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The more things change the more this webpage stays the same.
Even thogh we all know its August this is

THE JUNE 1999 UPDATE

Page 2 of 7


The next thing you know I was scramboling arround to wheel Granfather's TV into view.

If there's one thing that gets Granfather screamming its the TV.

I dont know what it is, but Granpy shows greator emotion to TV than he does to most any people. I guess thats not THAT strange. I am the same way with the web.

It is a small trailer we live in and if you wheel the TV as far as the cable can reach, and leave the bathroom door ajar, theres a mirrer on the door that reflects it down the hall and thru the kitchen so the old basterd can actualy watch it in his room from all the way in the living room. The downside of this is that you can see the old basterd sittin on the crapper while eating supper. But this is somthin we live with.

How to get him mad

It is not everey day you want to get Granfather mad on purpose. But if it woud help him go to the bathroom we were willing to do it. I figoured TV was the best way, but Dr. Blankenship had anothor idea.

"Aye, I got an idear," the neurottic Scot wispored to me, "Tell the subject y'ill tell that San Francisco story on yer web page."

The three criptozollogists, Madison, Ripke and Blankenship all refer to Granfather not by name but as "The Subject." This is because all of there studies have not yet conclusively dettermined if Granfather is indeed human. This is their way of not attachin too much emotion to Granfather. (And by the way the emotoin they are tryin to avoid is not affection, but raw hate.)

About the San Fransisco story

The doctor was refferring to an enbarasing incident that happenned when Granfather was 17 years old on a family trip to Sanfrancisco. I had caused some family strife by tellin the story here in our town, but I swore to my family never to tell it on my webpage. Plus Granfather woud kill me.

No it woud have to be TV-related.

I imediatly ran outside to one of the barns and rummaged thruogh the latest stack of videos from the past few months. I bolted back in the trailer with an armful.

I dropped them in a loud plastic clattor at Blankenship's feet, fallin down on my face scraiping my jaw on the indoor-outdoor carpet as the screen door hit me in the ass as I stumbulled inside. As I stood up, Granfather, previousley distracted, focussed his red pupiled viper eyes at me.

"YOU DONE GOT BIG BLOODY LOVE BITES PLUS A RUG BURN. NOT BAD FOR A SISSY LIKE YOU."

Hmmm. Little does the old basterd know. I rummaged thruogh the pile of tapes on the floor, desparately seekin the one thing i know enrages him: Mark Russell singing and playin the piano. Granfather's reaction to Mark Russel is similor to that woman in the news a few years back who got seizures listenning to Mary Hart's voice on TV. Exept Granps experriences violent rage. But there was no Mark Russel to be found.

I racked my brain to try to figoure out what will anger him most. I picked up the Star trek Deepspace Nine Series finale (that we watched in our last update) and popped it in the VCR.

"YOU TRYIN' TO PISS ME OFF?", Granfather sniffed, "WHY, I'LL DIE OF BOREDOM BEFORE MUH GUT BURSTS."

I popped this tape out and ransacked the othors spread on the floor.

"Hurry, Laddie!" Blankenship blubbored, "We must anger the Subject as to make it plop or it'll die!"

Next I grabbed a tape of Everybody Loves Raymond that was marked with a red stickor, which meant that Granfather had had a violant reaction to it.

"WHUT THE HAYLE IS THIS?" the old basterd grumboled at me.

"DON'T YOU KNOW NOTHIN', BWAH? EVERYBODY LOVES RAYMOND, "EVERRRRYBODY!

"...AND 'EVERYBODY' MEANS GRAMPY TOO. YOU DUMBASS SUMBITCH!", and then he smacked me with the back of his hand. He is so evil and creul. I lator found out that there was a TicTac comercial on the same tape which is what got him so mad.

Finaly I grabbed a tape of a porno channel that we don't subscribe to, but that Granfather allaways tapes 12 hours a day hoping to capture little 5 and 10 seccond segments where the fuzzey signal unscrambols itself by mistake sevoral times a day. I know that viewing the result of all his fruitless efforts usualy upsets him.

"NICE TRY, BWAH," he scoffed. The old basterd contineud to kick and thrash at us.

Quickley I grabbed the remote controle and held the chanell button down till it passed all the basic channols and landed on the blue screen with white lettoring on it that read:

YOU HAVE NOT
ORDERED CINEMAX

Cinemax as you know is not specificaly a porno chanell and shows some nice mainstream movies howevor aftor 11 PM or so consists mainley of a bunch of plotless halfhour shows that feature for about 20 of the 30 minutes closeups of various completely nakad women bouncing on prone men; (nothing at all like what Cathyann was tryin to do to me in her mother's car). Granfather saw it once at my brothor's house, cause my brother gets the channel. We do not.

Granfather bit his lip, trembolled a bit as he staired at the silent blue screen, made a fist, and then swallowed hard and said in a restrained stilted voice, "THANKS TO THE WONDER AND MAGIC OF THE WORLD WIDE WEB, I KIN LIVE WITHOUT SKINAMAX...BUT JEST BARELY."

This gave me an idea. There at my feet onthe floor I saw the videotape for the Series Finale of Melrose Place which we taped back in late May.

I pressed "PLAY" and instantley a mass of pouting, underdressed, over made-up jiggly images melted into view. Granfather's confident sneer sudenly washed white. He stopped fighting me and Blankenship, then spoke slowley and severely.

"WHOA. I'D FERGOT HOW MUCH THIS HERE SHOW PISSED ME OFF SINCE IT WENT OFF THE AIR."

The old basterd's heavy apelike brow furowwed, his pronounced simian features slowley flushing red with rage.

Granfather and Melrose

I owe a debit of grattitude to the Fox network for takin this show off the air. Alls that show ever did was piss off Granfather. Acording to Granfather, 90% of the dialog sounds exactley like the first two minute prelude of a porn film. It is all so sugestive. And just when you think people are gonna start takin there clothes off do the Cinamax Thang they run a danm comercial for Ace Hardware with puffey old John Maddens face on it for Godsake.

Granfather is amazing. On the one hand he has a true genios I.Q. and is cappable of extroadinery feats of incalculably elaborate evil. But on the othor hand he has the atention span of a powdor post beetle. When it comes to TV, he is mezmorized. He actualy forgets what he is watching, and why.

He kept muttering, "WHY AIN'T THEY GITTIN' NEKKID?", and I had to keep sayin, "Granfather, this is Melrose Place."

After I'd correct him, the old basterd woud compose himself, blink, and then say, "OH YEH I KEEP FERGITTIN'."

In any case when we got to the part where Jane was in the ladies' room secretly telling her freind about how she was carryin Micheal's baby when she was all set to marry Kyle and how Kyle didnt know, and how Amanda was hiding in the toilet stall overhearing it, (presumably with her bloodless twiglike legs up on the toilat seat as not to give herself away), Granfather started maniacally screamming, in that hideous way of his with the:

"DAMN THIS ALLY MCBEAL SHOW: WHEN THE HELL ARE THESE DUMBASSES GONNA REALIZE THET SOMEONE MIGHT BE IN THE CRAPPER?"

I was all about to tell him this was NOT Ally McBeal when the next thing I knew the old basterd colappsed on the floor and began writhing and craining his neck. No, nothing was wrong with him. Granfather allways does this when Ally NcBeal is on: he insists on gettin on the floor because he actualy thinks he he will see somthing by peeking under the stall.

"HMM, THEM AIN'T THET SKINNY LAWYER-GAL'S SHOES," he gruffed.

"Fascinating," said Blankenship, who then actualy got on the floor with Granfather, and peered into his ghastley face, "The creature's behavoir is bluddy fascinating."

Still gawking at Granpy, the criptozoollogist then drew a small tape recordor from his white lab coat and began speakin into it with his clipped acent.

"The subject responds to two dimensional electronic stimuli with full cognitive perception. It truly believes it can see under the door of the loo.

"'Tis a puzzling, wee beasty," the doctor contineud, "'Tis behavior I expected of a primate, or perhaps an astute proto-simian mammal."

Granfather growled at him, "STOP PATRONIZIN' ME YUH SCOTCH SUMBITCH OR I'LL SURGICALLY CONTROVERSE YER GENDER WITH MUH BARE TEETH."

'Controverse' isnt a word and in any case i pulled up Blankenship by the scruff of his neck rathor than let him lay there tryin to figoure out what the word meant and meanwhile get his wee bits bit off.

Granfather lunged at him anyway and into his open slashing jaws we stuck in the ax handol and lifted him by it in the air, evil legs and razor sharp toe talons thrashing, settoling him into that seated position I started to write about at the top of the prior screen.

RRRRRRRRRRRGHH!

Evil howling basterd. He fought us as we pushed, pushed that ax handol into his shrieking warboling screaming gaping toothed maw. This went on nearley an hour. I canott tell you how tired my arms got. Sudenly Granfathers adult diaper began to pop both visualy and in sound like a bag of micrawave popcorn. It expanded in size and small volcannic openings errupted from all around spewing toxic gas and whistling shrapnel that shot about the trailer and fluffy wisps of hot burning diaper vinyl cinders which floated aloft, aflame.

It was like bein in a danm shooting gallery

The shrapnel was the worst. It flew arround like fireballs. One missile grazed my head and busted Granfather's mirror.

"He's crapping!" I creid.

"Nay,!" said Blankenship, "He's about to poo.

"What yer seein' is a matter-anti-matter burst. 'Tis the precursor o'the bluddy poo."

He added severely, "And aye, 'till be a prodigious, promethian poo."

Granfather meanwhile composed himself for a half second for an eerie, normal, (normol for him) few seconds.

"TOO BAD ABOUT THET MIRROR, 'CAUSE I'M SUCH A GOOD LOOKIN' FELLER.

"ONCE I LAUNCH SPUTNIK, I'M GITTIN' IN A CHATROOM TO FIND ME A BABE."

I said, "You certinly are NOT, Granfather." This must of angered him suficiently cause just then, when he'd bit thruogh about an inch of ax the doctor creid:

"I canna hold it any longer! She's gonna blow!"

It then shot out of the old bastord -- and when I say "it" I mean a fireball that burned the eyes and punched a hole as big as a dinner plate in the alunimum wall of our humbol mobile home leaving a black trail of fetid vapor which actualy remained suspended 4 feet in the air paralell to the floor and baked earth beyond it for 20 minnutes -- which was exactley enough time it needed to cool off till we coud get near to it to examine it, in a burnt grassy area on the edge of the old basterd's property a quartor mile away.

Blankenship got there first