A Swedish Folk Song

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This is a prime example of a swedish folk song, 

It doesn't really rhyme. 

-=Best Regards=-

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Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

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Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

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The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #70: Agricultural Significance

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Last Week, as you recall, 

   Dr. Smith had figured it out, and this alley was the fastest way there.  

   If only it weren't the Seedy Alley.   Legopolis, being an immensely small city, had room for only one seedy alley. 

   But it was a good 'un.

"Shtickum up, Mack. "  Said a voice from Behind Dr. Smith. 

-=fig. 524: hood=-

Dr. Smith let out a small sigh,  "Sir.  Two things, One: My name is not 'Mack', and Two:"  If you had blinked you would have missed it.   It was a beautiful display of gymnastic skill, and It was over in a second. "Two: Guns have a minimum operating distance.  Namely arms length." 

 As the hood lay writhing on the ground, Dr. Smith carefully stowed the Hood's weapon in his suitcase, in the special 'Muggers Weapons' pocket.  There were quite a few of them. 

 "How'd you do that? Arrgh my body…" 

   "I was forced into ballet lessons as a child.  They said I needed out of the house." Dr. Smith said this deadpan, which he would, after years of being teased about it.   But it was worth it.  "I'll take your ill-gotten spoils now."

  "By the Great Jacob!  The pain!  Fine! Take my money…ARGHOoo!"

    "Consider yourself lucky, hood, I could just as easily have killed you.  This way you'll only have a permanent limp.  You may even, one day, with luck, reproduce.  I would suggest a change in career, and fast.  I'll be coming back this way later."

-=-

-=fig. 525: family farm=-

The Johnsson Bros. kept a nice litle farm behind the pizzeria. The pizzeria was the real source of income, the farm was just for…Fun.  

  They always had plenty of six-foot deep holes handy, just in case of…gardening.

Dr. Smith opened the door of the pizzeria, causing one of those annoying synthesized 'bells' to go off.  Dr. Smith cringed.

"We're 'round back." Called a heavy Brooklyn accent from the back.  

Dr. Smith made his way to the back of the shop, there was a door, ajar.

 "Hello?  I'm looking for some groceries." 

  "Den youse come to da right place.  Whatchoo lookin' for? "

   Dr. Smith consulted his list. 

David 'Goliath' Johnsson stood up. 

   Dr. smith considered himself taller than average, 'Goliath' was taller. 

-=fig. 526: goliath=-

  

"I…um.  Er, uh. Here." He handed 'Goliath' Johnsson the list. 

   "Dis writin' be too tiny for me.  I'll get me brutha."  He stomped off. 

    When he returned he was practically dragging another man, who was much smaller, but who had that shrewd look about him, like a man who knows a sucker when he sees one.   

  Luckily Dr. Smith had perfected the art of looking like a sucker without actually being one.

The new man gave Dr. Smith a firm handshake and looked him square in the eye. 

  It was then that Dr. Smith knew he was dealing with a con man. 

  "What can I do for you Friend?"  The con man smiled. 

   "I'm not your friend.  My name is Dr. Smith. You're giant friend has my list, I would like the items on it."  

      "The name's Stan, and I hope we'll be friends real soon.  David, hand over the man's list." 

   As Stan perused the list,  Dr. Smith Expressed his condolences. 

      "Your father's dead." 

   Stan and 'Goliath' froze, "What?"  "Is dis yer idea o' a joke?" they both said, respectively and simultaneously.

    "I don't joke.   It happened two hours ago, heart attack after the looting of his store.  Would you like to know his last words?" 

       "OF COURSE!"  "YEAH!"

   "Alright, they were; 'tell my boys, they ain't won yet.' " 

  The two Johnsson boys shared a look, and on a sharp nod from Stan 'Goliath' helped Dr. Smith to sleep.

-=Best Regards=-

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

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Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

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 -=-

AARGH

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I Love "Talk Like A Pirate Day"!

 Best Holiday of the year, or at least the month. 

I Apologize for the Brightness of the photo, but that was the only exposure the black suit would show up in.  

  Any thing less than that and I was merely a shadow, lurking without a form. 

 Mwah Ha ha ahahahahaha!

The jacket and vest are from two different thrift stores.  

  The pants are from some store named after a girl,  and the hat is this one: LINK

This is the perfect suit for skulking in the dim September evenings.

 Hee Hee. 

 

{Faces Have been obscured to protect my indemnity} 

-=Best Regards=-

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

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Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

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The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #69: Covert Shops

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Last week as you recall, Dr. Smith had embarked on a dangerous journey taking him far and wide; Three, maybe four regulation city blocks.

-= fig. 520: the end of the possibility of sneakiness=-

But this was it. 

   The end of the possibility of sneakiness.

 He had to cross this street, main street.    There was no good way around it.  The problem was that Main street was swarming with the French, nefarious villains who had invaded the grand city of Legopolis just yesterday.  

   He was going to have to make a break for it. 

     He stowed his trademark glasses in their special case, and placed said case in the breast pocket of his jacket.    This was no time for him to be recognized.

       However, he kept his distinctive fedora, bow-tie, and tweed jacket, as removing these things for the purpose of a disguise would not occur to him. 

      He then adjusted his face to his best approximation of the expression the french thought they wore, and gave a war-like yell. 

     He charged. 

-=fig. 521: invisible=-

No one noticed him.

  They were all too focused on not shooting their colleagues in front of them.  A monumental task, by all standards. 

    Dr. Smith replaced his glasses on his face, moments before the wall hit him. 

-=-

Dr. Smith made mental note never to remove his glasses again, as he was blinder than a very blind thing without them.

  As he collected himself off the ground, he noticed the store that the wall that had run into him belonged to. 

 JOHNSSON & SONS 

 FINE GROCERYS

"Your local Grocery shop since May 1937"

  

From the outside it didn't look very good.   Oh, maybe it had once, but not now.  

  Inside was worse. 

-=fig. fig. 522: disarray=-

The place wasn't very big, but it was in complete disarray. 

  And It smelled terrible. 

  "Hello?"  Dr. Smith asked the air. 

    "They're good lads, really." came a voice from a corner.

     "Who's there?" Dr. Smith asked the corner. 

   The voice was short of breath, but had a faraway, wistful tone, as if remembering something fondly. "It's just that there comes a time in every young man's life when he has to go on a crime spree, littering, stealing an old man's life savings."   The old man hiding behind the counter sighed, deep in reminiscence.  Then coughed wildly.

  "What are you doing back there?" asked Dr. Smith, a tad worried now.

    The old man apparently didn't hear him.   "I've known these boys since they were just little tykes, you know.  Their mothers used to come here for child mush, bless their souls.  All dead now, O'course."   Dr. Smith picked his way carefully over to the counter. 

The old man wasn't moving. 

-=fig. 523: old man=-

"What's your name, sir?" Asked Dr. Smith, suddenly in bedside-manner mode. 

  The Old Man still refused to acknowledge Dr. Smith.  

   "I'm only telling you this, you know, because you have a face like a half- brick." 

     Dr. Smith took an educated 'shot-in-the-dark'  "Mr. Johnsson just relax, everything's going to be fine. " Dr. Smith was lying as fast as he could.  He knew Mr. Johnsson wouldn't last ten minutes.  

       "Straightforward, honest.  There's no fooling a half-brick.   No room for subtitles, either.  You're either concussed or you ain't. " Mr. Johnsson was either deaf to the world, or hallucinating.   Mr. Johnsson was wheezing now, And feebly clutching his chest.  "I know I'm already dead, son.  But you just tell my boys…" His voice lowered to a whisper. "They ain't won yet."  And he was gone.

   Dr. Smith removed  his hat, out of respect, and examined the body.   It was as his original diagnosis suspected, Mr. Johnsson had had a heart attack, probably caused by the excitement of the 'Good Lads' who had robbed the store.

 It was a miracle he had lasted this long.

   Dr. Smith produced a white sheet from his suitcase, and covered the body with it. 

    If Dr. Smith were a religious man, he would have said a prayer.  But he wasn't, so he didn't. 

Dr. Smith examined the store, but it was empty.  And what hadn't been taken had been spoiled.

He was going to have to find somewhere else to buy his groceries. 

  He consulted his list: 

LIST

1. bacon

2. chocolate cake

3. three apples

4. eight largish chicken pot pies.

5. a tomato  

6. nine chili peppers, {Small, Green, Wrinkled}

7. pizza

8. spaghetti

The children and Jeeves had assisted Dr. Smith in his list-making. 

  If it were up to him all the list would have stopped with bacon.  But there's not much you can do when a robot snatches a list out of your hands and takes votes on it's future contents.

After a moments thought, Dr. Smith realized he knew where to get items  3, 5, 6, and 7. 

 But this was going to take all day. 

 

-=Best Regards=-

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

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Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

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The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #68: Dinner at the Smith's

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Last week as you recall, Dr. Smith had been tasked with the undesirable job of playing host at the feeding of what seemed to be hundreds of seven to nine year-old's. 

-=fig. 516: at the dinner table=-

Jeeves had scrounged up what he could, but the food supplies were mysteriously low.
This was odd, because the pantry seemed to go on forever.
 It's just that it was…empty. 
  Dr. Smith stood, knocking his chair over in the process.
"Attention." It wasn't the sort of weaselly 'attention's you get at say, town hall meetings, but more a…command.  But spoken without a commanding tone. As it turned out, it was quite effective.
  Cutlery clattered to the plates, some with food still attached.
Dr. Smith spoke;  
  "This is the last bit of food we have in the house.  With the City under siege, I don't know how easy it will be to acquire more.  There is always the tunnels, but I would rather not head back to the basement.  The streets are filled with the sort of men that had the house hostage, that is to say, Frenchmen, and there is no door on the roof, but I am willing to hear alternate modes of escape."   They all started talking at once. "Quiet!" Dr. Smith said, with an exclamation point, so that it was obvious that he was serious.  "One at a time.  Raise your hand."   Capt. Brown raised his hand, and, without waiting to be called on, continued. "What about that magical Door that can go anywhere?"
Dr. Smith had obviously thought of this, "Impossible to control, and it only works one way. Once you're there, you're there.  Next?"  A child raised his hand. "You seem smart, why not just invent something that kills all the bad guys and be done with it?"
  "The Closest thing I have ready is this bomb that uses atoms, it's effective, certainly, but it would kill us all.  Next."
     "We could fly out, there's no ceiling." 
       "There is, it's the ground wrapped around like a Möbius Strip.  Next."
   "Why not just use the back door?"
 Dr. Smith was about to dismiss this idea out of hand when he realized that it wasn't a half-bad idea.
  "What's your name, boy?"
    "Andrew, sir."

-=fig. 517: andrew=-

The boy was the Picture of Dr. Smith at that age, uncomfortable, quiet, and short.  He even had a little Bow-tie which no doubt never quite fit.
      "The sir is completely unwarranted."  Dr. Smith had taken a liking to the boy. 
"Alright, Sir."  Andrew said, glumly.  He was worried that he had offended Dr. Smith, somehow.   Rightly too, for Dr. Smith's default tone was that of irritation, not that Dr. Smith had noticed.
 Having just stolen Capt. Brown's food when he was distracted, Teresa had a question for Dr. Smith.  "Zacha–"  Dr. Smith interrupted her. "Dr. Smith"
   Teresa was confused.
  "He gets to call you by your name." She gestured at Capt. Brown.
   Dr. Smith replied. "He's my friend."
    Capt. Brown leaned toward Teresa conspiratorially, "He has a very defined sense of friend, I've known him almost his entire life, So I qualify.  Don't take it personally."
Teresa Shuddered to clear her head of the extreme sanity that was Dr. Smith's mind, and continued with her question. "Alright, regardless, my question is: Why can't we hear gunfire?"  She was of course referring to the bedlam that is main street Legopolis:

-=fig. 518: bedlam, with a side of mustard=-

"Because we're half a dimension away from anywhere.  I'm done eating." He hadn't touched his meal  "I'm going out, to see about more food. Goodbye."
 Teresa looked at Capt. Brown, "Is he always that brusque?"
  "Yes."

-=-

-=fig. 519: the back door=-

As much as Dr. Smith loved his house, he was glad to be out.
  He had never been good at…people.  Machines were better.
Machines didn't call you 'brusque' behind your back.
  The air was fresh, shame about the gunpowder smell.
From the other side of the house Dr. Smith could hear the traditional sounds of war, gunfire, screams of pain and…cheering?   There also seemed to be a man selling hot turkey legs and cups commemorating the big battle.
  Dr. Smith had to hand it to the street merchants of Legopolis, they were tenacious.
 Buying a hot turkey leg would put him too much in the open, although if bystanders were purchasing them how dangerous could it be?
    Then he re-thought that statement, in light of the screams.
     Besides, the grocery store was only a couple of blocks away.
Unfortunately, those couple of blocks were swarming with the worst sort of villains.
 Foreign Villains.
He would have to do it, secretly.

 

-=Best Regards=-

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

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Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

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-=-

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #67: Hostage

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Last Week as You Recall the lovely Ms. Phillips had been taken at knife-point by a desperate french leader who had infiltrated Dr. Smith's house in an effort to learn its secret…

-=fig. 412: hostage=-

"Now Dr. Smith, you will co-operate I think." The french leader said, in the thickest accent. "Call Off your robots of war and release my comrades."   

 Dr. Smith gave the command, and the Jeeves prototypes released the Frenchmen.

  Dr. Smith gave a heavy sigh, "What is it you want?" he asked, sadly. 

   The Chief Frenchman gave a triumphant "Ha!  I Want–" and collapsed.

-=fig. 413: sedated=-

"Jeeves!" Dr. Smith exclaimed, then swung a boot at the Frenchman, who was snoring.  "Why didn't you kill him?" 

 Jeeves carefully stowed the tranquilizer gun, and answered "I Have noticed that people who have been shot become stiff rather quickly, And I computed that Ms. Phillips' neck could not handle any…Stiffness.  On the other claw, people who have been 'tranquilized' become limp instantly."  

 Dr. Smith nodded glumly, looked down at the sleeping form and said "What are he going to do with the body?"   

   Capt. Brown chose this moment to speak up.   "We can't kill him, Zachary.  According to city code 375b, subsection c, 'if your assailant is incapacitated, he is no longer an assailant.'  Sorry Zachary."  

  "What about trespassers?" Dr. Smith asked, hopefully.

   "It's still murder." 

 Dr. Smith uttered a minor expletive. 

   "As a point of interest, what's the rest of 375b?"  Asked Teresa, rubbing her neck.  Capt. Brown shrugged, "Mainly restrictions on building permits.  I'm pretty sure the people who devised the codes just wrote them down as they thought of them, the city used to be a pretty ramshackle operation. "   

  Dr. Smith perked up, he had a thought.

   "Jeeves, Lock this man in a room until he becomes an assailant again."

     "Zachary, we have Jails."  Capt. Brown placed a consoling hand on Dr. Smiths shoulder, "But Enemies of The State usually get the death sentence. Although, of course that's up to a jury of regular people we've picked at random from the street outside the courthouse."

"Isn't it usually 'a jury of his peers'?" asked, Teresa.   Capt. Brown looked at her askance, "His peers are murders and thieves.  Frenchmen, who are invading the city as we speak. I would much prefer it that they were not involved in the court proceedings of this <REDACTED>"  You could tell from his tone that he was…prejudiced against the Unconscious Frenchman.  

  "What about his colleagues?" 

    "I suppose you might, but it would cause huge amounts of paperwork on my part.  Oh look, they've surrendered."   

    Indeed they had,

  Perhaps having seen their leader calmly taken out by man in evening wear who never blinks had unnerved them.

  Perhaps it was the Jeeves prototypes that had grabbed each and every one of them by the scruff of the neck on an unspoken order from Dr. Smith.

   "Take them to the jail, I suppose. " Dr. Smith seemed disappointed, no death to his enemies today.  

  "Buck up, 'pal', they are going into a war-zone."  This seemed to cheer Dr. Smith up.

 Somewhat. 

"What now?"  Asked Teresa.

  "English breakfast, I think.  Jeeves?" 

  "Very good Sir." 

  "Is it safe to come out?" Asked a small voice from the direction of the half-ship.

-=fig. 414: the brazen child=-

 "No!" Boomed Capt. Brown jovially, "But it never is.  Come out anyway."  He gave the brazen child a constituent-winning smile. 

-=-

-=fig. 415: dinner=-

"Why is the dead guy the only one with a special chair?" 

Dr. Smith leaned closer to the hapless child, so their conversation could not be overheard "It's where he died of asking stupid questions."

  The child didn't speak up again the entire meal.

-=Best Regards=-

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

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-=-

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #66: Children and Wooden Walls

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Last Week as You Recall…

 "Good to see you again Sir." Said Jeeves, Dr. Smith's robotic butler.  "There's Something I need to tell you, Sir." 

 "Later Jeeves." Dr. Smith said as he hauled his friend and Ms. Phillips out of the basement.   The hatch was surprisingly slippery.  

   Drool does that. 

 "Sir, It is really very Important." 

  "Alright Jeeves, what?" 

   "The French have breached the building." 

 Dr. Smith froze.  "How." 

   "One of the children let them in.  In his defense Sir, they really were very inciting, and I hadn't briefed the children on the 'Red White and Blue Menace', yet.  I even had an instructional film prepared."  Jeeves seemed fairly put out by the whole business, more so than the fact that his house had been annexed by The Enemy.

"Jeeves, Children don't watch–never mind.  Where are they?"

 "The Kitchen, Sir.  They don't trust the doors." 

   "How could they even know about that?"

    "No Idea, Sir." 

     "Well, I had better go welcome them."

-=fig. 407: annexed the kitchen=-

"Hello, French people." 

  "Bonjour, mon ennemi"

"Yes, I'm sure that you're very French.  Now, my first question is: How did you turn down the lights?" 

  The Frenchman in front, who looked to be in charge, said {In a heavy French Accent} "There was a switch."

   "Really?  I've been trying to turn down the lights for weeks, with no success, and you just walk in here and find the switch?" 

"It is our superior French minds."  He spoke as if Legopolian was his third language. 

As it happens, Legopolian is pretty much everyone's third language, behind French and Russian, the two biggest countries in the world.  "Enough chit-chattery.  We are here for one fact.  What is the secret of this house?"  He said it as if he were interrogating Dr. Smith, which,  considering the multiple weapons his colleagues were carrying, may not have been far from the truth.  

  "The secret?  Well, it bigger on the inside because of a pocket dimension I like to call–" 

    "We know about this.  This we figure out…instantaneously.  We want know is this:  Why do things just…appear?  And why?"

 Dr. Smith shrugged.  "Technically, that's two questions.  I Don't know the answers to either.  Sorry."   The Chief Frenchman did not take this well.

"You lie!  Shoot him!" 

-=fig. 408: whizzing by=-

Dr. Smith ducked behind the nearest cover, which happened to be his kitchen counter.

Worryingly large bullets whizzed past. 

  "DON'T BREAK ANYTHING!"   Yelled the Chief Frenchman, "We want this house alive!  It will make great headquarters of glorious  Révolution française!"  

 "Yes!  Stop Shooting!"  D. Smith scurried around the kitchen counter, if he could get to the table he could… and he was there.   He scrambled on top of the table.  There was a trumpet.

-=fig. 409: trumpet blues=-

Dr. Smith played the opening trumpet solo of 'Trumpet Blues'  as it turns out Dr. Smith was a quite accomplished trumpet player.  But that's not the reason he played it. 

'Trumpet Blues'  was a very chaotic song, but it did have its good points.  For example, being the activation code for the series of Failed Jeeves Prototypes which were lined up against one wall.

-=fig. 410: prototypes=-

Steam escaped from the robot's joints as it raised one arm, jerkily.   This particular model was powered by a miniature nuclear reaction and steam.   The reason it was abandoned was because its movements were not exactly fluid, or fast.  It took one step forward, and with one surprising upper-cut sent the Frenchman flying.

 "What trickery is this!"  The Chief Frenchman asked. 

  "Home Defense." Dr. Smith answered. " You didn't think I would leave my home unprotected, did you?" 

-=-

Capt. Brown and Teresa Phillips had been hiding behind the bow of a viking ship, which was just off the kitchen.

 There was no stern, it was half a viking ship inexplicably in Dr. Smith's kitchen. 

  "Do you think it's safe to come out?" Asked Teresa.

   "No.  But it's never 'safe' in this house. " Capt. Brown answered.  

     They broke cover. 

That was a mistake. 

-=fig. 411: hostage=-

"Call off the robots, or I slit her throat."

-=Best Regards=-

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

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A Day Of Thrift-Shopping

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I Love thrift stores.

Today I got:

 1.  A very fine winter trench coat, 100% wool

2.  A barely used peach/off-white fedora {in my size, which is extremely rare.}

3. 1100 royalty free pictorial symbols, of the sort one might find on highway signs.  But for all sorts of tasks. 

4.  A huge book of the century's best advertising.

5.  A two disc set of the Fédora opera. That's 1:34:48 of Opera!

This opera is based on the 1880's play, which launched the fedora hat, as a women's hat first, but then as a Men's hat. 

I am super-excited about this!

It also includes this 241 page book, with a back-story on the play, how the opera came about, and translations of the Italian. 

Not bad for under $100.

-=Best Regards=-

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

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