International House Of Jeff

fifty ways to leave your blog

2004-10-29T07:03:00.000-07:00

I am taking some time off.

In the meantime, keep an ear to the radio.

I'll be the tenth caller.

And I'll be requesting John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band's hit single...."Hearts On Fire."

48 was not skipped.

2004-10-18T07:43:00.000-07:00

i did not skip this. i did not. no skipping.

none. no sir-eee.

no, there was a list recently published of people who skipped number 48, and i was not on it. i checked my sources, my calculator, my sandwich, my fork shaped like a giraffe. number 48 was not skipped. skipped was my lou, my butterfly, my karic net. skipped was my disc, my back-room under-table dealings. skipped was all the upper-case letters in this post except for That t. skipped was were will be this town when the law comes back from thrice vacationing at the bottom of lake champlain.

monsters are skipped. protocol is skipped. stiches in time are skipped, and therefore nine are not saved. maybe three or four. not nine.

many, many, many things are skipped. but not number 48. maybe it should have been.

john cafferty.

this is getting hard to do.

San Fransisco Forty Niner

2004-10-12T10:37:00.000-07:00

I am travelling.

I am shoes.

I am in San Fransisco.

I am lying.

I am the Dark Side.

This is not what it was when it began being, but what it is is what it has become after being what it was. And of course, when it was, it was, but then became else, or other, or before what it was was when it was what it was going to be. When it was, it was being, but then it be'd, so it had to become. What are what things are when they are done being? They are the Dark Side. They are shoes. They are.

But if they are...then aren't they?

No.

Because of the shadows. And the dreams. And loves that are blind. Or stupid, or bitchy, or mean, or bitter, or angry - whether deservedly or not.

There is no deserve. There is. Deserve is for was, or would be, or when? Is is for are, am, did, done. Nothin' is not. Nothin' can be.

And get over your damn self, little girl.

BackA fter Forty Seven Shakes of a Lamb's Tail

2004-10-05T05:04:00.000-07:00

This lamb shakes its tail very slowly. This lamb listens to books on tape. This lamb has severe emotional trauma caused by the time it was having its photograph taken and the door to the outside of the photo studio had been recently painted, and the paint had dried while the lamb was in the lobby, and the lamb pushed and pushed on the door but it would not open, and the motion-detector chime that rings when anyone is in the doorway kept chiming, but the lamb couldn't budge the door which had been painted shut and all it wanted was to have its picture taken for the newspaper because it was a pretty lamb.

This lamb is on lithuim. This lamb has a backpack shaped like a lamb and runs errands for elderly Japanese couples with no children due to the husband's sterility. This lamb is your lamb, this lamb is my lamb. This lamb is dismayed by the disappearance of 1950's Rock from so-called "oldies" stations which now only play disco. This is a halogen lamb, and has been banned from college dormitories across the midwest.

This lamb once took a tractor-trailer driving course, and failed miserably. This lamb will never master Adobe Photoshop. This lamb can't wait to see what you're going to do later, and hopes that you keep a few tricks (maybe even your best ones?) up your sleeve for use in a couple of days - presuming you don't have to deal with that typewriter this time. This lamb does get the irony when it wears that blue striped wool knit cap that it loves so much. This lamb is made from high-tech circuitry and the most current robotics technology, and despite not knowing what a "Cesna" or "Sesna" or "Sisna" or "Cesno" is, this lamb laughs at that joke every time because the presentation manages to sell it.

246 Degrees (Kelvin)

2004-09-30T10:52:00.000-07:00

(part the twenty third of "Dreams Can Come True in Thirty Five MInutes")

The bunsen burners had all been turned off for the night, but the remaining stagnant gas was strong enough to swirl her view of the test tubes and beakers lined the crude and makeshift shelving that lined the walls of "The Burnt Anus" - UWM's famed converted-barn/laboratory. This was science history, and Katja had a front row seat!

At the end of every beauty pageant, right before they announce the runner-up, the host will explain that the runner up will be called upon should the winner be unable to fulfil her duties as pageant winner. Rarely however, does the host go into any detail as to what exactly those duties are. In the case of most beauty pageants, these so-called "duties" revolve nearly 100% around personal appearances, autograph signings, and competing in further pageants. However, in the case of Miss Wisconsin, in addition to the parades and the mall tours, she is also given the position of "research assistant" for the University of Wisconsin at Madison's radical biotechnology program.

Dr. Phregmond Sleeve and Katja had been conducting a battery of tests whose purpose was to discover at what temperature a Gyro (the roasted lamb, onion, and tomato on pita staple of Greek lunch cuisine, not the mechanical grativy-measuring spinning device) would become a functioning human liver. Thus far they had managed to create an AM radio and an Octopus-like creature whose face bore a striking resemblance to Boston Red Sox relief pitcher Curtis Leskanic, but it wasn't until that afternoon that they began seeing signs that they were close to their goal.

Katja's job, as "research assistant," was to spend the night attached to the external "liver" while being intravenously fed pure grain alcohol to test its processing capability. In addition, she was responsible for sweeping the lab and washing the building's windows, but this task would only take a few hours despite Katja's prosthetic foot having been recently replaced by a sun-dried tomato and asiago foccacia by some clever pranksters.

To help her pass the time, Dr. Sleeve had given her a caricature sketch of John Stamos, a John Cafferty record, and three pair of dice with which to practice her craps game.

This would be a long one.

At 9:45 Last Night I Told You I Was Going To Finish This Joke.

2004-09-27T07:24:00.000-07:00

(cont'd from where I was cut off)...it's this weird metal thing that you plug into the wall and it heats up. I forget what it was called, but maybe you might want to look into it.

Ain't nothin' gonna save you from the Tokyo-destroying menace of my sarcasm.

Arthur Fortyfour and Gene Fortyfour's Thanksgiving Pageant

2004-09-22T08:46:00.000-07:00

(part the seventeenth of "Dreams Can Come True in Thirty Five Minutes")

Arthur Fortyfour and Gene Fortyfour ran Fortyfour Enterprises, a 44-employee management comsulting firm located on the 44th floor of the Fortyfour building, located at 4444 44th Street in Chicago. Every year, around this time, Arthur Fortyfour and Gene Fortyfour would begin putting together their annual Thanksgiving pageant, always to be entitled "It's just a coincidence."

Arthur Fortyfour and Gene Fortyfour were sick of explaining to people that the overwhemling presence of the number "44" in eveyrthing that has to do with their company was not planned at all, and was a complete and total act of randomness. Their suite on the 44th floor of the Fortyfour building at 4444 44th Street began its life in 1957 on the fifth floor of a modest seven-story office building on Baines Avenue in Chicago's "Grand Avenue" district.

It was there that Arthur Fortyfour and Gene Fortyfour (who oddly enough, aren't even related) went into business together, originally overseeing the distribution of scrap metal to the various factories that dotted the outline of the city at the time. Gradually they shifted the focus of their business from scrap metal distribution to glassware, then from glassware to book publishing (mostly how-to's on Feng Shui), then from publishing to novelty adult costume design, and finally from novelty adult costume design to management consulting.

In 1967, their building was purchased by Swiss pork-product-magnate Hans Fartyfur, who promptly named it after himself. Sadly, the "Fartyfur" building was the subject of much public ridicule, due to the fact that its name conjured up visions of flatulent housepets, so Hans decided to Americanize, renaming his property "The Fortyfour Building" in 1969. In 1973, the city of Chicago expanded Baines Avenue to cross the Union Pacfic tracks and meet up with the recently rerouted 44th Avenue on the other side. Baines Ave. then became "Baines Ave. / 44th St." and gradually public use of the proper name faded, and the street simply became known by its numeric moniker.

In 1981, Hans sold the Fortyfour building to a group of Aboriginal Refugees who had pooled their funds and bought a roller rink, which had made a fortune due to the late 70's roller disco craze. The Aboriginal Refugees decided to vastly expand the Fortyfour building to become a permanent part of the Chicago skyline, so they doubled the building's width and added thirty nine additional floors to it. (However, because the Aborigine know very little in the way of civil engineering, they decided to put the new floors BELOW the existing ones. Amazingly enough, they were successful.)

This put Arthur Fortyfour and Gene Fortyfour on the 44th floor, instead of the 5th. And yes, when Chicago expanded 44th St. in the other direction in 1987 to meet up with Thigpen St., they renumbered the buildings. And yes, the Fortyfour building on 44th St., home of Arthur Fortyfour and Gene Fortyfour's management consulting firm on the forty fourth floor...changed its address from 2388 to 4444.

After years of explaining this story over and over and over and over, they decided at long last that the best way to drive their point home was through festive holiday pageantry. And who better to star as Pocahontas - in this, their first Thanksgiving pageant - than the reigning Miss Wisconsin.

Katja didn't even hear the phone ring. As usual, she had been playing John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band's classic hit "On the Dark Side" at full volume on her home stereo, but this had nothing to do with why she didn't take the call. In the months since winning the title of "Miss Wisconsin," Katja had gone completely deaf in both ears. This was most likely due to residual effects of the ear-stretching experiments she had been subjected to as a teenager in her native Romania. In late 1986, Romanian Prime Minister Vlach Dithbovhic became enamoured with a peasant girl who had abnormally large ears, and as a tribute to her, had selected one thousand girls from throughout the countryside to undergo radical and painful ear-stretching treatments.

(She played the song at full volume because she had no idea it was at full volume. Katja's inability to comprehend the workings of her home stereo would frequently result in run-ins with the neighbors.)

But when the carrier pigeon brought the invitation to her 9th floor walkup studio apartment in Madison, she could hardly contain her excitement. Katja had always dreamed of portraying Sacagawea in front of a live audience, and this would be pretty god-damned close!

Forty Three Attempts at Writing the Forty Third Post

2004-09-21T05:26:00.000-07:00

Oh, that dark side - It is a sneaky little thing. You think you're out of its reach. You think you've escaped its clutches. You think you're in the clear. On the wagon. At your homebase. In the safety zone. Untouchable. You fancy yourself a modern-day Jose Canseco, shacking up with history's hottest dames, like Cleopatra or Lady Bird Johnson, with nobody the wiser.

But there is no hiding from the dark side. Ain't NOTHIN gonna save you from a love that's blind. You hear that, cousin? NOTHIN. Not "nothinG" but NOTHIN. No need for a g, baby.

G stands for Groovy.

G stands for Great.

G stands for Go! Go! GO! GO!

But nothing is groovy or great, and you ain't goin' nowhere, and now you know it.

Oh, that dark side - It is a sneaky little thing. And not "sexy sneaky" either. Not like Bond or Arsene or Peter Tork. Not like those girls in the movies that include a spy "sendup" scene in which some girl is always dressed in one of those really really tight suits that's unzipped halfway. No, the dark side is most decidedly unsexy sneaky. Like Dick Cheney.

And just like Dick, the dark side makes it painfully obvious what it's doing to you, and laughs in your face as you are powerless to stop it.

FORTY THREE TIMES I tried starting this post. (Which is mighty conveinient for me, since that happens to be the number of posts I am up to.) And forty three times I failed. Forty three times I was sucked into the soul-absorbing vertigo-inducing phlegm-drenched-dirty-kleenex of the Dark Side.

Oh fine, my "Doctor" says I have allergies.

Fuck my doctor.

That's right, FUCK my doctor.

(Seriously, it might loosen him up. Let me know if you are a female and live in the greater Chicagoland area, and I'll give you his name and number. He's not bad looking, mid 40's, in decent shape, kinda balding a little, drives a Benz.)

Forty Second Street (Jeff goes to the Big Apple)

2004-09-16T10:46:00.000-07:00

The cold, sharp angles of the dusky pavement cut into my soles as I walked barefoot down towards 54th. Why was I barefoot? Everyone's barefoot in New York. Everyone's exposed to the elements, feeling the soft caress of Central Park's grass contrast against the stinging sludge of fresh excrement - or the invigorating texture of day-old vomit on laminated granite. In New York City, every sound is both a gunshot and a parade. Every person is simultaneously starlet and pauper. Every breath of the city's stagnant air is poison for the lung and nutrition for the soul. And every hooker speaks just enough English. In New York City, there's never a need for the whole proper noun. It's "New York" or "The City."

I turned the corner and became pregnant right before reclaiming my virginity. I entered John Cafferty's "Dark Side Bookstore Cafe" and I was both amazed and repulsed by what I saw. (And even moreso, what I didn't see.) I grabbed a disgustingly delicious "house blend" and browsed the aisles. As I was perusing Mr. Cafferty's wares, I came upon a book - a book that would change my life. Never before felt such powerfully adjacent, yet completely oppositional feelings of excitement and ambivalence.

It was called "Pretending to be Deep Through Creative Usage of the Oxymoron."

Forty One Apologies

2004-09-15T10:14:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry

I'm sorry for being both crazy and so mean when you walked out from the shadows. But next time you walk out from the shadows, maybe put a little "PS - I'm walking out from the shadows" or something.

Ali Baba and the Forty Minutes of Jibberish

2004-09-13T06:34:00.000-07:00

Ali Baba once said "A man cannot consider himself to be learned until he has met with the Dark Side and overcome its pull." As all wise men do, I always do everything Ali Baba tells me. Sometimes he speaks Arabic, which I do not understand - so I have to watch his movements and gesticulations to figue out what he is trying to say. Sometimes we have to play an odd version of modified charades, in which he is not allowed to use his left foot, but he is allowed to draw pictures provided he only uses fresh squeezed carrot juice as ink.

Ali Baba makes delicious sandwiches.

So yes, I do consider myself to be learned. So yes, I did attempt to meet the Dark Side. So yes, this silly concoction is said attempt. So yes, the Dark Side has pulled me in. The dulcet vibrato? The Cafferty! The Cafferty! The Cafferty! Oh, the dulcet. Oh, the saxophone. Oh, the hand claps. Oh, Dark Side. It is very dark indeed.

And in I was pulled, like a capitol letter on a bank statemtent from your neighbor's mailbox. Did you steal? Did I steal? Is there even such a thing as stealing? On the Dark Side, all property is communal, and yet still I am empty and without. Was this what Ali Baba meant?

Could this be nothing but a ploy? Could Ali Baba have sent me here to the Dark Side, through the courtesy of my very own words, to prove to me that life is both emptiness and fulfilment simultaneously? Could the void I am feeling thanks to Ali Baba's advice in fact NOT be a void at all, but rather the void I am feeling is instead the closing of a void? The removal of a void? The voiding of a void?

What is life? How can it be anything less than everything..and yet how can it be anythng at all? There is so much yet to understand, although Ali Baba claims to know somewhere between 3.2% and 3.7% more than the average man. He still knows what he does not know, or does he? Can he? Can anyone? IS anyone? How can you know, if you are not? How can you be, if you do not know whether you are?

Ali Baba was right. I am not a learned man. I am not a scholar. I am the letter "R" - I contain a straight and upright line (time) I contain a straight but cockeyed line (space) and I touch time in two places and space in one with a curved line (the soul). Were I a learned man...should I one day breathe the true air of the Dark Side into the lungs of my being, I would be the letter S. Time, Space and Soul connected as one line, swaying with the winds of livliehood, following a path of righteousness dictated by the spirit, yet unlike the number 8, in that I would posess defined beginning and end. Ali Baba is the number 8. I cannot aspire to that. No, I have much yet to experience, much yet to taste.

Speaking of which, I could really go for one of those sandwiches.

Thirty Nine Hirschsprung Street

2004-09-09T09:29:00.000-07:00

(part the eleventh of "Dreams Can Come True In Thirty Five Minutes")

As the opening refrain of "Soul Man" played over the parking lot's loudspeakers, Katja couldn't help shifting uncomfortably in her seat. The crow's nest of the crane had been extended to its fullest, sitting an unmodest seventy-five feet above the ground, and as the reigning Miss Wisconsin waved to the mallgoers, she felt a wave of nausea flow through her.

It wasn't just her petrifying fear of heights, either. (Growing up less than a few hundred feet from a radioactive waste disposal site, she had plenty of encounters with giant mutated crows, who -with their poor eyesight - would often mistake her for Rudyard Kipling, and therefore would grab her by the scruff of what little neck she had and carry her to their nests in the peaks of the Bucegi or the Baiu.) No, twelve years of hypnotherapy and biweekly visits to the pudding immersement chamber had cured her of that affliction. This nausea was caused by the song.

The memories washed over her like a flood of warm, rancid mayonaise, and she felt quite literally pulled in by the undertow of her past. She had come to this country as a mail-order bride, as many Romanian women do, and try as she might, she will never be able to free herself from the shackles of her memory of that one night at 39 Hirschsprung St.

Ted meant well, he really did. Katja knew that, and harbored no ill will towards him. (In fact, she would later find out that the broccoli that was mysteriously delivered to the 1993 Ford Windstar she had been living out of every hour for three days following her victory in the pageant was his way of saying "I knew you could do it.")

But when she first arrived at his home to find him wearing nothing but his Bobby Vinton mask, with clam purée slathered all over his naked body, playing the classic Otis Redding song at 3/4 speed and thrusting himself into a bicycle tire's inner tube...Katja found herself unable to contain her emotions and she collapsed into the fetal position on his lawn, where she would remain for five weeks. Ted, not knowing exactly what to do with a paralyzed mail-order bride, placed a birdbath on her back, and fed her fairly regularly until she recovered.

For this she was thankful.

Thirty Eight Special

2004-09-08T07:49:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when the Dark Side chooses to weave its wintry threads around my usually resplendent carriage, I feel as though it is speaking directly to me.

Me, and only me.

For whosoever else could possibly make out the subtle strains of longing and desperate, futile hope? And whomsoever else would be able to differentiate between the orgasmic moaning of the heart and the incessant yearning of the soul? And whowhatwhywhenwheresoever else would be able to take the Dark Side's calling and transcribe it with the flaxen vibrissa of a (crest?)fallen angel, onto a single strand...of fresh pasta?

Nobody.

Do you know why?

Yes.

Are you going to tell me?

Yes.

Will you tell me now?

No.

What about now?

Wait.

Now?

Patience, friend. Patience.

Okay, now.

Yes. For you see Jeff, the Dark Side speaks to you and you alone, because you are special. Like John Cafferty before you, you are the heir apparent to the Dark Side's emulsified throne. You have the ability to reign over the land of Consternatia, on the continent of Dismay, (Aisle seven, next to feminine hygiene.)

And yes, special Jeff. Yes, you did leave your crackers at her house. And yes, special Jeff. Yes, you also purchased a block of cheese when last you were at her abode. And yes, special Jeff, assuming she has not torn through her cabinets in a rapacious fury, you will be able to slice some cheese from that block, and put it between some of your crackers, and make a delicious snack.

Oh, special Jeff, there shall be a snacktime after all. Clap those hands boy, because you are HAPPY.

(clap)

(clap)

The Dark Side: A Freeverse in Thirty Seven Words

2004-09-07T10:27:00.000-07:00

Effluvious blume clouds perception

(line crossed?)
(yes.)

for the shadows hold whatever
allows itself to be held
by its shroud

But she walks dreamlike
and he who is unknowingly
lost

Cannot be held, Cannot be consoled.
Darkside?

The Games of the Nineteen Thirty Six Olympiad

2004-09-03T06:19:00.000-07:00

Scholars of sport histoy will often point to the 1936 Olympic Games when conversing about famous "flops." I am speaking of course NOT of Adolph Hitler's attempt at proving his theories of Aryan supremacy, a ploy that was foiled by the success and popularity of sprinter Jesse Owens - but rather the inclusions of three new events.

1936 was the first and last times for the following events:

• "Predictable comically long-named fake combination event that comprises many sports that clearly do not belong together in the same contest (such as Greco-Roman wrestling, the hundred meter dash, archery and beach volleyball) which every single two-bit hack standup comedian in the world adds to their material once every four years"

• "Slip to the Dark Side"

• "Whoring"

The first and third events are fairly self-explanatory, and one can clearly see why these contests did not stand the test of time...but scholars were baffled by the failure of the extremely popular "Slip to the Dark Side" event until 1983, when John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band released their classic hit On the Dark Side.

The sport itself was ingeniously simple. The "Slip to the Dark Side" court consisted of a single line connecting (but not touching) two circles on opposite sides of the line. One half of the court was to be painted a light color, like yellow or pink. The other side was to be painted a dark color, like forest green or brown. The circle on the light half would remain the color of the light court, but the opposite circle was always painted blue. There were a series of hashmarks along the light half of the court, along which was placed a banana peel (the interval would vary based on the skill of the player. See diagram below.)

The object was to stand in the light circle and take off in a sprint down that line, then slip on the banana peel so that the athlete would cross that line, and land with his legs in the blue circle. (I only say "his" because "Slip to the Dark Side" was a men's only event in its only year of Olympic inclusion) The athlete whose heel came closest to the outside of the blue (without touching the white outline) would win the event.

The 1936 Olympic contest consisted of a quadruple elimination round-robin tournament, in which the eventual winner was Austria's Klaus "Sweet Pickels" Moser. The event proved hugely popular, as crowds not only packed the stadium at which the event was held, but stopped all traffic and gathered on street corners throughout the city to watch the event on any of the 20 giant televisions set up around Berlin so that those unable to get tickets could also see the games. So then why was this sport nixed from all subsuquent Olympiads? This is a question the answer to which was shrouded in secrecy until John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band released their classic hit On the Dark Side in 1983, and inspired the reopening of a journalistic investigation.

It turns out that when Klaus Moler slipped to the dark side and crossed that line, he began what was to be an endless downard spiral of heavy drinking, drug abuse, and alternating feelings of "crazy" and "so mean." It was discovered by Washington Post writers Rogers and Hammerstein that things became so bad for Moler, in 1938 he paid another man, Gustav Schülte, to assume his identity while he fled to America to escape his demons. (Little known fact: Upon arrival in America, Moler assumed the name of "Arnold Boyardee" and became a world-renowned chef!)

While it is unknown what specifically caused the reaction; the act of slipping to the dark side, or the act of crossing that line, one thing remains clear:

Nothin' was real for Klaus Moler.

Nothin'.

Dreams Can Come True In Thirty Five Minutes

2004-09-01T11:59:00.000-07:00

(a short story to be presented in 78 parts)

part the first

Katja couldn't believe it.  After all, standing at only 2'5" and weighing an almost grotesque 455 lbs, she didn't seem like the ideal candidate to represent the great state of Wisconsin in the Miss America pageant.  Yet there she was, smile beaming from her bulbous and sweaty face, "Miss Wisconsin" written on the sash that adorned her tangerine and cerulean evening gown, facing an adoring audience who was on its feet applauding her effort.

Nobody liked her chances when the contest began, and for good reason.  Her swumsuit had been constructed entirely out of secondhand potholders and electrical tape, and her mucilaginous rolls of flesh fell out of it in all the wrong places. The aforementioned evening gown was nothing if not extremely garish, and that's being quite unkind to the words "extreme" and "garish."  And not only was there the "falling out" problem to deal with, but the additional problem of the fact that the dress trailed her by at least three feet in the back, and lead her by two more in the front, and she couldn't walk more than a few steps before becoming tripped up by it.

As for the interview?  Two years ago it wouldn't have been a problem.  Even last year, before her brutal combination of schizophrenia and autism (which she received thanks to the tennis incident in the uranium mines) had reached their full onset, she could have handled it.  As it was though, she was completely incapable of speaking coherently for longer than a few sentences about anything, even in her native Romanian - save for the Civil Service Exam, about which she could speak for hours.  But there was nary a doubt left in any of the hearts of the onlookers, the judges, or even her fellow contestants after the talent portion of the competetion.

This was Miss Wisconsin.

Katja's thirty-five minute acapella rendition of John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band's classic hit On the Dark Side put that question to bed.  Complete with emphatic audience participation on the hand-claps and a nineteen minute improvised "scat" segment, Katja's gutteral baritone was the perfect compliment to that most classic tale of the demons one struggles with when facing unrequited feelings for another, and how that experience can lead to personal variations on the concept of nihilism.

part the second to come...

Jeff's Thirty Fourth Year: A Retrospective

2004-09-01T05:57:00.000-07:00

On January 17th, I turned 34 years old.

On January 19th, I woke up from my 13-year slumber, induced by the hypnosis I received whilst attempting to thwart a bank robbery perpitrated by Dr. Charade (pronounced "shuh-ROD") and his gang of identically dressed henchmen in 1991

On February 3rd, I invented a pasta pot that not only cooks, but also DRAINS the pasta!

On February 30th, I realized that I had somehow magically transported myself to a day that didn't exist, and could therefore do literally anything I wanted without fear of reprocussion.

On March 2nd, I was released from prison on my own recognizance. I had to pay the woman at the bakery almost $1300 for all the zeppole.

On March 18th, she walked out from the shadows like a dream, thereby making me feel simultaneously crazy and so mean. I also made a pair of pants out of genoa salami.

On April 15th, I sent the federal government a check for $25.00 - not because I owed that in taxes, but because they had done such a great job in protecting us from terrorists and teaching us to hate all people of Middle Eastern origin. "Get yourself something nice, Government" I wrote in the card.

On May 26th, I realized that nothin' was gonna save me from a love that's blind. Which is really too bad, because while the love was blind, it was also deaf and dumb, and could in fact play a mean pinball.

On June 4th, I celebrated the 4th of July in STYLE!

Oh June 27th, I took that hamster! I took it, and I took it REAL GOOD. "Where are you taking me?" asked the hamster, and I told it, I told it "I'm taking you to the deli!" and then me and that hamster went to the deli and we split a roast beef on rye and a half-sour. "Thanks for taking me" said the hamster, but I didn't need to respond. He could see my response...in my eyes.

On July 4th, I realized I had fucked up and celebrated the 4th of July in June. No wonder the McGrarys were so upset that I painted the American Flag on my naked body and waggled my "lil' patriot" in front of their house for seven hours.

On August 13th, I finally finished writing my book, "How to tell if you're at the circus" which is sure to come in handy when you don't know if you're at the circus or not. There are currently seventeen publishers embroiled in a round-robin potato salad wrestling comptetion. The dude from Random House is wiry, and I think he may have the edge.

On August 29th, I said "Jeff, in three days, you ought to write a retrospective on your 34th year on this planet so far, highlighting all the important dates, and being sure to work in at least a couple of lines from John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown band's classic hit On The Dark Side so that you can keep this ridiculous theme of yours alive.

On September 1st, I MOTHER FUCKING DID, BABY!!!!

I AM A KING PENGUIN!

I AM A BIRD WITH FEATHERS BUT CANNOT FLY!

SQUAWK! SQUAWK!! SQUAWK!!!

OH YEAAAAAH!!! (clap!)

Number 33 to the rescue

2004-08-29T17:36:00.000-07:00

I was walking, as I often do when I need to get somewhere, and I was crossing a street, as I often do when I need to get somewhere which is on the other side of me than a street, and I looked both ways, as I often do before crossing the street on the other side of which is somewhere I need to get, and no cars were coming, as they often aren't at 3:45 in the morning, which is when I was walking across the street to get somewhere I needed to go which was on the opposite side of the street, and I began crossing the street, as I often will when my endgoal is being on the other side of the street in order to get somewhere which is not on the same side of the street as me, and I stopped in the middle, as I often do because I am borderline mentally handicapped and us "Borders" are prone to sudden and inexplicable lapses in brain-to-rest-of-body communication, and suddenly...

WHOOSH!!

Not a car, suckapants. A LOVE THAT'S BLIND.

Comes racin' down the street like a bat outta mutha fuckin' Cleveland, and is bearing down on me, and I'm having trouble remembering how to make my legs go, and it's coming, and I'm standing, and I remember that line from John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band's classic hit On the Dark Side. You know, "Ain't nothin' gonna save you from a love that's blind?"

Well, how the hell did I know that a fucking love that's blind was going to try to run my ass over? Hm?

So anyway, there I am, retarded, and there's the love that's blind, bearing down on me, about to turn me into popsicle sticks and eat my fright-induced poops for breakfast, when...

WHOOSH!!

Larry mother fucking Bird.

Yes, Larry mother fucking Bird, star of Indiana college basketball, runs across the street, at breakneck speed, picks me up, and deposits me safely on the other side, WHILE tossing some delicious Hostess Fruit Pies to the love that's blind, thereby successfully distracting it until the authorities come.

So what does Larry mother fucking Bird say to me? "All in a day's work, ma'am?" "Just doin' my job?"

No, asshole hands me a bill for $49.50. And his dry cleaning. And says "nothin' is real."

Tommy Thirty Two Tone

2004-08-25T10:37:00.000-07:00

I called 867-5309.

I did not speak to Jenny.

Jenny was not available, as she was busy walking out from the shadows.

Like a dream.

I did, however, speak to Jenny's mom, who informed me of her whereabouts.

"Sorry, she's not here, Jeff. She's walking like a dream out from the shadows." she said to me.

"When's she gonna be back, bitch?" I asked.

"THAT'S SO MEAN!" she replied.

"I'm sorry. Sometimes I get a little irate, given the state of my career. Being that I was the former star of Fantasy Island, you'd think I could land better roles than this Spy Kids crap." I said.

"Wait...Jeff, do you mean to tell me that you think you're Ricardo Montalban?" she asked.

"Yes!" I ejaculated.

"Did you just ejaculate?" she said.

"...." (I did not feel comfortable answering that.)

"Anyway, that's crazy." she said.

And then I electrocuted her dog, which I had been holding hostage.

Or maybe it wasn't her dog. Maybe it was her favorite pair of courduroy overalls.

Whatever it was, it got ten thousand volts through it.

So let this be a lesson to you. Just because you take five or six days off from writing, that doesn't mean you'll actually have any good ideas when you come back.

Thirty One Minutes

2004-08-19T08:50:00.000-07:00

That's how long I was just in the bathroom. Because I can't digest certain foods. And because I accidentally ate said foods last night.

"How does one accidentally eat foods?"

If said foods are an unexpected ingredient in one's seemingly innocent meal.

"Was it on the...erm...Dark Side?"

I'm not going to answer that.

Thirty Something

2004-08-18T08:21:00.000-07:00

John Something and the Beaver Something Band's classic something On The Dark Something was recently voted by a panel of something somethings, to be the single most something song every written. The something went through an exhaustive process of something, something, and behavior modicifation training. Something was used as criteria for the something something something something something something something something something "torpedo roll" with mayonaise and horseradish.

Something was made public on Thursday, August something.

When asked to something, panel something Julio LeBastard said:

"Something something Dark Side, we realized that something something never imagined that something would something. Something was apparent from the something time we talked something something when we something. Other something somethings we considered were Pink Something's "The Something" and "Something and Diane" by John Cougar Something, but when we compared the three, something was obvious."

Something, something something something, something. Something something, something - maybe in a nurse costume?
Something something something love that's something, something. She walked OUT from the something like a something. Not In. OUT.

Shit...did I skip Twenty Nine?

2004-08-17T20:18:00.000-07:00

I think I did.

Fuck.

How on earth am I going to properly convey the sheer rock and roll MIGHT of John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band's classic hit On the Dark Side if I go around skipping posts willy nilly?

oh wait...

....

no, here it is. whew.

In Eighteen TWENTY EIGHT, Heinrich Ibsen was born.

2004-08-16T10:53:00.000-07:00

Heinrich Ibsen was the author of such plays as: A Doll's House, Emperor and Galilean, Ghosts, Chuck Liverspot becomes an OBGYN, and Hedda Gabler. Heinrich Ibsen was not alive when John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band released their classic hit On The Dark Side, because he was dead. Heinrich Ibsen died of heart failure at the age of 73. Heinrich Ibsen also died of pancreatic pneumonia at the age of 82. There were two Heinrich Ibsens. Nobody knows which one was the real one and which was the clone. People thought that the Heinrich Ibsen with the red hair was the clone for a long time, because he complained that porn audiences would never be literate enough to mutate the title of his play into "Headda Gobbler" But then people thought that the dark-haired Heinrich Ibsen was the fake, because he sometimes wore a moustache and sometimes wore a collared shirt, and sometimes did one or the other, and sometimes neither.

Heinrich Ibsen, were he alive when John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band released their classic hit On The Dark Side, would have written a play about it in which the lead character discovered that once he had slipped to the dark side, nothing could save him from a love that was blind. The lead character would then ruminate about this for a very very long time, and perhaps consume alcoholic beverages, which would make him alternately; crazy, and so mean. The play would have been entitled "Watermelon: Requiem for a Laotian Chimney Sweep."

Heinrich Ibsen, were he alive when John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band released their classic hit On The Dark Side, would have been very, very old.

Even if he was the clone.

I was Twenty Seven when I ate my first guava.

2004-08-13T11:19:00.000-07:00

Twenty Seven.

Think about that. I had been alive for almost ten thousand days when I first tasted the delicious fruit known as the guava.

I had lived through over five hundred ninety thousand minutes before the sweet, usually reddish or pinkish flesh of the fruit from the tropical American shrubs of the genus Psidium ever touched my lips, or was chewed by my teeth, or passed through my digestive system, with the sugars and nutrients staying in me, and the fiber exiting in the way that only fiber can.

Read this sentence.

That took you a second.

Between the second I was born and the second I ate my first juicy, delicious, amazing guava, I could have read that sentence almost THIRTY FIVE AND A HALF MILLION TIMES.

And yet, I first heard John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band's classic hit "On The Dark Side" for the first time when I was 14. That's like...half as old. Is that fair to the guava?

Is anything fair to the guava?

Why has the guava been so neglected?

When the guava is crestfallen (as all tropical fruits can get) do you come to its aid? Are you there to sit beside the guava, caress its sweet, usually reddish or pinkish flesh, and tell it "It's okay now, guava. It's okay." while quietly humming John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band's classic hit "On The Dark Side?"

yes.

YES.

YES YOU ARE. And it's about fucking time the guava had someone who cared about it enough to notice, thank you.

The guava loves you. Oh yes, yes it does. The guava loves you.

26

2004-08-12T10:25:00.000-07:00

0110011100110101110001110110101101010110010100101010100001010110010101101010010101010010101100100000011111010100101010010101010100100110110101001010100101001010110010101001010100111010010101001010101100110101010101110010101010101001001001111100101001010001001110000101001001010010101010100100110110101001010100101001010110010101001010100111010010101001010101100110101010101110010101010101001001001111100101001010101010010011011010100101010010100101011001010100101010011101001010100101010110011010101010111001010101010100100100111110010100101010101001001101101010010101001010010101100101010010101001110100101010010101011001101010101011100101010101010010010011111001010010101010100100110110101001010100101001010110010101001010100111010010101001010101100110101010101110010101010101001001001111100101001010101010010011011010100101010010100101011001010100101010011101001010100101010110011010101010111001010101010100100100111110010

0110110111010010101!!!!!

(I doubt either of my readers can understand binary, but I posted in it anyway. Damn, that's mean. SO mean.)

TWENTY FIVE!! TWENTY FIVE!! TWENTY FIVE!!

2004-08-11T08:08:00.000-07:00

That's only funny if you've ever heard the song "Treetop Flotilla" by the band Burn Witch Burn.

Which you would have only heard if you spent a considerable amount of time in or around Philadelphia in the late 1990's.

Which you would have only done if you had been transferred from your comfy job at the Chef Boyardee canning facility as "Head Beefaroni Tester" to the new plant in Philly, because you're the only tester with impeccably discerning tastebuds AND his own car.

Which you would have only bought because it was offered at a fantastic price for a car with that low mileage, as part of an estate sale, having been owned by a now-deceased elderly woman who only drove it to Bingo on Wednesdays and to the cock fights on Saturdays. And sometimes to church.

Which you would have only known about if your then-girlfriend happened to be the daughter of the man who owned the local funeral home, and therefore knew when the big estate sales were coming up.

Who you would have only been dating if your previous girlfriend had blown up your cattle ranch.

Which you would have only owned because you were the one family member who managed to stay the night in Uncle Julio LeBastard's scary haunted castle.

Which you only got to on time because the girl scouts didn't press charges.

Which was only an issue because you had spent TWELVE LONG YEARS ON THE MOTHER FUCKING DARK SIDE, BEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOTH!

(beeoth? What the hell is a beeoth? I think maybe I forgot the C.)

(Which stands for "CRAZY!")

(Damn, that's so mean.)

Twenty Four Hours are in a Day.

2004-08-09T09:51:00.000-07:00

Five of those 24-hour periods have passed since last I wrote about John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band's classic hit "On the Dark Side." And I have to be honest, I just couldn't handle the pressure. Especially now that two or three people have found me amusing enough to read regularly (apparently including some dude from Harvard! How's that for fancy pants?) it's just too much time for one person to spend writing about...or even thinking about...the Dark Side.

Oh, not the song. The song is like butter on toast. The song is like a whistle in my pocket, or a bluebird in my sneaker. The song makes the wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round, and that particular bus is the one that goes to motherfuckinghappyland. No, I can think about the song until my intestines start speaking to me in toungues.

It's the Dark Side...the ACTUAL Dark Side...that I just couldn't think about anymore. The actual Dark Side is like a pair of pants on a frenchman, or an apple held together with duct tape. The actual Dark Side is an enormous emotional black hole that will suck the very essence of your soul from your heart and leave you nothing but a shell. Alive, yes. But truly living? No.

From the first time I felt the sheer gravit of the Dark Side, I put on my hardhat and orange vest and went to work convincing myself that I was strong enough, grounded enough, and rooted enough to resist.

"CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP" I went on my cucumber that fateful Thursday morning. "CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP."

"CHOMP."

"CHOMP."

"CHOMP."

"CHOMP."

The bites reverberated with all the force of a sledgehammer against an oil drum in my head. Four chomps. FOUR. I never need four chomps to eat my mid-morning cucumber. Two, three at the most. As I was contemplating Thursday's post, I could for the first time, see actual physical evidence of the Dark Side's effect on me.

It's not like I thought "oh, it's just a song." or "The Dark Side isn't real, so I'll just slather some mayonaise on my legs and feed myself to the ladies working 3rd shift at the Sammy Haggar Memorial Library." Oh no, I knew that it was as real as the moustache on my aunt.

I just thought I could go it alone. And as that extra bite of my cucumber proved beyond a shadow of a doubt, I failed.

But now I'm taking Vitamin B. So fuck you, Dark Side. JEFF IS BACK!!!

OHHHHH YYYYYEAEEEAAAAAHHHH!!

(clap!)

Twenty Three Skiddos and Skiddon'ts!

2004-08-04T08:01:00.000-07:00

SKIDDO attempt to restrain yourself from making rash decisions when feeling crazy or so mean.

SKIDDON'T think that something's gonna to save you from a love that's blind.

SKIDDO answer promptly when you hear the Dark Side callin'.

SKIDDON'T partake in horseplay on or near "that line." You could very easily cross it, and slip to the Dark Side

SKIDDO use your computer to do research on where John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band are now.

SKIDDON'T rub poison ivy on your face.

SKIDDO ya do ya do ya do ya wanna dance?

SKIDDON'T you forget about me.

SKIDDOo wa diddy, diddy dum diddy doo

SKIDDON'T keep doing that. Please.

SKIDDO make me a nice dinner. You haven't done that in a while. And then...you know....maybe get a little creative. Or maybe get REAL creative.

SKIDDON'T ask me for any specific "creative" ideas, because I don't have any.

SKIDDO realize that the aforementioned lack of creative ideas is also the reason that all twenty-three posts on my weblog have been about the exact same thing.

SKIDDON'T drink the milk. IT'S SPIRLED!

TWENTY TWO is the number two...TWICE!

2004-08-03T10:54:00.000-07:00

On On The The Dark Side Dark Side is the is the greatest greatest song song that has ever that has ever been been written written. It it encompasses encompasses all all the classic the classic themaic thematic elements of elements of a great drama a great drama. There's the hero, there's the hero who who is thrust is thrust into into a situation he a situation he didn't didn't want to be in want to be in when he "slips" when he "slips" to to the the Dark Side Dark Side. He then he then crosses crosses that line that line and finds and finds himself himself in a world in a world in which literally, in which literally, "nothin' "nothin' is real." is real." He finds he finds love love in the in the form form of of a a woman woman who walks walks out from the out from the shadows shadows as as a a total totaly mystery mystery. At first at first he doesn't mind he doesn't mind feeling feeling alternating emotions of alternating emotions of "crazy" and "crazy" and "so mean" "so mean" but he eventually but he eventually learns learns that nothin's that nothin's gonna gonna save save him from him from a a love love that's blind that's blind.

On On The The Dark Side Dark Side is is a a masterpiece masterpiece because it because it seems to leave the story seems to leave the story unresolved unresolved. It it appears appears to to be a be a standard standard "unrequited love" "unrequited love" story story, but upon but upon closer closer examination, examination, we discover that the we discover that the true true hero hero of of the the story story is is not the not the "man" of "man" of which the which the singer speaks, but singer speaks, but rather the the Dark Side Dark Side itself itself.

We watch we watch as the man as the man who we thought was who we thought was the the protagonist protagonist of our story of our story gets gets his his heart heart torn torn apart apart by the blind blind love love of the of the mysterious mysterious woman, woman, but strangely but strangely we we feel feel little little in the in the way of way of sym sym path path y y for for him because of the him because of the masterful masterful storytelling of storytelling of John Caffferty and the Beaver Brown Band. John Caffferty and the Beaver Brown Band. It isn't it isn't until until the very the very end end in which in which the the story story leaves the listener listener without without an ending an ending that that we we realize that that we realize that we have been have been just another just another victim of victim of the blurry the blurry lines lines and and obfuscated obfuscated truth truth that that can only can only exist exist on....on....

THE DARK SIDE.

(the dark side.)

TWENTY ONE? Have a drink!

2004-08-02T05:28:00.000-07:00

But don't have it on the Dark Side. Because all drinks on the Dark Side taste like asparagus and make your intestines burn. Even the water.

But wait...isn't water essential for bathing?

NO! There is no bathing on the dark side!

That's SO MEAN!

Yes.

And where does asparagus go when it's confused? To the ASPARAGUS de-confusation unit! In which they are sprayed with a combination of Drano and copper filings until they are ready to be seated in the "rhododendron room." Upon entering the "rhododendron room." the asparagus(es?) on the Dark Side are all then forced to watch the closing credits of every single movie from the last 37 years from which has come a "best supporting actress" nominee, except the credits have all been digitally altered so that EVERYONE, regardless of actual title, appears as the "key grip."

Really?

NOTHIN' IS REAL.

oh.

TWENTY QUESTIONS about the Dark Side

2004-07-30T11:40:00.000-07:00

1) Animal, Vegetable or DARK SIDE?

2) When John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band recorded their hit song On the Dark Side, what were they dreaming about at night?

3) Will she ever know just how I feel?

4) I once ate this sandwich thing that was supposed to be a "Dark Side" special at this place near my house except they didn't put on the ham and bologna and bacon like they're supposed to, instead they put the sandwich on the floor and kneeled on it. What was that all about?

5) If ain't nothin' gonna save me from a love that's blind, what the hell do I do if I fall in love with a blind girl? Is she going...sorry...gonna kill me or something?

6) Walking out from the shadows...like a dream...good idea or bad?

7) Last time you felt "so mean" what did you do? Did you make a lot of spelling mistakes?

8) Is anythin' real?

9) Say one slips to the Dark Side and crosses that line, but does so with half of them..or maybe a limb...remaining on the OTHER side of that line? Are they still on the dark side? Or can they pull themselves back over? And if they stay like that, does that mean that somethin' is real? Not necessarily everythin' but not nothin' either. Sort of a Dark Side Limbo.

10) EVERYBODY! DARK SIDE LOMBO!!

11) Baskin Robbins is supposed to have 400 flavors, right? Why do they all wear those shirts then? Shirts? Flavors? Dark Side? WHAT?!

12) I know! I know!

13) Shit. What the hell is a Lombo? Any guesses?

14) Am I feeling crazy? Or am I faking...because I'm feeling SO MEAN?

15) Why the fuck did I pick a song with like...six lines in the whole goddamned thing to do this shit with?

16) Oh Yeah? OH YEAH? (clap!)

17) Can Kerry really pull this off?

18) Has anyone ever seen a #1 pencil? #3? #4? Roscoe?

19) ROSCOE?! YOU GONNA GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW FROM THAT DARK SIDE!! YOU GONNA GET YOURSELF KILLED! NOTHIN' IS REAL!!!

20) Why do my post ideas keep getting more and more complex? I don't have any readers to impress...and I'm sure as hell not impressing the dogs...

NINETEEN seventy was the year I was born

2004-07-29T09:32:00.000-07:00

You got a problem with that? I know one person who has a problem with that. Because if 1970 had never happened, I would have never been born. And if I had never been born, I would never have started this blog. And if I had never started this blog, this ASSHOLE would have never had to e-mail me all yelling about how "On The Dark Side" is a "crappy song" and "doesn't deserve a single post, let alone an entire daily(ish) blog."

Well let me tell you, ASSHOLE, that your opinion is YOUR opinion. Not mine, and not either of my other regular readers, who are my dogs. In fact, I asked them what they thought of you and they demanded to go outside so that they could shit immediately because the very thought of you made them weak-boweled.

You know what? YOU GONE DONE FUCKING CROSSED THAT LINE, ASSHOLE!!

So how's about you just accept the fact that maybe some people CAN like the classic John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band hit On the Dark Side enough to dedicate an almost daily blog to it. And maybe this is something that they've been "keeping inside themselves since 1984", or maybe this is something they just decided last month when they started their website.

Does it matter, ASSHOLE?

What matters is that it's how I feel about the greatest song that has ever been written by anyone at any time ever about anything. And obviously you can't see how anyone else could think this, because you don't like the song. Well you know what?

LIFE IS SUBJECTIVE, DICK.

And it is my subjection that you are a dick.

Now get outta my dark side. I'm feeling SO mean.

Dicky.

Eighteen and Life to go!!

2004-07-28T08:15:00.000-07:00

I just made myself sick.

Imagine, invoking the title of that shit wanker-metal song in a blog that is all about the greatest rock and roll song ever written.

John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band are to Skid Row what a turkey club and chili fries are to a pile of two-month-old, uncooked horse meat.

On The Dark Side is to Eighteen and Life what St. Louis is to the inside of Sebastian Bach's asshole.

The fact that I was able to recall the lead singer of Skid Row FROM MEMORY is to "things I do not want to happen" what this sentence is to the concept of "awkward analogies."

You are to this oatmeal I am eating what Thor (Norse God of Thunder) is to a nice pair of pants.

This post is to "overdone" what "things that are something" are to "what they are."

SEVENTEEN out of twenty dentists agree:

2004-07-27T11:19:00.000-07:00

It fucking smells like liverwurst in here.

Stupid "Dark Side" and its inferior deli meats.

SIXTEEN is legal in some states...

2004-07-26T05:24:00.000-07:00

But you know what's not legal? Selling bootleg copies of the classic John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band hit On The Dark Side. That'll get you 10 years minimum in a medium security pen, probably more. Nobody wants to be done in the butt by John Q. Law. So next time you start thinking of ignoring copyright restrictions and your thoughts turn to the potential for obtaining quick riches by bootlegging the classic John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band hit On The Dark Side and selling your copies out of the back of your car in the parking lot of a Greek Deli in Evanston, Illinois, THINK AGAIN. The fuzz don't take kindly to that sort of activity. Particulary when you advertise with a sign that reads "Buy your copy of the classic John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band hit On The Dark Side right here, and all proceeds will go to the purchase of enough explosives to blow up the local police station."

Take it from me.

15! 15! 15! Hut, hut, HIKE!

2004-07-23T10:19:00.000-07:00

What play did I just call? Well, the wide receiver runs a slant left and hooks back in to set a screen for the tight end, who is running a basic crossing pattern, and can then catch the ball and...

and...

and CROSS THAT LINE!!!!

OHHHHHHHHH YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

(clap!)(clap!)(clap!)(clap!)

Nothin' is real. Except for never run on 3rd-and-long.

Four score and fourteen posts ago

2004-07-22T13:59:00.000-07:00

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in the Dark Side and dedicated to the proposition that all women who walk like dreams from shadows are created to make men feel crazy and "so mean." Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can slip to the dark side and cross that line. We are met on a great battlefield of that dark side. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might stop feeling "so mean." It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. This dark side. The brave men, both crazy and "so mean" who struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. THe slipped to the dark side. They crossed that line. It is for us the living rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from these honored so meanies we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion--that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation under God shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.

Oh, and nothin' is real.

TRISKAIDEKAPOSTIA!

2004-07-20T07:59:00.000-07:00

You know whot's an unlucky muddafugga? DO YOU KNOW WHO IS AN UNLUCKY MUDDAFUGGA?!?! I'll tell you, because I know. I am writing this.

The man who has SLIPPED to the Dark Side, and crossed that line. Because once you cross that like, you're pretty much screwed. And the dude slipped! It's not even like he MEANT to go to the Dark Side! He was walking along, and maybe there was a discarded banana peel on the ground or something, and he just...slipped! Poor guy must have eaten a horseshoe or walked under a ladder with a broken mirror or something. I mean, come on! To end up on the Dark Side? BY ACCIDENT?!

It's one thing to see her walk out from the shadows, maybe like a dream, and suddenly get all "crazy" and "so mean" but that's nothing compared to the hell that awaits the unsuspecting...ON THE DARK SIDE!

WHOOOOOOO YEAHHHHHHHHH!

The TWELVE DAYS OF THE DARK SIDE

2004-07-19T10:40:00.000-07:00

On the first day of the dark side, a woman who walks out from the shadows gave to me: A man named Cafferty.

On the second day of the dark side, a woman who walks out from the shadows gave to me: Two feelings of being "So Mean" and a man named Cafferty.

On the third day of the dark side, a woman who walks out from the shadows gave to me: Three possible connotations of the name "Beaver Brown Band", two feelings of being "So Mean" and a man named Cafferty.

On the fourth day of the dark side, a woman who walks out from the shadows gave to me: Four loves that are blind, three possible connotations of the name "Beaver Brown Band", two feelings of being So Mean and a man named Cafferty.

On the fifth day of the dark side, a woman who walks out from the shadows gave to me: FIVE WAYS TO CROSS THAT LINE!!!!!

...Four loves that are blind, three possible connotations of the name "Beaver Brown Band", two feelings of being So Mean and a man named Cafferty.

On the SIXTH day of oh fuck it.

This post goes to ELEVEN!!!

2004-07-18T16:51:00.000-07:00

So what do you say to a girl who has just walked out from the shadows?

I don't say anything, because I'm nervous around women. They generally have a lot more hair than I do. And I have found that more hair = fuller vocabulary. And nothing makes me more nervous than being around someone with a full vocabulary.

So what do YOU say to a girl who has just walked out from the shadows? Well, since you'll be feeling both "Crazy" and "So Mean," you can't go wrong with either "AHHHHH! MY KNUCKLES! THEY'RE TRYING TO TAKE OVER MY HAND!!!" or "You fucking bitch."

Pitchin' a Tenth

2004-07-16T05:00:00.000-07:00

Never trust a woman who walks like a dream.

You can definitely trust a woman who walks like a lobster, or a 1974 AMC Gremlin, or whose gait comes down with a force similar to that giant car-crushing thing at the junkyard. You can kinda trust a woman who walks like a watermelon, or an awkward 3-way intersection with no traffic signals, or vinyl siding. But you cannot trust a woman who walks like a dream. Or a Nazi.

Unless she's tooling around in "Easy Spirit" footwear. Because then she just can't help it.

The dream walking, not the nazi walking.

AND WHY NOT?

Why can you not trust a woman who walks like a dream? Well, because of the nature of sunlight, chances are good that at some point she will walk out from the shadows. At which point, she will make you feel both:

a) crazy, and
b) so mean.

And you do not want that.

(damnit, this is getting harder and harder.)

Breaker Post Nine, Breaker Post Nine

2004-07-15T06:26:00.000-07:00

So I'm standing at the bus stop, waiting for my dealer to show up. Now this bus stop happens to be right next to this bar/club called "The Shadows," and right as I happened to turn around, this girl walks out from inside the club. And DAMN, she was FINE!!! And it was weird, because it was just like this dream I had. No, not like that dream, although that dream was damn wonderful.

DAMN WONDERFUL, I TELL YOU.

Anyway, suddenly and totally out of nowhere this voice pops into my head. This weird little voice. And it tells me to go kick her in the shins! So not only am I crazy, because I'm hearing voices, but I'm totally feeling so mean! Kicking a girl in the shins? That's mean! SO mean!

So to recap:

Out of the shadows, she walks like a dream.
Make me feel crazy, make me feel so mean.

Now, what does that make you think of?
I'll tell you what it makes ME think of...well, right now it makes me think of that other dream, because everything right now makes me think of that other dream. But under ordinary circumstances?

IT WOULD MAKE ME THINK OF THE DARK SIDE!!!!!

WHOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAH YEAHHHHHHHHHHH

Eight Posts Out

2004-07-14T09:32:00.000-07:00

Dark Side Callin' Now!!

"Hello?"

"Who's This?"

"Dark Side? I'm sorry, I don't know any 'Dark Side.'"

"Is this 'Dark Sid?' I know a 'Dark Sid.'"

"Well, I know a Sid, anyway. He's not really all that dark. He's a tire salesman."

"What's that you say? You say 'Nothin' is Real?'"

"Oh, somethin's real, allright. You're REAL-ly pissing me off."

All Seven Posts, and We Watch Them Fall!

2004-07-13T07:54:00.000-07:00

Fall where I ask? Why, they fall into an abandoned factory in East St. Louis, not more than an hour away from my own home, where they witness the most dramatic and wonderous meeting that has ever occurred.

John Cafferty and Gerry Rafferty, in the first-ever meeting of b-list musical celebrities whose names rhyme with "Afferty."

Will they take over the world? WILL THEY PLUNGE THE WORLD INTO A BIZARRE AMALGAM OF THE DARK SIDE AND BAKER STREET?

Doooooot doot doodoodoodoodoooooooooo.... (byuooo)
OHHHHHHHYEAHHHHHHHHHHH!
Doooooot doot doodoodoooooooo.... (byuooo)
OHHHHHHHYEAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Why So Long To Wait For the SIXTH POST!?!?!

2004-07-12T04:28:00.000-07:00

Guess where I went this weekend.

Guess.

Seriously, guess.

You're not guessing, you're just reading.

I know you are. You just keep reading everything I'm writing, but you're not guessing.

Don't try to pretend you're not doing that, either. You can look around sheepishly all you want, but your co-workers and I know the truth. You have not been following instructions. When you were instructed to guess where I went this weekend, you did not. You failed at your attempt to do what I tell you. If you even made an attempt.

You should be ashamed of yourself.

They don't accept your kind where I went this weekend.

which is to THE DARK SIDE!! OOOOOOHHHHHH YEAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!OOOOOOHHHHHH YEAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

EL POSTO DE FIVEO!

2004-07-09T15:04:00.000-07:00

Five Posts in three days?

HELLO??

Who has that kind of time? Except maybe someone on......

THE DARK SIDE?!?!?

the amazing FOURTH POST!!!

2004-07-09T05:41:00.000-07:00

I think it was John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown band that asked the musical question: "Slip to the dark side and walk that line?"

Yes.

YES!!!

Yes ma'am, I WILL slip to the dark side and walk that line!!!!

OHHHHHHHHHHH BOY!

THIRD Post Ever!

2004-07-08T08:44:00.001-07:00

I still believe John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band said it best, when they said "On the dark side, oh yeah, oh yeah yeah-yeahhhhhhh" And those hand-claps! THOSE HAND-CLAPS!! THOSE HAND-CLAPS MAKE ME REMEMBER TO SPELL "THOSE" CORRECTLY!!!!!!!!

DAMN THAT DARK SIDE!

DAMNIT ALL TO HECK!!!!!!

So Jeff's second post ever has nothing to do with nothing. Nor does his third. And he's speaking in third person, on his third post. I suppose he should have spoken as though you were Jeff in his second. I guess it's a really good thing nobody really reads this. Well, you still do...but you know the truth.

...or do you?

DO YOU KNOW THE TRUTH?

THR TRUTH ABOUT THE DARK SIDE?!?!?!?!

You know, Dark Side's callin' now, nothin' is real.

That's still true.

Shut up.

Second Post Ever!

2004-07-08T08:44:00.000-07:00

I believe John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band said it best, when they said "On the dark side, oh yeah, oh yeah yeah-yeahhhhhhh" And thos hand-claps! THOSE HAND-CLAPS!!

DAMN THAT DARK SIDE!

So Jeff's second post ever has nothing to do with nothing. I guess it's a good thing nobody really reads this. Well, you do...but you know the truth.

THE TRUTH!

THR TRUTH ABOUT THE DARK SIDE!!

You know, Dark Side's callin' now, nothin' is real.

That's true.

Shut up.

I know this guy who's posting for the first time.

2004-07-07T04:28:00.000-07:00

Okay, this "guy" is maybe a few years behind this bloging trend thing. But it's still cool, right? It's not like they've started letting lameoids have these things or...

(checks own blog)

Okay, I guess they are. Well anyway, I got sick of leaving links to news reports to websites that warn about fake websites when I comment on other people's blogs, so here's my very own. I'll see if I can come up with anything to talk about. Hey, I have an idea...I wonder if anyone has ever devoted an entire daily journal to musings on the classic John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band hit 'On the Dark Side?'