fantastic festivus to all, and to all a good night

Buuuuuuuuurp! Gahr der, fawks. That is, hi there, folks -- it's me, The Haiku Master, just finishing up the last of Castle Haiku's fine Festivus Ham before moving on to the traditional Airing of Grievances and Feats of Strength!

Nothing Says Festivus Like A Delicious Ham

Nice looking piece of meat, huh? It sure was, I can tell you that much. But now it exists solely in the memories and bellies of my Festivus guests. And who might they be, you ask? Frankly, it's none of your business, but if you were to assume they include esteemed peers, trusted agents, and lovely ladies (i.e., him, The Haiku-Bot, Old Man Winter, four call girls, and me--ed.), you wouldn't be far off the mark.

That's it for now, gentle readers. My date for the evening is insisting we begin the Airing of Grievances now, and when have I ever been known to refuse a lady? Except for that female cop who wanted me to take a field sobriety test. She was a real bitch.

Happy Holidays and a Fantastic Festivus,

what do you mean, 'that's illegal'?

Hello. Yes it's me, The Haiku Master. And guess what? No really, go ahead and guess. No guesses? Okay, I'll tell you: 'Twould appear it's against the law to forcibly hold and interrogate trespassers in the ass-backwards State of Maryland!!!

After Allowing Him To Change Into Civilian Threads, A Cop Takes The Haiku Master (Left) To Jail

That's right! In fact, I just got back from a trip to the county courthouse, on account of a few complaints filed against yours truly by the vagabond tenants of the Helping Hands Halfway House! The nerve of those blackguards -- sneaking around, rifling through my trash, defecating in my yard! And I'm the one who gets arrested?! Ricidiculous! Preposterous!! Unthinkable!!!

Unfathomable!!!!!

Gotta go, 'ku believers; time for the Sultan of Syllables to whip up a grade-A trap for those rats next door. And by rats, I mean the bums living in the halfway house. Just so there's no confusion.

Best,

what do you mean i need a reservation?

***
‘FREE PAULO,’ CHAPTER IV

Hi there, folks. It's me, The Haiku Master, and I'm afraid I have some heartbreaking news: the 1st Annual The Haiku Master's Celebrity Breakdancing Tournament won't be taking place this weekend after all!

The 1st Annual The Haiku Master's Celebrity Breakdancing Tournament Has Been Cancelled

That's right -- no show, which means no "di-ner-o" flowing into the Free Paulo Fund. Which further means that the CCCP-US's first commissioner is going to have to cool his horses in prison just a wee bit longer.

How did this catastrophe come to pass, you ask? Two words: The Man (and I'm not talking about my close, personal friend Dan Marino).

With the event originally scheduled for Sunday, I'd taken a crew of "will work for food" types down to Baltimore's M&T Bank Stadium early this morning to set things up. But no sooner had we started waxing down the stage than we found ourselves surrounded by a squad of tough-talking security guards.

One Trip To The Local Homeless Shelter Netted The Haiku Master A Swarthy Set-Up Crew For The Big Event

"What the hell do you guys think you're doing?" their leader asked, smacking a billyclub into his open left palm.

"What does it look like we're doing?" I retorted smartly. "Getting ready for tomorrow's big show, of course!"

"What big show? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Hello?!," I said, waving a flyer in his face. "The 1st Annual The Haiku Master's Celebrity Breakdancing Tournament! What, do you live in a cave or something?"

"Look pal, I ain't got nothing about no breakdancing tournaments on my schedule," he said. "You guys are going to have to leave, or I'm calling the cops."

Long story short, turns out M&T Bank Stadium works on some kind of totalitarian reservation system...even for high-profile celebrity crimefighters like the one true Sultan of Syllables!

Not wanting to risk extradition to Florida, I ceded victory to my opponent. After returning my crew from whence I found them, I drove back to my to my top secret base of operations to ponder a "Plan B" for busting Paulo out of jail. Which will probably involve the Cobra Kai Haiku Order's devastating weapon of last resort: good old-fashioned violence. Either way, I'll keep you posted.

---CLICK HERE FOR 'FREE PAULO' PT. V---

anyone know a good florida-based attorney?

Click For Larger Image

***
‘FREE PAULO,’ CHAPTER I

Ooooh boy. Hi friends. It's me, The Haiku Master, and there is an extreme cloud of guilt hanging o'er my brow tonight.

As longtime fans and anyone who watches the evening news will remember, I undertook an epic journey through darkest Mexico back in early February. While there, I made a new ally in a local cockfighting* expert by the name of Paulo; a swarthy fellow of few words who now serves as one of my most trusted agents.

Paulo, Agent Of Haiku

Thanks to Paulo, my time in that savage land included three weeks on its championship cockfighting circuit -- an eye-opening experience, to say the least. After witnessing firsthand the tequila-esque popularity enjoyed by the Sport of Kings in Mexico, I decided it was high time to introduce that beloved pastime to my own country.

Unfortunately, it would appear The Man beat me to it, as cockfighting is currently outlawed in forty-eight states. Forty-eight!

Undaunted, I had my attorney, Johnnie Cochran, draft the necessary paperwork to bring the Confederation of Championship Cockfighting Professionals - United States into legal existence. One phone call to Paulo later and the CCCP-US had its first Commissioner, who quickly went about setting up franchises in Louisiana and New Mexico.

This Ad Was Part Of A Full-Scale Media Blitz Announcing The Arrival Of The CCCP-US In New Mexico And Louisiana
(Click For Larger Image)

The cockfighting-friendly states secured, Paulo and I decided to tackle Florida, as it struck us as being one of a handful of localities that might reconsider their backwards thinking on the subject. If I'd only known then what I know now...

There's no easy way around this, loyal readers, so I'm just going to come right out and say it: as a direct result of our ill-advised expansion strategy, Paulo has been jailed (link goes to Florida's "News 6")!

That's right. Brave, loyal Paulo, rotting away in some godforsaken prison. Which, from what he tells me, is partially submerged in three feet of swamp water and infested with crocodiles. Naturally, I feel horrible about this...but not so horrible as to set foot in the state of Florida until the ridiculous bench warrant they've issued for me has been cleared up.

To make matters worse, Johnnie tells me he's not licensed to practice law down there. So if anyone can recommend a good Mickey State lawyer, they'll have the undying thanks of Paulo and the Pharaoh of 5-7-5 alike.

---CLICK HERE FOR 'FREE PAULO' PT. II---
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* Get your minds out of the gutters. I'm talking about the Sport of Kings, not some weird sex thing.

P.S. Talk about adding insult to injury -- my Minister of Information just sent word that New Mexico's House of Representatives has passed a ban on cockfighting by a 50-15 margin! Hopefully, my well-paid "friends" in New Mexico's Senate will stay true to their word (links go to various high-profile news outlets).

journey into mexico, pt. VI

***
CHAPTER VI

Santo and I gave chase to the treacherous Haikunestro and his robot chicken, El Diablo -- and in no time at all, we were on them!

"Well well well, Haikunestro," I said. "Looks like the table's firmly on the other foot now, hmm? Hmmmmm? Hmmmmmmmm?"

"¡Sí!," said Santo, punching his own chest and pointing furiously at our enemy. "¡Vamos a perforar su boleto, Haikunestro!"

Without missing a beat, Haikunestro hoisted El Diablo like a bowling ball and hurled it at Santo's head!

"Suck my robot cock*, you freak!" he shrieked. El Diablo tore into Santo's face with an equally piercing squawk, rending silver mask and flesh alike with his weird metal claws.

El Diablo Attacks!

"Sweet Jesus!" I cried, rushing toward my friend. "Santo!"

Haikunestro took full advantage of my momentary distraction, shoving past me as he hoofed it down the hallway.

"Never mind me, Haiku Master!" Santo shouted, wrapping his thick mitts around El Diablo's scrawny throat. "I can fend for myself! You must stop Haikunestro!"

He was right -- but how? My arch foe already had a good lead on me, and to be quite honest, I was winded; three weeks of living it up on the championship cockfighting circuit really takes it out of a guy.

As it turned out, no further action was necessary on my part. I heard twin gunshots, and Haikunestro collapsed on the dirty linoleum floor. Beside me, sparks flew from El Diablo's convulsing body as Santo's sturdy hands tore its neck in twain.

But who fired the shots? Paulo? Blue Demon? Who?!?

I peered down the hallway, and could just make out a large form draped in fine blue silk. This person wore an equally blue sombrero, and held a large, blue, smoking revolver in each hand.

"That," he said in a smooth Mexican accent, "is for sleeping with my wife. Adios, híbrido!"

Just as quickly as he appeared, the mysterious gunfighter in blue was gone.

"My god," I said. "Was that..."

"Sí," Santo said gravely. "The Blue Sombrero."

"The Mexico City Madman! I always thought he was a myth!"

The Mysterious Blue Sombrero, A.K.A. The Mexico City Madman

"Yes, well I would love to discuss his existence with you at length, but I'm afraid I must be off to the hospital."

"That's right, your face! Yeah, um, sorry about that..."

I nearly lost my lunch as I looked at Santo's wounds for the first time. El Diablo had left dozens of deep gashes on my friend's face -- it was a wonder his mask was still attached!

"Eh, it's no big deal," he shrugged. "My face was already horribly scarred -- which is exactly why I never remove my mask, as you well know. This will just be a new batch to add to the collection."

Just then, we were rejoined by Paulo and Blue Demon, who were inexplicably accompanied by four youngish-to-middle-aged, garishly attractive women!

"Hey Santo, Haiku Master!" Blue Demon said. "Look what me and Paulo found! Fun for all and all for fun, eh?"

"Blue Demon, you shouldn't have!" said Santo. "I need immediate medical attention, but you bring me senóritas instead. And when have I ever been known to refuse a lovely senórita? Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!"

Oh, how Santo laughed! And when Santo laughs, everyone laughs.

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* Sí, is cock, no chicken.--Paulo

***
EPILOGUE

So that, faithful readers, was that. As it turned out, Haikunestro wasn't dead, just badly wounded, and he and his incapacitated henchmen were soon collected by the local police.

As for that night, let's just say what happens in Mexico City stays in Mexico City. And that Santo is extremely ungenerous when it comes to sharing senóritas.

The next morning, I said my farewells to Santo and Blue Demon, but felt no sorrow -- I had no doubt our paths would cross again at some point. Then, Paulo and I were off to the bus station; he to return to his village, and me to my top secret base of operations in the Baltimore suburbs.

"Well, I guess this is it, Paulo," I said as my bus pulled up to the station. "I really couldn't have asked for a better guide for my time here in Mexico. Put her there, pal."

"Usted es un hombre muy extraño," Paulo said as we shook. "Muy, muy, hombre muy extraño."

"Thank you, Paulo. I'll be in touch."

I must admit a twinge of remorse as I boarded the old grey dog for home. I would miss this country and its wonderful people, tacos, tequila, fajitas, cockfighting, burritos and fireworks. And donkeys.

After A Successful Adventure, The Haiku Master Is Homeward Bound

But whatever sorrow I felt was tempered by the knowledge that Mexico had gained a fervent new fan -- and powerful ally -- in me: The Haiku Master!