Ok. This is for Rod (RodS). He's 71 today! (Can I say that? You want me to say "31"? Hey I'm 70: I don't say these ages lightly...) Now. I decided I'd pick up from a past dedi (for Rod), called "My Father Was a .Jpg". (Here, for any of you who didn't read it and might want to...) I just thought some 'continuity' would be nice... However: I haven't written comedy in a while, so I hope you like it! The intention was good! (It's off the wall...) But: I've seen Rod here for some years, and 1) he's one of the most respected people here; 2) people who follow him love 'm (as do I); 3) he's incredibly talented in several fields; 4) he's bald (this, for me, is essential); and 5) he's fucking funny! (Can I say 'fucking'?) He's funny, let's just leave it at that. So Happy Birthday, Rod! And I hope you have a great day and year! (And century, and millennium, and eon...) Enjoy this little tale, and may your year ahead be filled with blessings! Thanks for reading, everyone: I'll finish in your galleries soon! m ------------------ (Note: I used Poser for 6 months---Poser Pro 2014. If my references are outdated, that's why!) The Tale... Sigh. Just sigh...Or maybe I should say, don't ask. Since you last saw me, centuries have passed. (To be honest, 2 and a half years have passed, but this tale takes place in the 28th Century, so go along with me here...) The Caper of the Lost Drawing or How Everything Went Wrong Yeah that's right. Everything went wrong... I was investigating...a renegade drawing. A good drawing, mind you, a funny drawing: Go to lunch, he'd pick up the tab. That kinda drawing... So one day, over a beef bourguignon with a side order of India Ink, he leans forward and tells me: "I'm leaving my artwork. I'm done. Don't try and stop me..." "What happened?" I said. "I'm going to Poser. I'm tired of 2D. I'm heading to Poser-land, starting a new life..." I was shocked. "Liam," I said. (I called him "Liam". I don't know why. I just liked "Liam". One of those things...) "You know you can't go to the Poser Gallery," I said: "You don't have the Paperwork. You don't have the Passports. They're rough there...they're unbending..." "Rough...they're 'rough'," he said. He grabbed me: "Listen to me, Mr. Private Eye: All my life I've been in a Rembrandt: Big fuckin' to-do, right?" He grabbed me harder: "But I'm a drawing, P.I.: a fucking drawing. Do you get it? Rembrandt's paintings are what people come for, not drawings! Me? I'm a nothin'. A fuckin' nobody. I'm a sketch, a doodle, a zero..." He wept profusely. "I'm---sorry---" I said. He took out a knife. "LIAM!" I screamed, "DON'T!!! YOU'RE A YOUNG DRAWING!!! Ok, you're 370 years old---but for art, that's YOUNG!" "Jesus," he said: "Cool your jets! I'm just cutting out Rembrandt's signature..." He cut out Rembrandt's signature and tossed it to the ground. "And stay there!" he shouted. Then he ripped off his frame and said, "goodbye, old friend." And he left... "I'm not OLD!" I shouted. "(Turning around:) Pardon?" "I'm not OLD!" "This is what you say as I exit?" "I'm sorry you're leaving---ok?---but I'm not OLD!" "Oh, you're OLD!" he shouted. "NEVER!" "And BALD!!!!" he added. "BALD???" "BALD!!!" "Well, I'm not as bald as ROD!!!" I shouted. "Who the fuck said anything about ROD???" he shouted. "ROD's the dude's this PIECE is for!" "Then, my sympathies for ROD!!!" he shouted. "You're every BIT as bald as Rod," he continued! "In fact, you could build condominiums on your head and have room left over for a golf course!" "Maybe 9 holes!!!" I said, "but not 18!!!" "I'm outa here!" said Liam. (To the Reader:) "(Whispering:) He's bald, ok? Tell 'm! Jesus..." And he left. (Door slams.) "(To myself:) He's balder, that's all...much..." * * * Soooooooo: Liam trounced back to his old haunt---the 2D Gallery---which, as you know, is in the basement just under the Boiler Room, and right across from the Janitor's Closet. (OK, look: You pass the Men's Room, on your left, you turn right, ya go down 3 steps, and see that dungeon-looking place at the end? With the molded doors and a lot of weeping inside? That's the 2D Gallery. We're not too popular, ok?) Liam marched to his cubicle, packed his bags, and stamped "Poser" all over everything. (Bang, bang, bang.) Everyone trembled: "Liam's going to Poser: God have mercy..." At the elevator, he said to elevator woman: "Take me to Poser. The Gallery..." (She gasped.) "Why is everyone so nuts about Poser?" he snapped. She wiped off her brow. "I just hope you know what you're doing," she said: "Lotta drawings have gone 'into' that place, but few have come out..." "Yeah?" he said, grabbing her by the lapel: "I'm gonna march into that 3D Hell Hole---way the hell up on the 95th floor (they get the Penthouse, dammit: We're stuck under the laundry room, but they get the fuckin' Penthouse!)---and I'm gonna say, "I'm a REMBRANDT, now MOVE ASS, people! Get your 3D asses in GEAR!" She crossed herself. "Good luck on THAT," she said, crossing herself over and over. "They do shit up there you can't believe! I'm just warning you, is all..." She hit "95," and they left. * * * Ok... The elevator stopped. "Wish me luck," said Liam. "You're gonna need it," she muttered. She crossed herself another 20 times and rode away. "What's with these people," Liam muttered. Then he looked around: "I'm in Poser! Fuckin' Poser! Fuckin' A, man! (Dancing:) Ahhh am in the Big-time! The Big Cheese! The Head Honchos!" He kissed the ground, then he coughed and spit, 'cause that wasn't a great idea. "20 generations of dreams," he said, holding back the tears, "and I finally make it!" He took a deep breath and marched through the Entrance, when: BA-BOOM!!! He didn't know what hit him! Mercy! He got slapped with Ambient Occlusion, Diffuse IBL, Subsurface Scatter---don't ask, what they foisted on him one shouldn't do to a dinosaur, let alone a fucking drawing! He kept shouting: "What're you doing??? My lighting's fine!!! I'm from Rembrandt!!!" A model shouted, "Emergency! Emergency! This dude's been lit by the sun." "So?????" Gasps and screams. "We got a sun-lit dude here!!!!" they screamed: "Infinite Light!!!! Infinite Lifght!!!! Bring in the Team!!!" Liam covered his head and prayed fiercely. A Shadow Blur Radius pushed everyone aside, put his hands on Liam's back, and said: "We'll fix ya, little fella: Don't worry!" He pulled out a syringe. "A syringe???" shouted Liam. "What're you doing???" "Parallel rays!" they shouted: "He's covered in 'm!" Alarms went off. Then they took a scythe and swatted the rays like bamboo. Rays fell to the ground, covered in their own photons. Others ran for the exits. "Get 'm! Get 'm!" shouted the controls. Liam covered his head: "Jesus! This is a bloodbath!" he shouted. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! "People!" cried Liam: "I'm a drawing! I'm a fucking drawing! That's how they light me! I'm a---" "Rembrandt," they shouted: "We heard! We respect Rembrandt, but you're in Poser now, and Rembrandt's lighting---it's just WRONG!" SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! Suddenly, a stranger grabbed the Light Parameter, and knocked him out. Then OTHER strangers joined in, and knocked out more Parameters. Then properties. (Who was doing this???) And Liam---thrilled that people came to save him---crept out of the Room, injured and bleeding, and ran for his life. "GET 'M! GET 'M!" cried 200 free models. Liam ducked into a different room. It said "Clothes Room": "Ok," he muttered: " I can use a new pair of shoes..." (Wrong!) A huge screeeeeeeeeeeeeee sound went out, massive cranes came down, he was flattened, turned into a table cloth---no color, just gray---placed over a 3D cube, smashed, shaped, given several furls, and eventually turned into a skimpy bikini top where he suffered such burns he couldn't take a piss for 6 weeks. So...Liam was carted from Room to Room, every function imaginable was foisted on him, he was bruised and bled, poked and prodded, irked and injured; and when he finally escaped---with a rash the size of Cleveland---he ran down to the 94th floor---on the stairs, mind you (which, in Renderosity, are all digital, so not that sturdy)---which was the floor for 'Non-Poser Art That Was Used and Abused by Poser', he commiserated with a bunch fractals who'd been stuck in a Mixed Media piece and were a wreck ("do they even think about who they put us with? I got stuck with a witch!" said one; "I got stuck with a FROG," said another). Liam had found rest... * * * AND SO OUR HERO AND GENERAL ALL-AROUND GOOD DRAWING, LIAM...slept. A 2D doctor whispered to his partner: "He's had a trauma. He keeps mumbling, 'don't do it! don't do it...'" "Ray tracing!" said his partner. "Drawings hate it." The first doctor cuddled up to his partner: "I wouldn't mind a little ray tracing from you..." They looked at each other. Then jumped on each other, and humped on the floor like animals. They did things so unspeakable, I had to expunge them from the tale. A day later, Liam woke up, thanked everyone, put ointment on his rashes, and went back to 2D where was heartily laughed at by everyone. He told them to fuck off, and hired a lawyer. They sued Poser. It got ugly... The Lawsuit and Trial of the Century (That's a good fuckin' title...) Ok, so there was a Trial. Artworks came from all over the world. Protesters with "Down with 2D!" posters. Reporters. Camera people. You name it. And, on the opening day, the Poser Border-Patrol Prosecutor said to Liam, in front of the whole courtroom: "Mr. Drawing: You KNEW you couldn't cross from 2D to 3D without a Visa: What in the world were you THINKING???" Liam pulled out a credit card. "Not THAT Visa!" she said. "An immigration visa! Jesus!" "OBJECTION!" I shouted. "OBJECTION? You're not even IN this trial!" She had a point, but what she DIDN'T tell you was that she started out as a megapixel in a 3d rate digital camera, which means she wasn't from 3D, and she was grandfathered-into Poser by a bunch of models who go under the name of "The Render Squad"---no relation to AOC---and now she's a bigshot: a 3-D Border Patrol Prosecutor who detains itinerant drawings who try to sneak across Poser's border for 'sanctuary.' (If you think I'm heading for an "Immigration" joke, you're right. This won't be funny, but I'll probably insult some Poser-ites...) "I just wanted to get out of the under-seen world of 2D!" said Liam: "I wanted a better life!" "Riiiighhhhhhhht," said the Prosecutor to the Judge: "The ol' 'hurt refugee' argument: Criminals, every one of 'm! PUT 'M IN JAIL!" A riot ensued. In response, the Poser Gallery built a wall around their Gallery, but the 2D-ers attacked with palette knives, pen nibs and cheap pencils (they got sharp tips, that's the point), and they cut the place to smithereens. "Damn 2D!" everyone shouted. (And btw: What's a 'smithereen"? Anyone? Has anyone ever spent quality time with a 'smithereen'? Is the female version a "smitherette?" Are their kids "smitheroos?" And, if they name an atomic element after it, would they call it "Smitheronium"? I digress...) ANYWAY: War broke out, and...well...it's been downhill ever since... And Now An Aside: The G4 Interview That's right, I visited G4 during the war: She had to leave Rod, along with the rest of the TNA gang (it's a sad story: check out The 3D Wars, the Breakup of TNA, How Rod Got Balder (From Stress), the Breakdown of Civilization, and Where the TNA Women Are Now, Houghton Mifflin, 2024. It's all there.) G was in her living room, in a peasant dress and no makeup, with a piece of apple pie and a scoop of vanilla ice cream---hand made. She'd opened a yarn shop in New Hampshire, had a family, and was sitting in her arm chair, knitting a $90,000.00 pair of Prada Shoes. Pictures of the gang were on the wall. She wiped away a tear... "Do you miss it all?" I asked: "I mean, the intrigue, the rescues, the Missions, the great clothes?" I put the microphone to her mouth. "Ohhhh, the clothes were the best!" she said. "And yeah, we were on a Mission. We saved a lotta folks." She wept... "So you miss it," I said. "Yes...I do," she said, blowing her nose. (Question: Is 'blowing your nose' the same as giving your nose a blow job? I'm just asking...) She leaned forward: "I miss it all," she said. "We did something back then. We made a difference. But today---after that whole Drawing-Poser incident?---it's never been the same..." "Well, they did try to Re-Light him," I said. "(In shame:) I know: Poser can be difficult," she said. "It was always good to us...but we were digital..." She wept some more. "Have you seen Rod?" She wept some more. "In pictures," I said. "Is he still bald?" she said. "Does a bear shit in the woods?" I said. (A bear walked in, stated an objection, and walked out.) "(Ignoring:) So he's still bald," she said. "Ohhhhhhh yeah!" I said. She smiled: "When we landed our aircraft, we could always land on his head." "I imagine it would make a great landing strip," I said. "One time," she laughed, "Trump wanted to build a Resort there. Rod said 'no'. D'you remember when he busted into his ceiling?" she said. I thought..."Oh---right!" I said: "He banged into it with a sledge hammer! On video!" "Right!" she said. "We just sat there and gasped: Rod---our creator---banging into his own ceiling---without a helmet!" "I couldn't stop laughing," I said. "Neither could we!" We both laughed, even though we felt wayyyy guilty. "Do you know, " she continued, "he loosed a family of 16 badgers that night?" "From his ceiling?" "From his ceiling!" she said. "And a mountain lion, a small pterodactyl, 3 researchers from Fermilab, and a ceiling rat who built motherboards for Dell." "No!!!" "Yes! In fact, the rat sued!" she said. "(Whispering:) Well, ya bang into their home, they're gonna be upset..." "Does he still build centrifuges? Particle colliders?" I asked. "Still?" she said: "Remember when they dug up his back yard?" "Yeah..." "They found 3 Egyptian Pharaohs, 6 Babylonian Accountants, a standup comic from Ancient Sumeria---and you know they're gonna be funny if they're from Ancient Sumeria---and---get this---16 laptops from Stonehenge. Made of stone" "No!!!!" I shouted. "(Leaning forward:) Yes!!!" she said: "Give the guy some gum wrappers and a little glue? He'll build a Rocket Launcher!" She leaned close: "He once made a 2 Billion TB Solid State Drive out of dried apricots." "NOOOO!" "YES!" she cried: "The man's got moxie, I tell ya, the man's got moxie!" She finished the shoes and started knitting a Coach Leather Bag: "I miss him," she said, crying. "Old baldy." She leaned in: "Are we overdoing the whole 'bald' thing?" "Probably, but I'm fine with it!" I said. "Me too!" she said. ""If you see him," she said, wiping away a tear, "send him my love." She wiped her tears on her peasant dress, took a swig of her hot apple cider, looked longingly at the pics from her "old days"---in her Gucci boots, Chanel purses and Saks Fifth Avenue gowns, then picked up her knitting needles and knitted a Rolex. She shook my hand, blew me a kiss, and left the interview... Getting Back... Back to Liam... The Poser people---distraught with the judgments against them---took 3/4 of the of the drawings and paintings of the world, and stuffed them into Superfly (gasp): Only, by then, it was called "Super, Super, Super, Super, Superfly" (see, it was fast), and the war began. (The artworks came out with nuclear burns, hemorrhoids, and an anal itch you wouldn't believe. Abashed, I resigned, took to drink, took a job as a syllable in a 3d rate Haiku, married a semi-colon and had little question marks...but I didn't give up, no sir: I'm a P.I., a shamus, a street dick, a sleuth, I pound the pavement, I sashay the streets, I solves de crimes, and I---your friendly Art Investigator, your Gumshoe of the Aesthetic Set, your Digital Dick, your Photoshop Philanderer (I've run out of names), I returned to our story, finished the fiction, lasso'd the legend, concluded my canard, and took you to---) Life In the 28th Century... Ok. Poser's now at version 2,000,000. Processors are now faster than the Speed of Light (that's fast), graphics cards are larger than most asteroids, memory is measured in metric tons, and a render of the Milky Way---the actual galaxy now, not some fucking image---takes just under a minute and a half. Last week I rendered 2 galaxies, a quasar, and 6 Black Holes in under 20 seconds. That's fast, people. Of course, my Mac's the size of Jupiter... But hey.... BUT, IN THE 28TH CENTURY--- we render whole galaxies. We render nebulae and supernovas. In a recent interview, by RS Laboratories, they interviewed "God"---from the Bible. About Creation. (Software: Poser 1, Photoshop 1---the Beta version---and MacPaint.) God said (note: the full interview is available on God's website): "Well, things were slow then...you know...on day 6---the one with all the 'creeping things'? I mean spiders and wasps and centipedes and---it was disgusting (eeeeuuuuwwwwww!): I rendered that in just under 2 billion years!" God jumped up: "Which, for then, was fucking fast...And that's the day I created humans: Adam and---what's her name?" "Eve," said RS. "Right! Eve!" said God: "And did all that---get this!---with a 720 KB Floppy Disc (low density), and a processor the speed of a snail. It was slow, people, but," God leaned forward, "not too fucking shabby for a prehistoric system, huh? Huh??? I mean, shit: On the Day of Rest, Creation was still rendering; but it came out nice, right?" (God pointed to Creation:) "Huh??? A little sharpening in Photoshop, a little Contrast: You got yer-self a Creation!" (I apologize to 2 gazillion religious people for that last paragraph. See my Retractions, Apologies and Groveling Self-Abasements: The Life and Times of a Third-Rate Writer and His Deeply Offended Audience, U. of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor and a Postbox near Detroit.) Conclusion (Yeah, don't cheer...) As you can see, things have come a long way... Me. I retired to my local watering hole, schmoozing it up with a gal named Flo, pounding the pavement, picking up picayune payments for paltry projects, leaving my days as the earth's Premiere Painting P.I. to younger, more ambitious sorts. A nice arm chair, Flo by my side, and a glass of digital Chardonnay---I'm good. As for the others... Liam---the drawing who 'started it all'---left floor 94, stopped off at 81 for a tube of "Rend-Ex"---a cream for people who get caught in renders and other Poser functions; he slabbed some on, ran down 81 flights of stairs, got to the 2D Gallery, kicked open the doors (they were always stuck), passed the same monk who'd been there since 1425 scrawling the complete Book of Isaiah onto the head of a pin (things aren't too exciting in 2D), bumped into 16 Mixed Media people who'd just come back from a dig, where they were excavating for "some useable art"; and Liam, exhausted, went to his cubicle and collapsed. Liam's cubicle-mate had just put all of Cezanne's paintings into Corel Painter, and turned them all maroon. (Bigggggg mistake.) Just a typical day in 2D. I, in the meantime, went on to finish my masterpiece: A History of the Feather Duster, In Six Parts, for which I won a Nobel Prize---then was asked to return it because it was such a bad book. But, that's another story... And Rod---who's presently re-building the Pyramids out of old SCSI cables: He turns 71 today. The TNA women re-united with Rod in the 29th C, btw: Rod was up to Chapter 2,786,229...They went onto make a movie, then a clothes line, then clothes pins (which is a bad joke), then a series on HBO: "Game of Drones". (See, because Rod uses Drones...) I'd go on, but this is longer than most novels, so......... Happy Birthday, Rod! You're an institution here, and everyone loves you! (This may be a stupid-ass piece, but it comes with great wishes!) May things go splendidly for you from now on--- Happy 71st Birthday and many many more!!! m (the end) ---------