(this is one from the archives, originally posted here on Le Petit Mort on May 23, 2003)
You can still count on me being right twice a day. Maybe my accuracy doesn’t produce odds that would cause you to call in a marker with your favorite bookie… whoops I mean sports enthusiast speculation expert… We must be PC.
I know it’s been awhile since I last provided a peek into the sticky-floored, Kleenex-ridden adult theater that is my life. And yes, my friends, it’s time for another lap dance. (Now you can see how I was able to add “King of Bad Innuendos” to my staggering long list of nicknames).
Since last sitting down at a booth in the back corner of the all-night diner of life over a cup of thick as mud Millstone a few things have transpired in my life that worthy of note.
Not to mention I’ve also had some rather long journeys into the recesses of my subconscious akin to Lewis Carroll’s Alice In Wonderland. This may leave you scratching your noggin’ wondering what kind of wonderful hallucinogenic substances I may be on (or may cause you to inquire who my dealer is)… No, friends, the scary thing is these thoughts are substance free.
I remember staying up late watching cheesy T&A movies on USA Up-All-Night (which was kind of pointless, since all the T&A was censored)… One film in particular—“Vice Academy 2” I believe it was… There was mention of a band called “Severe Tire Damage” which I thought had been made up. One day a few years later, whilst browsing through my Columbia House monthly mailing (which was more regular than a Nursing Home fully stocked with Metamucil) I noticed in the budget section a CD by… none other than, “Severe Tire Damage.” Remembering this trivial event of my past got me to thinking… All of the good band names keep getting used up. What bands will our children and/or grandchildren be listening to? Will we be finding groups like Severe Bowel Movement (with their lead singer, Scott Issue), Harry Johnson and Rosy Palmer (a country-music couple a la Faith Hill & Tim McGraw), or Neil Ander-Tholl and the Cro-Magnons in the music collections of generations yet to be conceived?
I’ve also been wondering who is JD Power and who the hell are his associates? They’re constantly mentioned in ads for everything from laundry detergent to automobiles… but there’s never elucidation given as to who the mystery men (and women?!?!) are. For all we know he could be the Anti-Christ or Charles Schwab’s pet goat. Yet the name JD Power is tossed around as if it means something… Something awe-inspiring and powerful… But tell me Mr. JD Power… Have you ever walked on water? Have you ever turned water into wine? Have you ever fed a few thousand people on a couple loaves of bread and 3 or 4 fish?!?! Didn’t think so! So Mr. Power get back in your pigpen and shut up already, I’m sick of hearing about you!
This also got me to thinking, with all of the trivial bullshit I seem to remember, what really important things have I been forced to forget? Will I wake up in a cold sweat remembering my 6th grade gym locker combination yet forget the smell of my grandfather’s favorite chair (a wonderful cocktail: 2 parts pipe tobacco and 1 part Old Spice)?
For the past month and a half I’ve been temping for Follett Higher Education Group. You may or may not know that they are a college bookstore chain. They are the Barnes & Noble of the world of Academia. Anywho, this position has brought me into contact with many many books. Most of these books are advanced reader copies or uncorrected proofs of books yet to be released to the general public. Much to my delight I was able to get my hands on an Advance Reader copy of Christopher Moore’s upcoming novel, Fluke: Or I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings (to be released on June 6th). After reading the tome, I stumbled upon Mr. Moore’s website (www.chrismoore.com) and emailed him commending him for a good job on the book and expressing my lament that he would not be passing through Chicago on his upcoming book tour to support sales of Fluke. Mr. Moore responded promptly, thanking me for the kind words and explaining that he’d just been in Chicago this past February promoting “Lamb” (his last book, which at that point in time had just been released in paperback). For the more adventurous subscribers to my addled brain newsletter, I do recommend going to Moore’s website and reading the short excerpt from “Fluke.” It’s a fun read with a hint of a message.
I’ve also taken some forays into the world of fashion. I’ve turned a few heads with tremendous ensembles consisting of mustard yellow button-fly jeans (thanks to my former boss, David Tarry) and loose-fitting collared button-up shirts straight from the age of Reagan and Family Ties. I was able to put together an outfit, which looked somewhat contemporary… and thus like it belonged in 2003 (as opposed to 1983). Pictures were taken because it was considered a special occasion (getting me to admit the 80s are over is quite an accomplishment).
Since I haven’t issued any assignments in several fortnights… I figure one is LONG overdue. In fact since it’s been so long, I have TWO assignments for you to waste your precious time on…
1. What is your most trivial memory from your childhood?
2. What is the most creative fictitious band name you can come up with off the top of your head?
Until next time.
I’m out like the porn collection at a FederalPenitentiary.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
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2 comments:
OK, your Neil Ander-Tholl and the Cro-Magnons made me spill my water...oh man that's funny.
My most trivial memory from childhood: I had this tennis training thing...it had a yellow rubbery, heavy base and it has this thin bungee chord thing attached to it on one end, and a tennis ball on the other.
I would go outside in the cal de sac, and just hit the tennis ball, over and over, and the ball would fly out...and come flying right back, ready to be struck again.
I did this for hours and hours.
Band name: The Wet Farts
My friend, I did not know that you had such a gift for metaphors. Do not be surprised if you see me steal some of these. They are choice.
Trivial Memory from Childhood: When I was five, I attended a turtle race. I won both races. In the first race my turtle won for being the fastest in the second race my turtle won for being the slowest. I had one hell of a turtle.
Band Name: Spank Sock Socialites.
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