Magic

I can do magic, at least according to my children. However, some of my powers are more suited to adults.

Here is an example. Bears and worms have very little in common, but my powers allow me to turn them into virtually the exact same thing. I use the power of one single magic word...


GUMMY!

February 29th

Today is Leap Day. Happy Leap Day everyone. Please take advantage of the time to jump over something.

I hate Leap Day. I don't get paid for Leap Day. It's a free day of work for me. Anyone who gets paid a salary should dislike Leap Day. Your annual salary doesn't go up a smidge every four years. But you're still at work all day long. Remember this while you're busy goofing off at work today. Today was a freebie anyway.

Stand-Alone-Stach #5

"Here, take a drink of this." That was German, I don't speak German do I?

I knock back the glass and grimace. Jagermeister. "So smooth," I reply in Polish. Polish, since when do I speak Polish and understand German? Stach what have you done this time?

Judging by our winged out collars and swinging attire it must be the seventies. Since we are speaking German and Polish we must be in Eastern Europe. I swill down another shot of cough syrup and my face reacts accordingly. The German photographer in front of my squeals with delight. "That's it! That's it! We've got a perfect ad campaign idea. So smooth, so perfect."

I spend the next few hours in various poses holding bottles, holding glasses, and swilling Jager while my German counterpart snaps pictures. The next day (late in the day thanks to my hangover), the photographer and I select the best. We rush off to Jager-HQ and pitch an ad campaign. Jager-Powers-That-Be are immediately impressed with our creative idea, our showcase of their swill, and my impressive lip warmer. The invention of the Jager-Face is born, and my picture inspires a series of magazine and billboard adds that will run for the next seven years.

I enjoy my new found Eastern European fame by making guest appearances on Polish state run TV, state run mandatory morale events, and state run radio. I even cut a state run album called Jager, the Stach, and me. I have komrades o'plenty. Looking back it was a pretty awful time. Communist Poland sucks, thanks Stach.

I felt a need to help the Polish people throw off the reigns of collectivism by organizing my own collective group. Inspired by the stern and forthright nature of my Stach they named this first non-government trade union after it, "Stach". A movement was born. Unfortunately in the West a poorly trained translator mistranslated "Stach" into "Solid", so in the US the movement is still erroneously known as "Solidarity".

It all came to a tragic end for me one day when government minders rounded me up, sent me to Siberia, I wrote a 7,000 page book on crime and punishment (only to find out later that someone already beat me to it), and charged seven dollars (SEVEN DOLLARS? for one round?) for the bullet that would be used in my execution.

I give you: The Jager Stach (a.k.a. So Smooth)

Stand-Alone-Stach #4

Ouch, that hurts. Hey, quit slapping me around. Stach what have you gotten me into this time?

1980's, I'm in an area, maybe Madison Square Garden, and the crowd is going nuts, shouting for blood. Some kind of gladiator event is taking place and I'm right in the middle of a ring wearing a speedo. Good Lord, Stach, you've made me a pro-wrestler? The beefcake across from me sprints away, rebounds off the ropes, runs past me, and delivers a crushing close line that drops me to the turf. Man that hurt, I thought this was supposed to be fake. Guess I'm doing it wrong? I gather my wits just in time to notice that beefcake has thrown himself from the top of the ropes in a move that will kill us both. I roll out in the nick of time and the crowd goes nuts. Apparently forethought wasn't part of beefcake's plan, because he made himself semi-unconscious with a 1.2 landing (according to the Romanian judge) or a 6.0 (according to Richter).

Now's my chance. I look around the ring and notice that a folding chair has been conveniently left just outside the ring easily within arm's reach. I grab the chair, give beefcake a donk on the head for good measure, and set up the chair in the middle of the ring. Stach tells me to ham it up a little so I circle the ring, work up the crowd, and turn back to beefcake. His bell is still ringing so I pick him up and settle him in on the chair. Now the Stach and I come up with an amazing wrestling hold that will become my signature move. I call it the "Cobra Claw". Down goes beefcake and a new pro-wrestler is born, Sgt. Slayer.

For the next few years I travel the US on the T&A Wrestling Tour, make a few guest appearances on TV shows, and eventually become one of the most popular figures in the "sport". They even make a He-Man action figure after my likeness (kung-fu grip equipped of course). Unfortunately it all comes to an end when I'm accidentally killed in a wrestling stunt involving a foreign object, the top rope, a steal cage, a midget, a ref that wasn't looking, a "friend" that betrayed me, and a wrestler that returned from the dead.


I give you: Sgt. Slayer Stach

Stand-Alone-Stach #3

The Stach takes control. I open my eyes to the shout "...and, ACTION!" Cautiously I look around and take stock of my new Stach predicament. I appear to be on a movie set of some type. Judging by the hair, collars, gold chains, and cigars it must be the mid-seventies. By the look on everyone's faces I must be expected to do something...just what I'm not sure. From the stage settings I appear to be a very ill dressed pizza delivery boy.

I knock on the door in front of me. It opens and I ask, "Anyone order a pizza?"

The scantly clad women before me answer suggestively without words. From nowhere a funky seventies baseline fills the room. I cannot repeat what happens next. Needless to say this Stach causes a number of little deaths.

I give you: 70's Adult Film Stach

Stand-Alone-Stach #2

Today's Stach took me to exotic Hawaii, circa 1980. These were fast times with swinging beach babes and cool cars. But there was a dark underside. Drug dealing and general criminal mayhem was rampant. An elite police team called Hi-Five, oh...is that the name....wait...something like that...anyway was just canceled...er disbanded, and crime was back. I don't know how to dance Hula, but the stach provided me a job as a Private Investigator under the name, Colt PI. In no time at all I find a rich benefactor who likes my idea of non-lethal vigilante justice and my ability to ferret out a seemingly endless supply of attractive women who, by no fault of their own, are caught in impossibly complicated situations. I take up residence in the benefactor's guest house, swill free beer from an endless beer fridge, and tool around in his Ferrari. Strangely I never meet the rich guy, I just interact with his ambiguously gay butler. For kicks I also pick up a black helicopter pilot sidekick, who doesn't want one of those?

I did this for about eight seasons...er years. I was finally killed in one of my adventures in a freak accident involving taro root, a lei, a beach fire dance, a coconut drink, and another Hawaii cliché I can't remember at the moment. I heard that my high jinks were turned into a TV show where the main character was a prop, dressed in flower shirts, for the real hero of the show...A Stant-Alone-Stach.

I give you: Colt PI Stach

Stand-Alone-Stach #1

My first stach took me back to Wild Western times. I found myself somewhere in frontierland USA. This proved a real problem for me, as I do not know how to farm, ride a horse, or rustle dogies or outlaws.

Fortunately my stach rescued me. I took up gambling and drinking, two things a stach allowes rogues to do. I gained some noteriety as a gambler named Doc and invented Texas Hold'em. Unfortunately I was killed and misidentified shortly after playing the hand pictured.

I give you: Wild West Poker Stach