Tag Archives: Daisy Flathead^^++

March 2, 2026 · 2:43 pm

00490506 (high no more)

On and on they played, well into the night, past 2, almost past 3. Bed called, but the drive for success trumped all, kept them going. “How much now, babydoll?” Philip asked about his losses across the card table to oft times girlfriend Nada New Year, soon to be downgraded to “some”, perhaps inevitably heading to “none”, even. He’d passed 10 long ago. Thirty… forty…

After Nada didn’t answer (weariness? disgust, even?), Frank laid down the last card in the Mille Bornes marathon as if in slow motion. Everyone, including worn out Daisy to make 4, exhaled their tired, collective breaths as 50 was determined to be a limit, SCREEEECHH! They can sleep well now.

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February 25, 2026 · 3:33 pm

00490415

She poured the returned Biker his requested house beer, purposefully not warning him about the change in flavor. Would he, I don’t know, even notice? she thinks here. Men, pheh, she smoldered as she handed it to him, a picture of Frank Lynn’s idiotic face forming in her mind, with more nonsense about the benefits of AI spouting from it. Typical if so, she though about the taste test with Biker. MEN. She clunks the full beer down in front of him, even sloshing a bit on the counter which she quickly wipes up, apologizing.

After raising the glass so that Daisy can wipe underneath it, he takes a sip. He winces, just like she did. She’s *pleased*. “What *is* this?” he want to cry, but stifled himself. Didn’t want to insult the woman he, ahem, *might* love. If things at home didn’t work out. Instead: “Tastes a little different today, Daisy. Did you, erm, switch brands?”

“Oh, sorry,” she feigned, putting away the cloth behind the bar. “That’s the last of the Corona — probably just the bottom of the barrel stuff. Supplier didn’t show up this week for some reason. Let’s see…” She pretends to look over other options on the tabs, knows there’s only one. “How about Michelob Zero? Got a cheap deal on it in Tonsiltown while I was down there for a writer’s retreat. On the house — both of ’em.”

He nods, and she pours his second beer, proud of her deceit. She’s gotten an honest opinion on the new, inferior taste of Corona Non, not so much from his talk as from his actions: the wincing. She recognized the gesture as more or less her own. They have become *in sync*. Unlike her and Frank lately. Hmm, she thinks, studying the rugged looks, the strong jaw line. Interesting.

Biker takes a sip of the new stuff. “Not bad — better than that Corona I just had admittedly.” Another sip. “Not quite as *good* as the, um, *top* of the barrel Corona Non. But still…” Another sip. “Not bad.” Sip. “It’s growing on me, Daisy.” Sip. “It really is.” Sip sip.

“Even lower calories for this one, which is good,” she offers. “Zero alcohol, as opposed to a *bit* in Corona. So also a benefit. A tad less flavor, true. All in all, it might balance out. And, of course, I’m still working on my own personal Non brew that’ll blow both of them completely out of the water. Like a sea monster!” She turns, takes a gander at the collage behind the counter with the dragon curving in and out of a small pool of water they both understood stands for the Nawt Vaya Sea whose shore lies just outside the bar — to the west. The fabled alcoholic monster roaming the inland sea, searching for the new perfect brew himself, some say. He could return. Like the rest of Our Second Lyfe in her big plans, maybe he’ll value taste over buzz in the end too. We’ll see. TBC

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February 24, 2026 · 8:06 am

00490414

—–

He was far up in his castle, on a higher level than where Philip Strevor and Dr. Mouse formerly known as House hung out. But he had no reason to be here now. Mouse was apparently gone for good this time — dead again. Philip was… in Juho he thought? Heck, he might be dead too for all he knows, the first time if so in his case and not the second like for Mouse. Philip’s off again on again girlfriend Nada New Year: not around either. His own girl Daisy had also left the scene, at least temporarily. Another argument about AI, PHEH.

“A rare, negative orisha does not apply here,” he insisted beside her on their last night together, sticking to the viewpoint of the father over the mother. “They shouldn’t have destroyed his big house and then also his small house. What were the villagers thinking of?”

“It’s wrong what they did, true,” she said back, “but, bigger picture, they’re thinking of the world beyond some petty, bogus houses, no matter how big, how small. Their actions speak words in the only way they perhaps knew. My daddy was wrong, plain wrong about the subject. He should have realized the moral dilemma involved. AI takes *energy*. It has to get it from somewhere. And that’s just the start; we haven’t even talked about world security issues, and just the blame thing taking control of, well, *everything*.” Her opinions had hardened as she studied up on the subject. AI is bad, and most likely should be banned. Until we, as a nation, as a world, come to some agreements on curbing the beast from hell and setting protective boundaries around it. Else it’s like trying to ineptly cover up 3 cracks with a 666 magazine and pretending like the even naughtier stuff doesn’t exist beneath it all. Daisy saw *right through* that, hmph. Bathroom — forgot to clean it before she came up. He thought she was over it, but he also thought she was over AI.

He rolls over from the spread out magazines, stares upward. I’m going to climb all the way to the top today, he thinks from his bed behind the castle’s eyes. Take in the air, decide whether I even want to keep this big ol’ castle in the skies moving forward. *Move*, he then thinks in a kind of eureka moment, rising up from the red. Maybe the old kook Dr. Mouse was right all along. The castle — yes — should become mobile! (TBC)

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February 7, 2026 · 8:01 am

00490313

It had happened again and this time Frank Lynn *did* have Daisy’s number since they’d been on, what, 5 dates now? 6? Anyway, they were kind of living together at this juncture, on a higher level to his castle than the one still occupied a bunch of the time by “interlopers” (ha) Philip Strevor and Dr. Paul Mouse, the level behind the mouth and that giant sticky outie tongue that Philip likes to take his wees off of. “Look out below!” he would often shout needlessly when the stream appeared, because there was no one else around in this isolated skybox, not down below nor anywhere else outside the castle itself. Both of these men were hanger oners; both had issues. Dr. Mouse was still dead for one. Philip was sort of on the edge of same with his indulgence in speed and the pinball game High Speed and daring to combine the two at times. That was the crux of his problem. He was still trying to beat Mouse’s score at the game at any cost. And that cost might involve dying. Mouse would always have the advantage there.

Daisy was working down at the bar installing the new house non beer Michelob Zero to replace the Corona Non that had failed recent taste tests to her exasperation. Bad batch? she thought upon initially discovering the issue, her face wincing at the surprising lack of flavor and overemphasis on fizz. But then she purchased another batch and another batch — same problem. She’d had to abort the product, at least until the Mexican based company got their act together again. She was sure she’d found the ultimate house beer, at least before putting the finishing touches on her own special non brew. Then she planned to rule all of Our Second Lyfe with the delicious concoction, he he he. Ho ho. So she was busy with that and didn’t have time to go up and sit with Frank until Mouse’s epileptic seizure was over and told him, like still unavailable Lexi before, just to wait the fit out and that it shouldn’t take more than 5 to 7 minutes, a seizure once again caused by Mouse’s indulgence in studying often strobing Youtube poop videos, especially interested in what lies at their center. Like this from one of the latest tests. Pure red. Pure demon.

But Frank Lynn had a worse feeling this time around. 5-7 minutes of shaking, then 10, then… NONE. Just laying there, not recovering, not springing up from the floor seemingly as good as new like before. He checked Mouse’s pulse. “Uh oh,” he said. Heart pumps now: “*1* Mississippi, *2* Mississippi, **3** Mississippi,” he counted in desperation while pressing the chest in and out, in and out, in and out. “Come on come on come *on*. You can’t die *again*, Dr. Mouse. You just *can’t*.” But the pulse never moved from zero. He was floating down the mighty river toward the Gulf of America that had once been good old reliable Mexico. TBC

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February 2, 2026 · 7:33 am

00490303

Where did it all go wrong for us, Daisy?

But I remember. When I went South is where. Sato knows. If he is the same as Okama Majo which he is. St. Dennis was always South to him, just across the line from his home in the North, in K-Town (Kangarootown). He wondered why we would even contemplate flying to the place.

Flying? I can hear her question me in my mind.

Later on, after I’d gathered more information about our split through some strategically placed indigo lamps, she started weeping again. On and on it went. Couldn’t be consoled. Ring Woman.

Couldn’t be trusted was the bottom line, I thought to end things. Had to be eliminated.

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January 27, 2026 · 2:37 pm

00490216 (machinery)

Tom went through the door to the left. It was the door into his office. But something was different. The light in his room was a different color, and his computer screen was blue, with the text, ‘Press any key to begin.’ Tom pressed a key on the computer screen and a weird face appeared on it.

“Michael,” Tom managed to whisper between the words of The Machine. But *how*? “Morning, Tom,” he imagined the glowing face whispering back behind raised fingers. Imagined??

Then Tom remembered one important thing. That he was playing a game. Not just any game but he was playing the Indigo Parallel, so of course a weird face would appear on his computer screen. Tom also realized that if he is playing a game, then his actions have no Real World consequences. Tom can do what he wants, without any repercussions, because this is a simulation after all. After a heated conversation with Daisy, Tom picked up a knife…

Newt quickly shuts down the game. No more Indigo Parallel for a while! Or LSD…

… LSD Dream Emulator that is, a direct influence for IP and perhaps an even weirder game despite being almost 30 years old now. What faces would he see in that one after this shocker?? Simulation indeed!

Maybe just remove the 2nd computer from the attic altogether. Perhaps the whole place is cursed. TBC

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January 27, 2026 · 2:37 pm

00490215

“Tom.”

—–

“That’s the name you said in my dream.. right before or *when* I woke up just then. I heard it in my dream but also in reality. Both in one.”

“Tom,” she repeated to Frank Lynn after a pause, her lover now and maybe soon, sometime soon, to be more. She feared pregnancy yesterday but that too was just a dream.

“Yes,” he reaffirmed. “Not Frank.”

“Hmm.”

He rolled over toward her. He stared into her face, noted the hair. Always the hair. Would she ever change from her flattop style? But of course he loved her despite this. Perhaps even *because* of this, something deeper he couldn’t see logically but felt. Or visa versa I suppose. Something else came into his mind (no, not *that*… again).

“I want to talk to you about something, Daisy. That thing we had an argument over the other day. I’ve had some thoughts about it in the meantime.”

“Oh.” She knew the topic but didn’t say it out loud. She wanted him to bring it up and keep going.

“Yes. Artificial intelligence. The *Machine*.” TBC

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January 5, 2026 · 3:29 pm

00490108

“Everyone fears that AI will become smarter than us and then take over our lives. Truth be told, AI needs *us* just as much as we need it. To exist, to survive the coming years of *problems*. We can’t physically stay on this planet without it. We just… can’t.”

—–

No that didn’t start the first argument they had, although Daisy was tempted at the time to press him on the subject, say that the mother aligned orisha worshippers had a point too despite the violence. Instead: Starfield, the game Daisy half loved but Frank half hated. Much like Tally Hall, which was involved too. Let’s listen in again, this time involving an exchange.

“I’m just saying,” Frank comes back, “that the avatars, especially the *black* ones or the ones of color I guess I should say, seem a little popeyed.” Some seem a *lot* popeyed but he was attempting to tone down his rhetoric… to begin. First vocalized disagreement after all. Always a stressful situation in such a young relationship. He held back talking about Tally Hall’s “Banana Man” video, although that was on his mind too.

“A bit,” Daisy admitted. “I don’t think it was created on purpose. The game is full of positive black people playing positive roles in people’s lives.” Just like “Banana Man,” he thinks again here, unable to leave the track he’s on. This time he couldn’t help himself.

“Let’s say, take ‘Banana Man’.”

“‘Banana Man’?” Daisy says. “What’s that… oh.” She realized what he was aiming toward, and didn’t like it. Not her beloved Tally Hall now. Sort of beloved anyway. 1/2 and 1/2 again. She could… go with Frank… or, work against him here. Schrodinger’s car or sumtin all over again. Green and blue over red and yellow, upper over lower, greater over lesser as it turns out. “Yeah, I can see that,” she could offer. Or: “No, that’s wrong Frank. Plain wrong.” Which direction? If only the crustaceans were around to ask but then I remember they know nothing. Worthless crustaceans. Am I right am I RIGHT?

“Let’s end it that your so-called ‘orisha people’ following your mother were wrong to destroy your father’s house — both of ’em — for their beliefs about AI.” How did *this* subject come from that other one? Frank wondered. But that’s just how arguments work. Associatively. Be careful how you enter and be careful how you exit. And all points between. (TBC)

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December 27, 2025 · 7:40 am

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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December 22, 2025 · 3:13 pm

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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