accept no substitutes

Hi there, fan club members. It's me, The Haiku Master, still safely ensconced in Castle Haiku's bomb shelter following CNN.com's nationwide forecast of "death and destruction!"

Castle Haiku

The Haiku-Bot's also here, and we've been passing time with the home edition of "Tic Tac Dough." Before we get into our next white-knuckle match, though, I wanted to assure my loyal readers that we at the real Haiku International have nothing to do with this two-bit knockoff site, the so-called "Haiku International Blog."

More importantly, this is most certainly not me, despite the page's assurances to the contrary!

Needless to say, my high-powered celebrity lawyer of choice, Tom Mesereau, Jr., will be dealing with that gimp shortly. I just wanted to get the word out now to avoid any confusion amongst you good people.

Best,

sweet jesus, we're all going to die

Bad news, folks! Horrible news, in fact! It's me, The Haiku Master, and if the fine folks at CNN.com can be trusted, there is certainly a bad moon on the rise!

I didn't plan on doing any "blogging" tonight, but upon returning to Castle Haiku after a successful patrol, I decided to do some "web surfing"... only to find this at CNN's website!

Looks like an otherwise innocent report about the wrath of God being visited upon Louisiana and Mississippi, right? That's what I thought too. Until I noticed the links underneath the main blurb!

Do you see what I'm seeing? No?! Then let me spell it out for you:

That's right! FORECAST: DEATH AND DESTRUCTION!!! It doesn't get any worse than that!!

Okay for now, 'ku believers -- I suggest you all take cover at nearby bomb shelters until it's safe to come out! I know that's what I'll be doing!

Best,

why does pat robertson want to kill the lion of culiacan?

Howdy folks. It's a rather perplexed The Haiku Master who stands before you tonight... 'cause I just heard that one of the world's most notorious religious grifters, Pat Robertson, wants to assassinate beloved boxer and civil rights pioneer Hugo Cesar Chavez!

Pat Robertson (Right) Thinks He's Tough Enough To Take On Hugo Cesar Chavez (Left); He's Wrong

I heard about the threat -- and Robertson's johnny-come-lately apology -- on the six o'clock news, and still can't believe it! That two-bit swindler, calling for the head of a renowned hero like the Lion of Culiacan?! Unfathomable!!

Haiku International's younger and/or dumber readers may be unfamiliar with Chavez's exploits, so here's a quick recap: After winning five world boxing titles and compiling a record of 104-5-2 (with 80 knockouts), Chavez retired from the ring... only to re-emerge as a civil rights champion for Mexican-Americans! His struggle to bring the United Farm Workers into existence won strong support from no less a personage than Robert F. Kennedy, and when Chavez died in 1993, he left a weeping nation in his wake.

Chavez -- A.K.A. "J.C. Superstar" -- Enjoyed A Memorable Boxing Career Before Becoming A Civil Rights Activist And Eventually Dying

All of which makes Robertson's demand for Chavez's assassination even more puzzling. But no less twisted!! Fair warning, Pat -- if you mess with Hugo Cesar Chavez, then you mess with me... The Haiku Master!

Best,

war: what is it good for?

Greetings, 'ku believers. 'Tis I, The Haiku Master, ready at last to expound on the conflict that has arisen between one of the 260th century's greatest heroes, Captain Walrus of the Universe, and the imbecelic toads who have hijacked the estate of Walrus' longtime ally, Cap'n Shrimpstain.

Know this: the so-called man purporting to be Stan Marino, non-existent brother of Dan Marino, is a fraud! In actuality, his name is Zander Schloss, and he was the bass player for the now defunct punk group known as the Circle Jerks. Shocking, I know... yet all too real!!

Zander Schloss: Better Bass Player Than Human Being

Embittered by his band's inability to get a gold record -- and his own inability to get a non-paid-for date -- Schloss time-traveled to the 260th century with a fistful of false documentation. After convincing the locals he was in fact related to legendary NFL Hall of Fame Quarterback Dan "The Man" Marino, Schloss then weaseled his way into a position of power in the Shrimpstain Memorial Foundation -- and shortly thereafter used that beloved legacy to launch a two-front war against myself and Walrus!

While Walrus and I had planned to band together to thwart Schloss' mad scheme, the Sultan of Syllables is a busy man. And frankly, I don't have time for any of that 260th century nonsense... not when there are plenty of criminal enterprises to tackle right here in good ol' 2005! As a result, I'm withdrawing all resources from that far-flung battle, so as to better focus my energies on you fine people.

So good luck to you, Captain Walrus, but I'll thank you to leave me out of your troubles in the future. You certainly don't see me knocking on your door every time I need to kill a rat, do you?

Best,

kids are fun to beat

Hey gang! It's me, The Haiku Master, and am I ever in a great mood... 'cause I just whipped a bunch of neighborhood kids in a pick-up game of marbles!

Ring The Bell: The Haiku Master (Left Foreground) Schools A Group Of Children In The Ancient Game Of Marbles

That's right! Me, the Sultan of Syllables, beating children at one of the things they do best! Is there anything I can't master?! Frankly, I'm beginning to doubt it!

As if victory alone weren't enough, I also won the hefty pile of marbles shown below. Plus the little girl's authentic Indian headdress! Right on!!

The Haiku Master Used His Mad Skillz To Claim This Monty Haul

Okay for now, loyal readers! Like my close, personal friend Kenny Rogers always says: "There'll be time enough for counting when the dealing's done." For me, that time is now!

Best,

rock on mister moog

Brace yourselves, 'ku believers, for I, The Haiku Master, am the bearer of terrible news: synthesizer visionary Robert A. Moog has fingered his last keyboard! (Link goes to the always reliable Yahoo! News.)

Robert A. Moog: Superstar

That's right! The man whose fantastic music boxes gave life to everything from The Beatles' Abbey Road to A Clockwork Orange's soundtrack -- deader than a doorknob! But weep not, for Ol' Doc Moog's probably rocking out with Valhalla's all-star band as I type these words. I can see it now, as if it were a vision from on high: Sinatra! Hendrix! Lennon! Thunders! Moon! Entwhistle! Ramone (x3)! And now... MOOG!!!

Nobody Built A Better Synthesizer Than Moog

That's all for tonight, loyal readers -- the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 can stand no more of this morbid talk! I'm off to pay tribute to Moog the only way I know how; an eight-hour marathon rendition of Iron Butterfly's "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida," played on Castle Haiku's Moog Synthesizer with the Haiku-Bot accompanying me on drums!

Best,

sub-mariner rules, aquaman drools

Land ho, thrill seekers! It's me, The Haiku Master, and am I ever troubled by a recent social phenomenon. That's right -- all the gosh-darn media attention being devoted to the world's number-two seafaring super-hero, Aquaman!

Outside His Awesome Taste In Colors, Aquaman Has Little Going For Him

Apparently, the furor started when Hollywood mogul James Cameron announced his intention to make a big budget Aquaman flick during a recent episode of Taxi Cab Confessions. This drew a great deal of scorn from the entertainment press, launching a flood of high-profile media reports on the so-called King of the Seven Seas.

While the majority of those exposés were deservedly negative, an important factor was overlooked in the hubbub. Specifically that Aquaman is, has been, and always will be the second-best at what he does, so long as Prince Namor of Atlantis, a.k.a. The Sub-Mariner, swims the earth!

Aquaman Could Learn A Lot From Atlantis' Avenging Son, The Sub-Mariner

Want proof? Let's look at a few key crimefighter categories, and see who comes out on top:

1) Super Powers: Aquaman can breathe underwater. And, uh, talk to fishes. (An ability so weak they even made a joke about it in The Godfather!) In addition to breathing underwater, Sub-Mariner's as strong as The Thing, has weird wings on his feet that let him fly, and can go bat-shit crazy at the drop of a hat. Plus, he has a bad-ass horn that he uses to call his sidekick, Giganto -- a humongous whale with human legs and arms!

2) Nicknames: Aquaman would have you believe his friends call him "the King of the Seven Seas." Yawn. Sub-Mariner? When he's in a good mood, he calls himself "the Avenging Son." If he's feeling surly? Then it's "the Scourge of the Sea" -- like it or not!

3) Sidekicks: Aquaman's sidekick calls himself Aqualad. Really. As for Sub-Mariner, see the previously referenced Giganto.

4) Top Secret Bases of Operation: I'm not really sure where Aquaman spends his downtime -- probably freeloading at the Hall of Justice -- but Sub-Mariner kicks it at his palace in Atlantis. Unless he's gone bat-shit crazy, as he often does, in which case he can be found attacking the U.N. Building in New York. Which is one of the many reasons I try to stay out of New York.

5) Battle Cries: Sub-Mariner wins this one by default, but it's damn hard to beat his "Imperius Rex!" Easily one of the coolest in the business.

6) Aliases (Or is it "Aliai?"): When it comes time to show I.D., Aquaman has to fess up to being Arthur Curry. Sub-Mariner, on the other hand, can proudly tell the arresting officer he is Prince Namor of Atlantis -- Imperius Rex!

7) Seniority: Aquaman moseyed onto the scene in 1941... a good two years after Sub-Mariner made his debut in 1939!

8) Legacy: Sub-Mariner has the dual distinction of being the first underwater super-hero and the first anti-super-hero. Aquaman is notable for being the second underwater super-hero.

No doubt about it -- Sub-Mariner's eight for eight in the above categories. But let's make it official by comparing a couple of their adventures. For parity's sake, we'll limit our study to issue #35 of their eponymous comic book series. First up, Aquaman #35:

Aquaman #35

Okay, not too shabby. I guess. If you can ignore the fact that "the King" is already conceding defeat right there on the cover. Still, the kids get to see him locked in a scuffle with some dudes called The Ocean Master (no relation to yours truly) and Black Manta. One that's being fought to see which third-rate super-villain gets to off him. Thrilling stuff. I'm sure it'll be hard for Prince Namor to top that in Sub-Mariner #35:

Sub-Mariner #35

Holy %#$@! Did you see that?! Not only is he fighting for his life with a giant octopus, but he's somehow managed to enrage an entire fleet of Soviet subs to the point where one of the crazed Russkies is ready to fire his sub-machine gun right through his vessel's porthole! And if Subby somehow lives through all that, there's a hungry shark coming up at him from below!!!

And the kicker? He's got to fight them all off with a pocketknife! A pocketknife!! Now that's what I call High Adventure!!!

So there you have it, loyal readers (and Mr. Cameron): Sub-Mariner rules, Aquaman drools. Case closed by me... The Haiku Master!

Best,

so apparently that was a bad investment

Sigh. Yes it's me, The Haiku Master. And brother, am I ever depressed.

Remember my last epic saga, "Wheelin' and Dealin'"? In which Old Man Winter and I teamed up to buy 95% of the world's supply of Egyptian cotton, with a presumed fortune coming our way once we sold it? Yeah. Funny thing is, Haiku International's Minister of Operations, Oswald "Oz" Carver, has been doing his damndest for more than a month to find a buyer, and guess what? The best offer he's gotten so far is a team of donkeys and 12 girls of marrying age from an impoverished village in the Andes.

In other words, unless you're a polygamist, Egyptian cotton is worthless. Which means the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 has been ripped off. And the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 hates being ripped off!!

As It Turns Out, Egyptian Cotton Isn't Worth A Dime

So beware, Milo Minderbender, beware! Wherever you go, wherever you hide, I will find you... and when I do, it shall surely be clobbering time!

Best,


----------------------
P.S. As the more observant amongst you have no doubt already noticed, three new The Haiku Master Epic Sagas comic book covers are now available: one for "Wheelin' and Dealin';" one for my tussle with the Scientologists, now entitled "Xenu and Me;" and a long-overdue one for "World of the Dogs." Enjoy!

wheelin' and dealin', pt. III

***
CHAPTER III

The deal went down without a hitch -- much to my surprise, might I add! Shortly after the two showed up, Minderbinder was on his way with an attaché case full of cash, leaving Old Man Winter and myself in possession of stock certificates good for 95% of the entire world market for Egyptian cotton.

"Can you believe it, Haiku Master?!" Winter screeched, gleefully tossing two fistfuls of certificates above his head. "Hey, Haiku Master! Can you believe it?! What'd I tell you, huh? We're gonna be rich, baby! Filthy, stinking, dirty-drawers rich!"

"It certainly does appear to be the case," I said. "I wonder what all this is worth?"

"Millions! Billions! Gazillions!" mused Winter. "I mean, look at it all! Plus, we got ninety-five percent of the market! That's practically a monopoly!"

"True... but it's pronounced 'mah-no-paul-eee.' But why quibble over semantics? Let's celebrate!"

And celebrate we did! After directing the Motel 6's concierge to send up a cooler chockfull of beer and ice, we headed to one of Cairo's many fine beaches, and soon made the acquaintance of these local bunnies:

The Haiku Master (Left) And Old Man Winter Always Have Time For The Ladies

Our group partied long into the night, and parting proved to be as unsweetly sorrowful as ever when O.M.W. and I bid our farewells to those middle-aged vixens the next morn. After checking out of the Motel 6, Winter and I shared a taxi to Cairo International, where we went our separate ways -- he to the North Pole, and me to Castle Haiku.

"Haiku Master! Hey, Haiku Master! I'll see you later, okay?!" Winter shouted, just as the airport's security screeners found the live grenades I'd planted on his luggage earlier that day. A platoon of hired goons descended upon him with boots and clubs, providing me with a good chuckle as I whizzed through the V.I.P. gate to the waiting Haiku Plane.

Make no mistake, though -- Winter will get his share once Haiku International's Minister of Operations, Oswald "Oz" Carver, finds a suitable buyer for the Egyptian cotton. After all, I may be petty, but the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 always honors his debts! So sayeth I... The Haiku Master!

wheelin' and dealin', pt. II

***
CHAPTER II

Following Old Man Winter's frantic phone call, I directed Castle Haiku's staff to prepare the Haiku Plane for takeoff, and was Cairo-bound within the hour. Upon landing at Cairo International Airport, I cast about for a ride to the local Motel 6... and soon found one in the form of a slackjawed lad and his camel-powered buggy!

Cairo

"I know you!" the boy, Fuad, gasped as we trotted through the packed city streets. "You are a very famous American, yes?"

"Er, well, I don't like to toot my own horn, but yes, yes I am," I replied, truthfully.

"I knew it! Where have I seen you?"

"Well, I'm the internationally renowned crimefighter known as..."

"Yes, now I know! You are on that very funny show, how you do you say it, 'Kids in the Hall!'"

"'Kids in the Hall?'"

"Yes!"

"No..."

"Yes!"

"...it rings a bell, but..."

"Yes!"

"No, really, I'm..."

"Cabbage Head! Yes, you are the Cabbage Head! Ha ha ha, I knew it! You make me laugh so much on the television! Please -- please let me have your autograph!"

"Cabbage Head!? Why you-!!" I barked. "I'm The Haiku Master, fool, not some two-bit impersonator!"

"But..."

"But nothing! I've heard enough! That's my stop up there -- pull over!"

Fuad savagely forced the camel to halt, and I disembarked.

"Wait, wait mister, don't be angry," he begged. "It's just that you look so much like him!"

"Hmm. Well, I suppose it is a common enough mistake," I said as I paid the fare. "Nevertheless, the Sultan of Syllables doesn't take kindly to being compared to lame sketch comedy characters from Canada! Now good day, sir!"

Grabbing my bag, I headed to the Motel 6's front desk. After checking in, I asked the concierge to inform Old Man Winter of my arrival, then went up to my room to await his call. It didn't take long; I was only into my second glass of George Dickel: The Official Whisky of The Haiku Master when the room's phone started to ring.

George Dickel No's. 8 & 12: The Only Whisky Endorsed By The Haiku Master

"Haiku Master's room," I answered, suavely. "Haiku Master speaking."

"Hey, Haiku Master! Haiku Master, it's me, Old Man Winter! How's it going?"

"It's going fine, but a busy man like me doesn't have time for pleasantries. Now what's going on with this Egyptian cotton deal?"

"Oh right, the cotton! Hey Haiku Master, listen, it's all under control! Minderbinder's here and he's ready to get down to business. We're gonna be rich, baby -- filthy, stinking rich!"

"Minderbinder? Who's this Minderbinder?"

"Oh, Milo -- he's the broker on this little transaction. Don't worry about him though, Haiku Master, he's cool. Me and him go way back."

"You're trying to tell me that someone named Milo Minderbinder is 'cool?'"

"Yeah, Haiku Master! You can trust me on this -- I haven't gone off my meds since February! Honest!"

"Well, as much as it pains me, I suppose I'll have to take your word for it. Where does 'Milo' want to do this? Your room? My room? The motel's lounge? Time's a-wastin', man!"

There was some muffled chatter from Old Man Winter's end. Seconds passed, and then: "Hey Haiku Master! Haiku Master, it's me, Old Man Winter! You still there?"

"Yes, I'm still here! And stop shouting, goddammit!"

"Okay, great! Listen, he says we're coming over there -- room 227, right?"

"Right, 227. Now hurry up. And bring your own booze for once, you mooching bastard!"

I set the receiver down and finished off my drink, wondering what kind of bad craziness would ensue once O.M.W. and this Minderbinder freak walked through the door. Little did I know I had nothing to worry about!

---CLICK HERE FOR 'WHEELIN' AND DEALIN'' PT. III---

wheelin' and dealin', pt. I

Click For Larger Image

***
CHAPTER I

It all began innocuously enough. There I was, lost in a study of the works of William Gaines from the comfort of Castle Haiku's stately library, when my butler -- the formerly diabolical Haiku-Bot* -- saw fit to disturb me.

The Haiku-Bot

"Excuse, me Mr. The Haiku Master," it said. "You, have a phone call."

"The devil you say!" I said with great flourish. I'd recently heard that phrase in a Nixon joke, and had been dying to use it ever since.

"Eh...no. It is not, the devil. It is, Mr. Old Man Winter. He would like, to speak with. You."

"Old Man Winter? That frostbitten old fraud?" I scoffed, returning to the leather-bound volume before me. "Tell him I'm busy."

"Begging, your pardon Mr. The Haiku Master but, upon registering the caller's identity my, giga-processors immediately calculated your likely reply and, already told Mr. Old Man Winter that you, are too. Busy. In response Mr., Old Man Winter said it is, urgent."

"Alright, alright! But if this turns out to be another one of his crank calls, you'll get no oil baths for a month, H.B.!"

"Understood Mr., The Haiku Master. I will patch him, through to the library's. Intercom."

The Haiku-Bot turned to leave, and within minutes the grating sound of Old Man Winter's voice filled the room.

"...ku Master! Hey, Haiku Master! It's me -- Old Man Winter! Can you hear me?!"

"Of course I can hear you! My highly attuned Haiku Master super-hearing can hear a fly crapping from 20 miles away! Now quit the small talk and cut to the chase!"

"A fly crapping from 20 miles away? Why in the hell would you want to hear that?"

It was a good question... but not one I was prepared to answer. "That's none of your business, Winter. Now tell me why you called!"

"Oh, right! Why I called! Hey listen, Haiku Master -- I got a line on a great opportunity! Egyptian cotton, baby! We're all gonna be rich!"

"Egyptian cotton? Stop babbling, man! You're not making any sense!"

"Look, I can't explain it over the phone; just get your ass to Cairo! You'll find me at the Motel Six. And bring a big suitcase, Haiku Master! You're gonna need it for all the moolah you're gonna make!"

Motel 6: The Only Motel Chain Endorsed By The Haiku Master

For reasons I still can't explain, I decided to take Old Man Winter up on his offer. Perhaps it was the surprise plug for Motel 6: The Official Motel Chain of The Haiku Master. Perhaps it was our shared love of strong American whiskey and fine Cuban tobacco. Either way, it turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life, which is why I've added the following line to my personal "rules for living": When it comes to outstanding sources of financial advice, it's hard to beat rum-soaked bearded degenerates in green robes!

---CLICK HERE FOR 'WHEELIN' AND DEALIN'' PT. II---

----------------------
* I got the "Geek Squad" at my local Best Buy to rewire him for domestic servitude following my tussle with the Church of Scientology. You people don't expect me to keep you up to date on everything I do, do you?

draft walken

Mahalo, friends! It's me, The Haiku Master, with some bad news -- legendary thespian Christopher Walken isn't running for President after all, despite the recent appearance of a Walken 2008 website!

Yesterday, Walken decried the site -- www.walken2008.com -- as a hoax, and promised to utterly destroy the giggling twits who created it... as well as their family, friends and acquaintances! Not in so many words, but with a man like Walken, you have to read between the lines.

Regardless, I feel Mr. Walken is exactly the kind of leadership this country needs in such troubled times. To be honest, I don't know much about his political views, but I do know I like his movies. And that's good enough for me. Which is why I'm stealing a page from 2004's turbulent campaign, and announcing the immediate formation of the Draft Christopher Walken Foundation!

This Country Has A Fever, And The Only Prescription Is President Christopher Walken

More details to follow as they become available, but in the meantime, feel free to start sending me your presumably tax-deductible donations to Walken's war chest!

Best,

super exciting new endorsement deal

Get ready to be thrilled, loyal readers, for I just signed a lucrative contract to be the celebrity crimefighter spokesperson for Yahoo!: The Official Internet "Search Engine" of The Haiku Master!

Yahoo!: The Only Internet "Search Engine" Endorsed By The Haiku Master

That's right -- the Cadillac of 'net surfboards and the Pharaoh of 5-7-5, teaming up to tame the wild frontier of the World Wide Web! Can you believe it?!

As to my reasons for giving my stamp of approval to Yahoo! as opposed to, say, Google, they are twofold. First and foremost, there's the large pile of cash that's going to keep Castle Haiku's pantries well-stocked with whiskey and snack cakes for some time to come. That alone carries some serious weight -- weight that Google wasn't willing to match!

Not to be overlooked, however, is the shockingly different ways in which both sites process a search for "The Haiku Master." At Google, I grew a beard scanning through all the pages it took until Haiku International showed up... but I sure got an eyeful of Basho and Buson listings in the meantime! Even some college kid's term paper on how to write a haiku! Talk about a lack of respect!

Yahoo!, on the other hand, has me on page 1, listing #6. Clearly, they have their priorities in order.

So take it from me, kids -- if you want to find something online without being led on a wild goose chase by a pack of incompetent boobs, put your trust in Yahoo!. I know I do, and I'm happier, healthier and sexier as a result! Yahoo!!

Best,


----------------------
P.S. Haiku International's Minister of Information just alerted me to the fact that Google actually owns this whole Blogger.com outfit, which means they might shut me down at any minute once this post goes live. If Haiku International disappears, please alert Sam Donaldson. And the UCLA!

yeah, i don't really know where that camp x-ray thing was going

Err... hi there, friends. It's a rather sheepish The Haiku Master who stands before you tonight, because, well, I have a little confession to make.

Remember how I told you I didn't write to you for a month because I'd been incarcerated at Camp X-Ray? Um, that was kind of a lie. This photo from a couple weeks ago, that allegedly shows yours truly being escorted through Gitmo's fabled gates? Yeah. It's doctored.

Despite Looking Shockingly Real, This Photo Is In Fact A Fake

Truth is, I spent the time playing Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. I didn't mean to spend more than a month away from the ol' "blog," but man, that game is addictive! So, sorry about blowing off you loyal readers, and even more sorry about the lying. But if it makes any difference, I did in fact beat the game, meting out harsh justice to Big Smoke, Tenpenny, Ryder and all the other scoundrels who had a hand in the untimely demise of Moms and Brian Johnson! Grove 4 Life! Grove 4 Life!!

GROVE 4 LIFE!!!

Oh, and there is one small nugget of truth for you to savor. Old Man Winter and I really did partner on a deal to purchase Egyptian cotton from a man named Milo Minderbinder, as detailed in Chapters I & II of the falsely titled "Summer at Camp X-Ray." The deal went through without a hitch, then me and O.M.W. partied on the beach with some middle-aged housewives. Here's photographic proof:

The Haiku Master (Left) And Old Man Winter Make Time With Some Local Vixens At One Of Cairo's Many Fine Beaches

Well, I'm glad I got that off my chest. Okay for now, fan club members! Until next time, keep your ear to the ground and keep reaching for the stars!

Best,


----------------------
P.S. For the really slow amongst you, this means there will be no further chapters of "Summer at Camp X-Ray."

P.P.S. No, the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 did not sample San Andreas' notorious "Hot Coffee mod." Not that he didn't try, but one apparently needs a degree in advanced rocket science to pull off that trick.

marino mania

Hut-Hut-Hike, 'ku believers! It's me, The Haiku Master, here to celebrate the biggest event of the year: once-and-future Miami Dolphins Quarterback Dan Marino's induction into the National Football League's Hall of Fame, taking place today, August 7, at 12:00 p.m. E.T.!!!

Dan Marino Quarterbacked The Miami Dolphins From 1983-2000, And Will Again In Valhalla

Being the Sultan of Syllables, I've written a haiku in honor of my close, personal friend's big day, and it goes something like this:

Thirteen on his chest
Foul mouth, rocket-launching arm
Danny's Canton-bound

There, that ought to coax a tear or two out of Ol' #13. But Haiku International's Marino Mania doesn't end there! We're also pleased to re-present the true details of an adventure Marino and I once shared, originally published on this site back on February 5; enjoy!

* * *

In The Haiku Master's experience, being "The Man" is almost always a bad thing. Who sends you bills? The Man. Who taxes your income? The Man. Who gets filthy rich while you never get enough? The Man. Who says it's illegal to fire off large caliber weapons in the privacy of one's apartment? The Man.

To which I say, "#%$@ The Man."

But Marino is one "The Man" with whom one does not want to #%$@.

I'll probably embarrass Danny by telling this story, but he and I once worked a case together. God, it was ages ago; 1988, I believe, and I was still but a Haiku Apprentice. Earth Command had asked the late Haiku Master Charles Bukowski (my sensei) and me -- along with Marino, Patty Hearst, Evel Knievel, and Chuck D -- to investigate a reported Nazi alien infestation on the Dark Side of the Moon.

Sure enough, Earth Command's suspicions were right on the nail. Seconds after our shuttle touched down on the moon's green cheese surface -- and having been there, I can assure you it is made of green cheese -- our hearty band of adventurers was confronted by a throng of goose-stepping, tentacled, interstellar foreigners!

The battle that ensued was mighty, and may have been my last had it not been for the strong arm and unerring accuracy of Marino. I fought well that day, my friends, and was finishing off one of the Nazi aliens with the Haikung Fu technique referred to as the Cleveland Steamer... but never noticed the alien Kapitän sneaking up behind me!

Fortunately, Marino did -- and rocketed a plutonium-core football at the bastard's head before it had time to remove my own with its plasma sword!

Needless to say, everyone in our group survived that bloody day, though the aliens did not. Which just goes to show: You don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't spit in the wind, you don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger, and you don't #%$@ around with Dan "The Man" Marino.

* * *

Thrilling stuff, huh? Well, you didn't think the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 was going to bust out something boring, did you? But enough jibber jabber -- time for me to fire up Castle Haiku's high-tech bank of Sony Trinitron plasma monitors before the gala spectacle begins. Sa-lute, Daniel Constantine Marino, Jr.! Sa-lute!

Best,

man, that is one tiny horn

Hi folks. You're just in time -- for I, The Haiku Master, am about to blow your minds with a picture of what has got to be one of the tiniest horns in the world!

Hands Down, This Is The Tiniest Horn The Haiku Master Has Ever Seen

I mean, look at it! No bigger than a beer stein, yet the gentleman pictured above is playing it like there's no tomorrow! Can you believe it?!

Clearly, this is one for the record books. Time for me to split; I have to call some close, personal friends and clue them in to this amazing discovery!

Best,

back with a vengeance

Face front, 'ku believers! It's really me, The Haiku Master -- back in action after far too long of a hiatus!

As always, I know what you're thinking. Why the long delay? Where has he been? And: Why didn't he bring me any presents!?

Well, allow me to assure you that the one true Sultan of Syllables wasn't taking it easy while you loyal readers awaited my next post with bated breath; far from it! I'll provide you with more details this weekend, but for now suffice it to say I've been the guest of a highly undesirable resort in Cuba... a little place our government likes to call Camp X-Ray!

U.S. Soldiers Escort The Haiku Master (Center) Over Camp X-Ray's Threshold

Okay for now, apples of my eye; time for your friend in 'ku to unpack and unwind. And by "unwind," I mean drink so much whiskey I poop my pants.

Best,