Get Stupid on Your Own Time (Secret Identities)

This last weekend provided some curious revelations which have led me to believe in secret identities once more.

After the better part of a year associating with some friends of ours, my wife and I had dinner with the couple at their house. Aside from being impeccably decorated, their home offered a pleasant atmosphere for discussion about a litany of subjects.

Since we met in Lamaze class, our children and child-based activities have been the cornerstone of our interaction. With both children securely retired, we had some additional adult conversation ranging from travel debacles to why Star Trek II is the best Trek. After the former discourse degenerated into a comparative evaluation of interests, we lingered on a comic book discussion for a while.

In startling revelations, my friend Dan turned out to be none other than D. Curtis Johnson of Chase fame.

In other super hero news, my copy of the new Aquabats album showed up. It is familiar Aquabat fun packaged in audio form. While the production has increased over time, the songwriting has declined due to time, cast, and creativity pressures.

For those not in the know, check out the video I uploaded.

Over the years (even in my relatively old age) I have enjoyed the zaniness of their concerts, the antics in the music, and the squeaky-clean fun available for all "the kids."

I have waited in lines with Prince Adam, met Karl Malone in the middle of a Louisiana project, gotten a back rub from the Governator's personal masseuse, and been rebuffed by Jim Lee. Somehow, somewhere, some of that power must have been passed on. As of now, my secret origin is a secret even to me.

"You'll never take us alive!"