The Victor Pose is Catching
Bracken Funk
Jon did what in the loft?
Jon did what in the loft?
Bracken did what on deck 2?
Kyle spent what on the Galileo?
Alex did what to the school network?
Beverly did what to the sickbay?
Hello Troops,
Thank you Bracken for the picture and five lines of commentary (above). He labeled it "The Victor Pose". While hinting at cleverness and sparking with imagination, I must take offense at Bracken's unwarranted revelation. I've been exposed as a Victor.
Victor is nearly a dead name in the United States. Think about it. How many Victors do you know? Several, If you lived in Russia or Latin America. Well, thanks to Bracken, you all know one of the few left alive in the United States. Mind you, I'm not ashamed of my name; it just seems to date me to the mid 1950's.
My mother named me after a movie star called Victor Mature (Google it if you must). I confess to sharing several of Victor Mature's attributes (it has been mentioned that I ooze in acting talent like a blister about to pop), yet I still wait for Hollywood's call. Let me state here and now that when that call comes, I promise to take many of you little people with me. I just hope Hollywood doesn't wait too long. I'm past the age where a respectable agent would cast me as a dashing young hero; mind you, it wouldn't take much make up and plastic surgery to make it nearly so. What I could do is play someone in the throws of a mid life crisis. I do 'crisis' well with all the experience I've had running the Space Center.
Speaking of Crisis....... it has been a remarkably quiet second week of January. I'm almost ready to state that our luck has changed. Fortuna seems to be more occupied with dumping several feet of snow on avalanched Alaska than tormenting us at the Space Center.
I couldn't let this Friday the 13th pass without some kind of misfortune. For the first time in living memory I dropped a full gallon of 1% milk on the floor this morning as I put the food and drink away for the Overnight Camp. It exploded in the cafeteria's wash room. A tidal wave of milk poured out and covered the floor. Milk spittle covered the walls and my black Nikes. It was a mess. What was your Friday the 13th Story? Can you top that?
It is time for bed. The campers are all asleep as well as the staff. I sit alone, typing away, on guard duty at our Little Camp in the Big Dark Woods.
Mr. V. Williamson
Thank you Bracken for the picture and five lines of commentary (above). He labeled it "The Victor Pose". While hinting at cleverness and sparking with imagination, I must take offense at Bracken's unwarranted revelation. I've been exposed as a Victor.
Victor is nearly a dead name in the United States. Think about it. How many Victors do you know? Several, If you lived in Russia or Latin America. Well, thanks to Bracken, you all know one of the few left alive in the United States. Mind you, I'm not ashamed of my name; it just seems to date me to the mid 1950's.
My mother named me after a movie star called Victor Mature (Google it if you must). I confess to sharing several of Victor Mature's attributes (it has been mentioned that I ooze in acting talent like a blister about to pop), yet I still wait for Hollywood's call. Let me state here and now that when that call comes, I promise to take many of you little people with me. I just hope Hollywood doesn't wait too long. I'm past the age where a respectable agent would cast me as a dashing young hero; mind you, it wouldn't take much make up and plastic surgery to make it nearly so. What I could do is play someone in the throws of a mid life crisis. I do 'crisis' well with all the experience I've had running the Space Center.
Speaking of Crisis....... it has been a remarkably quiet second week of January. I'm almost ready to state that our luck has changed. Fortuna seems to be more occupied with dumping several feet of snow on avalanched Alaska than tormenting us at the Space Center.
I couldn't let this Friday the 13th pass without some kind of misfortune. For the first time in living memory I dropped a full gallon of 1% milk on the floor this morning as I put the food and drink away for the Overnight Camp. It exploded in the cafeteria's wash room. A tidal wave of milk poured out and covered the floor. Milk spittle covered the walls and my black Nikes. It was a mess. What was your Friday the 13th Story? Can you top that?
It is time for bed. The campers are all asleep as well as the staff. I sit alone, typing away, on guard duty at our Little Camp in the Big Dark Woods.
Mr. V. Williamson
I can't beat the story, but while playing pool, I was trying to sink the 13 ball. Every time I hit it, I scratched. which ended up being 5 times before it decided to fall in.
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