SwanShadow Gives Thanks: Collector's Edition
We come once again, by the grace of the Almighty, to the fourth Thursday in yet another November. With the aroma of roast turkey and pumpkin pie wafting in the air, let's peruse our annual alphabetical analysis of the diverse things your Uncle Swan is thankful for today.
Acetylsalicylic acid — aspirin, if you please. Still one of the world's great wonder drugs after 150 years.
Back Issue, that spectacular bimonthly magazine edited by Michael Eury. It chronicles the comics of the 1970s and '80s, and the people who created them. It's like a mainline infusion of blissful nostalgia every eight weeks.
Coffee. Nothing's better — or more vital for survival — in the morning. Except maybe air.
Denzel Washington, the finest American actor working today. I'm watching Inside Man as I compose this post. Look up charisma in the cinematic dictionary, and there's Denzel's picture.
Exchange Bank. So far, they've managed never to lose a cent of my money. The drive-through tellers at the Rohnert Park branch always remember my name.
Fitz and Brooks, kicking sports talk old-school weekdays from noon until three on KNBR 680, "The Sports Leader." Bob Fitzgerald and Rod Brooks may well be brothers from different mothers. Only Rod is actually a brother, but you know what I mean.
God. He's the reason everything else exists.
Horses, my daughter's favorite animals, next to Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom.
Inkers, making comic book pencil art come alive. Thanks to Bob Almond, Joe Rubinstein, and Bob McLeod, who all did splendiferous inking commissions for me this year.
James Bond, MI6 Agent 007. Shaken, but never stirred. I'm still a Connery man after all these years, but that Daniel Craig fellow isn't half bad.
KJ and KM, my raisons d'etre.
Loco moco, the best in Hawaiian plate lunch. Sticky rice, hamburger patties, with fried eggs on top, smothered in brown gravy. I'd drive up to Ohana right now if they were open at this hour.
Mugs, chronicling the places I've been, the events I've witnessed, and things that just plain fascinate me. I need more wall space to hang them, at least until the next big quake.
Newsarama, bringing you all the comics industry news that's fit to download.
Ocean's Eleven, either the Sinatra-Dino-Sammy original or the Clooney-Pitt-Damon remake. It's Vegas, baby.
PokerStars. I'm SwanShadow. Come play with me.
Quizno's. They got a pepper bar! We love the subs, but we miss the spongmonkeys.
Reading glasses, my constant reminder that these old eyes ain't what they used to be, and they were never any great shakes to begin with.
Southwest Airlines, for not drilling me into the earth from 35,000 feet — or losing my luggage — on either of the trips I took with them this year.
Target. You need stuff, and they have it.
Underwear. I'm a briefs guy. Fruit of the Loom. Plain white. I know: Too much information. Sue me.
Voices in Harmony, my chorus. I love all 100-plus of you guys, in a strictly male bonding sort of way. We make magic every Tuesday night. Most weeks, I don't even mind the 200-mile round trip commute to rehearsal.
Wikipedia, not always accurate, but mighty handy.
Xenophilia, because I love strange things. Even you, if you're strange.
You Don't Know Jack, the funniest online trivia game ever. I look eagerly forward to a fresh dose every Monday.
Zombie Jamboree: Back to back, belly to belly; well, I don't give a damn, 'cause I'm stone dead already. Do it, Rockapella!
Enjoy your Turkey Day, friend reader. (Or your Tofurkey Day, if you happen to be a vegetarian. I think you're crazy, but that's on you.) Hug the people you love. Let them know how grateful you are for the blessings they bring to your life.
And don't make them wait until next November to hear it again.
Acetylsalicylic acid — aspirin, if you please. Still one of the world's great wonder drugs after 150 years.
Back Issue, that spectacular bimonthly magazine edited by Michael Eury. It chronicles the comics of the 1970s and '80s, and the people who created them. It's like a mainline infusion of blissful nostalgia every eight weeks.
Coffee. Nothing's better — or more vital for survival — in the morning. Except maybe air.
Denzel Washington, the finest American actor working today. I'm watching Inside Man as I compose this post. Look up charisma in the cinematic dictionary, and there's Denzel's picture.
Exchange Bank. So far, they've managed never to lose a cent of my money. The drive-through tellers at the Rohnert Park branch always remember my name.
Fitz and Brooks, kicking sports talk old-school weekdays from noon until three on KNBR 680, "The Sports Leader." Bob Fitzgerald and Rod Brooks may well be brothers from different mothers. Only Rod is actually a brother, but you know what I mean.
God. He's the reason everything else exists.
Horses, my daughter's favorite animals, next to Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom.
Inkers, making comic book pencil art come alive. Thanks to Bob Almond, Joe Rubinstein, and Bob McLeod, who all did splendiferous inking commissions for me this year.
James Bond, MI6 Agent 007. Shaken, but never stirred. I'm still a Connery man after all these years, but that Daniel Craig fellow isn't half bad.
KJ and KM, my raisons d'etre.
Loco moco, the best in Hawaiian plate lunch. Sticky rice, hamburger patties, with fried eggs on top, smothered in brown gravy. I'd drive up to Ohana right now if they were open at this hour.
Mugs, chronicling the places I've been, the events I've witnessed, and things that just plain fascinate me. I need more wall space to hang them, at least until the next big quake.
Newsarama, bringing you all the comics industry news that's fit to download.
Ocean's Eleven, either the Sinatra-Dino-Sammy original or the Clooney-Pitt-Damon remake. It's Vegas, baby.
PokerStars. I'm SwanShadow. Come play with me.
Quizno's. They got a pepper bar! We love the subs, but we miss the spongmonkeys.
Reading glasses, my constant reminder that these old eyes ain't what they used to be, and they were never any great shakes to begin with.
Southwest Airlines, for not drilling me into the earth from 35,000 feet — or losing my luggage — on either of the trips I took with them this year.
Target. You need stuff, and they have it.
Underwear. I'm a briefs guy. Fruit of the Loom. Plain white. I know: Too much information. Sue me.
Voices in Harmony, my chorus. I love all 100-plus of you guys, in a strictly male bonding sort of way. We make magic every Tuesday night. Most weeks, I don't even mind the 200-mile round trip commute to rehearsal.
Wikipedia, not always accurate, but mighty handy.
Xenophilia, because I love strange things. Even you, if you're strange.
You Don't Know Jack, the funniest online trivia game ever. I look eagerly forward to a fresh dose every Monday.
Zombie Jamboree: Back to back, belly to belly; well, I don't give a damn, 'cause I'm stone dead already. Do it, Rockapella!
Enjoy your Turkey Day, friend reader. (Or your Tofurkey Day, if you happen to be a vegetarian. I think you're crazy, but that's on you.) Hug the people you love. Let them know how grateful you are for the blessings they bring to your life.
And don't make them wait until next November to hear it again.
Labels: Aimless Riffing, Listology, Reminiscing, Thanksgiving
SwanShadow was randomly pounding the keyboard at 12:08 AM
2 insisted on sticking two cents in:
Fantastic post Swan... Again, we seem to have a freakishly lot of things in common besides sports teams, mens choruses, coffee and aspirin.
Have a great Thanksgiving.
Thanks for the visual aid provided with your description of what you are thankful for using the letter "U"! For thirty years, my mind had never pondered the question--"Fruit of the Loom or BVDs"? Now I have the answer to a question that I never had ;)
Okay, so now we all know that you wear "tightie whities" as my eight year old son would say. He got tired of being teased by the older boys and asked for boxers last year.
Upon wearing them for the first time, he confided in me that they were like wearing shorts underneath his shorts. I gently replied to him that it was what he signed up for when he chose to wear boxers. Since then, he's gotten accustomed to wearing them; Hanes, that is.
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