN RESPECT. AND I SHALL! ALWAYS!

Her name is MIYUKI HATOYAMA. And she has traveled to the planet Venus!

At last! Someone has the guts to admit to something like that.

She claims (and I have no reason to believe it's not true) that one night while she slept, her spirit rode on a triangular UFO and went to Venus. She said it was green and very lovely. Now some of you...you pathetic skeptics...might think it's not true. Especially since we know venus looks like this:

We know it looks like this because the Soviet Union sent a few probes to the surface of Venus back in the 70's. Most of the probes lasted a few minutes before tremendous heat and pressure made them all melty. So some of you STUPID SKEPTICS might say going to Venus isn't possible. You stupid, dumb skeptics make me sick. EVER THINK SHE MIGHT HAVE GONE THERE IN THE SPRING? HUH? THAT EVER OCCUR TO YOU DUMBHEADS!

She went to Venus! Okay! And Mark my words. As Miyuki Hatoyama becomes more popular and people start hearing the truth...and she becomes more popular, Michelle Obama is going to all of a sudden say she's been to Jupiter.

The people of Japan have made a very wise choice. This is an awesome lady.

Oh, and not only has she been to Venus. She's been abducted by aliens and she knew Tom Cruise in a past life when he was Japanese.

Here's a picture of her hair.

BACK TO SCHOOL

And so, dear friends, what's left of my brain is mine again. Today was the first day of school. The house is quiet and I am once again left to my own devices.

Shoot.

We spent the last week buying back-to-school supplies. It's unfortunate there are no back-to-work supplies.

Men in their 40s can't buy plastic pencil cases with their cool, plasticy smell. We can't buy a 24 pack of crayons with their cool, crayony smell. Well, we can, but people would talk.

Let's face it. Back-to-school supplies are neat. Pencils. Erasers. Binders. Folders. Rulers. Pens. It's all cool.

But we who are going back to work get nothing. Oh well.

Tell you the truth, I'd love to be going back to school. I'd love to have someone stand in front of me and tell me exactly what I needed to be doing.

"No, Paul. You can read the Drudge Report during recess. Now you need to be writing that scene. Sit up straight. Later on we're going to have a fireman come in and tell us about his work. Then we'll have nap time. Then we'll make things out of Ivory Soap. Then you can go home and play."

Ahhhh. If only...