Category Archives: 01

00490106 (speed limit)

“Oh I hate removing all these beautiful decorations and then taking down the tree. Can’t we keep it up for a while longer, Frank Lynn? Please? Pretty please?”

“I told you, dawg,” he said while continuing to finger the difficult Spongeberg invention, #3 he was working on this particular day I believe. Full of Middle C’s in an attempt by the composer to make the path more clear, but still a very windy and twisty journey indeed. One he still can’t fully navigate to its end. “We don’t have to take the tree down until New Year arrives,” he continued his explanation.

“But… Nada is arriving at 7. For our dinner. Philip and Nada together. Two teams.”

“Frank stops playing, pivots in his bench to look over at his own (new-ish) girlfriend Daisy, realizes the mistake made.

“*No*, not *Nada* New Year. Just the New Year — dawg. The first of the year. It’s tradition that you don’t have to take down Christmas trees — for most people — until New Year’s Day the week after Christmas.”

Daisy stands back, gold ornament still in hand and not the collecting box. “Oh,” is all she could say, and proceeds to hang it on the same limb she retrieved it from not 30 seconds ago. “Good,” she said while putting more on formerly plucked. “Good good good.”

—–

“Where’s he now?” Daisy asks about Frank’s oft times visitor Dr. Mouse. Like House but different.

“Place called Linesville PA,” Frank answers from across the table. They’d finished eating (salmon and brown rice and mixed vegetables, yum!). Now time for leisurely chatting before cards (bridge? rook? Mille Bornes even?), catching up with all the latest local news and stuff. “He’s wondering why it’s so close to the PA-OH line,” Frank continued, “about 5 miles if I remember correctly, but not named for that. He’s also indicated Glenn Islands next to Ford Island in the same area and something about the possibility of watching a lot of Glenn Ford movies when he gets back, hogging my video feed again, pheh. Maybe time to think about that 2nd screen?”

“I’ll chip in,” chips in Philip to his right, partner Nada New Year across from him as Daisy is to Frank.

“Well thanks, Philip. Nice of you to offer. But as I recall, you didn’t bring any actual money over after your, er, *conversion* from Alamo to Nawt Vaya here.” Unlike me, was the unstated jab; Frank planned his metaverse jumping quite a bit more carefully. “That’s why you live with Lexi.”

“Oh,” says Philip to this, remembering that fact. “Right. Which reminds me. Nada you got a tener you can loan me for a while? Need to pay off Frank for my bets the last time we played. Right Frank?” And he hits Frank’s nearest shoulder with his fist — pretty hard. Because he’s pretty mad about it. “Good to, how you say, *square* up before we start, huh?”

“Keep it, dawg,” he says while glancing at Nada, who remained silent, maybe even looked a little sleepy. Was she up for this tonight? “I — again — appreciate the thought.”

“Okay, good. Great — that’s great. Even steven, then. Soo… what’ll it be tonight? Rook?” Philip was always up for a game of rook, his favorite. But Daisy preferred bridge and Nada and Frank preferred Mille Bornes, at least for tonight just to keep things fresh. So the majority wins and Mille Bornes it was. Philip mumbled something about preparing to lose again since it wasn’t *his* game, but then dealt the first hand and started to get quite into it before the end.

—–

“Nada, can you loan me a twenty?” he said as discussion of cards was brought up the next week after another delicious meal (poached eggs, steamed green beans, something bread related) and catching up with local news and such. Frank was just that good — naturally. Let’s call him a card savant although I know that term is usually reserved for precocious children(?). If only Spongeberg came so easily. TBC

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00490105 (La Center (‘nother one))

“FrankLYNN!!!”

“Oh god what is it now?”

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00490104 (Schrodinger’s Man?)

No, not Gemilly Niceniece dominating the icy scene we’ve already seen walking across a different planet in post one of this here newest photo-novel, 49 in a series of infinity (infinity?). Instead: the background “figure”, peering over rocks it appears. A silhouette once more but small, more submissive and open to interpretation. Is it a man, a person? Or… something else. I’d personally give it about a 50-50 chance either way in the present.

I’m reminded somehow of this from photo-novel 36 — yet more Kentucky, hmm.

And I’ve seen the “illusion” before while walking around these number of planets through this particular BD, 7 hours and 7 minutes and 11 seconds long it is. And this coming exactly at the end of the 55 minutes and 14 seconds Schrodinger III section of the video. We’ll see how it develops moving forward (and forward (and forward)).

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00490103

Per more cues in KY, she’d merrily adorned herself with ribbons and bows up and down, from the top of her new festive haired head to the bottom of her new festive shoed toe — toes. Bought for the season would be their reason, on the surface. Then she came back to the Rodentia Assembly Hall intending to give assumed ever-listening Rodentius the giant white rat with a bit of brown to keep him honest another show of information, holiday style. She even brought her Rudolph bulb along for good luck; it now lit the single room hall as much as the sci-fi floor lamp that also tagged along with her.

“What Christmas means to me,” she started after taking the podium, trying not to glance into his corner too much. Nervous for some reason! It was only a big rodent, though. Nothing more. “AHEM… Christmas, to me, to myself, to… I…” Stumped, she looks down here, saw the color highlighted in so many ways on her arms, torso, legs, feet. “… means *red*; yes, red. And Santa,” she followed, thinking of another red dominated being. “But not *Satan*, not 666.”

“Good one, ha!” Rodentius enthusiastically encourages from his thought-to-be ever-corner in the hall, named for what he would call his better, female half which represents the whole virtual town surrounding them on all sides and then some. “Keep it coming!”

—–

But suddenly, just like that, there was no one in the assembly hall except Wheeler, who just stood there alone, awkwardly dressed for the occasion. Should have been a more somber attire, black instead of red, the other half of the equation as it turned out. Black for the empty chair revealed by the vanished big, non-anthropomorphized rodent, just an oversized but otherwise very ordinary animal with no human form to him atall, or so she thought. Black for absence itself. Loss of a friend.

Rodentius is *always* here, she panics. Why now, why just before Christmas of all times of the year? Why did he have to go… so SOON?!


She turns back to the chairs of the assembly hall after staring quite a while at the corner bereft of soul, of consciousness, trying to reorient herself after this shocking discovery. Then she imagines the red chairs being filled with not humans but aliens to balance things out, a show of planets to repopulate a darkened universe. Like here:

Planets you don’t even know the names of
Planets, you don’t even know their names

Yes, this helps, she thinks. Mars, the first red planet as it were, was just a beginning. Black and red together makes more sense on this special special day. Absence. And presents. TBC

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00490102 (simultaneity)

Tree tattoo, front and back — no crack.

Which leads us to… these side-by-side pictures of the 2 very different appearing and acting Dennis the Menaces both emerging in our world on the same date of March 12, 1951, US and UK style…

https://www.plagiarismtoday.com/2010/10/18/the-odd-case-of-dennis-the-menace/

1951 must have been a very bad year to be named Dennis.

The reason is because on March 12 of that year two separate comics entitled Dennis the Menace went on sale, one in the UK, one in the U.S (Note: The UK version is dated March 15 but actually went on sale on March 12).

The UK comic Dennis, which first appeared in Beano #452, was created by David Law and published by D.C. Thomson as a comic strip inside a popular comedy comic book. It’s U.S. counterpart was created by Hank Ketcham and initially distributed by Post-Hall Syndicate as a syndicated comic strip for newspapers.

Though, based on this simple fact, many draw the conclusion that one of the two creators had to have plagiarized the other, it’s become clear that simply wasn’t the case. Not only did the two creators have no way of knowing what the other was working on, but the two characters are actually extremely different. The UK version is a true menace, a mean-spirited boy who likes to cause trouble, and the U.S. version is happy-go-lucky child that causes trouble without intending to.

US and UK happen to be the prefixes of two separate but directly related Cracks in this here blog and attached photo-novels, the first, US Cracks,  a “real” band from the Cyberpunk 2077 game with a name derived from the expression “ass cracks”, and the second, UK Cracks, my reimaged and repurposed US Cracks headlined by a Blue Moon Kentucky instead of a Blue Moon period

Red anyone?


Blue Moon and Red Menace (and “divide the difference” Purple Force) of US Cracks

Simultaneously appearing US and UK versions of Dennis the Menace discussed in a 2010 *”Cracked”* article:

https://www.cracked.com/article_18788_the-5-most-mind-blowing-coincidences-all-time.html

Let’s switch back to Frank Lynn’s giant, mobile or wannbe-mobile castle home in the sky over in Jeogeot’s Nawt Vaya (Free State) for the next one, specifically its only bathroom, pre-Daisy Flathead 2nd date condition, he he.

Here he’s ogling “Xxxmas Belles” magazine’s 2025 centerfold beside an attempted 666 coverup of 3 more cracks — didn’t quite work this time unlike for the first picture of this blog post. “Damn, Miss Mistletoe you demon,” he says to the spread out centerfold before him. “I’m truly gonna miss you. But I have new lips to smooch. Better pull out my phone and call Daisy.”

Which returns us to Kentucky… TBC

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00490101

She didn’t necessarily want come back here but it all keeps circling around, all part of the master plan by the powers that be (me, baker b.). Jemison — oceanside this time. She didn’t arrive here in a ship or boat or anything like that but just strolled in from an entirely different planet altogether through a transition point of zero dimensions, no wasteful energy used. A black hole we could call it, one after another after another, actually, as the walking in essentially a straight line continued from world to world, biome to biome, to make a 7 hour and 7 minute and 11 second tour altogether. And now she had returned to where she started — finally — a type of home base as it were. 1:07:47 through 1:45:13 in the overall video. Would things be different now?

“Good to see you back here, Gemilly Niceniece,” said Clyde the Herding Cutterhead while passing by, who last saw her in a Jemison deciduous forest biome setting from photo-novel 48. Welcome to 49, Gemilly and Clyde! Welcome all. TBC

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00480116 (fallen)

He stared at the can, thinking about all the repercussions of what happened in UT recently. Some say he invented the object, but that was Can the character — different. And besides, [Pepi “Can” Kolya] had turned into Newt now, hadn’t he? (he thinks) Better. Able to smile and perhaps even laugh. A new centerpiece figure for the blog and attached photo-novels as a whole on the male side of things. Female? Well, still obviously dominated or ruled by Wheeler. Which reminds him… (STAND)

He’ll return to this Arang 32/225/94 seat for more thinking and pondering later. But for now he’s got to get to another 32/225 spot in a catty-corner sim to wait on daughter Alice, fresh from a land removed from such worries. Her lucky streak has just ended, though, he thinks. Wheeler was not *in* trouble but just trouble period. A little white lie sold to Alice so that she’ll come home and help him deal with her. She doesn’t like his red dress he got from the pawn shop, she doesn’t like the cans of bargain soda he brings home from the grocery store, she doesn’t like this that or the other thing. Difficult (!). Alice was always better than him with handling her moods. And now she’s coming back. Yes, little white lie justified. She’ll get over it soon enough.

“I guess I’ll just stand right in the middle of the road here so she can’t miss me,” he mutters when teleporting in to the second 32/225 of the day. “Just don’t hit me!”

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00480115 (another one of those Hana Leis)

“Yes, how are you doing Father?” One of them, she thinks privately, because there remains great doubt that this Dr. Mouse, originally Dr. *of* Mouse, could actually be the biological one. *Psychological*: yes. But Axis and the confirmed DNA tests — 2 of ’em — still looms large in the background. Greg Ogden without his copper toned hair, she also knows now. So strange.

Mouse answers. “Come *home*?” she utters about his request as she watches Chet take another dive under the waves. “But I like it *so much* here. No drama, no tension. Just surf and sun and fun.” Immediate reaction, but Alice also knew he was paying for all this. He could cut off the funds. She had to comply with his wishes. “2 more weeks?” she tried to bargain. Mouse answers. “2 *days*?”

“Your mother needs you,” Mouse explained as best he could now. She wasn’t dying or anything like that; she was just in trouble, he said. Trouble but not sick or dying or anything like that. What could it be? she ponders after the click that ended the call. 2 days. She’d have to say goodbye to the dogs. And rock’n surfer boy Chet out there. He couldn’t come along, she knew — started band practice in Caledonia day after tomorrow with the Andersons, bassist Karl and then little Sherwood on drums. Good with the hands Sherwood was on this rock music. And Karl at least looked good on Paper (their “hit” single). Run with Scissors they were called. And I believe we have former runner-of-a-diner Biff Carter as band manager to end that 4 part string. We’ll see if they actually show up again in this here blog and attached photo-novels or are a kind of hard to get, one-off joke like so many others of its type.

(to be continued)

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00480114

Ironically, the only bags she had to offer Mouse for totting his newly bought red dress home were trash too. She unceremoniously dumps the purchased dress inside, draws the likewise red strings, and hands the filled black plastic container over to him from across the counter. Although he struggles with carrying both the bag and the cane at once while walking out, she doesn’t offer to help, doesn’t even hold the front door open for him.

He trudgingly makes his way toward the now vacant Rat Hole establishment from the shop, wondering if his not wife but girlfriend — maybe — will enjoy the gift. Birthday, he ponders. 666 or thereabouts. Hard to forget. Demon inside her too to help him remember. Might as well be stamped onto her forehead.

Wheeler again of course.


Where is the old fool? she thinks after glancing again at her watch still on her arm.

Must rest now, he determined, catching his breath. Hope she f-ing likes it!

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00480113

“I guess it was inevitable you show up.” He pauses as he looks over at his oft-times wife, now a ratcatcher complete with backpack cage with a couple of rats in it already. But not of the right kind.

“Yeah, I was attracted by the literal version but disappointed. No one home.”


Earlier: *Knock knock knock.* “Hello?! Anybody here?!”

“Soo now… an actual hole,” said Newt. Both stared over at it, Ratcatcher (aka Wheeler) with her useless rat catching devices for the job and Newt with his useless fishing rod apparently, just slung under his shoulder for looks by the look of it.

—–

She waved goodbye to him but he was already gone. Too laggy for him to stay logged on too while she entered. But not the fault of the sim. Probably my modem or something. Router. Anyway… inside.

—–

Eventually she found CENTER.

And directly above — still at center, mind you — a pawn shop named Escape with a browser named not Rat but Mouse. Doctor too.

That might be it, she thinks while panning up and peering into it.

“How much for this red dress here?” Mouse asks Wanda the shop attendant, pointing toward the object with his cane to indicate desire per usual.

In synchronicity, she then spots a blood stained hand poking out from a split bag of trash.

(to be continued)

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