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Workman Harness (Qwik Fit Chest Strap, Tongue Buckle Leg Straps, Back/Hip D-Rings) X-Large

Model Number 10072492MSA - Comfortable - Abrasion-resistant, strong, durable webbing - Yellow polyester webbing for high visibility - Web retainer collars to keep excess webbing neat - Easy to don and adjust - Choice of Qwik-Fit or Tongue-Buckle leg straps for easy adjustment - Qwik-Fit Chest Straps - Meets OSHA regulations, ANSI A10.32 & ANSI Z359.1, and is certified to CSA Z259.10-M90 - Applications: Agriculture, Asbestos Abatement, Chemical, Construction, Electric Utility, Mining, Nuclear, Oil and Gas, Paper and Pulp, Spray Painting and Welding

Give us each our daily bread.
By: Clear Menser
Jan-Sept 2007

Thursday Night.
9-20-07 23:21

Once upon a time there was a man in a dark blue suit in a bright yellow taxi. It was night time. The city outside gave way to the eventual suburban sprawl.

The man rubbed his eyes and yawned. It had been a long day with a long flight at the end. He felt the full weight of it. With the money they made from the last contract he could afford the damned expensive taxi ride home.

Then he was in front of his mirror brushing his teeth. He was wearing his shorts with little hearts on them. He didn't remember getting out of the taxi or undressing, but with all the stress it was an understandable lapse. He ignored the discontinuity and finished brushing his teeth. He checked out his stubble. Verdict, execution. He shaved and then redressed the fresh cut on his hand.

Then he was lying down in bed next to his homemade alarm clock. Sara had made it for him. The numbers read 00:13 in simple red neon. He didn't remember finishing his toiletries. Again he thought nothing of the jump in time. He though of Sara and her urgent kisses at the end of the work day. He turned off the light and went to sleep alone in his own apartment.

There was darkness, soft, warm, dry and familiar. Home sweet home.

He had technicolor dreams of small iridescent ants and light blue clouds. They were both silent. The clouds swam by faster and faster still. Fast clouds and slow ants. The whole thing sped up to a blur. It ate its self and melted into shiny brass gears and a high pitched whine. He felt a full body bubble form, wet and loud and nasty popping out of both ends. He felt his dream body lean back and to the left in a crescent.

Friday Morning.
9-21-07 03:00

He woke up with bloodshot eyes. It was still dark outside. The cut in his palm wailed like a digital nightmare crashing. It pulsed a few times and ended. Something vague itched his face. He went to switch off alarm clock, but it had not gone off yet. It's face read 03:01 in simple red neon. He staggered to the bathroom mirror in his underwear with little hearts on them. He shaved off his new beard and went back to bed. He tried to sleep but the wound started to scream again. He eventually sunk into a black unconsciousness.

A few hours later his alarm went off at its designated time. He got ready for work, strangely refreshed. He was thankful that his beard didn't grow back. He thought, "Ha! What a nightmare."

He took the bus to work. The sun was shining. Birds were singing. The pain in his hand was dull and pulsing.

He swiped his card at a large glass covered building. He walked past security with a short hello and wave. He entered the third door on the left and got to work.

He saw a close up of a deep field of micro organisms swimming. His name tag said "Dave McGregor". Dave pulled his face up from the microscope, rubbed his eyes, and yawned. He pushed the microscope over a little, and laid down for a short nap.

It was the same technicolor dream of ants and clouds with sound, a rushing river and bird song.

Dave found himself at a meeting with 3 other people in dark gray suits at an oblong table. Everything was blurred and slow, out of focus. He remembered a white door in an empty hallway. It had a single doorknob, no keyhole or card reader was visible. It was closed.

Dave was sitting at the head of the table. He looked around, confused for a moment, and then continued with what he was saying, something easy, but he couldn't hear what he was saying, couldn't even feel his tongue or the sound in his jaw. He began to sweat profusely. He felt he had lost something, but couldn't remember what it was.

In blurred slow motion someone from his right came over. It was a woman. He can't read her name tag. He didn't know who she was. She said "Dave, Dave, honey, are you okay, you alright?"

Everything faded out for Dave.

8 days earlier
Wednesday Morning:
9-12-07 10:45

The microscope showed him a deep field with large gray cells rolling around. Dave adjusted the microscope and made notes. He had his favorite black ball point pen. Rock and roll was on the radio, some electronic ballad, "Take the Veil Cerpin Taxt" by the Mars Volta. He hadn't heard that song is ages. It took him back to the college radio station when he could play whatever he wanted.

Out of nowhere he thought 'Oh, it's Sara'. He rolled in his chair over the computer and turned down the music. The music was silenced. The phone rang. He hit the speaker phone button.

"Hey honey, we got the new account out in Texas."

"Oh, Sweet. Thanks for the call, babe, I know you were on pins and needles over this." Dave paused "But do we have to fly again? You know how I hate flying. Could we just road trip to the site?"

Sara giggled. "Oh honey, it's just faster by plane. And, hey ba

Suspended Animation Classic #345
Originally published July 30, 1995 (#31)
(Dates are approximate)

Babe 2; Instant Piano
By Michael Vance

You’ve come a long way, “Babe”, but you can’t go homage again.

Actually, you can, and have, and will continue to do so. After all, it’s not such a bad homage to return to … artist Jack Kirby, the old superhero team of the 1960s – the Fantastic Four --, and a time when fun was part of funny books.

You’re housewife Bernice O’Donnell, created by an alien science and wizardry that fused five women into one.

You’re beautiful, healthy, and super strong. You wear no uniform, grit no teeth, clench no fists, a refreshing change from superhero stereotypes.

Your art is clean, direct, exciting, and entertaining. It’s that art that saves you from the campiness of the old “Batman” television show (and the third movie) despite much visual whimsy.

Your writing is tongue-in-cheek, full of plot twists and a love of an older style of comic books that could create super intelligent alligators (“Cyborgators”, indeed!) under the city of New York and make it fun, not stupid.

For older readers who loved the work of artist Jack Kirby, your homage to the classic battle between the Mole Man and the Fantastic Four is delightful.

For new readers without those memories, your adventures still ring clear as a bell.

You’re the one who makes the overuse of you in “Babe” tolerable.

And what other super human could say “I don’t have the slightest clue what’s going on here, but I’ve got to do something!”

You’re tops, “Babe”.

For you for whom homage is where the heart is, “Babe” is highly recommended.

“Babe 2” #s 1 & 2/24 pages, $2.50 each from Dark Horse Comics/art and words by John Byrne/available in comics shops and by mail.

MINIVIEW: “Instant Piano” [Dark Horse]. An anthology of terrific talent wasted on “slice of life” infantile profanity and nihilistic foolishness. Adult readers will be neither shocked, educated, nor entertained.