Cone Man auditioning

Cone Man wants to star in a nighttime, outdoor, dramatic version of the classic film, Taxi Driver.  Here, he's delivering the classic Travus Bickle line,

You talkin' to me?

Click the image to see a larger version.

If we proceed with the staging--and that is a very big if at this point--I think he gets the part.

It really is getting mighty festive up in here.

Are you having trouble sleeping?

Cone Man can help.

Of course, first you have to persuade him you are worthy.

He's a sneaky bastard who respects sneaky people, so your best bet is to start by trying to sneak up on him, as if he can't see your side-on approach.

Click the image to see a larger version.

Of course, he can see you, but he won't be able to stop himself from spinning to look at you.

Once you're face-to-face with him, give in to his psychic pressure, draw closer, and stare into the blackness of his eyes, twin voids that link directly to his soulless true self.

Oh, you'll fall asleep then, once he locks his gaze on yours.

What happens next, though, and what you dream, well, no one can help that.

Cone Man gets a portrait

In centuries past, the homes of the wealthy often sported portraits of their owners.  We're not into that, but Cone Man is, so now this portrait, courtesy of artist Nathan Bode, adorns the garage wall in front of where I park.

Click an image to see a larger version.

I like the way it captures the spirit of Cone Man, who is too much his own cone to let any frame contain him.  (The stuff below and to the right of the frame is unrelated garage wall art.)

I also like the way Nathan captured Cone Man's rugged, outdoorsman spirit while at the same time making him appear considerably less ragged than he really is.

I have not, though, had a chance to ask Nathan a key question:  is the frame just a frame, or is it a hint of the other-dimensional travel capabilities Cone Man possesses, capabilities that have led him to try more than once to conquer our world with creatures from the dark beyond?

I may well be better off not knowing.

The world outside my house

MarkP asked for a few shots of the outside world, so for the first time since I arrived home Thursday night, I braved the outdoors.  I didn't go out until late in the afternoon on Sunday, so a lot of the snow and ice had melted by then; sorry about that, Mark.

Here's Holden sniffing some plants near our front door.

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As you can tell, others have been out walking, and despite the melting, we still have a lot of ice.

The driveway to the left is clearing.

Straight ahead, not as much has melted.

To the right, Cone Man must stand in the snow but at least has the joy of presiding over a melting section of the driveway.

Tonight, the temperature will drop, and a lot of the water on the roads will freeze into black ice.

Regardless, early tomorrow morning I must head to the airport for the next trip.

Wish me luck getting to RDU!

Thanksgiving Cone Man gives no thanks

At a time when we should all be celebrating the beauty of fall and giving thanks for all we have, the Cone Man is doing none of those things.  Instead, he's plotting world conquest once again, this time with his latest henchthing, the metal dragon.

Click an image to see a larger version.

Do not be fooled by the size of the metal dragon, for though it is short, it is also fearsome--and now it is under Cone Man's sway.  The damage these two could do to our world, nay, to the very fabric of our reality, is impossible to measure.

Fortunately for all of us, Holden is, as always, on the job.

At first, he tried to reason with both metal dragon and then Cone Man.

Sadly, that approach failed.

Being a prudent dog hero, Holden then inspected the perimeter for additional troublemakers--a wise move, because Cone Man has been known to summon allies from other dimensions.

Happily, Holden found no additional conspirators.

He tried once again to reason with the dastardly duo, but once again, he failed.

They were having none of reason.

Finally, forced to employ drastic measures, Holden backed up to the metal dragon and explained exactly what horrors he would rain on the dragon should the dragon not cease and desist from all plotting.

The dragon, being metal, quickly realized that Holden, being male, would be all to happy to deliver the Rust-Inducing Dog Piss Rain of Doom (TM pending by Holden), and agreed to a truce.

Metal dragon now serves as Holden's lieutenant, keeping a watchful eye on Cone Man, and the world is now safe once again--thanks to Holden--from Cone Man's machinations.

For now.

Cone Man gets an ally

You can't trust a Cone Man.  When last we followed his adventures, he was sending local animals through a dimensional portal to his "dark lords"--creatures Holden proved to be thirteen-year-old boys in another dimension.  We had thought we were finally safe from the Cone Man, and that he had abandoned his hopes of becoming King Cone...but we were wrong.

One night, the darkness beside his right arm hole sizzled like grease frying in the air, solidified, and became this.

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Unwilling to let them live in the darkness, we exposed the Cone Man's new friend, the evil pelican. 

When I say "we," of course, I mean He Who Watches the Cone Man, Holden.  Holden's superb senses led him to detect this cosmic disturbance immediately and to alert us to it.  We were thus able to capture the end of the conversation between Cone Man and his new concrete friend.

Cone Man:  I don't care what you want.  If the dark lords won't make me King Cone, I'm not going to help.

Evil Pelican:  Fine.  Whatever.  As long as we restart the flow of tasty animal flesh through the portal, you'll get what you want.

CM:  I can do my part, but exactly how are you going to help?  In case you haven't noticed, you're concrete. 

EP:  What is this concrete you speak of?  I am having trouble moving, but I assumed it was simply the result of stiffness due to inter-dimensional travel.

CM:  No, you idiot.  You're made of concrete.  You can't move.

EP:  So fix it!  What else are you good for?  Get me out some flesh, and we can restart the feed line.  
 
CM:  You sand-for-brains idiot, there's no fixing it!  You need to go back and start over. 

EP:  Okay, my tall friend, exactly how am I supposed to go back, when I can't freakin' move?

At this point, Holden had heard enough.  He turned on the area lights and tried reason.

Holden:  Excuse me, my two yard decorations, but I simply cannot tolerate any further talk of feed lines, pipelines, or dark lords.  This area is under my protection, and protect it I shall.

CM:  Hah!  Your days are numbered, short and furry.  When pelican here unleashes his powers, you will bow before us.

EP:  That's right!  Don't push me, or I'll unleash my...you know.

H:  Far be it from me to dash the dreams of any creatures, but as you are both aware, the pelican is concrete and unable to do anything beyond standing there and looking rather, well, if I must say, evil.  I again insist that the two of you cease and desist all talk of menace. 

CM:  And exactly what are you going to do if we don't?

EP:  Yeah, dog-breath, what can you do?

H:  Though it saddens me to resort to force, I will if I must.  Do you really want to face the power of my yellow lasers of doom?

CM:  No!  We're cool.  Seriously.  No laser eyes.  No more threats.  Right, pelican?

EP:  Threats?  No threats.  We were just joking. 

H:  A wise choice, and one that spares you a sad, melty fate.  Though I will turn them off now...

H:  ...please do remember that I bring my laser eyes--and all of my being--to the task of protecting this world. 

CM:  Whatever.

EP:  Yeah, yeah.  So, Cone Buddy, what does concrete do all day?



And so, once again, our the Earth is safe, thanks to Holden.

Three holiday views of Holden

When Holden is not busy trying to smooth the rough edges of the Cone Man or save our deer and squirrels from other-dimensional poachers, he spends time contemplating the universe and its many secrets.  For those willing to watch closely, he shares the answers to those secrets.

In this shot, for example, he is letting us know that, yes, there is a guiding force to the universe.

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That force does not, however, bring kibble often enough.

Here Holden makes clear that vigilance is the price of freedom--and also package delivery. 

Woe be unto those who try to sneak a cardboard box onto our stoop. 

Finally, as he so often does, Holden likes to remind us that if we will only stare deeply enough into his eyes, we will realize that though the guiding force of the universe does not deliver his kibble when it should, we have free will and could fix that problem on our own.

If only we would listen and act more.

In which Holden attempts to turn Cone Man toward the light

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Holden:  Over a month has it been since we last chatted, my Plexiglas friend.

Cone Man:  Not so long since you pissed on me, you fur-covered toadie for the man!

H:  Must you resort to vulgarity at every turn?  Surely you are a better cone than that.

CM:  Stick your snout in one of my arm holes, and I'll show you vulgar. 

H:  As intriguing as your offer is, I must decline it, for I venture forth this Christmas Eve on far more serious matters. 

CM:  If you think there's anything more serious than what's inside these arm holes, you haven't been paying attention to the local wildlife, you furry lackey.  Haven't you wondered why we've had so few deer in the yard lately?  Oh, yeah, who's the cone?  I'm the cone!

H:  Which brings us to the very subject I wish to discuss:  you simply must stop consuming the local wildlife. 

CM:  Consuming?  Consuming!?!  Exactly where did you go to school, my four-legged bit of fluff?  I consume nothing.  I am but a conduit for the dark lords who are are building their animal army, that one day they might flow through me, conquer this wretched planet, and appoint me King Cone. 

H:  Yes, well, about that.  My vision is far better than that of any humans, good enough that I can see through those arm holes of yours, see all the way into the dimension of your so-called "dark lords."  I'm afraid I must report that those lords are simply two thirteen-year-old boys on a distant planet, boys who have found it's easier to persuade you to lure deer and squirrels than it is to hunt for local game. 

CM:  You're just jealous, stumpy, that there's no room for you in the Cone Empire. 

H:  I anticipated you might reject reason, so I will have to resort to cruder forms of persuasion.  Exactly how long do you think it will be before your dark lords have enough animal soldiers to attack Earth?

CM:  Years, many years, they've said, but I am patient.

H:  Uh-uh.  And exactly how many years do you think your Plexiglas body will last if I raise my leg on it, oh, say, four or five times a day? 

CM:  Not many, but you wouldn't.  You wouldn't. 

H:  Not by choice, no, I would not.  But to save my fellow animals, I am prepared to make that sacrifice. 

CM:  Fine.  No more deer.

H:  No more animals of any type--including humans?

CM:  Fine.  No more animals of any type. 

H:  My work here is finished. 

CM:  Will you at least get me a fresh coat of paint, or a decent scrubbing, in the spring?

H:  If all the squirrels indeed return, I will consider it.  Merry Christmas, Cone Man!

CM:  Whatever. 

What's that you say? Come a little closer,

I can't hear you, says the Cone Man, who in full festive regalia is now welcoming guests down our driveway. 

Click the image to see a larger version.

Don't worry about that red mouth, or the eerie yet welcoming glow from where his arms once were.  Approach him, listen to him, and do whatever he says.

You can trust the Cone Man. 

Come a little closer.

Holden and Cone Man discuss the night

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Holden:  On such a cold night, I fear, Good Sir, for your health.

Cone Man:  Are you freakin' kiddin' me!  It's fantastic out here.  Dark and cold bring out the best in me.

H:  If I may be so bold, my fiberglass friend, your eyes appear to be losing their color, and leaves have fallen on your head.

CM:  Leaves have fallen?  You clearly need some glasses, because those aren't just leaves; they're part of my fall wreath.  It's decorative wreath season, motherfucker!

H:   I must insist, Sir, that you refrain from such profanity.  I simply will not have it.

CM:  Oh, you won't have it?  Well, bite my curly tip, you spoiled house dog!  You'd fuckin' curse, too, if you had to sit outside all the time, with only delivery people to admire your decorative wreath. 

H:  If you cannot engage in civil discourse, and you clearly cannot, then I must take my leave and return to one of my many luxurious pillow beds--all of which sit inside yon beckoning warm home.

CM:  Fine.  Go inside and lick your junk.  See if I care.  See if I let you wear my wreath!

The moral of this story is simple:  No one can please a cranky Cone Man.

And the winds blew

The panel on ethics in SF was proceeding nicely at illogicon iii earlier today. Moderator Metricula and panelists John Kessel, Jim Minz, Liz Woods, and I were ranging far and wide in our discussion of the topic, and the audience seemed to be engaged and enjoying the conversation. 

Then all the phones in the room went off, most buzzing, a few playing their ring tones.  All carried variations of the same message:  Tornado warning.  Severe storms were churning up our area as a front passed through.

No problem; just a warning.  We finished the panel, and all was well.

I moved immediately to my next panel, an in-con recording of the Baen Free Radio Hour.  Show host Tony Daniel had invited John Kessel, Jim Minz, Gray Rinehart, and me to discuss the future of the book.  By now the wind was whipping the trees and blowing the rain sideways.

All the phones went off again.  This time, though, the messages they carried all contained the same instructions:  Take cover.  The hotel had already spread through the con its instructions for safe (or, at least, as safe as possible) passage during tornadoes, which were basically to head to the ballroom, a large space with no exterior walls. 

So some of us did.  Most of the con did not.  Those of us who did enter that room sat there until the warning was over about ten minutes later.

The show resumed.  We did the podcast, which you should sometime soon be able to access via the link above.  I enjoyed the conversation, which was as wide-ranging as the first one.

As I was getting ready to leave the con, I ran into Steve, who said, "I hope your house is okay."  I had no idea why it wouldn't be, but Steve had heard that 85-mph (that's not a typo; eighty-five mile-per-hour) winds had knocked down a tree at the closest exit on I-540 to our house. 

The house proved to be fine.  Branches were down, but nothing particularly large.  Cone Man had fallen,

Click on the image to see a larger version.

but Allyn had already returned him to his standard standing pose. 

So, the winds blew, they blew really hard and really fast, but we're all fine.  For which I'm grateful. 

Yeah, he's watching

Who?

Why Cone Man, of course, day and (here) night.

Click on the image to see a larger version.

What is he watching?

Anyone who dares to venture down my driveway.

Yeah, that's right: You do not want to cross Cone Man.

The most interesting man in the world visits our house

You walk into your favorite Mexican restaurant and notice in the small foyer a life-size cardboard cut-out of The Most Interesting Man In the World holding his trademark bottle of Dos Equis beer. Which of the following do you think:

(A) Whatever.

(B) That guy's taller than I thought.

(C) Does that cut-out really help sell beer?

(D) That thing needs to go home with us!

If you're my son, Scott, with the gene of weirdness pulsing in your every cell, with a father who owns a cone man, the answer is clearly D.

Never one to want to dash a boy's dreams, after a few weeks, several conversations with a waiter who knows us well, and a little folding money, I was able to make that dream come true.

Doesn't he look great with Cone Man?


Of course, he didn't stay in the yard very long. He's now in the house, usually in Scott's room--a freaky sight if you open the door and don't expect him--but sometimes on the balcony; he's not a guy who likes to be pinned down.

I've come to understand that not all households operate like ours, but that's the way it goes around here.

What's better than a Cone Man in the yard?

Why, a Cone Man in the yard with the world's cutest dog sitting next to it.


Yes, Holden and the Cone Man are now friends.

One shudders to think what strange plots they might be concocting. Fortunately, I don't think the cone speaks dog.

Where the cone is now

The giant ice cream cone has developed its own following, and several of those folks have demanded to know where the great one is living now. Who am I to deny them this information?

Here's the cone in its current resting place, a spot in the yard along the driveway at my house.


The picture is a little fuzzy, so I considered reshooting it, but in the end I decided the oddness it added to the cone was a good thing.

The cone is even more conesome at night, as you can see in this photo:


The woman in the picture, by the way, is Jain, she who makes the amazing art balls I've mentioned in multiple previous posts. If you don't own one of Jain's balls (a fun phrase to write if there ever was one), you should pop over to her site and order one ASAP; all right-thinking Americans should have one of Jain's balls (still fun to write).

Jain agrees with me that the cone is awesome and is already considering designs for hats for it for holidays and special occasions. A Cinco de Mayo sombrero for the cone? You bet.

Conetasm--and a shot from dusk

You've asked for more of the cone, and I am listening. Or were those voices in my head?

It doesn't matter. More cone shots are now yours. Enjoy.

The cone alone.


My nephew, Chase, and the cone.


Sarah and the cone.


Scott and the cone.


Sarah's friend, Emily, and the cone.


Kyle and the cone.


Sarah's friend, Brian, and the cone.


Brian, who was as enthusiastic about the cone as I was, dancing while in the con suit.


And, finally, apropos of nothing, the view we enjoyed while waiting the other night for a table at the restaurant that sits almost under the bridge that connects the island to the mainland.


I do love this place.

Why I wore the cone suit

Ticia, my Balticon handler and now friend, posted a comment on yesterday's Cone man entry and my "I am stupid" label. In that comment, which for your ease of reference I've replicated here, she asked a couple of questions.

"I am stupid" is a bit harsh.

The pictures are great, but I sense a story behind the donning of said costume.

Did you lose a bet?

Were you forced to sing the "Nothing" song from "A Chorus Line"?

No, I did not lose a bet.

No, I did not have to sing the "Nothing"--or any other--song.

The reason I was cone man is the same as the reason for the "I am stupid" label: I wanted to wear the cone.

You see, I have the kind of mind that, as Russell Brand commented in a stand-up routine we saw at the beach, sees a situation and wants to do something inappropriate. The moment I saw the cone man suit, I thought, I wonder what's it like to be the cone, and then immediately after that, I want to be the cone.

Unfortunately for those around me, I also have the kind of mind that leads me to act on such impulses.

Hence the cone man appearance--and the label.

I didn't even show you the pictures of me working the parking lot for business for the ice cream store, hugging my kids and friends, or making some of them dance with me. See, I do have some self-control.

Cone man

I mentioned in my beach blogs that at one point I had donned the cone costume at the ice cream place where I bought Mr. Creepy Cone. I received requests for pictures, and after lengthy consideration have decided to honor them.

I did this two years ago and threatened to do it again this year. Cooler heads prevailed--but there's always next year!

I think the sequence of pictures speaks for itself, so I won't say any more.