The Colors of the Butterfly

The rain fell from the sky for forty days and forty nights, the resulting deluge washing out the roads in our small town and raising beautiful patches of green vistas wherever one would look.

Days later, butterflies emerged from the fields in great numbers, filling the sky with a spectacular rainbow of butterfly colors. Emerald, garnet, fuschia--a visual treat rarely experienced by any breathing thing. This was our wonderland.

The butterflies kindly lent their colors not only to the horizon, but also to the windshield of my fabulous sports car as it sliced through the whispering wind, as well as the gliding butterflies. The impact exposed new colors of the butterflies not seen in their flying form.

The butterflies have since been reduced in number, either through migration or windshield attrition, but the memory lives forever, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Wednesday Essay Contest #1, again

If you are not familiar with our "Wednesday Essay Contest #n" featurette, please write an essay on why you didn't read and digest this post.

Last week's essay assignment was to write two or three paragraphs on the matter of licked stamp adhesives as compared with the pre-adhesive sort. Which do you prefer?

And the winner of history's first Supreme Aglet Essay Contest is...

...no one!

Listen Agleteers, you might think it's funny to submit responses like...

I don't lick stamps, I eat them. Ha ha.

...or...

Why did the colonists throw vegetables on the big envelope-shaped stage? Because they didn't want to see the Stamp Act!

...but this hardly expands your mind or otherwise makes you a better person.

Each of you who conspired to disrupt this important endeavor by submitting facetious entries for the Essay Contest will receive a referral notice indicating your misconduct.

I shall give you one more week to right this wrong, and write not wrong. <chortle!> So once again, licked or adhesive--choose and write, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #5

Having extended our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to Tuesday, The Supreme Aglet humbly submits this observation from Agleteer Roger.

New computers are fun, but they don't save you any money on car insurance. Why haven't you called Geico?

Agleteer Roger, your question caused me to rethink a number of things. Thanks to your thoughtful query, I now dial my cell phone with my left hand, eat lunch a half hour earlier, and speak with an English accent.

This is a watershed moment in the life of The Supreme Aglet, and my readership is witnessing it unfold right before their very eyes. I am a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, a Cadillac at the end of the production line, pasta that has soaked eight minutes--I am al dente.

I suppose you're expecting some sort of reward for having initiated this important alteration in my life path, but you see, I am also now becoming much more frugal and have thus decided to withhold the $10,000 check I was about to send you, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet Interviews Ballio and Boormund

Those faithful readers who have been following the story of Ballio and his balls will be pleased to hear that I have been able to spend some time with Ballio and Boormund to learn more about the plight of these heroes.

This interview was conducted on March 25, 2005. Following is the transcript from the interview.

The Supreme Aglet: Hello gentlemen. Thank you for taking the time to discuss your dilemma.

Ballio: Sure. Thank you.

Boormund: Thank you. Thanks for having us.

The Supreme Aglet: My first question is one that is on the minds of all Agleteers, and it is this: how will this situation finally resolve itself?

Boormund: That's the question on our minds as well, of course. We believe we hold the legal advantage in that we have a solid claim of ownership to the balls. Ideally, though, we would like to work with the Great Wonder Wizard to our mutual benefit.

Ballio: And Zorphine of course, to the extent that he can benefit.

Boormund: Right. Our position is really one that seeks cooperation.

The Supreme Aglet: A reasonable position to take indeed. Given that your position is the one that suits the best interest of all parties, why do you suppose you are having such great difficulty persuading them to bring closure to this under the framework you have proposed?

Ballio: That's the [inaudible] of this whole situation in my opinion. I have to say that I'm really--that I'm a bit disappointed in how this has become a big grab for my balls. All I want is what's due to me. That's all. And I want everyone to derive some benefit from it.

Boormund: You have to understand that Ballio has had a long friendship with Zorphine, so he's being sincere when he says that he wants Zorphine to benefit even though they are taking somewhat adversarial positions.

Ballio: Right. But to clarify a bit, I don't just look at this as something that should benefit Zorphine because he's my friend, I--he's also the guy that had the idea to--the idea and the means to make balls with Wonder Dust.

The Supreme Aglet: You say Zorphine had the means. But without the Great Wonder Wizard, what means does Zorphine have?

Ballio: Exactly. When I say he had the means, I mean that he's someone who somehow gets access to people like the Great Wonder Wizard.

Boormund: Right. Zorphine has raised and squandered more Wonder Dust than anyone I personally know.

Ballio: Well, let's be fair. It isn't Zorphine who loses the Wonder Dust as much as it is the people who he sometimes finds himself partnering with.

The Supreme Aglet: You're not referring to yourself of course.

Ballio: [Laughs] No, I mean people like Crimino. I mean, how obvious is it that people like Crimino don't have your best interest in mind? The guy's a crook for gosh sakes.

Boormund: Right. Zorphine has this propensity to cede his judgement to some of the seediest people. I think our proposal represents a best defense against that happening again.

The Supreme Aglet: How did you two find Stelman?

Boormund: Stelman is actually a relative of Ballio's.

Ballio: [Chuckles] And as such, he's obviously an extremely talented individual...

The Supreme Aglet: [Laughs] That goes without saying.

Boormund: [Inaudible]

Ballio: [Inaudible], and it runs in the family.

The Supreme Aglet: So, even though neither of you seems willing to make any firm predictions about...

Ballio: We really can't...

The Supreme Aglet: ...predictions regarding the outcome...

Ballio: There are just too many variables at this point. It doesn't help that the lines of communication have been muddled a bit.

Boormund: Due to legal constraints, actual conversation is limited. The Great Wonder Wizard is also not as accessible as we'd like due to distance constraints and scheduling conflicts.

Ballio: Plus, I'm a full-time ball maker at the moment and Boormund has things he has to do, like getting his computer fixed.

Boormund: [Laughs] Let's not get into that.

Ballio: But in the end, we have a strong bargaining position. At least we should have based on the facts. We just need to be patient and allow these things to play out. That is, I need to be patient.

Boormund: At the same time, we need to be aggressive when the ball is in our court, we need...

Ballio: ..."Ball in our court", that's funny.

Boormund: [Laughs] Right. We need to be aggressive in asserting our position, but at the same time, we need to keep from reacting to every little thing or we don't look credible.

The Supreme Aglet: So I suppose we'll just have to wait, as you two don't seem to want to predict the outcome.

Boormund: We're not being coy or secretive. We just don't know. We're hoping for the best.

Ballio: Right. We're just hoping to get to the point where we can say confidently, "the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance".

Festival of the Balloons

Our two children have birthdays that are two weeks apart, (born in different years, however--i.e. they aren't twins in which one was delayed two weeks after the birth of the other, which would have really sucked for my wife).

Mrs. Supreme Aglet makes the childrens' birthdays an opportunity to turn their bedrooms into colorful wonderlands of inflated rubber. The trick every year, of course, is to get the birthday child in bed, hope that s/he is consistent with his or her tendancy to sleep deeply (or, sleeply deep), pump up balloons in the master closet that is not inhabited by our cats, then fill the birthday room two feet high with the balloons while the child slumbers. (Note the liberal use of both genders in the preceding paragraph, indicating the sort of progressive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is).

One byproduct of this practice is that these balloons find their way everywhere, seemingly multiplying on their own like tribbles. The spatial relationship of number of balloons to each birthday room somehow seems undisturbed as new balloons appear in other rooms of the house, including a blue and purple one right here in The Supreme Aglet's office. I am keeping them apart to ensure they do not attempt to reproduce.

Of course, a simple solution to addressing this balloon invasion would be to exercise my advantage as being on top of the food chain and destroying these balloons faster than they can appear. The problem, as any parent would be able to figure out, is that each balloon attaches itself to one or both of the children's heart strings, so that destroying a single balloon is tantamount to killing a pet, or flushing a fish.

Although the mechanics of the child-balloon relationship make it difficult to carry out the task of ridding the house of these cretans, we are still left with the advantage of a child's inability to keep track of so many beloved items and their tendancy to become easily distracted in their emotional tie to an object when a new object is introduced in its place.

Another way of slowly detaching the children from their beloved balloons is to invent games that involve violent interaction with the balloons. One of our favorite games is "Balloon Manager", which involves three to four players. In this game, one person acts as the Balloon Manager, choosing one of several balloons at random and throwing it in the air, at which time each of the other players takes turn volleying the balloon and calling out its color. At any random moment, the Balloon Manager can choose a different balloon as the one to be volleyed. If a player allows the balloon to drop, fails to call out its color when striking it, or calls out the wrong color, s/he is out.

Incidentally, I was thinking of packaging and marketing this game, but thought it unworkable considering how big the box would have to be to fit all those inflated balloons.

These tactics seem to be somewhat effective in allowing us to slowly reduce the balloon population through attrition; and eventually, all of the balloons are removed. It is unfortunate that this occurs only a few days before the next round of birthdays, but we cherish those few days of balloon-free living, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Great Larry Norman

Who is Larry Norman?

Whenever I hear that question after dropping the name, I feel the need to stick my finger down my throat and allow my dissatisfaction to pour out. There is something wrong with the universe when such an accomplished and significant individual is not known by everyone.

The name usually comes up when I talk about a wedding day in 1991, in which the world of The Supreme Aglet first came in to perfect balance. My new bride and I were honored, beyond our ability to express how honored we were, to have the great Larry Norman sing for us during the ceremony and at the reception.

While you could easily prance over to Larry Norman's Web site before reading today's Supreme Aglet, I would ask that you kindly allow me to introduce him, particularly in the spirit of chiding you for not knowing who he is in the first place.

Those who know The Supreme Aglet personally are familiar with my early career as a world famous rock star. Surely, it will come as a shock to my minions that my fame and success would never have materialized but for one man: Larry Norman.

Other bands, now exceedingly successful both in a commercial sense and in the sense of communicating Christian values and hope, owe their very existence to Larry Norman. But for Larry Norman, there would be no Audio Adrenaline, no Skillet... Or going back a bit, no Stryper, no Petra, no Steve Taylor...

The list of successful gospel rock bands and artists is very long, and Larry Norman practically invented the genre.

Even so--even with the avalanche of talent that has followed Larry Norman--there was, is, and will always be, only one Larry Norman. His body of work is unparalleled in any rock genre. From the disturbingly analogous Be Careful What You Sign, to the haunting I Wish We'd All Been Ready. From the unabashedly straightforward Why Don't You Look Into Jesus? to the one that first posed the question to the traditional Christian church and launched the contemporary Christian movement: Why Should the Devil Have All the Good Music?.

Larry acquitted himself well at our wedding. He was humble, soft-spoken, and generous. Most who were at the wedding knew who he was and the significance of his accomplishments, yet he treated Mrs. Supreme Aglet and me as if we were the rock stars. He did absolutely nothing to show his celebrity and instead allowed the focus of the ceremony to remain on the two for whom the ceremony was given, and he even availed himself to several of our guests after the reception, treating them to a movie.

Yet when called upon to perform at the reception, he spared nothing to give the crowd Larry Norman even though he was nursing a sore throat. More importantly, his performance of "The Tune" created the perfect setting from which an eternal partnership would be launched:

I was alone, and without love
Hope was fading fast
Slipping right on past
Then by some grand design
She came along, and heard my song
And sang the harmony
She was right on key
And she was right on time

And now I'm hers, She is mine
We sing together, now
She knows the words, somehow
And I love her true
And we sing the tune

Love is a song from heaven
She is the love that I've been given

I was alone, I was unsure
She reached out to me
And she helped me see
That I still had a chance
To open up, to come alive
And to love again
It was only then
That I joined in the dance

And now I'm hers, She is mine
We sing together, now
She knows the words, somehow
And I love her true
And we sing the tune

You may now introduce yourself to Larry Norman, and learn more about this refreshingly unique and widely loved human being, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #6

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may receive that World War II draft notice that's been stuck in the mail all these years.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Norman, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):

I enjoy drinking coffee while reading your blog. Unfortunately, I looked all over your blog site and found now way to purchase Supreme Aglet mugs. How can I go about doing this?

Norman, if I had a nickle for every time someone asked me this question, I'd be five cents richer.

You must understand that, even though I am forced to acknowledge my celebrity and my important place in history, I must maintain the dignity of The Supreme Aglet by resisting the temptation to reduce this important work and all it stands for by engaging in petty commercialization.

However, Supreme Aglet squeeze balls and Ballio action figures will be available for $3.95 each at the next bi-weekly meeting of Agleteers, (please check your phone book to find your local chapter), and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Ballio II: Return of the Great Wonder Wizard

In our last episode, Crimino had squandered the Wonder Dust, leaving Ballio to market his balls elsewhere, Zorphine to try to salvage what he had left to fulfill his dream of making Wonder Balls, and the Great Wonder Wizard rich with Wonder Dust, but with nothing upon which to sprinkle his treasure.

It wasn't long before Zorphine and the Great Wonder Wizard determined that they could do little without Ballio's balls, so each began to seek ways in which they could compel Ballio to give up his balls and claim them as their own.

Zorphine went to consult with Jinno, interpreter of the law, and they together concluded that the balls could be theirs by simply saying it was so.

At this, the Great Wonder Wizard consulted with his large army of interpreters of the law, and they had uncovered a magic scroll which granted to the Great Wonder Wizard the claim that the balls were his.

Upon hearing of this, Ballio contacted Boormund, known to all as the mysterious wise man in the cave. With the help of some of the villagers who sympathized with Ballio's plight, Ballio and Boormund uncovered another magic scroll, identical to that which the Great Wonder Wizard had, and began to study its secrets.

The magic scroll did indeed seem to grant the balls to the Great Wonder Wizard, and not to Zorphine or Ballio; but there was another secret that the magic scroll had yet to reveal--the Secret of the Code of Knowledge and Labor.

Only those with the purest of motives could see the Secret Code of Knowledge and Labor, and so it revealed itself to Ballio and Boormund. As it emerged from the scroll as handwriting that suspended itself in the air like a cloud, it slowly began to take shape...clearer...clearer...clearer.

It read:

Seek, seek, oh seekers
And soon you will find the door
For the balls indeed belong
To him that holds their core

At first, this was a puzzle. Ballio began to think about the balls and how they came to be, and therein the answer was hidden: while there were many balls and ball makers in all of Playton, only Ballio was a true core-maker. Balls could not exist without his core.

But more importantly, balls were never made until he first made cores. The cores were his, and his alone, for no one instructed him to create them. They were a product of his initiative and great love for Playton, along with his desire to enable balls of all kinds, some of which he had begun creating before Zorphine or the Great Wonder Wizard knew the value of balls with Wonder Dust.

So, Ballio and Boormund knew they could prevail, but knew just as well that Zorphine and the Great Wonder Wizard would not give up without a struggle. After all, Zorphine still had some Wonder Dust and balls in his possession, and the Great Wonder Wizard had his mighty army of interpreters of the law.

But again, Ballio had help from corners far and wide who knew that he was in the right. Among them was Stelman, mighty interpreter of the law--a giant who, by himself, was a formidable foe to the Great Wonder Wizard's mighty army of interpreters of the law. The people of Playton also agreed to help Ballio in his epic struggle, and the stage was set for the clash of these three titanic forces.

Now, faithful Agleteers, I must ask you to be patient as you await the next sequel to this story of war, peace, and intrigue, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Wednesday Essay Contest #1

In my never-ending endeavor to improve the intellectual disposition of my minions, I shall now introduce a new weekly featurette called "Wednesday Essay Contest #n", where n is the sequentially numbered essay contest featurette, beginning with the number 1.

This week, I am asking my vast readership to write two or three paragraphs on the matter of licked stamp adhesives as compared with the pre-adhesive sort. Which do you prefer?

Next Wednesday, I will announce the winner and post his or her entry. (Note the use of both genders in the previous sentence, not only indicating the sort of progressive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is, but also setting an example for essay writers everywhere.)

Submit your essay to thesupremeaglet@hotmail.com, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #4

Having extended our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to Tuesday, The Supreme Aglet humbly submits this reaction to the continuing Ballio fairy tale from Agleteer Jim.

Dear Supreme Aglet:

There is one particular message, namely the "Fairy Tale," that I keep returning to, hoping to find an answer to a question that has plagued me: "Where have I heard that plot before?"

I find that Ballio's use of "Wonder Dust" to enhance his balls, seems somewhat familiar with my own experience.

I can remember, as a small child, seeing my father greet the doctor as he came into town on a horse-drawn buggy. This "doctor" sold bottles of elixir that would cure all sorts of ailments, as well as canisters of "Miracle Powder" that would soothe the body. My dad would buy a handful of these items.

I still have two of the canisters of powder in my possession, and find that a small amount of this dust applied after a shower can be quite soothing.

The only contraindications listed on the container is a possibility of dizziness, and a curling up of the toes for as long as four hours.

I have to admit that the only problem that I can associate with its use is that I have been pulled out of line at the airport terminal three times because of a weapon-sniffing dog.

Agleteer Jim, reading through your interesting account of obtaining this "Miracle Powder" causes me to wonder whether you are consuming a powder of a different kind. Nonetheless, I am encouraged that my ongoing fairy tale has some objective relevance in your life, which tells me that these may be more than fairy tales, which they are intended to be.

So Agleteer Jim, please continue to enjoy the soothing showers, but please refrain from sending any pictures of this activity, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Rest in Peace, Mrs. Ingles. Belatedly.

The other day, I went with my son on a nostalgiac tour of my childhood, visiting old schools, the house I lived in when I was very young, and topping off the evening by watching a movie at a drive-in theater in a 1960's-era automobile I own.

In addition to feeling the need to pass on these experiences to my son, the odyssey satisfied a long-held urge to revisit my childhood through my adult eyes. I was very pleased with what I saw and felt. I had a textbook perfect childhood, with caring and giving parents, a secure and care-free middle-class life in American suburbia, surrounded by good friends, dedicated teachers and pastors, and a solid ethic of setting lofty goals and working hard to achieve them.

Ruth Ingles was my fifth-grade teacher, and my brother's fifth-grade teacher a year earlier. She was a sweet and soft-spoken, yet stern and dignified older woman who had been teaching at Crescent Ave. Christian School long before I was born.

People tend to remember smiles from special people in their childhood, and hers is still vividly kept in my thoughts. When Mrs. Ingles would smile, usually as an exclamation point to completing a thought, it was as if her smile broke through an otherwise consistently sensible demeanor to reveal the beautiful vibrant human being that lived inside this elderly woman. Her smile was a prize to those on the receiving end of it, and she was gracious in giving them.

I also vividly remember Mrs. Ingles's way of speaking, stubbornly reflective of her generation. She used figures of speech and euphemisms that were alien to me, but were strangely soothing in their indirect representation of the kind of world Mrs. Ingles herself grew up in: a world that seemed simpler, kinder, driven by common sense and genuine compassion.

As I walked the main hallway of classrooms at Crescent Ave., I asked our host how long she had been working there, and if she had been there long enough to know Mrs. Ingles. I was told that Mrs. Ingles had passed on many years ago.

Although this came as no surprise, (Mrs. Ingles was already well advanced in age way back in the 1970's when I was her student), actually hearing it felt to me as if she died yesterday. I suppose somewhere in the back of my mind, I had hoped Mrs. Ingles was still somewhere to be found at Crescent Ave. so that I could give her a hug and thank her for enriching my perfect childhood.

That hug will have to wait until I see her again in Heaven, where I will no doubt find her enriching the lives of the angels, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Nightmares in E

I had a dream.

The western-style guitar that sits but a few feet away from this very computer convulsed. I looked to see what was causing it, and as I looked, the bottom E string snapped in slow motion.

Dreams, of course, are outlets of the subconscious. After struggling with keeping the E string intact on the instrument for days, it was inevitable that this pursuit would affect my slumber.

The guitar at issue once belonged to my father until he kindly gave it to me when I was but a child. That is, I assume he gave it to me, as I still have it. (Dad, if you're reading this, please replace every appearance of the word "guitar" with "poca-dot tie that I wasn't all that crazy about").

It had been in hiatus for a few years, its strings long-since removed until recently when my son began supplementing his enormous drumming talent with guitar lessons. For those lessons, I have loaned him my other poca-dot tie that I'm not all that crazy about for use in class and to practice at home. To play along with him, I resurrected the old western-style guitar by cleaning it up and buying a new set of strings for it.

Stringing the instrument is a straightforward task that I have done many times with many guitars. For some reason, however, this particular instrument rejected the E string almost immediately after it was attached, usually by allowing it to pop out from the peg which it is fastened to.

The fourth attempt to re-attach the E string seemed like a charm, as I took the extra step of tying the string around the peg before inserting it. The string stayed attached for several days, and several jam sessions with my son.

But a few days later while working in my office, I heard a snap from just a few feet away. As if to mock me, the string waited for me to be present before snapping from the peg again. This time, I ignored it, as if to let it know that I was not going to be shaken by its uncooperativeness.

The E string then proceeded to invade my slumber to ensure it remained the center of my attention. That very night, I had a dream in which that moment was re-lived; only this time, the string really played up the whole drama. The guitar convulsed violently, the other strings began to play in dissonant anti-harmony, and the E string ripped itself from the guitar in slow motion, shooting the peg out like a bullet.

I was visited each night by this dream until I once again re-fastened the string on to the guitar. It has been a week since I did this, and the E string has remained in its station.

I can only assume that the E string was crying our for attention--to be known as more than a mere participant of various chords and rifs. To ensure the E string that I honor its contribution to the beautiful melodies I produce with the poca-dot tie that my dad is not all that crazy about, I have composed an entire song that uses only the E string, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet Answers his Critics

Some Agleteers have been writing in complaint of The Supreme Aglet's recent brief post, in which I engaged in a moment of tearseness and clarity.

The complaints I received tend mostly to center around the smashing of expectations due to the lack of sufficient articulation of a struggle or other relevant topic of discussion.

If I want to be verbose, then I will do that which I have decided is the thing which I wish to do having expressed that wish and otherwise indicated my intention of doing the thing I said I would do; specifically, that it is my decision that I shall choose to be verbose when I feel I want to be regardless of the motivation and/or compulsion to verbosify and erubidate, acknowledging that there is no such word as "erubidate".

If I want to be tearse, then fine.

In the end, it matters only that I have fulfilled my obligation to express my thoughts and wishes to all you losers--er, to all of you nice people who take time out of their day to share life's daily struggles and triumphs, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #5

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may be bottled and sold as human Pepsi on Mars.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer "Nickle the Pickle", (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):

You are of a strange nature. The scary part is that I am getting used to it.

Agleteer Nickle, I assure you that your acclamation to Agletism is not only normal, but healthy.

I picture a world--a veritable Utopia--in which all people, regardless of size, shape, color, or toothpaste preference, come around to my way of thinking and to my view of the world as a peaceful and congenial place where all are subject to my whim.

You are a proto-citizen of this future world. You are the beginning of the future, the seed, the singularity, the pioneer. You and others like you are paving the path to this perfect future. And on that day which the last person on Earth becomes an Agleteer, we will rename the planet "Agleteeria", and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet makes a Brief Statement

Hi.

The world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet Waxes Poetic

Now and then, I feel somewhat of a responsibility to ensure that my faithful and large group of readers are well taken-care of and that their lives are enriched. While the reader will be disappointed if he or she expects to receive a check in the mail, the more realistic individual will conclude that my reference to maintaining his or her well-being would have more to do with the verbally motivational rather than randomly doling out fiduciary rewards to this one or that one. (Note the use of of both genders in the previous sentence, twice, indicating the sort of progressive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is).

With this in mind, The Supreme Aglet shall now endeavor to inspire and motivate the reader with his own uniquely creative brand of poetry.

I call this poem: For S/he Who Wishes S/he Were Me

For the she or the he who wishes s/he were me
To possess the Aglet's supreme-iality
To impart that for which all have long been awaiting
Man, something reeks. Is someone flatulating?

Now that I have left you with this valuable admonition to succeed in all that you endeavor, remember... I am Aglet, I am Supreme, I am clever, take care of your spleen; and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #3

Having extended our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to Tuesday, The Supreme Aglet humbly submits this interesting challenge presented by a faithful Agleteer.

This selection comes from Agleteer Venu (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):

Sir:

I am disturbed that I am among only 3 people in my place of work who "get" the Supreme Aglet. There are 10 of us altogether, and we are all very competent IT experts, so I was surprised when some who I invited into my cube to read your daily regimen of wisdom seemed to derive almost nothing from it.

How can I persuade them that they must read your posts in order for them to receive the kind of fulfillment that the rest of your faithful readers do?

Venu, as the old saying goes, "if you have to ask, then you won't understand", (I believe this phrase originated among the counter-culture movement in the 1960's, and I am not a communist).

On the other hand, considering that your friends are competent IT professionals, perhaps the problem simply amounts to not speaking their language.

Rather than attempting to appeal to their sense of self-gratification to persuade them that they should join the ranks of the Agleteers, perhaps you should appeal to them at the bits and bytes level, where nothing but pure logic exists. Specifically, try telling them this:

import com.wisdom.aglet.TheSupremeAglet;
import com.labor.workers.CoWorker;
import java.util.*;

boolean mustReadAglets = true;

if (mustReadAglets) {
   /* Get an instance of today's Supreme Aglet pearl of wisdom */
   TheSupremeAglet todaysAglet = new TheSupremeAglet(Calendar.getInstance());

   /* Get co-worker list */
   Vector coWorkerList = CoWorker.getList(CoWorker.MY_COMPANY);
   CoWorker nextCoWorker;

   /* Go through list and instruct each worker to read The Supreme Aglet */
   for (int i = 0; i < coWorkerList.get(i); ++i) { 
      /* Get the next co-worker */ 
      nextCoWorker = (CoWorker)coWorkerList.get(i); 

      /* Instruct co-worker to read and understand today's Aglet */ 
      nextCoWorker.read(todaysAglet); 
      nextCoWorker.parse(); 
   } 
}

Now, hit the compile button, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Singing Cat-Shaped Cookie Jar keeps Going Off

As part of the festivities surrounding my birthday last year (that is, festivities among my family, as opposed to the festivities of The Supreme Aglet's birthday as a national holiday), my parents invited me, along with my wife and children, to a Stuart Anderson's for a lovely dinner. During the palatively stimulating meal, my mother handed me a birthday present.

The present was contained in a cat-shaped cookie jar that plays "What's New Pussy Cat?" or "Stray Cat Strut" when the head is opened. Being that Momma Supreme Aglet is a rather humorous and somewhat mischievous individual, she regarded it as a practical joke that I would have to open the cookie jar to see what the presents were inside, drawing all kinds of attention to me from strangers when the songs played.

Contained therein were a couple of generously portioned gift cards and candy, not to mention the sheer fun (at my expense) of the present-opening experience itself.

While the singing cat-shaped cookie jar served as a wonderful prop on that day, finding some use for it at home was a challenge. My wife, ever the collector of things into plastic bags, rounded up the singing cat-shaped cookie jar, along with some other items, and dutifully put them in a bag intended for storage.

At the time that the singing cat-shaped cookie jar was collected into the plastic bag, my wife was in the midst of several other home maintenance chores and decided that my office closet would be a sufficient temporarily storage place for the bag of items.

The specific area in the office closet so happens to block access to an important file cabinet drawer. Invariably, moving the bag with the cookie jar in it out of the way causes the cookie jar's head to move just enough to play "What's New Pussy Cat?" or "Stray Cat Strut". Replacing the bag where it was causes one of those songs to play again from inside the bag.

Naturally, a singing bag attracts the attention of 4-year-olds (it doesn't help that the bag has a big picture of a smiling Minnie Mouse on it), and my daughter is drawn into the office as if sucked in by some great force when the music begins to play. Of course, her investigation reveals other toys in the bag that are meant for storage, and she finds the need to remove and inspect each toy one-by-one for potential entertainment value.

With each venture, I am required to distract her in some way so that she leaves the office, after which I then replace all the toys meant for storage back in the bag.

This happened several times before I realized that I should perhaps find a new place for the bag, or break down and get a screwdriver to remove the batteries (there is no on/off switch), which is obviously too menial a task for The Supreme Aglet. My only other choices inside the closet would be to place the bag on top of other items I may need access to or on top of something which would cause the bag to be unwieldy and unstable.

I decided to forsake the prospect of storing the bag neatly out of the way by keeping it in the closet and instead moved it next to my vintage radio. Although this presents a new problem of office aesthetics, it seems to have quieted the cookie jar, and it has the practical advangage of forcing me to find a permanent place for it.

So, until I move it again, the cat-shaped cookie jar has been silenced, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Didn't Remember Playing the Trivia Game at Sears

During a recent visit to my brother's house, we briefly undertook a nostalgiac discussion of our childhood and exchanged fond memories, wondering if the other remembered the fond memory exchanged by the originator of the first fond memory, and so forth.

Among the fond memories that were exchanged, my brother recalled going to Sears with our mother, going downstairs to the lower level, and working through a handful of quarters playing some sort of video arcade trivia game. This memory did not register at all with me.

My brother is nearly two years my senior (which is not to imply that he himself is a senior, only that he is older), so this particular memory may be more accessible to his brain simply because I was too young to retain memory very well. As I mentioned previously, my brother, who I do not consider an elderly gentleman, is two years my senior, though by "senior" I do not mean to imply "senior citizen".

My brother proceeded to broaden the visual in an attempt to jog my memory, indicating that one question in particular presented a Cadillac emblem, and offered four choices as to which brand of automobile the logo was associated with, and that I had answered correctly. This did not help.

He then tried to describe the bottom floor at the Sears department store in general, drawing attention to the fact that there was a candy counter, at which candy and other delicious confections so beloved by children were sold.

By mentioning the candy department, my memory was jogged sufficiently to vaguely picture the area in general. It was a good strategy given that memories from my younger self were more likely to be retained if they were associated with something of great interest at the time. Candy was of great interest, Cadillacs were not, (notably, both are very interesting to me at present).

It was not long before vague images of the electronic trivia machine began to be recalled, sufficiently enough to know what he was talking about and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Finally Got Hold of Bob

I haven't seen or heard from Bob in months, so I decided to call him. I left a message on his cell phone, but Bob did not call back within the requisite 24 hours.

I asked my wife to do me a favor and e-mail Christy, letting her know that I was trying to get hold of Bob. My wife heard back from Christy not long after that, and I was given an assurance that Bob would indeed give me a phone call.

Another day had passed, and still, I had not heard from Bob. This caused some distress, as it begged the question: am I being presumptuous about our long friendship, which dates back to 1992? Maybe I said something that offended Bob last time we met.

Having thought through these questions carefully, I realized that neither could be the case. Surely such an enduring friendship is as meaningful to Bob as it is to me, and I replayed the entire conversation from our last visit in my mind and found nothing offensive or extraordinary in any way. Bob must simply be too busy to call me back.

I thought perhaps that Bob needed a bit of prodding, so I called again and left another message on his cell phone, this time reminding him specifically that we had procured a new Foosball table.

This seems to have worked, as Bob called back the next morning. Unfortunately, my phone was off at the time and I was not able to take the call. Nonetheless, I am confident that this breaking of the cycle of silence all but guarentees that I will be talking to Bob on the phone in the very near future, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #4

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may be drafted into the Carribean National Guard.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Terry, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):

Dear Supreme Aglet

I recently inadvertantly bought a Polaroid film cartridge for my digital camera while shopping for cleaning items at Wal-Mart. It occurred to me that the film cartridge was no longer needed once I went to insert it into my camera, forgetting that I had sold my Polaroid camera on eBay to help make up for the expense of my digital camera.

Since the package was already open and one cartridge removed and itself opened, I concluded that there would be no way to recover the $18 I paid for the box of six cartridges.

Having been inspired by your non-socialist perspective on things, I endeavored to turn lemons into lemon-aid by selling each of the remaining five cartridges independently on eBay for $2 a piece plus $6 shipping and handling.

As it costs less than $2 to mail each package, I have actually earned approximately $5 profit on each of the four cartridges I have sold thus far (taking eBay's nominal fee into account). Thus, I have earned about $20 so far, making myself whole and then some with a cartridge left to boot, plus the opened cartridge, which I plan to frame.

I wanted to let you know that I love America. I can't picture myself finding my way out of this sort of pickle in, say, Finland.

Agleteer Terry, you are a blessed individual with a gender-non-specific name. It is unfortunate that most Americans are unable to appreciate their station for having been born in this land of the free, home of the brave, and inventor of eBay; however, in rare and inspired cases such as yours, America will gently prod the hind-quarters of randomly selected individuals with her powerful sword to remind just enough of us that we must always protect her and love her.

So Terry, I encourage you to go hug a veteran, write a kind letter to a fighting man or woman, go help someone in need, and then salute our flag. I am not a socialist, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet Prepares for St. Patrick's Day

With St. Patrick's Day nearly upon us, I feel it is fitting that we acknowledge and celebrate the Irish people and their great accomplishments, especially Braveheart, McDonald's, and the Lucky Charms guy.

The Supreme Aglet is not Irish, but certainly feels one with the resilience, ingenuity, and heartiness of the Irish people.

In getting myself into the spirit of things, I have composed a limerick:

There once was a man from space
He loved to look at his face
But the mirror on his fedora
Obscured the oncoming Toyota
Now he's part of the uglian race

To receive your own copy of this limerick as a motivational poster, please provide your credit card number and other information needed to complete the transaction. Allow 4-6 years for delivery, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Jorge Didn't Know what an Aglet Was

There are few people in the world who I can represent as being quite as intelligent and wise as Jorge. Not only a man of intellect and discernment, but a leader and a patriot. Jorge is a man among men, a veritable juggernaut who is advancing the cause of goodness and righteousness for all of humanity and for all time.

You might imagine how shocked I was, then, when Jorge admitted to me that he did not know what an aglet was.

Jorge tramples over evil and ignorance every day so that our lives are that much more improved--does such trampling not require shoes?

When Jorge dons those shoes, does he not fasten them tightly so that his swiftness does not loose them from his agile feet?

When Jorge fastens them tightly, does he not grab each end of the shoe string with the mighty force of Hercules?

When Jorge grabs each end of the shoe string, does he not pause to thank providence that the ends of the string are not frayed?

I put these very questions (worded slightly differently) to Jorge upon his committing the uncharacteristic faux paux of suggesting that he is aglet-unaware.

But cut Jorge some slack. His shoes have velcro straps, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #2

Having extended our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to Tuesday, The Supreme Aglet humbly submits this interesting discussion between an Agleteer and his aglets.

This selection comes from Agleteer Jim (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):

Dear Supreme Aglet:

With meekness, I submit my findings regarding my exploration into the creation of the "aglet" and some of its history. I must admit that I have but scratched the surface of this subject and that there is much more to be learned.

I came across some very old, frayed, retired aglets and they agreed to allow me to interview them about their pasts. None of them really knew anything about their creation, though one opted, "I think that from the beginning, there was Adden & Even, sitting on a two-holer, sharing a rope between them. They tied the knot, and the world hasn't been the same since."

...The Supreme Aglet must interrupt here for a moment to both enjoy the clever usage of puns in Jim's account and to ensure the reader is aware that I have no personal affiliation with this fellow.

Most of the aglets shared their conviction that human life was easier with them around, but it came at a cost. Many of the aglets confessed that they lived in fear, suffered anxieties and depressions from day to day. Here are a few personal examples:

Aglet "A" complained that his world was mostly black and brown. As years went by, the color barrier was broken with the influx of whites, blues, reds, greens, yellows, and the like. Worst of all was the unwanted intrusion of the pinks (not to be confused with the "Pinko" that was associated with "Commie Red.")

Aglet "B" had a fear of public restrooms. He also had nightmares of being caught up in the enormous jaws of the dreaded zipper.

"C" recalled the first encounter with a weird group that made strange noises. They called themselves the "Velcros," and fortunately stuck together by themselves.

And "D" sorrowly exclaimed that when he or his mate became old and worn out, and separated, that the lace that held them together could sometimes find another life. Some were used to tie bundles, bond keys together, or even placed on a human finger to remember something or other.

Which reminds me--I feel that I cannot continue this writing, as my anguish is building up to the point that I may flood my keyboard with a torrent of tears.

Being the extremely emotional person that I am, I must discontinue my writings for some period of time. Thank you for your patience.

Agleteer Jim, you have an unusually close and touching relationship with your worn aglets, (more unusual than close or touching). Most aglets go through life little noticed for the hard work they do and the years of service they provide, all on a shoestring budget.

I hope that you find the courage to pick up your pen, if you will, and resume your free expression as guaranteed by the Constitution of the United States of America. If, per chance, you do not live in America or any nation in which you are endowed with such rights, well, nya nya nya nyaaaa nya, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Didn't Know that John Deere Caps were Hip

After visiting with Nicole, my wife (ever the friendly and sociable neighbor) came through the front door with a concerned and somewhat worrisome look on her face. It seems that she had noticed a group of bees beginning to congregate along the side of our house that faces Dan and Nicole's house, in a space that would be easily accessible to our attic by insects who chose to do so.

This caused some distress, as the thought of bees making their home in our attic conjured pictures of two different horror movies: one in which a happy suburban home is attacked by bees who have infiltrated their attic, and another of a bee keeper coming to clear the house of bees and then demanding an exhorbitant payment.

It was in the face of such danger that The Supreme Aglet boldly went to investigate the situation, planning to survey the situation and launch an assault designed to discourage the bees from making our home their home. Failing that, I had planned to attempt communication with the queen bee, hoping perhaps to persuade her to take her minions elsewhere, (Dan and Nicole's house was pretty close by).

You may have noted that The Supreme Aglet's tendancy in such cases is to try to avert violence through diplomatic means, though I am not a socialist.

When I arrived at the scene, I did indeed find several bees congregating, appearing to be in the early stages of scouting an area at which to settle. Ignoring my polite suggestions to leave the area, I armed myself with a garden hose, (yes, the same one that I had previously used my great ingenuity to repair), and the battle for conquest of the side of my house had begun in earnest.

Being completely outgunned and outclassed, the bees put up only brief and ineffective resistance.

The battle was won, and the action had attracted Dan's attention. He was curious as to why I was spraying water in the air with my recently repaired garden hose, not noticing the insects that I was engaged in battle with, (it must have been an unusual sight, although Dan has long since acclamated himself to the antics of The Supreme Aglet, so spraying water into the air using my repaired hose for no apparent reason was, perhaps, not all that unusual).

We met at the fence to engage in conversation, and I had recounted my victory to him. He then changed the subject, choosing to reintroduce a previous discussion about some plans I had for my back yard. In particular, he advocated leaving a particular tree in place which I had intended to remove.

During that discussion, I remarked about the cowboy hat he had donned at that moment, to which he replied with great excitement that he and his son had just procured John Deere caps.

I wondered of the significance of this development, and he proceeded to explain to me that authentic John Deere caps were highly sought-after items among those in the know.

Feining no suprise to hide the fact that I apparently had missed something about the "in the know" crowd (The Supreme Aglet is regarded as a leader of this distinguished group), I answered with some remark to the effect of "oh, yes, of course--I thought you were referring to John Beer".

Having been set straight on this lapse of hip, it is my intention to procure one of these John Deere caps to ensure that no one questions the well-accepted fact that The Supreme Aglet is the bee's knees, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Refridgerator Light is Still On

Perhaps you can relate to the error of retrieving a pear from the refridgerator when you meant to retrieve an apple, or a carton of half-and-half when you meant to retrieve a carton of milk.

Perhaps you cannot relate to this, in which case you may also not be able to relate to the experience of running your fingers against a stucco wall with your eyes closed to see if you can discern a collection of bumps that are shaped like George Washington.

It is in the spirit of refridgerator retrieval mayhem that I convey my relief that our inoperable refredigerator light remained inoperable for but a few short hours. Typically, dead light bulbs in our house, whether on the range, in the bathroom, in the garage, etc., remain dead for several days. Sometimes, weeks.

It is one of those things where you galavant off to the local store remembering that you need cheese or eggs; but having no appetite for light bulbs, you arrive home to turn on the light and realize after several minutes that you are wandering in the dark.

Happily, my wife delivered same-day service in her quest to re-illuminate our glacial food storage apparatus, perhaps motivated by having inadvertantly spooning a dollup of mayonnaise rather than Cool Whip on her sundae. Given her propensity to procure every single household item from Trader Joe's--who, I believe, does not peddle light bulbs unless they are of the organic persuasion--I'm not exactly sure where she obtained the light bulb, and I don't feel like getting up from my swivel chair and asking.

Suffice to say that I can report 100% accuracy in retrieving each refridgerated food item I set my mind to retrieve, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #3, Although it is Saturday

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may be the victim of spontaneous combustion.

Before proceeding, note that it hasn't escaped my notice that today is not Friday, but Saturday, which would seem to contradict the whole concept of the "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette. Nonetheless, the complex logistical planning that goes on behind the scenes here at The Supreme Aglet sometimes requires us to make these minor changes in our programming. Please carry on. If you like, you may pause here and set your computer calendar date temporarily to yesterday, then resume reading.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Ed, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):

I found my Barry Manilow CD. I misplaced it about 3 years ago. Today, we traded our car in for a mini van, and as we were clearing it out, I found the CD in the pocket behind the driver's seat. I don't know why I never thought to look there, but I'm very happy that it has been recovered.

I just wanted to let you know, as I feel I know you, and that I can trust that you will keep my appreciation for Barry Manilow a secret.

...and indeed, no one but you and I, as well as my readership, will ever learn of your secret. Revealing such a secret would be tantamount to betrayal of all my readers and fans, which I refuse to do even under duress, and even though I secretly find it amusing that you are a Manilow fan.

Now, go forth, and be not ashamed of your appreciation of the music and the man. I went through that stage at one point as well when I first found myself enjoying Manilow's music, but I made it through the rain. I kept my world protected, I kept my point of view. In the end, I found myself respected by the others who got rained on too, and made it through. It's a miracle, a true-blue spectacle--yes, a miracle came true, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Updation on the Urination

Agleteers have been writing in droves asking whether or not our most recent attempt to defend our carpet against unprovoked soiling by one of our cats has proven successful.

I am delighted to report that sacrificing my cherished closet and confining the cats in it has proven effective in terms of preventing further soiling of the carpet next to the tub. Still, if my cat could talk (other than those times that she secretly confides in me when our Dachsund is not around), I suspect she would complain that her inalienable right to liberty and the pursuit of happiness has been infringed.

The closet has become somewhat of a jail to the problem cat. At night, you can hear her attempt to hurl her girth over the baby gate, and she actually succeeds every now and then, (fortunately, the impact on the ground shakes our bed sufficiently to awaken Mrs. Supreme Aglet or me, at which point we have an opportunity to replace the cat in the closet before she has a chance to urinate on the carpet). Interestingly, the other cat--who has not exhibited the tendenacy to urinate on the carpet--seems perfectly happy to be a cell mate, and makes no attempt to escape.

So, The Supreme Aglet is left with a conundrum: should I value my cat's liberty above my intolerance for soiled carpet and the persistent odor of cat urine? After all, I am not a socialist.

Yet, the closet in which the cats are confined is rather sizable, their food and water supply is maintained, the boxes are kept clean, and there is sufficient natural lighting.

And besides, the rights of my cat are not protected by the Constitution of the United States (which defines our inalienable rights), and I am certain that even the most skilled ACLU attorney would fail to win such a court case should s/he someday represent my cat.

So, for the time being, I will not let this dilemma overwhelm my practical side. I will not feel guilty about confining the cats in the closet so that my home remains a urine-free zone.

Oh nuts. I'm going to go let them out just for a little while, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet tells a Fairy Tale

Once upon a time in the land of Playton, there lived a humble ball maker named Ballio. The mesmerizing balls that Ballio could make were renowned throughout Playton, and it wasn't long before Ballio was being asked by all the villagers if he could make balls for them.

One villager named Zorphine, who was quite resourceful, saw an opportunity to extend Ballio's success and offer the most wonderous balls of all to the villagers.

"Ballio", said Zorphine, "I am one of the few people in all of Playton who can get an audience with the Great Wonder Wizard. Let me get some Wonder Dust from the Great Wonder Wizard, and we will turn your balls into Wonder Balls, and all the villagers will come to us for Wonder Balls and make us rich beyond our wildest dreams".

Ballio liked Zorphine, as they had shared many adventures together. Ballio loved the idea of making Wonder Balls from his regular balls, and the thought of being rich beyond his wildest dreams was interesting indeed. Ballio agreed to join Zorphine in his quest to make Wonder Balls.

"I will be back, you'll see!", said Zorphine. "I will talk to the Great Wonder Wizard and I will have lots of Wonder Dust to make many Wonder Balls!"

So, Zorphine went off to visit with the Great Wonder Wizard. Upon arriving at the wizard's lair, Zorphine called out, "oh Great Wonder Wizard, I come to you to ask for enough Wonder Dust to make Wonder Balls for all the villagers of Playton".

"Zorphine", replied the wizard from his perch, "if I grant you enough Wonder Dust to make Wonder Balls for all the villagers, you must promise that I will also share in the Wonder Balls, for I too want them".

"Of course, your highness", said Zorphine. "There will be Wonder Balls to fill Playton five feet high. Certainly, they will be abundant enough for all to share in their wonder".

At this, the Great Wonder Wizard waved his hands, and in front of Zorphine appeared a large bag of Wonder Dust. Zorphine threw the heavy bag over his back and started back to Playton.

But on the way, Zorphine was met by Crimino the Serpent. "Whatsssss that you have in the bag, Zzzzzorphine?", asked the sly Crimino.

"Why, it's Wonder Dust from the Great Wonder Wizard. I am taking it back to Ballio and we are going to make Wonder Balls".

Seeing an opportunity to steal the Wonder Dust, Crimino set out to persuade Zorphine that he could help them make even more Wonder Balls from the Wonder Dust. Zorphine could not resist Crimino's compelling words, and agreed to let Crimino join him.

Once they returned to Playton, Zorphine began to make his way back to Ballio's house to begin work on the Wonder Balls.

"Not sssssso fasssssst", said Crimino. "If we are going to make ssssssso many Wonder Balls, we musssssst firsssssst use the magic of the Wonder Dusssssst to make even more Wonder Dusssssst". Crimino began scooping Wonder Dust from the bag, and slowly began pouring it in the wind. The dust flowing in the wind made a most beautiful and colorful display, and Zorphine was entranced.

"Look", continued Crimino, "it is beautiful. Nothing was ever sssssso majessssstic".

At that moment, Ballio was passing by and saw Zorphine and the Wonder Dust. "Great!", exclaimed Ballio in excitement over seeing the Wonder Dust. "You got the Wonder Dust from the Great Wonder Wizard! Now we can make Wonder Balls!"

But as Zorphine continued to be occupied by each handful of dust being thrown to the wind, Crimino scooped a scoop with his other hand. "Here, take thissss", he said to Ballio. "Now go away and make your Wonder Balls. I have businessssss to transact."

Ballio took the lone scoop of Wonder Dust back to his house and began making a single Wonder Ball, for there was not enough to make many Wonder Balls.

It wasn't long before Crimino had scooped his last scoop of Wonder Dust from the bag, and Zorphine suddenly realized that there was none left. It was at that moment that Ballio went to the village square to show off the Wonder Ball.

"Look, I have a Wonder Ball, made from my ball and the Wonder Dust that Zorphine got from the Great Wonder Wizard!"

Crimino saw the beautiful Wonder Ball and ran to grab it. "It is mine!", he said as he put his hands on it, "for I helped Zorphine bring the Wonder Dust back to Playton!"

"No, it is mine!", shouted Zorphine, as he also grabbed for the Wonder Ball, "For it was my idea to make Wonder Balls in the first place, and to petition the Great Wonder Wizard for the Wonder Dust to make it!"

"No, it is mine!", thundered the voice of the Great Wonder Wizard as he descended upon them and also began grabbing at the ball. "For I gave the Wonder Dust only because I was told I would receive Wonder Balls of my own!"

Each continued to grab and tug at the Wonder Ball, stretching it every which way and arguing over who its owner was.

Finally, after too much grabbing, too much stretching, and too much tugging, the Wonder Ball exploded, sending all of its Wonder Dust into the wind.

"Hmph!", said the Great Wonder Wizard, "that's what you all get for your greed. I still have plenty of Wonder Dust of my own, but you each have none."

"Hmph!", said Zorphine, "I can make Wonder Balls without the help of the Great Wonder Wizard, and that I shall do! I am determined!"

"Hmph!", said Ballio, "I can always leave Playton and live in the land of Dubyun, where my balls are even more greatly loved, even with no Wonder Dust on them."

"Hmph!", said Crimino, "There are more ssssssuckers for me to ssssteal from. I will go back and wait along the ssssside of the road between Playton and the Great Wonder Wizard's lair."

The moral of the story: I have no idea what's going on, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

It's Been a Long Time Since We've Had Corn Chowder

In late Summer of 1992, my wife and I went to Kevin and Charlotte's house for dinner. One of the food items featured that evening was corn chowder, which neither my wife nor I had ever had before.

It was a joy to our palates, as if there was a party in our mouths and everyone was invited, (the cultured reader will note that the previous sentence was inspired by Moe the bartender from The Simpsons).

While it is customary to ask a host for his or her recipe as sort of an indirect compliment on the food they prepared, we really meant it when we asked Charlotte, and she kindly wrote the recipe down on paper with neat hand-writing.

It wasn't long before my wife and I were reproducing the corn chowder at home, making use of it in versatile ways with other foods. One of our favorite ways of eating the corn chowder was to begin with a plate of Minute rice with butter, pat down neatly, then pour the corn chowder over the rice, just enough that the corn chowder begins to spill over the sides of the neatly pat-down rice.

Corn chowder became a staple dinner item before long, appearing as frequently as once a week.

As time passed, however, newer fancies began to crowd out our trusty corn chowder until it was largely forgotten. Newer and more innovative recipes, including some invented by The Supreme Aglet himself, became vogue. To be seen with corn chowder was so 1990's.

I had all but forgotten about our corn chowder experiences when my wife ran across a Web site with pictures of Kevin and Charlotte, whom we hadn't seen in a long time, (they live in Washington state, where we used to live before we moved, and they never moved, so they're still in Washington, not having moved). The pictures not only brought back wonderful memories of these two exceedingly nice people, but they also invoked the words "corn" and "chowder" (in that order) almost immediately, and I shared as much with my wife.

Nonetheless, the memory of corn chowder hasn't yet been translated into action. My wife is currently on a Trader Joe's binge, and we have yet to use up our supply of creatively packaged Trader Joe's foods before returning to the life-threatening non-organic foods that everyone else eats. I am confident, however, that corn chowder will stage a comeback in our house--the thought is enough to inspire me to carry on, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #1

The enormous popularity of The Supreme Aglet carries with it a price for its creator and overseer: the need to ensure that as many Agleteers as possible who come to The Supreme Aglet with their petitions and concerns are cared for properly.

As such, I have decided to extend the "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to an optional additional day. Since today is Tuesday, I shall establish Tuesdays as the second Fan Mail Friday #n day.

I was particularly motivated to post the selected fan mail piece for two reasons: firstly, because it is truly touching, and secondly, because it reinforces my own overinflated sense of importance.

This selection comes from Agleteer Jim (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):

It is with immense jubilation that we receive your morning transmission revealing your skillful solutions in handling daily problems. I am certain that throngs of people, myself included, think, "Why didn't I think of that?"

This writer very much enjoyed my initial cup of coffee, accompanied by a cigarette, upon rising in the morning. Since I quit smoking there has been a void in my life. That cavity has been filled ten-fold by the arrival of your daily life helps.

Agleteer Jim, I cannot express how gratifying it is to know that I am the filler in someone's cavity. I am especially pleased that The Supreme Aglet turns out to have been the key to overcoming your smoking habit.

I would recommend to any of my readers who are slaves to their cigarettes, or to anyone they know who may be clean lung-challenged, that s/he considers taking up the Supreme Aglet habit full time as a guaranteed method of quitting, (note the use of both genders in the previous sentence, indicating the sort of progressive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is).

...Yes, I said "guaranteed". If reading The Supreme Aglet does not prove an effective solution in breaking the smoking habit of my readers, I will refund 100% of your Supreme Aglet membership fee, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.