I Wonder What Skullduggery Ross Martin Is Up To Tonight

Did Ross Martin ever not play a bad guy after The Wild, Wild West? I guess he just has one of those faces. He's on McCloud tonight, and although he hasn't done anything nefarious yet, I'm convinced that he will. And get caught at the end.

I think I saw him a few weeks ago on Banicek, trying to match wits with Banicek and generally being an arrogant jerk. 

Ross Martin on The Twilight Zone

Anyway, I want to talk about this apple I'm eating. I needed to buy some for the kids at the supermarket over the weekend, and I know they know make apples with actual flavor after decades of red delicious apples that tasted like eating cardboard. The closer I got to the apples the more people swooped in and seemed intent on not moving. Normally when people do this I just go look at something else, but this time I really just wanted to get in there and get some tasty apples and get moving on, so I hung in there. I saw one bag that said Pacific roses, and that sounded tasty, so I grabbed a bag. I'm trying one tonight for the first time, and it's not that great. After a lifetime of expecting apples to taste like pulp I now really get excited about biting into one, but these are very lackluster. 

No moon again tonight. Too much cloud cover, which is a shame because this cleansing snow moon, as I have heard it called, has been fun to look at. I could see it if I went up to bed. It was really bright last night, but I'd like to see it outside the window as I work downstairs and wait for Ross Martin to unveil whatever villainous plan he's about to hatch.

Maybe Ross Martin will reveal he's from Saturn at the end of tonight's McCloud episode

I was writing earlier about the difference between outsider and outlaw poetry, but only just earlier I had a feeling I might be near the end of this jag I'm on. 

I wonder how long McCloud was in New York City in the span of the television series, and if the police chief was threatening to send him back to New Mexico in every episode. 

Maybe I will go upstairs to bed and look at the moon from there and listen to the radio with my earphones. 

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The Five Sacred Cities of Outsider Poetry

Been working on something really stupid the past few days. A fictional Outsider Poetry slam league consisting of teams from Rancho Cucamonga, Chemung, Kokomo, Sheboygan, and Paducah. And thus the National Outsider Poetry Slam League is born. Sleeping probably would have been a better option. 

Lazy people such as myself have to be careful what we tentatively title things because those titles almost invariably become permanent. I named the Chemung team the Chemung Shamans, now I realize I have to live with that name. It is only slightly better than the Rancho Cucamonga Kookamungas or the Sheboygan Syllablists.

In this hypothetical league the Kookamungas and Shamans are joined by the Syllablists, the Paducah Page Poets, and the Kokomo Oralists. Each team will play all others twice, with a final tournament being held at Madison Square Garden. 

Not sure why McCloud is still on at three a.m. Maybe there was a hockey game on earlier. This will be my last day of a heavy antibiotic cycle after dental work ten days ago. More to come. It hurt in some ways more than heart surgery or hernia surgery. Not looking forward to a second root canal, or more correctly the pain of that infection being released, but I can't have that infection in my body when I have artificial parts. 

Back to the poetry slam. Sick of talking about it by now. So, let's not. McCloud is in Australia. I never got into these Sunday night detective movies. McCloud, Columbo, McMillan and wife, Banicek, although I have been enjoying Banicek more than the others lately. This means McCloud will be on MeTV all week. 

I don't suppose there's anything with working on something that stupid. It's certainly not the dumbest thing I've ever done. 

My feet are reacting to this Winter a lot better than the last one. I was really trying to enjoy last summer, but it just keeps going by so fast. There's never enough night or enough summer. There's always more poetry than anyone needs. 

jenny and i went to the antique mall a couple of days ago. We saw a roll top desk that looks like the one I'd like to have, but after further inspection it was rather patched together. It had lots of visually pleasing compartments and departments, but it seemed like it was made from cheaper wood and had been repaired many times. also, no real place to put it.

Seems like there's more sacred cities of Outsider Poetry that I have forgotten, like Minooka. I'm always certain that I've forgotten one. I hope i don't remember it as I'm about to doze off into a replenishing sleep. That doesn't happen to me anymore. I don't hop out of bed with great ideas and I don't wake up with erections. Never really got much use out of either of those things in the first place. 

Auguest 15, 2026 update: Oh ya, I had that kind of time. Still do. 

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