easy like sunday morning

Shh! Be very quiet, friends. It's me, The Haiku Master, and I'm hunting panhandlers!

As reported earlier, the "Helping Hands Halfway House" opened next door to Castle Haiku a couple days ago, and the neighborhood's looked like a low-rent George Romero movie ever since. Throngs of shiftless hobos wander the streets at all hours -- begging spare change, giving unsolicited windshield washings, stinking to high heaven, etc. -- and frankly, I've had enough.

Unfortunately, the timid legalities of this thin, cruel world bar the Sultan of Syllables from any direct action unless first being acted upon. That said, my thirst for vengeance has been somewhat sated by the brazen handful who have foolishly trespassed onto my stately estate -- including this joker, who I caught sifting through my garbage not twenty minutes earlier!

This Guy Thought The Haiku Master's Trash Was His Treasure; He Was Wrong

The scoundrel was oozing false apologies when I found him in the care of my newly acquired pack of vicious attack dobermans, but he'll learn the true meaning of remorse after an hour or so in Castle Haiku's interrogation chamber. Or my name's not The Haiku Master!

Best,

there goes the neighborhood

Hi, kids. Yes it's me, The Haiku Master, but I have to warn you I'm in a horrible mood... because a "halfway house" just opened for business next door to Castle Haiku!

A Displeased The Haiku Master (Right) And The Haiku-Bot Discover A Newly Opened Halfway House While Taking Their Morning Constitutional

Can you believe it?! Yesterday, a vacant house. Today? A wicked den of villainous winos, junkies and other assorted deadbeats -- all just a stone's throw away from my sanctum sanctorum!

Needless to say, we'll be ramping up our security efforts here at Haiku International. In fact, I've already dispatched H.I.'s Minister of Operations, Oswald "Oz" Carver, to purchase a brace of billion-candle-power floodlights and all the makings for a tight perimeter of bungee stick-filled pits. It'll be a very sorry cough syrup addict who tries to case this joint, believe you me!

Best,

oh momma, that was one good hoagie

Guess what, friends? It's me, The Haiku Master -- and man, am I ever stuffed!!

That's right! Turns out that, while his comma usage is still for shit, the Haiku-Bot has become a world-class sandwich maker since being reprogrammed for domestic servitude following my tussle with the Church of Scientology. In fact, I just finished off the scrumptious specimen seen below not 10 minutes ago, shortly after H.B. crafted it in Castle Haiku's state of the art kitchen!

The Haiku-Bot Whipped Up This Magnificent Hoagie For His Friend And Boss, The Haiku Master

All of which proves one of my long-standing theories: Even the evilest of electronic applicances can be turned to good if you show it a little love and understanding. Or get it rewired by the "Geek Squad" at your local Best Buy. Take your pick. Just don't try to take my hoagie!

Best,

so long daddy-o: maynard g. krebs, r.i.p.

Bust out your hankies, 'ku believers! It's me, The Haiku Master, and do I ever have some heartbreaking news for you: legendary Beat poet Maynard G. Krebs has slapped his last bongo (link goes to his New York Times obituary)!

Maynard G. Krebs Never Met A Bhong... Er, Bongo He Didn't Like

Born Bob Denver, Krebs was one of his generation's guiding lights, inspiring such diverse talents as Kerouak, Ginsburg, Burroughs, Von Zipper, Squigmond, and Rogers, not to mention countless others. Unfortunately, the market for Beat poetry dried up after the '50s, forcing him to turn to the cowardly field of acting just to make ends meet. I'm not sure what kind of roles he played -- a stint on a Lord of the Flies-esque sitcom comes to mind, though I can't recall its name -- but you can probably get more details from the Times obit.

So shine on, you long-gone crazy diamond! Know that at least one high-profile celebrity crimefighter shall miss your keen observations on the human condition, and that many glasses of fine American whiskey shall be emptied in your honor this evening!

With nary a coconut in sight.

Best,

shelton's a goddamn liar

Hey gang. It's me, The Haiku Master, fresh off a rather eye-opening viewing of tonight's 10 O'Clock News.

Haiku International's Minister of Information -- make that former Minister of Information -- told me he had to "head home and check out the damage" shortly before it started. And brother, it's a damn good thing he did! For I spent no more than five minutes with my suave news anchors of choice before realizing he'd fed me a filthy, worm-ridden bowl of lies!!!

Sure, New Orleans was destroyed, but the other cities he mentioned were fine. Not to mention the fact that Katrina never made it anywhere near Baltimore... leaving me no choice but to believe that my former Minister of Information was responsible for Castle Haiku's vandalism! The nerve of that guy!

Ah well. Let's call it a lesson learned and a penny saved. And a stitch in time. 'Cause when life hands me lemons, I eat 'em, rinds and all -- and I smile while I'm doing it!!! Me... The Haiku Master!

Best,

it's okay to come out now

Good news, friends! It's me, The Haiku Master -- finally ready to emerge from Castle Haiku's bomb shelter following Hurricane Katrina's bloody reign of terror!

I would've been up sooner, but with Katrina just leaving the country yesterday -- and totally destroying New Orleans, Los Angeles, New York, Miami, Chicago, Kansas City, Nashville and Kalamazoo in the process -- the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 wasn't about to take any chances. Hopefully you took my sage advice and sought shelters of your own before she hit.

Fortunately, I talked Haiku International's Minister of Information into serving as a topside lookout while this horrid, Old Testament-style storm wreaked a swath of destruction from one end of the country to another. Without him, the Haiku-Bot and I never would've known just how bad things had gotten outside: gas shooting up to $57.00 a gallon, Iraqi freedom fighters conquering New Orleans, people eating each other, the dead rising, etc.

Katrina had her cruel way with my luxurious top-secret base of operations, to boot: drinking all the liquor; eating all the snack cakes; drawing crude, unflattering cartoons about yours truly on the walls; and racking up some hefty pay-per-view porn charges on my satellite link-up! Shelton, on the other hand, came through without a scratch -- though his nerves were so shot he'd resorted to drinking vermouth, as seen here:

H.I.'s Minister Of Information Desperately Tries To Soothe His Jangled Nerves With A Stiff Glass Of Vermouth

So I guess that's that. Good luck on rebuilding society, folks. I'd join you, but I have just about everything I need here in Castle Haiku. Plus, there's no way I'm fighting any crime in Baltimore -- or anywhere else -- until they get all those goddamned zombies off the streets. Maybe I'll feel different after watching the 10 O'Clock News for the first time in a week, but as of right now it all seems a little pointless.

Best,