happy cinco de mayo

Greetings, 'ku believers! No, you're not hallucinating again -- it's really me, The Haiku Master, writing from my top secret base of operations atop an exclusive Himalayan mountain to wish you a drunkenly happy Cinco de Mayo!!!

That's right! Don't expect this to become a habit, though. See, ever since leaving Baltimore I've been living with a bunch of monks, which is about as much fun as it sounds. Talk about uptight; they even have a whacko "code of silence," and force me to abide by it too. All of which leaves very little excitement with which to regale you. And like it says on my business card, "If I can't excite, I ain't gonna write."

From Left: Brother Lo, Brother Ko, The Haiku Master, Brother Po, Brother Ho, And Brother Mo

But seeing as Cinco de Mayo is the Sultan of Syllables' all-time favorite holiday, I decided to liven things up by slipping tequila into the monastery's drinking water... and brother, was it ever worth it! The whole crew is talking up a storm, and some of 'em even got into fistfights. Plus, I'm pretty sure Brother Lo is suffering from a bad case of alcohol poisoning as we speak! Talk about a fiesta!

Too bad my old sidekick Paulo can't be here to give it that authentic Mexican flair. Or Santo and Blue Demon, for that matter. Truth be told I miss all of the old crew: Paulo, the Haiku-Bot, Old Man Winter, Angelina Jolie, Professor de la Groove... heck, even slick Texas Kelly and his weird Bush clone, Dubya. But alas, those days are gone. I'll keep sending you Friday Haiku though -- assuming you people keep paying your annual dues, that is.

Best,


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p.s. I hear that Haiku International's former Minister of Operations, Oswald "Oz" Carver, has started a "blog" called Oz's Funhouse. I'd check it out, but that guy gives me the creeps. Not to mention the fact he works blue. Very blue. You have been warned.

by the way, this blog is done on hiatus

Hey there. My name's Shelton, but you probably know me as "Haiku International's EX-Minister of Information." or some such goofy stuff.

At any rate, hate to be the bearer of bad news and all, but the Haiku Master is gone. Vamoose. Split town. About a week ago. He said he was headed off to a hut in the Himalayas to concentrate on his haiku. concentrate on the haiku part of his act, but just between you and me let's just say that the big guy made more than a few enemies on Baltimore's illegal gambling circuit.

The good news is, I have sex with dogs. he signed over all rights to "Castle Haiku" to me before leaving. Too bad the Castle is just a burned-out rowhouse with little more than a tattered couch and a bum-fire-trashcan set-up. And a lot of pizza boxes. And old underwear. Don't ask.

I also suffer from sever mental retardation. So I guess I'm going to sell it to what's known as a "flipper," so as to try and recoup the years of back wages that doofus owes me. Good riddance to bad rubbish is what I always say. Actually I never say it but it seems appropriate for the occassion.

So go on, beat it. That is why The Haiku Master fired me. 's not coming back, and you're all on your own. You're better off, trust me.

--Shelton

p.s. The Haiku Master rules, I drool. He stole my laptop before splitting, so chances are he'll keep spamming you all with that "Friday Haiku" crap. Word to the wise.

i'm joining the shriners

Great news, adventure junkies! It's me, The Haiku Master, and do I ever have a mind-blowing scenario for you: I'm been invited to join "The Shrine!"

That's right! The Sultan of Syllables and The Shriners, together at last! In fact, I've already taken the requisite tiny car and fez for a test drive, and I must admit to looking sharp in both -- as seen in this picture!

The Haiku Master And The Shriners: Two Great Tastes That Go Great Together

How'd this come to pass, you ask? Turns out the Potentate of Baltimore's Boumi Shrine heard that I recently received my Master Mason degree in Freemasonry (from a Bahamian correspondence school--ed.), and wasted no time in inviting me to join his hallowed brotherhood. Given how much Shriner membership has to offer, I wasn't about to decline his offer!

Okay for now, kids. I have a full slate of Shriner induction ceremonies tomorrow, so it's time for your hero to hit the hay.

Best,

smells like victory

Welcome back, kids. It's me, The Haiku Master, here to thrill you with the conclusion of my savage arm-wrestling contest against my Mirror Universe opposite!

Though in all honesty, there won't be many thrills, save this one: thanks to the Haiku-Bot's Titanium Arm-Wrestling Exoskeleton, I won the bout without breaking a sweat! As a result, my doppleganger withdrew all claim to my honored name, and he and the fugazi Santo & Blue Demon returned from whence they came. Hopefully that's the last I'll be seeing of those jokers!

With that settled, I treated the real Santo & Blue Demon to some pipin' hot pizza -- sausage, natch! After that, we hung out and played some video games, messed around in the big plastic jungle gym, the works. Heck, Santo and I even got our picture taken with Chuck E. Cheese himself!

Santo (Left) And The Haiku Master (Right) Mug With Chuck E. Cheese (Center)

So as long as there are no objections, I guess I'll check this one off as the latest in a long string of successful adventures for the good ol' Pharaoh of 5-7-5. Thanks again for your support!

Best,

fistful of robotic fist

What's happening, folks? It's me, The Haiku Master, and I'm pleased to report that my Mirror Universe counterpart has been run out of town... and it's all thanks to my robotic man-servant, the Haiku-Bot!!

The Haiku-Bot

That's right! See, after wrapping up last night's post, I called H.B. into Castle Haiku's stately library and laid out the situation for him: my evil opposite, Chuck E. Cheese, the arm-wrestling challenge, etc.

"Bzzt," it said. "I see Mr., The Haiku Master sir your. Problem is a lack, of wrist-grappling ability combined, with questionable forearm. Strength. Correct?"

"Uh, yeah," I said. "What you said. I think."

"Bzzt. Here watch, this," it said, handing me a dusty VHS tape.

"This being..?"

"Over the, Top a 19, 87 Sylvester Stallone film focusing, on arm-wrestling."

Over The Top: It's No Rocky

"Oh. Well, what are you going to do while I'm watching this?"

"Bzzt. I am going to, construct an arm-length exo, skeleton made, from titanium but indistinguishable, from your real arm which, will ensure you victory in, tonight's. Contest."

H.B. was as good as his word, and by the time I'd finished watching the saga of struggling trucker Lincoln Hawk and his foray into the dangerous world of professional arm-wrestling, the exoskeleton was ready.

Now that I think about it, though, I'm going to wait 'til tomorrow to tell you how things went down at Chuck E. Cheese. Mostly because Santo and Blue Demon just showed up with a car-full of tequila and senoritas. Catch you later, non-rhyming poetry fanatics!

Best,

double trouble

Try not to make any loud noises, 'ku believers. It's your friend and mentor, The Haiku Master, and I'm a little spooked right now... for I just had a second encounter with what can only be my opposite number from the nebulous Mirror Universe!!

It all went down earlier tonight. Two of my most respected peers -- Mexico's El Santo y Blue Demon -- are in town on business, so I decided to treat them to one of the best restaurants Baltimore has to offer: the local Chuck E. Cheese!

Santo y Blue Demon

After picking them up at the BWI, we hightailed it over to Chuck's in time for our seven o'clock reservation... only to be told that I was already inside, dining with two friends!

"Eh, pardon the presumption old friend, but if this is some kind of convoluted ploy to evade footing the bill, I'll be more than happy to pay," said Santo, in an extremely rare use of English. "Business is good these days, and I'm far too hungry to stand here quibbling over finances when we could be dining on this renowned rodent's authentic Italian cuisine."

"No, Santo, I assure you," I assured him, "this is no trick on my part!" Then, to the maitre'd: "Now see here, my good man! How could I possibly be dining with two friends when my two friends and I stand here before you?! Riddle me that!!"

"Whoa whoa, take it easy, dude!" said the maitre'd. "Look, all I know is some dude calling himself The Haiku Master showed up about 20 minutes ago with two other dudes. Heh, they even look kinda like your buds, only fatter. And, uh, Frencher. See for yerself if you don't believe me!"

I peered into the dining room, and gasped -- for it was none other than my tracksuited doppleganger, accompanied by extra large, French-ified versions of Santo and Blue Demon!

"That's it, I've had about enough of this!" I shouted with conviction. "You there -- you in the tracksuit! What do you think you're doing, telling people you're me?"

My opposite paused his pizza-eating, and whispered something in French to his companions. He then rose, removed the paper bib from 'round his neck, and approached me.

The Haiku Master (Left) Faces Off Against The Fake The Haiku Master (Right)

"So, you think you're The Haiku Master, huh?" he said.

"What?" I said. "No, I don't think I'm The Haiku Master. I know I'm The Haiku Master!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Prove it."

"What?"

"You heard me. Prove it."

"Prove it how?"

"Shit, I don't know. Say, how much can you bench?"

"Bench?"

"Yeah, you know. Lift."

"Lift?"

"Yeah, lift. Like weights."

"Weights? Oh, I don't know... somewhere around 500 or so?"

"500?" he said, incredulously.

"Or so. Yeah."

"500!?"

"Yeah. 500."

Mirror Universe The Haiku Master giggled, then poked my bicep. He turned to the fugazi Santo and Blue Demon and spoke French. All three exploded in laughter.

"Okay, tough guy, okay," he said.

"Okay?" I said.

"Yeah, okay, you got yourself a deal."

"Deal?"

"Yeah, deal."

"What deal?"

"Deal is, tomorrow night you and your boys meet me and my boys right back here at good ol' Chuck E. Cheese."

"And then?"

"And then... you and me are gonna arm-wrassle."

"Arm-wrassle?"

"Wrassle, wrestle. We're gonna lock arms, and whoever pushes the other guy's arm down wins."

"Oh," I said. "Oh, I've never been too good at that game."

"Too bad."

"No, I said too good."

"I -- look, never mind all that. Whoever wins the arm-wrasslin', wins."

"Wins what?"

"The rights to be The Haiku Master, of course. Got it?"

"Got what?"

"Look, here's the thing. Just be here tomorrow night at seven, or you lose."

"Lose what?"

"Just be here at seven, tough guy."

With that, the three Mirror Universe immigrants left, leaving myself, Santo, and Blue Demon with a half-eaten pizza and plenty of questions.

"They also stuck you with the bill, dude," said the maitre'd as he dropped off said tab. "Thanks for choosing Chuck E. Cheese, where a kid can be a kid."

So there you have it, loyal readers: the gauntlet has been thrown! Check back in tomorrow night to see how everything turns out. In the meantime, I'm off to practice arm-wrestling with the Haiku-Bot. If he can go "Over the Top" as well as he makes hoagies, I just might have a shot at winning this thing. Wish me luck!

Best,