How strange that you, of all of us, would prove to be the most hopeful.

This Saturday is called the Barbecue:
She that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when next year the day is named,
And rouse her at the smell of smoke.
He that shall live this day, and see middle age,
Will yearly on the vigil prepare his appetites,
And say ‘To-morrow is a Barbecue:’
They will bare her liver and show his gut.
And say ‘These things I earned at a Barbecue.’
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot in the morning,
But he’ll remember with advantages
What things he ate that day: then shall the names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Arthur Bryant the king, Memphis and Neely’s,
Rendezvous and Jack Stack, Bermuda Black and 151,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Barbecue Saturday shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember’d;
We few, we happy few, we band of barbecuers;
For he to-day that eats and drinks with me
Shall be my brother; be she ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle her condition:
And revelers everywhere not attendant
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That barbecued with us on the glorious day!

(Mail me if you need specifics.)

(Part One.)

As a newly-empowered person of super, I have some decisions to make.

First and foremost, I need a name. The name must meet two criteria:

1. It must bear some connection, however faint, to my new power.
2. It must lend itself easily to a cool-looking costume.
3. It must conform to classical style.

I have not had my bat-crashing-through-the-window moment yet. My tried-and-rejected list:

“Bugzapper”
“Mr. Milliwatt”
“Drunk With Power”
“The Annoyer”
“Brownout” *
“Sparky” **

* Luna’s suggestion.

**To correctly honor the classical style, this one would require me to be a sidekick. Sadly, to my knowledge, I have no (brace yourselves) super friends.

Other naming ideas welcome.

As far as a costume goes, I probably have to wait until I have settled on a name to begin assembling my signature look. I am fairly confident that it will include garishly colored gloves and a jaunty hat featuring lightning bolts. I have rejected only the suggestion, too silly to credit, of a LOLcat-style t-shirt emblazoned with a picture of me and the phrase “I HAS A POWER”.

The big question, obviously, is whether I will be a hero or a villain. Personally, I would prefer to be a tweener, like Catwoman, as I’m not much of a joiner. But I do feel like I should give the two sides fair hearing.

Villainy is more attractive generally, and I’m sure my Super Myers-Briggs would reflect my greater suitability for membership in the Legion of Doom. Plus, of course, my power seems like a more natural fit for a life of crime. (”It seems, Commissioner, that someone must have walked by Tiffany’s and sent a tiny jolt of electricity through their primary burglar alarm every day for twelve to fourteen months, and there’s only one man alive that could pull that off!”) I’m basically set here. But I have, in the interest of fairness, given consideration to being a hero. As a general rule, I would prefer to avoid constant capture and general thwarting. Plus there would be groupies. But, assuming I don’t wind up being called Sparky and spending my time getting the Green Lantern’s dry cleaning, I think team planet-saving just isn’t for me. Malfeasant personal enrichment and the occasional piece of super poon is a much more motivating set of goals than constantly bailing Superman out of trouble.

It has been said that with great power comes great responsibility. This made me nervous for a while. Research was done. Loopholes were found. And fortunately for me, my power, while legally super, is technically not “great”. Really, I think my only obligation is to maintain a secret identity — so shush, you people — and occasionally thwart or be thwarted.

So I even have a super-catchphrase now: “With vanishingly modest power comes virtually no responsibility.”

Summon me if you need anything diabolical or heroic seen to. Use my cellphone for now; I’ll have a signal as soon as I have a damn name.

Before we move on to Part II of my new status as a Person of Super, we must cede the floor momentarily. As you know, Blood and Thunder is an enthusiastic supporter of Blogs for the Blogless, and welcomes the opportunity to seat commenters sit in the big chair. Obviously, we’re equal opportunity.

Ladies and gentlemen: missunderstood.

* * * * *

Bondgirl hot. She hit it from the back. Snoop aint got shit on me. He a poser, he and David beckam. Soccar is for pussies. Snoop don’t really hang with Beckam. He just bang his wife. That hot, if you want to be my lover you get with my friend. . . YOU KNOW WHAT I AM SAYING.
Ress Grossman is for pussies. He got a broken leg. And he don’t bang bitches. He and Orton pull no pussies. Orton just dances to Kanye by himself and drink wine. Hester sweet. Me and HEster are boyzzzz. He live with me. He my boy.
World Geatest Phootgrapher don’t got shit on me. Where are Bondgril pics? She got big boobs. Bondgirl hot. Vegas is sweet. I aint got no shit on Vegas. Walker say what? Walker say what? That what I thought bitch. Walker ain’t got shit on me. He cant catch nothing but a brick to the head. And 2PAC. 2Pac my boy. He live with me. Before hester. Sugg eff him up though. Sugg a punk. He aint got shit on me. Dre should punch sugg in his fat face.
Yo, yo, yo, B&T? Where you at? You with Bondgril? She hot and got big boobs. Send me a pic. Frank Thomas is good. I watch Sox all the time. Cubs are for pussies. They suck. Where Mark Grace? He sweet. YOU KNOW WHAT I AM SAYING? Yeah, na naw na nawwww. UUUHHH.
Make you say UUUHHH, naw na nawww naawwww. Beyonce hot. P-diddy hit that shit.

It was the motherboard. Again. This time it wasn’t retired as a Schiavo, though. This time, all the software was still there, in original form, and I could work with it; it was just tedious and complicated and mostly impossible to get at. Not a Schiavo. A Hawking. So hello, again, American Express Gold Card Extended Warranty hotline. The Toshiba Hawking, which replaced the Gateway Schiavo, which replaced the Dell Schiavo, has been replaced by a new Toshiba. One hopes this one is someday consigned to a less unkindly-named fate.

By the way, two big thumbs up, once again, to the AmEx Gold Card Electronics Warranty Extension program.

When it initially blew, it was freezing on boot, two-thirds of the way through the very first screen. I consulted Nate Dogg and the Mongoose, both of whom were helpful but not hopeful. Acting on an offhand suggestion from one of them, and after I called the warranty people — who told me I needed a repair diagnostic and estimate from someone reputable who takes American Express, the first of which ruled out the Mongoose while the second ruled out Nate Dogg — I made my way to Best Buy, where I bought a delightful little machine. I removed the hard drive from the Hawking, plugged it into the machine, and plugged the machine into Luna’s laptop, which treated it like an external hard drive, allowing me to grab four or five things that had been updated since the last backup, plus delete a bunch of personal information and pornographic unsuitables before I and the laptop went off to find a reputable repair shop that accepted American Express. (Money-saving tip: A slightly unscrupulous person could conceivably return the hard-drive-reader to Best Buy after using it, citing the thing’s failure to perform as hoped. They will not require you to specify what you had hoped it would do that it did not.)

Saturday, prior to going to Fry in search of my fourth laptop since 2005, we joined Burlap Condoms, among others, at the home of Nate Dogg and P-Funk for grilled meats and merriment. I was armed with a question: How big an outlier is three laptops with bad motherboards? Nate Dogg’s Dad merrily suggests that perhaps I am electrocuting them with my fingers, and I should wear a ground wire or something. Nate asks a few questions, and we determine that my case is unusual, and move on. Then one of the neighbors arrives, and I am told to direct my question to her, as she is a computer engineer. So I repeat my question: Is three dead laptops, deceased at fourteen month intervals, all of bad motherboards, lottery-ticket unlikely, merely weird, or is it just me.

She replies, “Actually, it probably is you. It’s electrostatic discharge. We have some people with that at work. They have to wear a groundwire while they work or they screw everything up.”

Nate Dogg Senior looks staggered.

I say, “Seriously? This is a thing?”

And she says, “Oh, yeah. Some people carry a charge or something. Causes long-term damage to sensitive electronics. It can be a real problem.”

I am stunned to the core.

And here we come to the extraordinary news I promised you. Because as she is saying this, it dawns on everyone what we have just learned. If you get right down to what she is saying, there can be no debate as to the life-changing magnitude of her words. I can shoot small amounts of electricity from my fingertips. The electricity that shoots from my fingertips can, with regular use over a long period of time, render complicated consumer electronics frustratingly useless.

As Luna put it, “Hee hee hee! You have a power!”

I have a power.

I am a person of super.

to be continued…

I have a new laptop and extraordinary news. I will be writing up the latter on the former while airborne tomorrow morning. In the meantime, contributed via email from a flatteringly long-term lurker:

1. What time did you get up this morning?
9ish? Self-employment has one or two perks.

2. Diamond or pearls?
Diamonds.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Sex and the City

4. What is your favorite TV show(s)?
My download-and-watch-regularly list is down to Scrubs.

5. What do you usually have for breakfast?
Coffee and either a couple of eggs or a couple of avocados.

6. What is your middle name?
Trouble.

7. What food do you dislike?
I believe I have cured myself of disliking certain foods in all deployments. By which I mean, I still hate green peppers on pizza, but they have uses.

8. What is your favorite CD at the moment?
I am past CDs. My favorite podcast right now is the downloads of Dan LeBatard’s magnificent afternoon radio show. My MP3 player has just shuffled to “Bitch Please II”.

9. What kind of car do you drive?
A Toyota Tundra of nondescript color — the dealership called it “Storm” — with a bright red mismatched aluminum cap, to keep the rain off.

10. Favorite sandwich?
There are so many. Excluding homemade, leaping to mind instantly are the proscuitto mozzarella and basil panini from L’Appetito, the big Pig sandwich from Leonard’s, Cuban toast (if that counts) and the lobster club from Fox & Obel.

11. What characteristic do you despise?
Disloyalty.

12. Favorite item of clothing?
I have a Batman tshirt that only comes out on the very most important occasions.

13. If you could go anywhere in the world where would it be?
I would like to have a month in Australia, France, or Japan.

14. Favorite brand of clothing?
Costco house brand crew socks. Hammacher Schlemmer should sell such socks.

15. Where would you retire to?
Las Vegas.

16. What was your most recent memorable birthday?
See two posts below.

17. Favorite sport to watch?
Fantasy baseball and NFL football.

18. Furthest place you are sending this?
I have lost my reader in or around Iraq. In a good way. So I don’t know who has the title now.

19. Person you expect to send it back first?
See, this just wasn’t written for me to use this way.

20. When is your birthday?
Didn’t we just cover that?

21. Are you a morning person or a night person?
Night. Morning, too, if I haven’t been to bed yet.

22. What is your shoe size?
Eleven. Infer what you will.

23. Pets?
*sigh* Yes.

25. Any new and exciting news you’d like to share with us?
Tomorrow. And it is double-exciting.

26. What did you want to be when you were little?
Big. And free.

27. How are you today?
Today was useful and productive. And not unpleasant.

28. What is your favorite candy?
Good dark chocolate.

29. What is your favorite flower?
Hibiscus.

30. What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to?
July 5. We is havin’ a barbecue. I haven’t had a barbecue in a long time.

32. What is your full name?
Three words that, typed sequentially into Google, I’d prefer not lead here. (”Well, um, Mom…we kid because we love.”)

33. What are you listening to right now?
My Summer Vacation, which now never fails to make me think of Juli Mac.

34. What was the last thing you ate?
An avocado.

35. Do you wish on stars?
When occasion demands.

36. If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Black

37. How is the weather right now?
It’s okay to pause and think when you’re writing one of these, you people.

38. Last person you spoke to on the phone?
Seriously, it is. (My older younger brother. The Teabaggers are in fourth place; a comfortable seat for this point in the season.)

39. Favorite soft drink?
Diet coke with Cruzan Blackstrap rum.

40. Favorite restaurant?
That’s not just it’s own post, that’s a week of posts.

41. What color is your hair?
Now you’re trying my patience, MySpace content generator.

42. What was your favorite toy as a child?
Once I passed ten, I was free to roam my suburb on my bike. Wheels are freedom.

43. Summer or winter?
Summer.

44. Hugs or Kisses?
From who, and what kind?

45. Chocolate or Vanilla?
Peppermint.

46. Coffee or Tea?
Coffee, except with Asian food.

47. Do you want your friends to email you back?
How long it’s okay to take to e-mail someone back on a non-urgent topic: Twenty-four hours. No longer.

48. The last time you cried?
Best guess: Near the end of Rocky Balboa, when Rocky leaves the ring before the decision is announced.

49. What is under your bed?
Nothing. It’s a waterbed. Putting stuff under it is asking for trouble.

50. What did you do last night?
Had dinner with my Dad, my stepmother, and my younger younger brother, then hung out with my Mom for a couple of hours.

51. What are you afraid of?
Regrets.

52. Salty or Sweet?
Me?

53. How many keys on your key ring?
This is now openly ludicrous. Was there a quota assigned to the number of questions?

54. How many years at your current job?
Twoish. Unless you count hanging on two years at a bad job to fund the company.

55. Favorite day of the week?
Oh, really, now.

56. How many towns have you lived in?
River Forest, Oak Park, DeKalb, Chicago, Forest Park, Westmont, Oak Park again, Summerland Key, Marathon, Key West, Chicago again.

57. Do you make friends easily?
Yes. But not close ones.

58. How many people will you send this to?
Spambots have made it impossible to figure out how many readers there are anymore. But I’m flattered and grateful for all of you.

59. How many will respond?
Quota time again.

60. What happened to 31?
I suspect you converted it to sixty so you could punch out and go home.