Capt Awesome

Capt Awesome here.  Its been a rough few weeks on your favorite
superhero.  Kids, since catching a zoonotic virus on a covert
reconnaissance mission through the Democratic Republic of the Congo, or
"De Recongo" as we affectionately refer to it, no one sends the Captain
Awesome anywhere.  National Public Radio called me a ‘Hero for the
’90’s’ and they used lots of irony.  Then I find out that a Popular
Science feature article called my spank ray "the most disappointing
super power since that guy who had to eat three cans of vanilla
frosting to burrow through the earth like a prairie dog"  Fate is
fickle mistress.

Admin Assistant was supposed to nurse me back
to health in a racy nurse costume, but instead it was "Awesome, do
this! Awesome, do that! clean my superconductors, read me a story, stop
smacking my ass, scrape the carnivorous space barnacles off my back"
Cowering under my office table, a very nervous Mr Stoop-Endous finally
told me that I was beginning to sound a bit crazy.  Whatever
Stoop-Endous.  I refuse to accept criticism from someone who’s hiding
under a table.  Oh oh oh.  And don’t knock crazy. The Romans were
crazy, and they got all the girls.  It became obvious I needed
something though.  To rise from this funk I’d have to stop relying on
my extensive 70’s-era Parliament collection, including "The Clones Of
Doctor Funkenstein", "Chocolate City", and "Free Your Mind And Your Ass
Will Follow"

I checked the wire and found my ticket.  It was
go-time, kids.  The Swazi cannibal union had demanded shorter working
hours and free dry cleaning in Mbabane, Piggs Peak, and the valley of
Mhlume.  Beyond the herded attack cat, they had metasticized your
ordinary dairy cow into a frightening man-eating strain, armed
themselves with pig-iron and threatened to walk roughshod over the
earth.  The local population was paralyzed and with good reason.
Nothing says ‘Scram’ like 500 pounds of pig iron.

Within 48hrs I
was in the hotzone.  I knew with these freaks around, I gotta do better
than a buncha floppies and a commodore 64 on my head.  Too late.  I was
spotted by armed cannabals.  They raised their weapons.  I started to
dance.  Then something unexpected happened.  The two strange men who
just now wanted to shoot me to death were eaten alive by their
man-eating cow.  It almost makes sense to me now. 

Listen up
Captain Awesome fans, you’ve been very patient.  You’ve waited for this
week’s lesson now for well over six weeks.  You (*cough losers) should
have something better to do, but that’s beside the point.  If you find
yourself faced with Swazi cannibals and man-eating cows, the awesome
way to defeat them is to dance.  The deranged cow does not like dance,
makes’em jealous.  Dance enrages the cow and it will turn on its
masters.  Now don’t go out and learn the tango, the mumbo, or the
froo-froo.  Stupid.  A simple jig will suffice.  And while you’re at it
lighten up on all of the hate mail.  "Captain Awesome eat shit and die"
is getting a little old.

Captain Awesome out.

Capt Awesome here.  Now listen up dipshits.  Out in the Swazi hotzone, there’s little patience for your shanagans and tomfoolery.  Even less for your goofing and skullduggery and not one bit for your lot of lazy, self-righteous slackerdom.  So, its straight to the point today awesome fans.  Go-time is ETA 5min, and the boys from the 5th Marine Expeditionary Force and I haven’t a spare second or a length of piano wire to hand out.  Smoke’m of you gott’em.  There’s only two little things I’ll have impressed upon your tiny, impressed brains today.  The first?  Don’t ever try to swim against the mighty tide of doom without the bouyant waterwings of serendipity.  The more often you repeat it aloud, clearly and with conviction, at your office desk, with the door open, the more it makes sense to everyone involved.  And second. No matter where you go in life, or how awesome you become, if someone walking three dogs lays down a dare, you have to do it.  Yes, do it.  Now, I said DO IT.  Stupid.  The triple dog dare is immutable.  It is the essence, its the celestial fabric, the order and the form in the universe.  The dog dare is the force, the ying from the yang, matter from the anti-matter, and clingly laundry from the dryer sheets of sanity.  Do not cross the triple dog dare.  Get into its mind.  Learn the dare, love it, live the triple dog dare!

Have you ever witnessed the dumbfoundingly awesome full-on attack of Swazi cannibal madmen a’fore a battalion of herded attack-cats, because if you haven’t, it will teach you more than a little about the triple dog dare.  As you can see in this twisted Swazi propaganda, there is nothing cute or cuddley about that heinous, bezerk, whirling and demented aggression:

So the scene is set.  Confronted with imminent death; the inevitability of the onslaught; the fathomless cruelty.  Surrounded and doomed yet Capt Awesome was nobody’s two-bit fool.  CA left not his battle-tent while lacking in preparation.  Indeed, in the immortal words of William Shakespeare who said, "never bring a knife to a gunfight," Capt Awesome was the living spirit of that old gadfly wackjob.  CA had not one, not two, but three dogs and three leashes ready, only the preeminent tool in the warrior’s war chest.  At the pivotal clash, Capt Awesome, in his lucid resolve, invoked the triple dog dare and even the cannibal, that beast and ne’er for a modicum of humanity, had to submit:  a game of chess to decide the fate of worlds.  Ah ha-ha, chess. The ancient contest of wits. Two opponents: mano a mano.  Braino a braino. And though Capt Awesome’s middle name used to be Helping People, The Awesome Helping People Capt, it was of chess-gambling fame that CA heralded.  Now kids, its true gambling is bad, yet in a certain sense, isn’t life itself a gamble? You can never be sure of anything. Like who would have thought that dolphins could go bad and that fish were magnetic?  Not me, no sir, not me.  And so the contest of wits began and so it ended.  The cannibal, deficient in the ways of the rook, of the castle, or the bishop, yielded, at least for that bloody day, and the triple dog dare was king once more.

ETA 1min, fans.  Remember, when all seems lost, you will always have options provided three or more dogs, a stratospheric AQ and a bit of old fashioned moxie.  And the awesome nuclear option, the triple dog dare, will never let you down, though occassionally it may crap on your Persian replic-carpet.  Use the dare sparingly and to your advantage.  The triple dog dare is a constant, kids, perhaps the only one that transcends age, creed, color, gender, sexual preference or even cannabal status.  Don’t ever forget it, keep that war chest ready, and study your closing moves before you descend into that dark underworld.

Capt Awesome out

Capt Awesome here, and awesome right back at
ya.  Today I want to talk to you about your stupid, fluffy little
‘friend’, the domesticated house cat.  Kids, I need you to get serious
for a moment.  Now, you may think its all fun and games - the leaping,
the pouncing, the giving Foo-Foo a fun little sadistic kitty
full-nelson as its declawed little front paws flail about.  Yeah, its
all fun.  Fun and games.  Right.  That is, until you’ve witnessed the
gorey aggression of a well-trained herd of attack cats.  Under the
instruction of your average Swazi cannabalistic madman, the herded
attack cat becomes a precision instrument of carnage:  foul, cruel, and
belligerent.  You had best be at your wits.  The last thing most ever
hear is that gristley chorus of meows as the blitzkrieg of fluff and
tails envelopes them.  So pay attention.  Stupid.  Have you ever stared
into those black, lifeless eyes?  This isn’t mere execution by
elephants, mind you.  En force, those little suckers can flay alive a
human body in seconds and just for the entertainment value alone.  Oh,
the humanity!  To the attack cat, you are nothing more than a moist,
shrieking little fancy feast.

How
can an awesome-being hope to defend against such mindless bloodlust?
Against a combat herd of attack cats, there are only two ways and
plastic explosives are only effective at distance.  Once the kamikaze
runner cats have detonated your perimeter of Claymores, you’ve bought
yourself just enough time for a double-time retreat while whipping open
canisters of cat food, either fish or chicken-flavored, directly in the
path of the phalanx.  Aim for the the leader and don’t hesitate to
loosen first with a fork.  Loosen… fork… oh that ungodly smell.
That smell of cat food, the smell of death.  The bones!  Those nine
months, the jungle.  East Swaziland, night sores, the ‘zest’!  Sweating
and dry-heaving.  And the sickening smell of cat food…  still
permeates my skydiving suit.

You know, the cat food got me to
thinking.  About the cat food.  Chicken flavored.  Fish flavored.
Chicken flavored.  Hrmmm.  There had to be something.  Something more.
Capt Awesome was perplexed.  And the awesome way to quell a pensive
mind, as we all know, is a friendly call to information.

411:  Information, what city please?
CA:   No city, I just want information
411:  Umm..
CA:   Here’s the thing, information.  So there’s fish-flavored cat food
CA:   and there’s chicken-flavored cat food, right?
411:  Sir, I really…
CA:   But what about cat-flavored dog food?
411:  Sir I’m not…

The
problem with information is not so much information as it is the
imagination.  But I’ll never give up on information.  Until there is an
811 for imagination, information will just have to answer the phone
each and every time I call.  So I think we’ve all learned something
today.  But, Capt Awesome fans, before today’s moral, I’d like each of
you to pick up your home phone and dial information.  Go ahead.  Do
it.  Ask information about cat-flavored dog food for good ol’Capt
Awesome.  Someone out there knows the answer.  And somewhere behind
information there has to be someone.  I know you can do it.

Capt Awesome out.

As Beethoven once said, "Love demands all, and has a right to all".
Capt Awesome here. Many of my loyal fans have asked, "Capt Awesome, I
need help.  See, there is this girl I like but another man is moving in
on her, what do I do." Kids, love is complex. When another suitor
pursues that special someone, be it your girlfriend, your second date
of the night, a girl you made eye contact with from across a noisy bar,
or even your favorite ‘asset’, undressing in front of the window again,
at 10pm, on the 7th floor, adjacent to your building, you have only one
choice. Be an adult and challange this man to a duel. 

In the
ways of awesome, there is only one recourse to a competition of
affections.  You must demand ’satisfaction’.  You must redress these
insults to your honour.  Some may ask, "But Awesome, doesn’t Title 6,
Chapter 23 Subchapter I of the DC Code make transportation of firearms
across District lines a felony?" Yes it does and an excellent point.
But Title 6, Chapter 23 Subchapter I doesn’t say anything about a
Pappenheimer Rapier, used excessively during the Thirty Years’ War
(1618-1648 AD) and more commonly to resolve gentlemanly disagreements,
now does it. Stupid. To the average DCPD beat cop, two full-grown men
parrying and thrusting in a dark alley is of little interest compared
to that illegally-parked Volvo with the expired zone sticker. Its
probably just a couple of damn kids reenacting ‘MacLeod v The Kurgan’,
anyway. Damn kids and their hobbies.

Keep in mind that in the
city, you have an undeniable advantage, Awesome fans. We’ll cover the
South later.  Now.  Note that your average DC metrosexual  1) doesn’t
own weapons nor does he understand duels because metrosexuals are
‘civilized’ with that ‘tough-guy’ edge, be it the girly little
pencil-beard or a set of half-tint Kenneth Cole sunglasses and hip,
retro Pumas  2) is a pacifist and will lecture on ‘uncool behavior’ or
how you don’t ‘own’ the girl, as he backs away like a sissy, and  3)
hasn’t experienced testicular development or ‘droppage’ because, well,
this is just your average metrosexual. To that solipsistic freak,
engaging in a duel will seem foreign, uncivilized and barbaric. He’ll
run away to save his well-moistured hide before he picks up a foiled
instrument of death. On rare occassions, a duel challange will be
accepted by the crazy, inebriated metrosexual, but not to fear, CA
fans.  DC-area hospitals routinely deal with stab-wounds of all
varieties and, besides, every woman finds a facial scar sexy.

If
your special someone learns of the imminent ‘dispute resolution’, you
may become discouraged when she says, "I’m getting a restraining
order.  You can’t just pick a fight with people out of jealousy,
idiot"  A woman’s psyche is disorganized and conflicted.  Know that
what she really means by this is, "Holy Hornballs! Could this Danielle
Steel fantasy get me any more ‘misty’, where’s the ladies room?  Oh
Oh! Wear a ruffled shirt, zorro! and tear it open!!"  You see!  Have
confidence.  You are handling this situation with maturity and poise.
But first a question.  Have you neglected your swordplay exercises?
Mmmmm?  I hate to see it when budding awesome-ites become OCD over
street luge, mountain unicycling, and freefall while ignoring the
fundamentals. If this is you, its time to pick up an épée and get to
work on your flèches, lunges, and appels.

On the day of the
contest, if it ever comes to that, the witless, dueling metrosexual,
unfamiliar with the art of duelling or its rules, will undoubtedly take
ten paces.  You see, the metrosexual clings to this romantic and
archaic notion that the duel is designed to maximize the fairness of
combat.  But, as we all know, the practice of taking ten paces was
expressly discarded by the Code Duello of 1777.  The loony metrosexual
is well over 229 years out of date.  Knowledge is your greatest allay.
You are in the clear, so thrust away, kids!

Today, I think we’ve
all learned something about love.  The awesome way to win over a woman
is to duel.  You must duel over women.  You’ll gain confidence the more
you duel.  So duel over cab fares.  Duel over traffic disputes.  And
definitely duel over botched dry-cleaning.  Its up to you, Capt Awesome
fans, to be prepared.  Keep that white glove handy when you’re headed
to Thurs happy hours at the Science Club on 19th, Wednesday’s ladies
night at Buffalo Billiards, The Reef on Friday nights, or Georgetown
proper, any time of the day.  Because that is where metrosexuals abound.

Captain Awesome out

After dinner last night, a gaggle of young women at the table asked
Capt Awesome if he’d been raised by wolves. Um, no. No gentile
upbringing for yours truly. CA was raised on the flight deck of an
aircraft carrier. 

At seven, life as a Landing Signals Officer
was unforgiving: controling the approach, visually guaging altitude,
attitude and speed from the steamy, oily gallery deck.  Hot damn.  At
dusk, after the grueling day, we’d go up for a relaxing HALO jump into
the ocean to cool off. One of the sailors aboard took me under his
wing.  I learned the nuances of late parachute release, 4G inverted
stall recovery, tactical muzzle control during combat boardings, and
how to properly catch the third arresting wire consistently with an F18
Hornet for a perfect three-point landing at night. 

Eventually,
I came to know that sailor as Dad. But it wasn’t long before CA
realized that the next plane of awesome lay beyond the simple world of
midnight sorties, underwater demolition with a rebreather rig, and
fast-roping into a hot zone.  Swaziland had erupted into a
cannabalistic conflict.  Warlords now used the zipper as currency to
subjugate the populace and there were no limits to their aggression or
aptitude for international zipper blackmail.  This was my calling, it
was irresistable.  Dad would never understand it, nor could most
people.  I still struggle to understand it.  Nevertheless, during cover
of darkness, I left the tranquil environs of the flight deck to counter
this new threat to mankind.  But first, I had to complete my awesome
training, serving a brief stint upon the Presidential Speedboat
(Speedboat 1), hidden inconspicuously below the inlet bridge of the
tidal basin in Washington, DC.  Always wondered what was behind those
wooden doors growing up…  It was go time.

Back at dinner, the
gaggle had been obviously been fooled by my wolf-like appetite.
Clearly, these gentle, prehensile beasts were ne’er my guardians.  CA
was no pack animal.  True, I did scavange, but had always worked
alone.  Now, Capt Awesome does eat as though he never knows when the
next meal is coming.  A habit developed, and rightly so, during
cannabalistic combat at the far reaches of the earth.  Kristin (see Winning Is Awesome ),
present, knew though.  Engaggled amongst them, we made eye contact and
there was mutual ‘knowing’.  Capt Awesome was no Romulus.  CA had been
no Remus either, for awesome’s sake.  There was no she-wolf, just pure,
raw aircraft carrier coursing through these veins.

Listen up
Capt Awesome fans, I can’t stress this enough.  There is no satisfying
a gaggle of women at dinner.  Once they gaggle, swarm and coagulate its
all over.  For you.  The awesome way to avoid a wolf-rearing situation
is to divide and conquer.  Like Julius Caesar, you must know your
Germanic barbarian adversary.  Gaggles are no exception.  Get into the
gaggle’s head.  Focus on the weak ones, the slow ones, the ones who
drank too many Giggletinis.  Separate them from the gaggle and soon you
will find that the gaggle doesn’t self-sustain.  That ameobic co-op
will degaggle before your eyes like so many Russian Migs scrambling in
an all-out retreat before your blazing, phalic 20 mm M61A1 Vulcan
cannon.  I know you can do it.  Blast away, boys.

Captain Awesome out.

In the pursuit of awesome, as with any professional endeavor, its
important to stay current on the latest trends in academia.  Capt
Awesome here.  Kids, awesome is an art, not a science.  Be prepared for
a rigorous study of the art of awesome if you want to break through those awesome plateaus that each of us reach at some point in
our life. Unfortunately when Capt Awesome was studying up this Sunday,
something went horribly wrong.
 
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, reclined on the couch.  I was enjoying an Awesometini and a bag of cheese puffs.  Ah, savory cheese puffs, made inedible by time and fate.  They sure beat the hell out of vegetables.  There’s nothing I hate more than broccoli, which is ironic… because, in a certain sense, I am broccoli. 

I had just finished the foreward to "Awesome Pyrotechnic-Paragliding Techniques at 8000m, A Death Zone Primer," (Princeton University Press), when my mobile phone began to ring.  Oooh oooh - it was from "Unavailable" — imagine that! 

There would be no seventeenth time.  I was onto Mom like stink on sh*t.  And yeah… I mean, no…  Couldn’t be Mom.  Mom had strong-armed ‘Admin Assistant’, that sucker, into a days-long shopping trip for bridesmade dresses.  HAHA HA HAHA HAHA HA HAHA HAHA HA HAHA. 

It wasn’t long before the phone began to ring again, interrupting my mirthful fits of laughter.  "Awesome here, who the hell is this?  Go!"  Someone had let the Capt Awesome out of the bag and it made me angry.  Oh yeah.  The kid gloves were coming off, and the very angry gloves were coming on.  This had better be good.  "Hey Awesome, lose the attitude, its Mr. Stoop-Endous" 

NO WAY!! 

Years ago Stoop-Endous had helped me save Earth from a thermonuclear-armed gang of marauding cannabalistic Swazis in the glacial caverns of Antarctica.  I had a natural affinity for the Stoop.  Beyond other fortes, his ability to put down a host of Arby’s Big Montanas, the sandwich of gods, was unrivaled among men.  And Stoop-Endous never allowed his poor posture to get in the way of taking on a bunch of radicalized cannibals, even in a subzero-temperature cavern. 

"I hear you’re getting married."

WHAT?  ‘Admin Assistant’ would never squeal.  Correction.  The desk in my office was another story.  So who could it be besides…  yeah, it was Mom.  Major miscalculation, she couldn’t put a sock in it.  And I couldn’t lie now.  Stoop-Endous was a living polygraph machine.  The freak.  I couldn’t just hang up either.

CA:  "No, you must have heard wrong.  If you heard that from Mom, it was the medication talking"

SE:  "You’re lying to me, aren’t you"

CA"  "Yes!  I mean no.  Um, maybe?  I mean no."

SE:  "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Game over.  My only weakness - a guilty conscience.  I told Stoop-Endous all of it.  ALL of it.  Makes me cringe.  After a good scolding, I had to let ‘Admin Assistant’ off the hook with the wedding ruse and tell my Mom the truth.  Ooooo, it burns me up.  ‘Admin Assistant’ would pay though.  Soon as I found that strap-on tail, it was payback time. 

Honestly kids, lying is the only way to make it through life alive, so predicting where your lies may make their way is paramount.  Take it from Capt Awesome, there is no greater defeat than having to admit to your gleeful admin assistant that you were wrong.  And choose your friends carefully.  Mr Stoop-Endous thinks he’s helping out when he really needs to just focus on himself with the aid of a chiropractor. Each of us knows a jerk like Mr. Stoop-Endous. The awesome way to deal with that jerk, if he hasn’t done anything for you lately, is to hang up before he begins ‘helping you’.

Captain Awesome out.

What?  WHAT?  Nothin different about me today.  Not a thing.  Just Capt
Awesome here, like always.  Just your Captain… Capt Awesome…
CA…  the ‘A’…  I’m not grinning, OK??  Its indigestion.  Give it a
rest already.  I’m in this new ‘thing’, but its a secret.  Thing.  So I
can’t talk about it and you’re gettin on my awesome nerves. 

The first rule of The Cult is never talk about the… Son-o-va!
Stupid.  Go away.  Don’t make me bite you in hard-to-reach places.

I mean, come back.

And
I was about to write you a reality check. Obviously, you’d prefer the
cold, hard cash of truth.  Fine.  Truth is, secrecy is a harsh
mistress.  And all this sneaking around is driving me insane. 

And
isn’t sanity really just a one-trick pony anyway? I mean all you get is
one trick, rational thinking, but when you’re good and crazy, oooh,
oooh, oooh, the sky is the limit.  I’m going away.  Goin away to
brood.  Yep.

Captain Awesome out.

Capt. Awesome here.  Screening your calls is an awesome precaution against those tugjob Capt Awesome fans looking for somebody to rescue their freakin cat out of a tree.  So when I received a call from ‘Unavailable’ the other day, my instinct was hang up, run away or make ‘Admin Assistant’ answer it.  Should have gone with my instincts.  I picked up and it was Mom.  Damn it!  She had me. There would be no spectacularly awesome exit this time.  In minutes, regardless of how I struggled, fidgeted and writhed, I would drift into a bloviate-induced coma.

Mom: Blah blah blah blah -Awesome- blah blah blah blah.

     Bleh blah bleh blah blah. Blah bleh blah bleh bleh.      
     Awesome-  blah blah blah. Blah blah blah  -Spend Your
     Life-  blah blah blah  -Cannibals-  blah blah blah blah.
     Bleh blah blah blah bleh -In Swaziland-.

CA:  Uh-huh. 

Mom: Blah blah blah blah, -Awesome-. Blah blah blah -Dating-
     Blah blah -Grandkids- blah blah blah blah bleh blah bleh blah?
     -You know- blah blah bleh blah blah bleh bleh bleh bleh
     - Can’t Wait Forever-.  Bleh?

CA:  Right. 

Mom: Blah blah bleh bleh -Took the Liberty- blah bleh blah blah
     -Full Page-  blah blah -Personal Ad- blah blah blah bleh blah bleh
     blah blah blah -Washington Post-.

CA:  That’s true, Mom, I’m kinda busy… 

Mom: Bleh bleh bleh blah blah blah -Dad- bleh blah blah blah -Out in
     the Yard- bleh blah blah blah blah. Blah blah bleh bleh?

CA: Yup. 

Mom: Blah bleh bleh bleh -The Jones’- bleh blah blah bleh blah -Roof-
          Bleh blah bleh blah blah bleh bleh. Bleh? Blah. Bleh blah.

CA:  What?!? –Choke–  Wait!!

     Stop!!
     Der!!
     Various Loud Noises!
     WHAT did you just say?
     No before that?

Mom: Weren’t you listening to me? 

CA:  Yes YES! Mom, YES! OK? Now what did you say?

Mom: Well, sweetie, we can’t wait around forever for you to get going on
          this so we took out a full-page personal ad for you          
          in the Washington Post.  We used your high-school graduation
          photo, you look so hands…

CA: F*.. Sht. WE?? YOU?? DID WHAT??

  –Clever woman.  She knew my awesome built-in spank ray won’t work over a lan-line.
And moreover she knows that I know that she knows it.  Capt Awesome was a trapped animal. Game. Set. Match.– 

Mom: Some very cute-sounding girls have called the house asking
     about you and…

CA:  WAIT!  You put YOUR phone number in a personal ad for ME?!?!   

Mom: Well, yes. You know how much you sound like your father.  When they call, he picks up the phone and blah blah bleh bleh blah blah blah bleh blah bleh blah…

CA:  Mom! MOM! Son-o-va!  What does Dad say to them on the phone?
     Actually, nevermind, I don’t want to know.
     TAKE IT DOWN, Mom.

Mom: Your father says bleh bleh blah blah bleh blah bleh blah bl..

CA:  Jesus-Humping Mary F-cking Mother of Christ, Mom- I said I don’t want to know. 
     DON’T! DO NOT!
     The diametric opposite of ‘DO’!
     Just take it down?  OK?

CA fans, there is no reasoning with insanity.  The more you douse that napalm jelly, the deeper it burns. 

CA:  Hold on Mom… ADMIN ASSISTANT!  Get in here! GO! Move!

*Admin Assistant (AA) enters*

AA:  Hello, Mrs Awesome, how are…

CA:  Silence!  Now, Mom, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for hours, Admin Assistant and I are getting married.

AA:  We are?  Yes, we are!  –whisper AA:  WTF??

Mom: Oh, my God!!  Hold on!  Hold on!  I’m getting your father!  I’m going to get… 

CA:  Mom, wait!  We’re putting off the wedding for a while, but you can call ‘Admin Assistant’ whenever you want to start planning it.  Just stop calling me on this number… OK?

     –whisper CA:  Your new job: plan the wedding with Mom until I call it off next year

     –whisper AA:  No, you jerk, I’ll never…
     –whisper CA:  You’ll get a raise - no strap-on tails, promise
     –whisper AA:  Alright fine .  This is the last time I do something like this.
                    The raise better be effing huge.

CA:  Yeah, Mom, just call ‘Admin Assistant’ when you get him out of the yard, OK?  Bye!  *click*

Awesome fans everywhere, there is a lesson here so listen up and stop playing with your navel-lint, OK?  Awesome is as awesome does, as I always say.  And the awesome way to deal with your problems is to unload them on a subordinate.  That’s why ‘Admin Assistant’ exists in the first place.  Never forget it.  And in case you’re wondering about AA’s raise, its coming any day now, any week, next month, and as soon as I get to it.

Captain Awesome out.

Capt Awesome here.  Now, its true, I do have a thing for women with tails.  So when ‘Admin Assistant’ rushed into the office this afternoon, I had the strap-on all ready to go.  The strap on.  Strap-on?  Strap-on.  Tail?  But she hadn’t dropped in for fun and games, this was serious.  ‘Admin Assistant’ had made a shocking discovery:

I yelled, "GET OUTTA MY OFFICE… Admin Assistant" and she scurried, but not before a parting, "You know, you dance like a woman." to which I responded, "I dance like a woman… if she were a man!" as the door slammed.  I got her there.  Where did the strap-on go?  The day had gone to hell in a handbasket.

After some quality "jack-time", I realized someone was playing a joke on Captain Awesome.  Capt Awesome doesn’t have "Kickass Adventures", those are for sissies.  And the real Capt Awesome doesn’t have sexy ears or a rack to die for.  There was only one thing to do.  Throw it away and pretend it didn’t exist.  ‘Admin Assistant’ knew about it.  F*ck!!  OK, think Awesome, lets get that AQ flowing…  Hours passed and nothing.  It was getting hot and I had a headache.

I sat there, perplexed.  Then came a knock on the door.  "Capt Awesome, can I come in now?"  Oh God, it was ‘Admin Assistant’ again. "Yeah if you brought a strap-on, mine’s gone"  She was looking for her next promotion, now?  In the middle of this crisis??  ‘Admin Assistant’ opened the door and she chuckled. "What?!?" 

It was a ruse.  She explained.  ‘Admin Assistant’ drew it for a laugh at good ol’CA.  Relieved, I chuckled along, gave her a swift slap on the buttocks then sent her back to your fan-mail.  There’s a lesson here, kids, never let your admin assistant get the better of you or you’ll probably lose your favorite strap-on.  Strap-ons aren’t cheap and its embarrassing when they know you as the repeat strap-on customer. 

Also, let your admin assistant have a little fun now and then, esp. if they’re also taking care of the laundry and cleaning too, like mine. And the awesome way to show just how much you respect their little ‘careers’, is a nice, firm smack in the hind-quarters. Just don’t overdo it or they’ll get cocky and as we all know, there is nothing worse than a cocky admin assistant.

Captain Awesome out.

Today, a few diligent Capt Awesome fans pointed me to widespread reports that say your hero has "Jumped the Shark."  You might ask, "Capt Awesome, can’t you just repel the shark relying only on your stratospheric AQ and your awesome built-in spank ray?" or "Isn’t there any reasoning with this cruel, mindless predator?"  Now, the Capt knows a thing or two about the shark and if you think you’re gonna to get sympathy from the shark, well then you won’t. Stupid.  The shark is a fearsome animal.  The shark will astound you.  It has more fearsome power than many full-size vacuums and it will eat anything.  Its nature’s living garbage disposal.

You’ll know when the shark goes after those soggy pieces of food, metal nuts on your hardwood floor, dirt on the carpet, or even your own ankles, that its damned-well time to jump.  Don’t sit there like a dumb sh*t asking "How high?"  Its time to get your ass in awesome gear and jump over it.  Science proves that the shark really has no interest in human beings and shark attacks are just those rare, cute, curious misunderstandings where the shark tears you apart, limb by limb, in a bloody orgy of death.  Remember, you cannot outrun the shark in its natural environment.  It has awesome speed.  In this disturbing shark attack footage, you can clearly see its sleek lines, insatiable voracity, and deadly power:

Its obvious here that the shark has razor-sharp skin with side brushes that clean corners and grab dirt along walls and in those hard-to-reach areas.  Scientists call this "Wall Hugging Technology," but don’t be fooled by the term.  That skin will slice open your hand if you’re petting the shark the wrong way.  There is good news though, for you.  If you’ve survived a sustained shark attack for over 45 minutes, the shark usually runs out of power and dies.  Its nature’s twisted joke on the shark.  HAHA HA HAHA!!!  HAHA HA HAHA!!!

Remember Capt Awesome fans, you can’t go around fighting with the shark, but you can learn to live with it in harmony.  And jumping the shark is the awesome way to avoid being eaten alive.  So, go out on the front lawn today and practice your shark jumping.  Capt Awesome says, "be prepared," because you never know when that next rare, cute, curious misunderstanding might be you.

Captain Awesome out.