The end of the year! Good. I don’t like odd years and 2013 just looked bad from the start. 2014 has a comforting solidity to it. You may wonder why the Bleat art today is the same as last Friday, and wonder whether it will be so on the days to come. Yes, I say. Yes. But after that? Wait until Monday. Riches, I tell you. Untold Riches. Including specifically-told riches: the entire run of 2014’s Comic Sins update will be Richie Rich covers, detailing the unnatural and frankly sick world of the poor little plutocrat-spawn.

I did not get the novel out, which is my great regret. I got stalled in November and other forms of work took over, but I will get back to it in January. I may even rewrite it.

I didn’t take many good photographs, and I didn’t write much music. I resolve to do more in 2014, and get the novel out by March, and the third part out by the end of the year.
Anyway: it was another family event this evening, and I have a column to write,

and blah etc stir-crazy / housebound; did all the work at home because it was -2 and snowing and oh, to hell with the outside world. Just want to sit inside in a dark warm cave. But! It’s New Year’s Eve, and that means something or other about silly hats and horns and various loud drunken nonsense. If that’s your plan, good luck and be safe. If not, I hoist a glass in respect of your sanity. Below the fold, Products Tuesday shows what can happen when you go out. Also when you’re bovine.


Today it's a New Year's Eve Special: nothing but Borden.

It's party time. Elmer, of course, is in a rage.

We are dropped into media res, unaware what events have led up to Elsie reassuring Elmer that he will not be transformed into another species at the stroke of midnight.

Being made into a goat is not the same as having your goat gotten. When someone gets your goat, they’ve annoyed you. This goes back to the old expression “he got my goat,” meaning, he took my goat, which is annoying, as it was a clear act of theft. I’m not sure how one is made to be a goat, except that this was the worst thing you could say to Cuthbet Calculus:

It was more impressive on the page; the reveal of the ship in full-page glory was one of the highlights of the book. I spent hours looking at that picture.

But back to the fight.

We get another peek at the dynamics of the marriage. As I've noted before, Elsie brings in the big money, which emasculates Elmer. Here we learn she had a morals plank in her contract, and she's fine with that. My resolutions have been made for me by scientists.

Rather chilling, when you think about it. Yes, chilled as good Borden Ice Cream! she'd say, and you'd begin to see what Elmer went through.

Now she lays into her husband, prattling away while he shows his indifference, attempting to pop a balloon with his cigarette - only to have woman blow a noisemaker in his ear while Elsie natters on in the other.

He snarls his response. He's not even trying to sound amusing and sarcastic. Why? Get a load of this exchange.

How can she miss how he feels? It must be great to be so perfect and self-centered you think the world is good because you are in it.

On she sails, oblivious:

She wants him to sign a piece of paper that says he won't lose his temper, and will be good with children. Any children? His? I never got the sense that Elmer was a bad father. If he doesn't sign the confession - er, the resolutions - then he is bull-headed, which is literally what he is. She's telling him that what he is, his very essence and self-identification, is bad. Sign this, and join me in scientific, expert purity!

I think he signed it, just to make her happy, then paid the waiter a five-spot to get rid of the paper while he took her dancing. That explains his expression.

Off for a few days; see you around.









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