Fake Samuel

I've been doing a little acting on the side recently. Here is the first installment in my most recent work.

This is the twisted tale of one Brown Bear and his animal friends. Unbenownst to them, they are all being watched by a classroom full of children, hungry for their blood. Little by little, they come to know this, mainly by using their collective powers of deduction. I found this book amusing, in its illustrations (a purple cat - absurd), as well as its portrayal of modern animal life. Apparently these animals have nothing better to do than to look around at each other. Of course, in the end, this is what saves them from being killed by the children. At least that's what I assume happens - the book leaves it to the imagination of the reader, and I'm an optimist. All in all I give this book 2 thumbs up. This psychological thriller kept me on the edge of my seat from cover to cover. When I receive the sequel "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, How do you Taste?," I will review it as well.

Its incredibly difficult to come up with witty banter when your brain has not yet fully developed. And this keyboard was bigger than me about 4 months ago. I have to pound the mouse button with my fist. What a chore. But I think the worst part is the fear of reprisal. Its not easy when you're such a public figure, saying whatever comes to mind. I live in the constant knowledge that there is always somebody watching, possibly with a camera, just waiting for me to mess up. Or say something that goes too far. Have I received death threats? No. But I'm pretty sure thats only because I don't check my email. Someday, someday, I'm gonna be old enough to defend myself. I anticipate they'll attack before then. Let them try.

Because for months and months all I could do was lay there and stare at stuff and then finally, finally , I could wiggle a little bit and play with whatever was put in front of my face. And that curbed my boredom for about 4 seconds. Then it got really bad. Unless one of the Folks is just rotating stuff in front of me, life is just really boring. So eventually, the pushups I do everynight in the crib before falling asleep started to pay off and I could crawl around. And that was fine for a while. Like 5 or 6 seconds. And I'm bored again. Sure I may look happy, but its really just a courtesy for the rest of you, so you don't have to share in my endless pain. And so it seems that, at times, I can amuse myself, by recounting jokes I've heard on Good Morning America. Of course, since no one on GMA is very witty, the only way they are funny is if you scream them.

especially when he's just repeating the same thing over and over again like "push the orange button, push the orange button, the orange button, push it in and make the music go, push the orange button" or "can you say ball, ball ball ball ball ball ball." sheesh. or "no we don't touch the plants, no don't touch the plants, no thats a no-touch." blah blah blah. whatever. he flaps his gums alot. i do throw him a bone once in a while. I'll touch the orange button - but pressing it not quite hard enough to trip the mechanism inside. Or I'll pretend to think better about touching the plant (while really I sneak in multiple touches when they're not looking). Or I'll say something close to ball. Like "baa." or "all." I practice my words at night. I sneak out of my crib and watch reruns of "Happy Days" and random infomercials to work on my language skills. Someday I'll just throw a fricken

I know it was kinda cold when I came out, but no one told me this temperature would return. No wonder the Father is obsessed with making fires - living every day of his life not knowing if he would be warm or not.

So I'm on another death march with The Father and I'm like hey if you let me out of the stroller maybe my limbs will have a chance at avoiding frostbite, and he's like whoa whoa there tiger, you can't walk yet, and I'm like well I can crawl and at least it'll keep me from turning into a babesicle and he's like I'm not going to slowly plod along behind you while you crawl on the pavement picking up stones and dog poop and rotten leaves every few feet and I'm like whatever I can't feel my fingers anymore anyway and he's like whatever I'm gonna go back to my ipod. Unbelievable.

The Weebleville Town Center is recommended for 18 months and up, but like I care. Let me tell you what I really think about this toy: roll over dang it! How annoying is this? Frustrates me to no end - the mind games these toys play. Sure, Weebleville is an amazing place, with excitement and joy around every corner. But it's every inhabitant makes me want to shoot myself. Then the music starts and I can't stop myself from dancing. Its like some sort of music induced seizure. Its irresistible. So I give this toy one thumb up and and one thumb down.

A part of the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, The Mother says I have to read it before I watch the movies. Whatever. Its pretty good though. Can't really say I'm paying attention to a lot of it as its read to me, but I usually perk up during the fight scenes or when there is talk of the children getting eaten by giants. There was one other part though, that bothered me. I mean, I try to be as tolerant as I can be, and to just throw around the word "gay" as if it could have any other meaning, is just careless and rude. Not very P.C., Clive. You'll be lucky if your next book sells a few thousand copies.