Captains Log--Five and a half weeks
We've been examining The Beast for lo these many weeks, but all efforts to soothe (all very scientific and led by countless experts) have thus yielded a comparatively small amount of fruit.
The Beast will not be soothed.
The problem is as follows: The Beast loves food. Like Randy Jackson loves twinkies and small boys that can't run fast. Big Love. When food is presented, it gets visibly excited and a great thrashing around commences. This frenzy leads The Beast to miss the dispenser multiple times, sucking in great amounts of air. This in turn leads to great amounts of gas, and it is readily apparent that The Beast does not suffer abdominal discomfort gently. Every instance of this brings with it a torrent of great noises that shake the brain in such a way as to induce a small frenzy, causing all creatures great and small to run amok in an attempt to make the noise stop. Over time, personnel have discovered techniques for gas relief, but all such measures take time, and thus, shortly after task completion the process begins anew.
The Beast does fall into periods of sleep, but of short duration, and the crew has been feeling the effects of this compounding problem. They don't fear dying for lack of sleep. Rather, they fear not being able to die under its iron fist. However, this is no longer a worry. Today brought a leap forward that promises greater relief, in order to buy everyone more time in the further examination of this thing that is sure to be making more noise later, but for completely different reasons.
The enemy is constantly adapting.....where have I heard that before?
This beast might be a terrorist. (Thanks GW and pals!)
Be that as it may, it is a beast that is consistently soothed by rap. It's good to see some of the important characteristics come through. At the present, The Blueprint is bringing peace and harmony to household and it's holding pretty well. I'm working right how trying parse whether or not the quality of the rap is proportional to the length of effectiveness, which it in part seems to be. Current favorites seem to be Jay-Z, Kanye, Talib Kweli, and Ghostface (Pretty Toney). The Beast as not a very big fan of Nappy Roots. They worked, but not nearly as well.
Now a great majority of my time is spent wondering what that first word is going to be.
Fun. That's what it's gonna be.
I think I should probably stick a boombox on the stroller. My child likes NWA and DJ Quik, get over it. I like sleep better than your sensibilities. Wait till you see the Old English label I get for the baby bottle....family and strangers alike will be frozen aghast as the awesomeness of The Beast sends them over the edge of Good Taste.
I'm being swallowed whole by parenthood. God help this humble blog as it begins its descent to a level heretofore untold (as though enough haven't been driven away already).
(Then again, one viewpoint might be that babies just like racket, ergo rap is closer to racket than real music. This is wrong, of course, but I thought I would jot it down so as not be accused of the awful "bias" so many are tarred with. Either way, there can be no denial of impending awesomeness.)
Monday, March 31, 2008
Soothing the Beast
Labels:
parenthood,
Randy Jackson,
stupidity
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