Today's Desire, Sleep.

A gentleman has many desires, and rake has more. I would like nightly fireworks display, areas of major urban centers dedicated as preserves for exotic animals, rich widows, but most importantly of late sleep.
That blissful respite from the waking world, a round trip to the land of nod, that priceless commodity, slumber. Sadly this has eluded me except in the briefest of snippets for the past week, or when I have slept it has been for giant hibernationatorial stretches of time and has ruined my day. So what do I have to do, what unfathomable faceless entity do I have to prostrate myself to to gain entrance to this sublime state of nightly unconsciousness. Should I worship at the alter of Nyquil, or simply deprive myself in order to enter into sleep. Perhaps I should simply bludgeon myself at the end of the evening. Decided, bludgeoning shall commence this evening.

Today's apology: The near death of many vicitms.

As a gentleman I feel it is my to issue a formal apology. As a rake I feel compelled to exercise hyperbole. Yesterday afternoon I was conveying a Miss K_____ C______ to the aeroport and was unthoughtful as to how tired I was when operating my vehicle. Once Miss C_____ was out of the car and safely boarding her plane, I began my drive home and promptly fell asleep. I woke as I was swerving wildly across the highway. Many honks and skidding sounds encouraged that awareness and I rapidly regained control of the auto. Once safely back in charge of my direction and velocity I promptly fell asleep once more. Similar events ensued. I then got off the highway hoping that the greater frequency of stops and turn of city driving would keep me awake. It did not. I woke up several times on my way home. Once after spending god knows how long at a stoplight. I eventually pulled over scarcely a mile from my destination and took a nap. The side street was quiet and compelling yet I had terrible dreams and woke with a start and jerked to my left slamming my head into my window. Eventually though I made my way safely.
That was the recounting.
This is my sorry.
Sorry fellow travelers, especially grey mid nineties Toyota who was driving on I 71 north at approximately 2:30pm.

Today's Need. A meal!

I am hungry

Today's Adventure; A Dilema of a Soultion

This morning I was awakened by one A___ N____ G_______. Not in person but in threat. The night prior after entertaining our ears, and the eyes of all who viewed us A___ suggested a bike pool to the Office in the morn in order to encourage my rakish self to rise in a more gentlemanly fashion. I agreed, but once home was immediately dishearten by the state of my apartment which is in a frightful mess. So instead of using A___'s sharp raps to rouse myself I began the search for my alarm clock which was packed away due to my abhorrence of the instrument. After an hour of searching I discovered the fiendish device, set it and then attempted to drift off. I was disturbed to find that I could not stop thinking about my alarm clock. Is the AM PM correct? Is the volume correct? Is it even set? Does it even work after years of dust gathering? Each time I answered one of these questions I compulsively had the next after being tucked gently to sleep, and each time I stubbornly resisted finding the answer to the questions as I knew how inane they were. But they plagued me and would not let me rest. So after literal hours of battle with this unhealthy fixation I finally fell asleep. It was a glorious and fulfilling rest. Until Mr. J______ H_____ the Turtle woke me with taps on the glass of his aquarium 20 minutes before my alarm was to go off.
I will admit some satisfaction at being able to be awake for the demonstration of my triumph of proper alarm clock calibration.

Today's Terror: Yesterday's Cage reveals Tomorrows Foe!

What a fine and dandy experience it is to feel rain splash on your face. Who wouldn't appreciate a shower of cool and refreshing liquid bearing down on oneself on a warm fall day? Well, perhaps a certain gentleman rake carrying a fortune of electronic equipment. Friend's I turn your eye's to a new nemesis. The tears of angels, tiny liquid projectiles plummeting from unimaginable heights to dash upon us with terrible force. RAIN! This foul flaw of nature forced me into submission yesterday evening. Alone I would brave this dastardly assault but I could not endanger the life of my sweet computer, for what sort of gentleman would I be if i ignored the codes of chivalry just because my computer is not born of man and woman. So the rain kept us hostage for long hours last eve. I railed against my fate but found I was powerless, until aid came from a friendly scribe Ms. L____ B_____, even with her covered conveyance home I was forced to leave my fair bi wheeled steed to the cruel whims of nature.
Thus my newest proposal, a roof for Columbus. Man has triumphed over nature since he first began give spin the wheels of thought. It is a measure of our success that we have dominated this cruel planet with our ingenuity and skill, but it is a measure of my failure that I was taken forcefully into custody but these dastardly cloud droppings. We must bend our hands and minds to a new task, roofing. I have contracted the services of several esteemed engineers and architects to plan a city wide ceiling. I only need you now, please write to the members of your governing body to support my proposal. Yes we can.

Todays discovery; Fake animals

A gentleman rake understands the need for untruth. the art of deceit is a noble endeavor when applied within the proper ethical boundaries. Today however I of course am referring to the lies of the biologist, the fictions of the zoologist, the deception of the natural sciences. In short kangaroos are fake. I've given this manner careful consideration. These so called animals represent a paradox that flys in the face of logic.

How can something be so cute and so good at boxing?

The answer is they cannot. The gentlemanly art of pugilism is of course a fine and cultured affair but it is undertaken by burly and rough and tumble sorts. Fine souls indeed but beetle brows and broad shoulders are the order of the day, not soft and downy fur and liquid brown eyes that melt your soul.
The kangaroo has other mythical qualities that out it as a bogus creature. Their pouch for their young, entire generations named joey, their homeland a tiny and lost continent named Austrlantis or some such and the ability to type 300 words a minute. All of these facts are seemingly well documented, but I cry false good readers, I cry false.
I beseach the scholastic community to put kanagroos back where they belong, the dusty tomes of cryptozoology, fairy tales and dreams.

Today's adventure; The Mystery of Life; in the specific case of Lance Reddick

Dear friends I ask you what sad truths would be unveiled to the timeless. What horrors and wonders would be unfolded to the eyes of a man who knows not the shackles of life and death. An unanswerable question for all creatures pass beyond the boundaries of the living, it is the unquestionable answer to birth. Yet what about those who are never born? I submit to you a startling revelation friends a near undeniable proof that there is among us one whose footsteps fall next to ours on this globe but do not trod the sands of time. An coincidingly new and ancient force, Lance Reddick.
My journey of discovery began only one day past, all though the mere hours feel as though they were years. It began when my finest friend and closest confidant Mister J____ H______ and I were taking in a show. A delightful tradition between two men of leisure, during which another delightful tradition was invoked, the Debate. In said show there was a character, a lieutenant, strong, bold and in the words of the working man, "bad ass'. He was of cource played by one Lance Reddick. In our mutual appreciation of this striking if fictional person we realized that we both held different assumptions as to his age. I estimated him as a dignified fifties something, whereas J____ postulated him as somewhere in his mid forties. Thus the debate was spurred! An a rousing intellectual adventure it was, however bound it was by speculation without research. Thusly the following day, today, when we both roused there was still a yearning for facts. This struck me suddenly and forcibly on my morning time constitutional and I resolved myself to later that day make time for a fact finding mission. It is a testament to the connection of our spirits that J____ felt the same. What we both found shook us to our very core. Lance Reddick is a man without years.
We both wielded the formidable tool of the internet in our quest for Mister Reddick's birthdate and we both were stimied. We found a slew of activiy in this and the past century. Filmographies, muscial recording, interviews, a seemingly random scattering of graduation dates, but our biggest find was mystery! If you will search yourself you will find the unthinkable in this modern day and age, phrases like date of birth unknown, or DOB; 19??, or perhaps the most telling birthdate; not applicable. It was upon reading this phrase I realized the truth. There has been lore and wild tales about men who know not the grasp of the grave, but here my fine friends I present proof, I present Lance Reddick, the Constant Man.