Saturday, January 15, 2011

Happy Natn'l Hat Day!

What?  You've never heard of Natn'l Hat day?  [ let me enlighten you ]
There, now you know as much as I do.  I Actually only found out about this yesterday so I've had no time to prepare, but that's alright because frantic writing about a subject I know very little about is what I do every week.

I Do know about Hats, though.

Anyway, here are celebratory pictures of all my hats, vintage-ized to my liking.  And check My Tumblr  Every Fedora Friday for descriptions!
Hopefully.
These are in chronological order, sort of, and to save space I'll only be showing you my Fedoras. I Have a Pith Helmet and a couple of Top Hats, but the Fedoras are my favourite.





Don't it just warm your heart?
I only wear the last one with any regularity because the others have been retired, for one reason or another, stopped fitting, heavy rain, a bed crushed that straw one.





 Those rain-destroyed felt fedoras were [ this hat ]
But only the second one was bought off the website, the first one was from a Bass Pro Shop, which apparently sold hats.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #85: garage


Last Week As You Recall…
Our heroes, in an attempt to get away from a russian bunker, had stumbled upon a giant room, with one wall open. 
But that wasn't even the good bit.

-=fig. 568: hangar=-

“Wow!” Dr. Smith said, “I haven't seen one of these in years!”
   Capt. Brown eyed the giant machine skeptically, “What is it?”
     “It's a plane.  It's what we used before hover-technology.  You're older than me, you should remember these.”
       “It doesn't look like any plane I've ever seen.” 
  Dr. Smith had to agreee with him there, for one thing, it was pretty ugly. 
   The wheels were too small and the wings didn't look big enough to carry the fat undercarriage.
     And it was brand-new.  If fact, it was so new it hadn't even been painted fully.
 Behind them, a dozen heavy boots ran down the hallway, in their direction. 
      “Maybe they're going somewhere else?” 
          “Zachary, We're the only door in this hallway.  So can you fly this…plane?” 
         Dr. Smith shrugged,  “Sure,” he said. “Anybody can fly a plane.”  Dr. Smith didn't go into how it was the whole ‘Taking off and landing’ bit he was unsure of.
      “Good,” Capt. Brown shouted back as he scaled the side of the machine “You got any more impressive weapons in that suitcase of yours?” 
   Dr. Smith climbed into the cockpit and handed Capt. Brown the first gun that came to hand. 
   It was a revolver. 
      Capt. Brown gave Dr. Smith a look as if to say ‘Really?’  But Dr. Smith was too busy trying to figure out what all the gauges and dials meant. 
  This process was interrupted by the arrival of the Russians, who, having found their comrades unconscious in the hallway, had figured it out pretty quickly. 
   It seems they had stopped off at the Armory because were carrying guns quite a bit better than revolvers.
    Guns they weren't afraid to use.
       “ZACHARY!” Capt. Brown was trying to hold off a dozen machine guns with a revolver.
         It wasn't working.
  Dr. Smith tossed Capt. Brown the suitcase and pulled a promising-looking lever.
    Capt. Brown drew a fresh pair of guns and the plane shot off towards the open wall.
         As it turns out, the wall opened onto a cliff.
   As the plane plummeted, Dr. Smith remembered about yokes.
    “Oh, Of course!  You pull back to make the plane go up!” He giggled insanely as they sailed away from the hangar.
   Capt. Brown started yelling about how he thought that Dr. Smith knew how to fly and what were you thinking and…
   The wind whipped his words away from their open-air cockpit.
     Once he realised this, Capt. Brown leaned real close to Dr. Smith's ear and Yelled “JEEVES”
     Dr. Smith got the message that time.
 They circled for awhile until Dr. Smith spotted the black dot that was Jeeves, he had slid down the wall more.
  “SET 'ER DOWN THERE” Capt Brown gestured wildly at a flat-ish bit of land near Jeeves' body.
    Dr. Smith had, in fact, taken a course on this.
     One course, three years ago, but he had taken a course.
       He remembered landing not being as hard as taking off, because the basic idea was to get the plane on the ground and not have the plane look like his first three tester planes.
          They had thrown him out before he had gotten to a fourth plane, but by then he had the basic idea.
               It was all a matter of angles and going around if you don't think you're going to make it.
  But they were going it to fast.
     And it was too late to pull out.
       Dr. Smith did the only thing he could think of.
          It became quiet.
             “Zachary?  What'd you do?”
                “I killed the engine.  But with…Oh, Flaps!  Good! With the engine off, we'll slow down enough so we can just glide in, nice and smooth.”
              Capt. Brown had his concerns with this plan, but he withheld them.
 The glided in, it was bumpy.
     They didn't crash.
        So that was a plus.
Capt. Brown practically fell out of the plane.
  Actually, he literally fell out of the plane.
    “Next time,” he said from the ground, “I'm flying.”
        “Fine,” Dr. Smith shrugged, “if you think you can fly better than me.”
-=-
“How come it seems like we carry this robot more than anything?”
   “Because we do.  Remind me to make him out of a lighter alloy next time.” 

-=fig. 569: my back=-

  “Here,” Dr. Smith said “Hold onto him for a minute. ”
     And as Capt. Brown found out, 400 pounds of robot is not easy to keep upright by yourself.
    “Errkg!”
       “Hang on James, I've almost got the latch open.”
  Dr. Smith was failing to open the cargo hold.
    “rgksh! ar!”
         “Hold your horses, James.”
            “*squeak!*”
                “Got it! James?  James? Geez, James, I turn my back for five minutes. Come on,  Get up.”
 Capt. Brown groaned.  Having a 400 pound robot fall on you can, surprisingly, take the wind out of you.
  “Come on James, get up, we need to get out of here before they realize where we landed.”
“Urkle…”
-=-
<Var.jeeves>=Status.PowerOn
   Aux.Input=<Start> File.FullSystemsDiagnositc </Start>
-=-
File.FullSystemsDiagnostic=status.done
 Aux.Input=<Export> Var.File.FullSystemsDiagnostic.Data </Export>
<Var.jeeves>=Status.PowerOff
-=-
<Var.jeeves>=Status.PowerOn
-=fig. 570: repairs=-

Jazz music played from a phonograph near the operating table.
Jeeves' eyes opened to the image of Dr. Smith standing over him.
  Glaring.
    He quickly shut his eyes.
 “Did you know it takes you 48 hours to do a Full Systems Diagnostic?  And for what?  This! That's what!” he held up a tiny piece of circuitry.  “Your cranial-power-regulator. It fried when the cage zapped you.  I carry four of these around in my pocket.  It's tiny but important and if your” He jabbed Jeeves in the chest with his wrench “diagnostic program went a little bit faster I could have popped one of these suckers in in Russia and we could have saved my back. So as a precautionary measure, I'm skinning you in a lighter alloy and installing more processing power.  Lots more.” 

<Var.jeeves>=Status.PowerOff
-=-
<Var.jeeves>=Status.PowerOn
  “A week to manufacture a lighter, stronger alloy, two days to install it, and a total of twelve days miniaturizing, installing, and partitioning a terabyte of RAM.  On the plus side, you should diagnose problems like–” Dr. Smith snapped his fingers “–That.”
Jeeves sat up.  He was wearing his Faux-Skin and his Butlers Uniform. 

-=fig. 571: messy, messy messy=-

“This room,” he said “Is a Mess.”
   Dr. Smith laughed.  “Good to have you back, Jeeves.”

Friday, January 07, 2011

Today in 2009

This deserves a toast.

Today in 2009 I Wrote the Very First Continuing Weekly Adventures Of Doctor Zachary Smith.
Today, two years and 84 episodes later, we're still going. 


Click Here!

Tuesday, January 04, 2011

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #84: Everyone Dies Of Hypothermia


Last Week as you Recall…
“At his moment,” Dr. Smith said “It Looks like we have two options, we could continue, and almost certainly die of hypothermia, or we could turn back, and almost certainly die of Russian.”

-=fig. 575: yup, definitely russia=-

Capt. Brown Shivered in his thick leather trenchcoat.
   “I vote for Death By Russian, at least then we have a chance.”
 Without warning, Jeeves fell backwards, sliding down the snowy slope.
    “Jeeves!” Dr. Smith yelled, chasing after him.
 Jeeves, being mainly made of metal, gradually sunk into the snow before he reached the bottom of the slope.
        “drzzz, Sri? <var.Jeeves>=status.Malfunctioning
                                <Start> file.HardReboot</Start>
                                    Status.file.HardReboot=Failed
                                        if; "Status.file.HardReboot=Failed" =yes; <Start> file.MessageFail:
                                             <VoiceBox>((Sorry, <var.Sir>. I did my best, honest.))</VoiceBox></Start>
                                                <var.Jeeves>=status.ShutDown”
Dr. Smith watched as the robot became silent in the cold snow.
  He removed his hat, as is customary.  
    Capt. Brown did the same, he had climbed more carefully down the slope.

Replacing his hat, Dr. Smith walked towards the hatch that led back to the Russian bunker.

   Capt. Brown looked up and saw Dr. Smith walking away.  “Zachary?  What about Jeeves?”
     Dr. Smith Looked back, “He's a robot, James, he doesn't Die.  Once we steal a suitable vehicle, we'll come back for him. Until then he's 400 pounds of dead weight.”
-=-
They silently climbed down the steel ladder, into the relative warmth of the bunker. 
  A troop of Russians stomped past.
“Remind me again why we can't just kill them all?” Capt. Brown whispered,
  “Because we're the good guys.”  Dr. Smith whispered back.
 They carefully snuck into the hallway, and ran straight into two stragglers.
   Capt. Brown was a faster draw.

-=fig. 567: standoff=-

     “Hi!” he said softly, “We're the escaped psychopaths! Point us to the place you store your vehicles and you might live!”   There's something about a humorless smile and a soft spoken threat that cuts right to a man's fear cortex.
  The two Russians, though, were trained for this sort of thing.
     Dr. Smith Drew his sword and considered it.
       The lead Russian nearly lost his nerve, no one had trained him on how a three-foot sword could fit into an eighteen-inch suitcase.
         Dr. Smith looked up, “I know what you're thinking, ‘is it solid steel?  Or is it a collapsible, trick sword?’ Let's…find out together.”  Dr. Smith smiled, but his eyes just weren't in it.
   That sold it.
      “Отлично! Отлично! Я сдаюсь! Мы сдаваться! Пожалуйста, не надо!  Гараж в том, что путь, сорок метров!” 
    Capt. Brown, being a gentleman, helped The Russians to sleep.
       “It's too bad we're the good guys, because we'd make great psychopaths.”  He quipped.
   “I don't know much Russian, but сорок метров means ‘Forty Meters’, and he was gesturing that way, so let's go that way.”
    “After you, Zachary.”
They hurried down the poorly lit passageway, it would seem that Russians were no more fond of proper lighting than they were colors that aren't in the gray family.   As they went on the passageway turned from gray stone, to a gray metal, and terminated in a gray metal door.
It was locked, but helpfully marked ‘Гараж’ which meant that they had the right door.
  “James,” Dr. Smith said, gesturing at the lock and standing back.
    “Zachary, I can't Shoot it.  It's a metal lock on a metal door in a metal room!  We have a better chance of the bullet bouncing around and then hitting on of us.”
Dr. Smith sighed and snapped open his suitcase.
  It was gradualy becoming more empty longer they stayed in Russia,  His lockpick set was gone, the wrench set was gone, the lyrics to a Gershwin number wouldn't help the situation any, neither would a trumpet or War and Peace, But maybe that would work.
 He pulled out a flat-head screwdriver.  It was small enough, certainly.
   Capt. Brwon kept watch, which wasn't hard because theirs was the only doorway connected to this hallway.
     The door clicked open.
        “Wow,” Dr. smith muttered, “What a cheesy lock. Single barrel tumbler?  Eight pin system? I could have opened that in my sleep.”
    Capt. Brown reached over Dr. Smith crouched form and pushed open the door.
  It opened into a large, really cold room.
     The lack of heat was probably because the wall was open.
Dr. Smith looked up, “Oh,” He hadn't been expecting that.


Friday, December 31, 2010

Merry 2011

Capt. Brown rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “So…it just appeared?”
Dr. Smith nodded, “About Ten minutes ago.”
     “What Does it Mean?
       “Dunno.”
         “Pizza?”
            “As long as you're paying.”

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #83: Too Easy


Last Week As you Recall…
 Ms. Teresa Phillips, Not-So-Secretly-Anymore a Russian spy, had ambushed our heroes in the prison of Dr. Smith's Robotic Butler, Jeeves.

-=fig. 571: an unwelcome surprise=-

“Three hours,” she said, “ It took you three hours to escape.  I'm disappointed.  I expected More from The great Dr. Smith. ”
Dr. Smith Shrugged, “The guard was a slow walker. Let us go, and I won't kill you.”
  Ms. Teresa Phillips laughed, Dr. Smith was unarmed, and standing nonchalantly.
   “Do you know how annoying you are?” she said, “All the time, it either this or its that, I don't now how he–” she gestured at Capt. Brown “Puts up with you, you think you're so clever and magical and special, you're not, really.  You're just a little man with a robot.”
     Dr. Smith was the master of Selective hearing.
      He had gotten a lot of practice.
       All his life.
        “So what do you want with my robot?”
         “To take him apart, to find out how he works, and you're going to help us, or die.  You do understand that when you made your ‘butler’ you made a nearly-indestructible  infinitely obedient yet imaginative and thinking soldier?  What I can't understand is how Legopolis is not the worlds largest superpower!”
  Capt. Brown, who up to this point had been trying not to be noticed, spoke up “He won't let me use anything he makes for war.  Damned stupid, but those are his conditions.”
   Dr. Smith, while a brilliant inventor, had no concept of market applications, so when he invented something he would sell it to Capt. Brown.
       Capt. Brown, being at heart a layman, had all kinds of ideas on how, for example, the telecommunicational-audio-visual system could be applied.  {TaVee! The next big thing in entertainment!  Dr. Smith had developed it as a teleconferencing system.}

Two guards appeared out of nowhere.
Ms. Teresa Phillips turned to them, “We only need the doctor, take this one away.”
  The guards grabbed Capt. Brown, He resisted “But what about all our old times?  The good times!  Remember!”  Dr. Smith watched with interest, Lots had happened when he was out, apparently.
    Ms. Teresa Phillips laughed, she was doing that a lot lately. “There were no old times!  You mean nothing to me fool!  I'm a spy, remember?  We're very sneaky, and you weren't all that hard to fool, Most men aren't.”
    “That's how you really feel?”
      ”Of course!”
    Capt. Brown overpowered his guards, bashed their heads together and stole their guns.

-=fig. 572: heartbreak=-

“I'm sorry you feel that way. Let us go or you die.  I have–” he checked, but quick “–Twelve shots, and they're all yours if you don't open up Jeeves' chamber.”
  Ms. Teresa phillips gave him a big hand.  “Bravo!  It was an almost convincing lie, tell us what the man won, Jim!  You'll never shoot, you're just a big sentimental softie, and that sort can't shoot girls—” he shot her.  Not fatally, because she was the only one could open the containment unit, but it hurt.  Most leg wounds do.
   “Eleven shots. And plenty of you left, shall I continue?”
     “Ha!  I'll never–” bang.
       “Ten.”
        “You really shouldn't have hurt his feelings.” Dr. Smith commented from the sidelines. 
 Capt. Brown took an ambidextrous approach to gun-wielding.
  ‘One Gun Per Hand’ was his motto.
   He also didn't take well to people messing with his heart.
     He took it as a personal insult.
       A Very personal insult.
 All of this gunfire, however, had attracted attention.
   Dr. Smith's hand shot up, “James?  There's a blinking light, it says ‘All persons Alert’ I don't think we have much time. ”
   “Alright, Ms. Phillips, Next one goes through your head, how do we open the cage?”  He didn't say it particularly loud, or meanly, but saying threats softly has quite the impact when you have a couple of guns and have not very much to lose.
  “You're a psychopath!” she said.
    Capt. Brown cocked his guns and smiled.
      “Fine! Иаков. The code is ‘4gh6yhEç6ø2op9πx5’ ”
 “You got that Zachary?”
   “Got it, typing.”
 Capt. Brown leaned in real close, so that Dr. Smith couldn't hear him, but Ms. Phillips could. “I'll let you in on a secret, I am a big softie, you're right, but you show your face in my city again and you die.  Not quick, like with bullets, no.  We have just the things for heart-breakers like you.”
   She spat in his eye.
     He helped her to unconsciousness.
“You know,” said Dr. Smith from the console,  “We're a couple of Psychopaths. ”
  “Good thing we're the Good Guys.”
   “Yeah.”
The secondary-back-up generator finally kicked in, and the machine recognized Dr. Smith's kill-code.
A chunk of Jeeves' cage slipped away.
 “How's it going, Jeeves?”
   “Not well at all, sir, I need a serious tune-up and over-haul, and perhaps some chicken soup.”
      “I'll make you some soup when we get home Jeeves, right now we need to run–”
 The Russians had found them and started shooting.  bam. bam.
  Capt. Brown loosed a couple of shots. bang. bang.
They ran.

-=fig. 573: mooks=-

A stray bullet found Jeeves. ping.
  The tunnels blurred together, Capt. Brown's bullets ran out, they kept coming.
    “James, I feel this is the best time to say this–”
     “I love you too, man”
       “What?  No, I have a pocket in my suitcase filled with the weapons of people who have tried to mug me.”
           “Do they still have bullets in them?”
             “Mostly.”
    Dr. Smith passed over his suitcase, Capt. Brown opened it up. “Wow.  You must get mugged a lot.  The poor hoods!”
   “Anything you can use?”
     “I like this one,” he had selected an automatic weapon, it was evil-looking, and full.
      “Good, Lets go.  How are you feeling, Jeeves?”
        “Not at all well, Sir.”
         “Just hang on, We're almost outside.”
A small hatch was openly marked with an arrow pointing up, and the words: ‘Аварийный выход’  It led up, there was another hatch at top.
 Dr. Smith, being in front went through first.
 “Oh no.”
   “What?”
    “Guys, We're in the middle of nowhere.  And it's freezing.”

-=574: i thought you knew we were in russia=-


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