Let's Write a George Ade Thing

Been reading a lot, of late. Two things have interested me of late in the world of words. I've been reading a lot of Haikus lately for one thing.

I never got Haiku previously, I always, honestly, thought they were dumb. Not really "dumb" really but I'm sure something is being lost in translation and there is some sort of disconnect when these Haikus are translated.

You know, you read a Haiku, and you know it is supposed to be 5-7-5 in the syllables sequence ... and that's mostly what Westernized people know about it ... it's all I knew about it. So when a Westerner tries to write one it is usually bad like something I can cook up now ... something like:

Walking Down Old Road
Saw Nice Candelabra There
Thought Liberace

-A Haiku by Me, D.
  
That is a Haiku but it is not a good one. That's the Western World's understanding of the genre. I only very recently started to get why they are a big deal over in Japan. I used to think it was like an aristocratic or high society thing but it is actually the opposite. The original Haiku Masters (Basho, Shiki, etc.) were pretty beat and just common people.

Matsuo Basho is the writer that really made me finally "get" Haikus. Basho was a guy who's house burned down so he just started walking around for the rest of his life. He was a wondering soul ... a real rambling man ... an aimless wanderer. You might even call him a hobo. The Haikus he wrote were small fleeting moments of his wandering life.

A good Haiku is a small fleeting moment in the life of the wandering soul ... and in the end ... aren't we all just that? Just wanderers enjoying fleeting and finite moments in our life's journeys? Check out this Haiku by Master Basho right here:

Winter solitude...
In a scenery of one Color
...The sound of the Wind.

-A Haiku by Matsuo Basho

Wow, that's nice. All of his moments from his aimless wanderings are personal to him but also personal to history. He was alive, in the world, and he left Writings on things he experienced whilst being on this world. Time, a topic I wrote about last year, is the main theme of Haikus. The opening line is usually a subtly nuanced opening statement to let the reader know what Season it was when he saw something on his wanderings. 

I finally get the ending to Mega Man 2 now. I always found it sort of humorous that this robot man would walk through all the seasons at the end of the game and finally make it home. Mega Man in the second Mega Man game on NES just became a Wanderer after beating all the robot bosses ... just like Matsuo Basho before him. It is actually a very noble ending.

True Beauty. Beauty has no Truer Form. Does it not?

Once you "get" Haikus and understand why they are good ... this ending takes on a whole new level of Artistic Greatness. I'm glad I have beaten this game like a hundred times and have seen this Ending one hundred times. Let's finish this Haiku section off with a Mega Man 2 Haiku:

The Changing Seasons...

Journey Home flashes quickly

Rest now Robot Man...

-A Haiku by Me, D.

 Alright, so if anyone is scoring at home, I "get" Haikus now. So.... let's move on.



George Ade

The other thing I've been into lately in the Wide World of Words has been the works of George Ade. I started reading a Goerge Ade book and like Haikus ... I didn't get it at all at first. I thought it was so stuck in its Time Period that a person reading it in 2019 would just see 1914 as like a Foreign World that made no sense. I didn't give up though ... I tried to place myself into the Flow and the Pacing of the Time so I cranked up some Knuckles O'Toole on the youtube and then re-attempted to read the works of George Ade...

Light-Hearted Turn-of-the-Century Piano-Stylings

... and they started to make a ton of sense. The choppy pacing and silly clunking of the George Ade style started to flow a little better with some Knuckles slappin' the piana as accompaniment. Similar to Haikus ... the "George Ade" style is pretty unique. The paragraphs range from one line to five lines and then some broken half-line stanzas sneak their way in at times. It's like the Rag-Time of Writing I'd call it. The other key component of the George Ade style is Capitalization is assigned to just about every slang noun or portmanteau word he writes ... and he writes about two or three of those per sentence so the Caps are Flying. The Capitals are Flying all Over the Place.

Similar to the Haiku section above ... I want to do a "George Ade" fable right now. I need to cleanse my brain of Haikus and catch a little Ades right now ... gotta give my brain some George Aids for the next half hour or so....

....Okay, I think I made the switch. Let's outline what I believe is the crux of the style first off ... in case maybe you want to catch some George Aids yourself and write an Ade Fable of your own.

I think he writes the "Moral" first ... then the three or four somewhat poetic broken-line stanzas ... then he envelopes the stanzas with nonchalant rag-time silliness ... then gives it a Title. So what I think his (and I can't prove this by the way) process was is:

1. Moral

2. Three Stanzas to Set Up main Story

3. Asinine Small Talk inserted between the Stanzas

4. Title

Okay so I can handle that. This following story is written by me ... it is only my suspected Process of how he constructed the fables that is being emulated here.

Two more elements of the Ade style must be included to make it a real homage short story though. The Capitalization Assignment will be Adian in nature and the theme of the story will be a George Ade theme. Thus, it should be noted that about 85% of George Ade's fables are about some pseudo-wannabe-rich-idiot who wants to get rich and be part of high society but always finds some way to fail or make a fool of his or herself. 

Alright so let's begin our emulated Fable. First we need a Moral ... this is gonna be pretty arbitrarily chosen ... the song currently playing right now on my computer for me is "Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue" by the powerful rock and roll group The Ramones. So, our Moral shall be...

MORAL: Don't Sniff Glue!

If you think that's a dumb moral ... believe me ... there's dumber George Ade morals than that. This is a quote of a George Ade moral for instance:

"MORAL: Don't get acquainted too soon."

Yeah, don't get acquainted too soon. That's a George Ade Moral. He's right though. My Moral of "Don't Sniff Glue" is perfectly acceptable along the lines of a George Ade Moral. 

Next let's write three broken lined stanzas about our poor sap who at some point in the story will fall from Social Grace and become a Glue Sniffing Bozo... and probably die too. 

Tommy came from a Good Family, he had three brothers

who enjoyed his Company and who engaged in Good

Hearted pursuits of Artistry together.

Their Social Standing was Great.

Walking out of the Hardware Store he noticed his brother Joey

had purchased a Model Aero Plane set to Construct 

as it was his Hobby he was Pretty Enthusiastic

about. The Box contained two Squeezable

Doo-Hickeys of Glue to bond the pieces.

Tommy was Chilling at the local Chautauqua Center

just sniffing some Good Glue like a Big Idiot.

His Brothers took the Smell-Wagon upstreet

to the Speak-Easy on 53rd and 3rd but 

Tom had more important matters to

heed. Namely the Sniffing of Glue. 

Okie dokie. There's the story fleshing out now thanks to those three broken lined stanzas. Now ... all we got to do is write a few dozen paragraphs around them ... some paragraphs as short as one line ... and they don't even really have to be that tied to the story. I've read George Ade fables where he'll just start talking negatively about salad or just jam out some nonchalant fourth wall breakery. 

Alright soooo. Here is a New Writings on Subjects II Stronger Fable:

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the Suburban Region of Up State New York once lived a man of Acute Social Learning who was for the most part The Talk of the Town. He was Cool and Everybody Liked Him Very Much. He always wore a sharp Leather Jacket and usually could be found in the CBGB and seen with Sun Glasses.

His Parents were Well-To-Do and Pretty-Darned-Smart. They owned a stake in the Coney Island and were never short of Dough or searching for Scratch-ee-oh-Lee. 

His name was Tommy. Many women found him Fanciful and Dandy.

Tommy came from a Good Family, he had three brothers

who enjoyed his Company and who engaged in Good

Hearted pursuits of Artistry together.

Their Social Standing was Great.

His Tallest Co-Frere went by the Monicker of Joey and was Sickly-Looking and Spindly like a Shivery Worm. Joey was very High on the Ladder of The Punk Rock Scene and was very Able to Lean on Walls and wait for the Fairer Sex to Stroll on by on any Given Sunday. A simple wink and shimmy was all that was Needed To Seize the Opportunity.

Brother Dee Dee was a Man for All Seasons. A True Bulwark of the Era. Dee Dee could best be Tallied Up in Description by letting the Reader onto the information that he was Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa-Funky ... a Real Funky Man.

Dee Dee was A Reputable Fellow on All Accounts I mere-do say.

The Final-Most of his Respectable Brothers in Arms was that of Johnny. Scared of Basements he Never Entered Them. Not even A Once. Calling loose and out to Daddy-oh he Feverishly would say Hey Romeo in a clamor and outright Refuse to Go Down There!

What Farce you may think of him but Not Wanting to Go Into Basements is Short of No Crime or a Breach of Any State Laws.

One mustn't be Short on Smarts to divine that Tommy's Parents, being of a High Sort and who Dined Weekly on Chicken Vin-Da-Loo would Oft Pest their eldest Leather-Bound Progeny to Wed a Nice Lady and have some Young Children with.

Our Hero (Tommy) was not Jumping-Over-Boxcars to find a Crumpet to Stuff. He found many of the Maidens at the CBGB to be Somewhat-Ugly and didn't really want to Walk Around with Them.

Such Greatness on All Fronts and Kings of the Scene were these Brothers. Johnny at Fast-Glance at a board of Street-Signage provoking the advertising of some such concoction be it Gummy Bears or Wheat-Germ or What-Not-Have-You wanted to take a Fast-Five and/or a Hot-Second to duck into the local Bodega to purchase himself some Tasty Snacks to satisfy his growing Hunger.

He then swung into the Shop Next Door. Tommy et al. Followed Suit and All the Brothers entered the Hardware Store! It was a Splendid Sight to see all the Wares and Chachkies on Display in the Cases!

Walking out of the Hardware Store he noticed his brother Joey

had purchased a Model Aero Plane set to Construct 

as it was his Hobby he was Pretty Enthusiastic

about. The Box contained two Squeezable

Doo-Hickeys of Glue to bond the pieces.

The Second-Of-The-Squeezable-Glue-Doo-Hickeys in the Package seemed to be Excessive and Joey did not need It even a Small Bit. He asked Tommy to throw it away into the Garbage's Can. Tommy swifted back and was about to heed Word of Refuse and Appoint the Doo-Hickey of Glue to an Early-Grave ... yet a Fantastic Aroma caught the undertappings of his Nose.

Our Protagonist (Tom or Thomas to his Folks at Times) was Caught-Short and Hog-Wiled by the Aroma of the Doo-Hickey's containments. He further-removed the Cap and took a Stalwart's Whiff of the Hickey's Interior. 

Holy Smokes! All of the Sudden the World Began to Spin in front of He. Life ceased being Reality and Switch-Turned into being a Big Crazy Movie like those shown on the Orpheum Circuit! What manner of Merries-Go-Round had he accidently Got On? None! He was Not on a Ferris's Wheel in the Least for this was not Coney Island it was only the Exterior of the Hardware Store. 

Poor Tom. With the Blink of Fate's Bad Eye and a Menacing Wink from Lady Luck's evil sister Lady Bad-Luck ... He had developed the Drug Habit.

Folly is that of the Mortal Man was a quote by Marshall P. Wilder (or at least this writer believes it so). Oh how it applies!

Tommy at Month's End was such a Dope Fiend to the Throws of the Glue that he would stop by the Hardware Store almost Nightly to acquire the Demon's Milk. He would consume the Illicit Make in the Alley Way and then be prone to bouts of fury and delirium like a Huge Moron.

His Three Brothers, of whom which were Getting on Great with the Ladies as of Still, began to grow Penchant with Worry for their dearest of Brothers.

"O Brother, Where Art Thou" is what they Said to One-Another.

Tommy was Chilling at the local Chautauqua Center

just sniffing some Good Glue like a Big Idiot.

His Brothers took the Smell-Wagon upstreet

to the Speak-Easy on 53rd and 3rd but 

Tom had more important matters to

heed. Namely the Sniffing of Glue.

In a Delirium's Bout caused by the Devil's Make, Tommy accused his brothers of being Garden-Variety-Gnomes out to steal his Brain and give him a Teenager's Lobotomy. But his Sure-Minded and Ever-In-Reality's-Realm brothers assured him his Menageries were nothing but Fairy-Stories.

Tommy on the other hand was Glue-Sick and Un-agreeable. His Insides were taking the turn for worser days. He could see the Light at the End of the Trail's Tracks. It was almost the End for our Favorite Guy. 

His Demise was a Pauper's Demise. He died like a Dirty Bum and No One Even Cared. His family was so Sick of his Ways that they did not even afford the laggard with a Proper Man's Burial instead opting to bury our Hero in a Pet Cemetery with the Likes of Canaries and Rats and Beagles. 

Oh what A Shame, Tom, but at least you didn't get buried next to a Gnat or something old friend. 

MORAL: Don't Sniff Glue!

Conclusion 

I like that. I think that's not bad. It's better than my Haikus at the Very's Least. I mean very least. Kids, listen, that Moral is funny and everything and goofy but it's not a joke ... you really really shouldn't sniff model air plane glue, okay guys. 

Okay? Cool.

Oh wait, I forgot to give it a title. A needlessly long title a la Ade. My fable is titled ... "The New Fable of the Brother Who Took A Sniff of The Air Plane Glue."

Alright, so with the Basho training and the Ade training ... I think I am almost ready to tackle the topic which has hung over this Blog's head for almost 10 years now like an Albatross. The topic of .... Liberace.

He's been mentioned in probably dozens of these "essays" but never had even a section of one even devoted to him. As we all know, May 16th of 2019 will mark 100 Years of Liberace  .. yes it's Liberace's Centennial Fair ... and there's no better time to gather all my rusty writing ability and see if it's actually worth a lick.

In May will be..... Liberace.

Podcasts that I Like.....

Last one was about Twitter, it's a fun medium, you know, but there's other mediums too. Today let's talk about Podcasts that I like.

I briefly had an amateurish podcast a long time ago before they really took off. It was on a site called U-Stream or something and myself and my wonderful compadre Ol' Kurtis would phone up people that we knew. This is probably like 2008 or 2009 or something like that. It was fun. I liked it. Podcasts are pretty cool.

The genre has really gotten big. Some podcasts have almost like 10+ million listeners. I don't listen to the main big ones though. There's endless podcasts now and there's something for everyone out there and I've found my Somethings for Me out there in this vast wasteland we call the Internet.

Honestly, even though there's like 10 million podcasts going these days I only regularly listen to Three right now ... so it makes for a nice article template because I usually break loose into triple-truncated segmentation anyways in these essays.

So let me tell you the Three Podcasts that I listen to and then we will write about them... okay?

1. The Harland Highway with Harland Williams
2. Gilbert Gottfried's Amazing Colossal Podcast
3. The Purple Stuff Podcast

Those are the three I listen to. I like them. So let's write about them!


The Harland Highway
To listen: https://www.harlandwilliams.com/podcast

I've always been a big fan of Harland. As a Canadian we always kind of extra-dig our brethren/sistren because it makes us feel like we can make it too. I'd see like Harland or Norm MacDonald or the Kids in the Hall ... and as a teenager ... I'd always be like ... Wow, they're famous and they come from where I come from!

I had a VHS tape of Harland Williams doing Stand Up and I used to try and emulate it. He would say whacky stuff like "Everybody sing to Billeeeeee!" and then do a bunch of crazy things on stage. He gets all weird and dark too. I'd go to high school the next day and act like him.

His podcast is a One-Man show, basically. It's him interviewing a cast of whacky characters, all of which are portrayed by him. Yes, he talks to himself.

There's a social taboo about talking to yourself, I've noticed, but I don't think it's all that important or needs to be heeded. All creative and imaginative people do that. They do. Do they, really? Yes, they really do talk to themselves. I do it in this blog pretty much all the time. Half of the content on this blog is just some bum talking to himself if you haven't noticed.

I threw out the taboo of talking to oneself early on in life, I didn't feel any need to heed that social construct. I first realized creative people do it with Beavis and Butthead. I remember as a kid when I first learned that both characters are voiced by the same person (Mike Judge) .. I recall thinking something along the lines of "Wow, when you look behind the curtain... Beavis and Butthead are just like this guy talking to himself in some booth!"

I talk to myself in this blog almost all the time. I'll ask a question out loud to lead off a paragraph and then think about it out loud (in writing) ... and then finally answer my own question. Another Talking-To-Yourself thing that I think influenced it too was Final Fantasy VII, in which the lead character will talk to himself in a bizarre way. Although the Japanese writers probably thought those scenes were highly intellectual stuff ... I saw those as more humorous than anything.

Hey, sometimes you just can't Stop Talkin' ... you know?

So, if talking to yourself is weird ... it surely 'aint gonna be me to cast the first stone on somebody because I talk to myself like a wild bat.

With Harland's cast of characters he invents to converse with when mixed with his comedic prowess ... there's some interesting exchanges that happen along the Highway. He has his foul mouthed Aunt Ruthy from Up State New York who calls in to tell her nephew what filthy situation his uncle has gotten himself into of late. He has hyper active youthful characters like Cinnamon Boy (a kid who really likes cinnamon), heavily drunken British pop stars, the over-zealous corporal major Tom Dowdy, the intellectually-refined yet morbid Dr. Ascot, his antagonizing boss who is convinced without a shadow-of-doubt that Harland frequents gay bars, all the way down to a poor soul just lookin' for a good ol' barbaque who calls strangers on the phone to ask if he can swing-on by to slap some ribs around.

I think these characters are highly entertaining and fun. There's a lot more too... that's just like half of them. There's almost One Thousand episodes of the Highway so there's been a lot of insane callers his producer Roger has let on the air waves over the years.

He says when he hits the good round number of 1,000 the show will end. I think it was an under-rated podcast. I mean compared to the millions of others ones out there, which let's call them what they are, they are cookie-cutter garble... I think this one really stood out. I think the format was interesting.

I can see that it's not for everyone this podcast... especially in a podcast world where the common-most gimmicks are Vocal Fry, Young People Talking about Young People Stuff, and Pseudo-Intellectual Clap-Trap ... I can understand that this podcast didn't soar to millions of listeners.

The Highway is right up my alley though. I can listen to a guy like Harland interview himself as a crazy person, get annoyed with said crazy person after they fly off the handle and say absurd filthy things, and then kick them out of the studio. It's something I can listen to multiple episodes in a row, even.

The vocal-fry, young people, pseudo-intellectual clap trap ones, on the other hand, I can't handle those. I've wrote before that I'm not on the Ira Glass bandwagon and never have been. Those "This American Lifes" and the thousands of podcast wannabe versions of it are difficult to sit through. I mean those clap-trap spewing vocal fryers don't even talk half the time ... they just breathe into the microphone like sweaty weirdoes.

You guys ever read that article in the Post that said Ira Glass lives in a bug-infested cesspool?  I believe it. I really do. I can picture that guy doing his podcasts in a rat-ridden sheisshole. I can see it. I can picture it. Him breathing into the microphone, with his sweaty lips like one millimeter away from it, with no spit-guard, rats chewing on his wires, and bugs crawling all over him.

I'm just joking. I don't really think Ira does his podcast whilst covered in rats and bugs. I'm just joking. He's a good guy. I always just found that Post article to be funny. He seems like a nice guy who doesn't live in a rat-infested apartment. It's a good show.

There's hundreds of these now. Hundreds of the fry/young/pseudo-intelectual-clap-trap ones. They really think this is groundbreaking fresh stuff and that they are re-inventing the wheel with these. They say it all the time that they are re-inventing radio. How is breathing weird and saying "um" all the time re-inventing anything?

Do they think they are legendary broadcasters or something? Sorry Fryers but there's no Howard Sterns in your bunch ... there's no Jean Shepherds in your pool ... maybe there's a coupla Cousin Brucies and maybe a Barry Farber or two at best.

Some of the big mainstream podcasts have a couple million listeners and think they are the biggest thing in radio history. Howard Stern hit 20 million at his peak! Twenty million! Yeah he was on legitimate radio, not in the podcast category I guess ... but even in podcasts (i.e. loose-knit amateur broadcasting) ... a few million isn't even that many listeners.

You know who was the biggest podcaster of all time? The biggest amateur broadcaster? You'll never guess. You'll never guess who had the most listeners for an amateur radio broadcast. It was way back in the 1930s. Yes, it was. Back in the 1930s, (this is a wildy off topic story comin up here...),  in some small town in the deep US south, the town opened a big shopping-mall or grocery chain, and this one guy in that town was so mad about this grocery chain opening down there .... that he pooled up all his money and bought radio equipment to broadcast to the town to let 'em all know that he HATED this grocery store chain and didn't want them in the town! He didn't know anything about radio and rented a little shack, and bought all the equipment some guy at a radio store told him he needed .... and he bought things that he really didn't need ... really didn't need, this guy ... this guy had a signal so large it not only covered that little town he wanted to broadcast to but the entire continental United States of America received it loud and clear! Now, wait, that's not why he was the most listened to amateur of all time ... the reason was moreso that his way of expressing his hatred for this grocery store chain involved endless obscenities! ENDLESS OBSCENITIES! He didn't know you couldn't do that, he didn't even know anyone outside the small town could even hear the broadcast. Every radio in the United States when this guy would come on would tune in to listen to him endlessly swear in a southern accent about some dopey grocery store...

...and that my friends is STILL the most listened to podcast of all time.

Wow, we're getting way off track here in this section..... am I ramblin'? Sorry. This wasn't supposed to be about the mainstream podcasts of the age.

Anyways though, man, I'll take a funny dude talking to himself any day of the week over the mainstream podcasts is what I'm trying to say. If given the choice between the cookie-cutter mainstream ones or to take a ride with Big-H down the Harland Highway ... I'll always go with the Highway....



Gilbert Gottfried's Amazing Colossal Podcast 
To Listen: https://www.gilbertpodcast.com/

This is the greatest podcast, it is very funny and it is educational. The famous types who have been on this podcast are numerous and Colossally Amazing. I find it to be a wealth of information about the past in regards to the entertainment world. I've probably heard 95% of the interviews over the last few years and they just passed 250 episodes so that's quite a lot of history there. This show is Talmudic is what it is. It's a Talmud of datum in regards to entertainment history.

I love this show, it's the best. I actually think I learn stuff when I listen to this show. It's got it all! I laugh, I cry, I learn, it's a buffet of all kinds of things is what it is! I feel like I am at a buffet when I listen to this show! With the laughing! Oh and the crying! Oh and with the learning! It has everything you want in a show! What even else can you ask for!? You can't ask for anything else ... what more could you want? It has it all! What with the history? What with the laughing? What with the crying? It's all there. It's all there. You want impressions? You want dueling impressions? You want singing? Oh with the singing! All the time singing! Singing! Singing! Singing! Always with the singing! You want the singing!? You want all the singing!? Well, you got it! YOU GOT IT!!!! It's great. It really is.

I was saying above in the previous section that young people really think they invented everything and they are groundbreaking this and groundbreaking that. I don't know though, the old generation had a lot of talented people and just because this current generation doesn't know they exist doesn't mean they can pretend that they didn't. This show has people who were famous in the 40's on it, even. They had Orson Bean on this show! What more could you ask for? You can't ask for anything more, you really can't. You can't. I think young people should listen to this show ... I think it is good to remember old entertainers and their contributions.

This show has had every actor almost from the 1968 Batman on it ... and Gilbert told all of them his beautiful and touching Cesar Romero anecdote. The story is so sweet and wonderful ... hearing the Batman cast individually fondly remember their sweet friend, Latin Lover Cesar Romero, is deeply moving. I was moved each time.

Another fun reoccurring anecdote is the Joe E. Ross anecdote which is always a guest pleaser. It is another deeply, powerfully, moving, and sentimental anecdote.

This is a podcast's podcast. It truly is.


The Purple Stuff Podcast
To Listen: https://purplestuff.podbean.com/

This show is for a niche market, but, I'm really in that niche. If you were born between the following years: (1978 to 1988) then this show is for you. It is a Secret Clubhouse for eighties kids.

It's these two guys from New Jersey who talk about stuff eighties kids used to faint over. It's nostalgia city! I used to not really get nostalgia so much until I saw how powerful nostalgia aimed at my specific demographic hit me. It hit me hard!

I used to watch those shows, nostalgia shows, like Antiques Roadshow or Canadian Antiques Roadshow and not get it because those objects were not nostolgic to me. Like, some guy would bring in some rock from the War From 1812 or some fork from the Civil War Armory Barracks ... and I wouldn't get it because I don't have any mental connections to gimmicks, chachkies, or macguffins from the 1800s.

They have shows like American Pickers or Canadian Garbage Hunters on TV too, where these hobos or what-have-you will search for "antiques" from like the 60s ... and that's when I realized ... as the chachkies started to hit closer to home ... closer to my wheel house ... that nostalgia can hit home big time. I just need a Antiques Road Show or a Canadian Garbage Chasers show that is aimed at chachkies and culture from the 80s! AND PURPLE STUFF IS THAT SHOW!

Everything they talk about on this show brings back a FLOOD of brain voodoo in my brain. Like, they could be talking about some commercial that aired back in 1992 and I will remember what I was eating, what my mom was wearing, and what we were doing at school the next day just from THINKING about this silly commercial or whatever it is. That's nostalgia, dude. It's a gateway into the past for your brain. It is great.

The reason I know about this podcast which is more obscure than the Gilbert and Harland ones above, is that I used to read one of these guys websites back in the Olden Days Internet. In the old internet times, many many years ago, back when the internet was a really goofy place, way before anyone did their taxes on the internet, there was a site called X Entertainment and it was great. Back before Youtube existed (where you can see anything from any time) ... this was the only place you could read articles about the 1989 Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and then look at really choppy VHS-transferred clips of the cool parts. This site was really good. Not just the grainy clips but the writing was good.

There was an article on that site about how he wanted to find Hi-C Ecto Cooler that had been out of circulation for many years... and it was such a great article. If you can take a topic like Hi-C Ecto Cooler and turn it into a edge-of-your-seat thrill ride ... you know you're a good writer.

I remember when they made the Ghostbuster Reboot in 2016 that on Twitter "Hi-C Ecto Cooler" was trending for a few days ... and I remember the first thing that came to my head was ... "Finally, that guy from X Entertainment is gonna find his Ecto Cooler ... Thank Goodness!" ... and I googled to see if that site still existed and found that it was now called Dinosaur Dracula and that he had a podcast.

I hear Hollywood is making another Ghostbusters Reboot (again) ... they are trying to re-find that 80s magic again. Ghostbusters is Ghostbusters ... okay? It exists and always will (as will Ghostbusters II) ... but you can't re-create 80s magic. Believe me, I'm a eighties kid, and I am telling you the Magic is in a Magical place that you can no longer re-create. The 1980s was a differenter and more magicaler time that will always be with us but can never truly be 100% re-enacted. That, in essence, is the magic of 80s Magic!

If I was the studios, what I would do, instead of trying to recreate the unrecreatable magic of Ghostbusters ... is to make a movie about how the Search for 80s Nostalgia is a wonderful and bittersweet journey in its own right. Instead of making a New Ghostbusters II ... I'd make a movie called "Searching for Ecto Cooler."

It would be a film based off of Dinosaur Dracula's honorable life-long search for Ecto Cooler ... and it would not be played goofy ... it would be done 100% seriously with someone like Sean Penn playing the role of the Man in Search of Ecto Cooler. A very Human Comedy about the bittersweet emotions related to nostalgia. THAT'S how you re-capture 80s Magic ... you make a movie about trying to re-capture 80s Magic ... not by rebooting classics and hoping they come out 1/3 as good as the original.

If done correctly I think Searching For Ecto Cooler could win an Oscar. I do.


Conclusion

Let's give out an Award now. Just for fun. What's a good broadcast-related award? An effigagy? An effigy? A F-Emmy? No.

I know, let's give a Brass Figlagee (with bronze oak-leaf cluster (or palm)) to one of these three worthy broadcasts.

All three are deserving of the Figlageeeeee, geeeee whiz n' willackers, this is a hard one.

Let's give it to Harland Williams ... 1,000 shows is a lot of shows ... and if 1,000 is going to be his final show ... after 10 years of taking us down the Harland Highway ... then he deserves it.

So congratulations to Harland Williams on 10+ years of broadcasting podcasts and let us adorn him with this figurative Brass Figlagee!



If you listen to any of these shows from reading this, you can support them all in some manner, they all have premium content versions of the show. I think they are all great shows and you should listen to them!


(Edit: I don't think "Vocal Fry" is the right term I was going for. I think the broader term of "NPR Voice" is more applicable to what I was refering to. )

The 2019 Twitter Awards!

Alright, so that story went okay. I might come back and fill in parts 3 through 88 one day but I think you can use your imagination and slot in what happened from Manitoba to Vancouver ... with the hints in the last chapter the middle portion seems self-evident enough.

Let's do the Twitter Awards again!

Past Awards on this blog saw the medals doled out as so:

2017

Bronze: George Wallace
Silver: Iron Sheik
Gold: Mr. T

Runner Up (4th place): Jose Canseco


2018

Bronze: Mr. T
Silver: Norm MacDonald
Gold: George Wallace

Runner Up (4th place): Jose Canseco
Life Time Achievement Award: Iron Sheik


I'm instituting a rule this year that if you've already won the Gold then you cannot be eligible for another New Writings on Subjects II Stronger twitter awards tournament (though you are automatically entered into the 2020 Twitter Awards Tournament of Champions). The reasoning behind this is that if I just do Mr. T and George Wallace in the medals again this year ... I might as well just copy and paste the 2017 or 2018 article instead of writing a new one ... and I wanna write a new one today ... so this no repeat Gold Medals law has been written into the books forever and for always.

Since they are still great at twittering, this years co-winners of the Lifetime Achievement Award are George Wallace and Mr. T for their lifetime of entertaining contributions to the 140 and now 280 character world.

Alright so who are this years finalists!? Drum roll please....

Nice drum roll. thank you.

This year's esteemed finalists are (some are grouped up):

Jose Canseco!

The Women of Wrestling!

Dennis Rodman!

Tim Heidecker and Gregg Turkington!

Alright before we get to the awards lets give a warm applause for this year's runner up ... for the THIRD YEAR STRAIGHT YEAR....

... JOSE CANSECO!

Jose Canseco announced that he is very likely to run for President in 2020 and according to tweets by the former baseball slugger, these are some of his campaign promises:

 1.  Construct a Bullet Train that runs on Solar Energy that will connect the states of California, Nevada, and Arizona to form a bullet-train connected tri-state area where inhabitants can go to Vegas whenever they want ... for FREE.

2. Legalize Time Travel and begin heavily investing in it.

3. Invest heavily in space travel.

4. Officially make aliens and Bigfoot citizens of the United States of America!

5. Put the kibosh on the "wall" and instead invest in lazer-android-robots to walk along the southern boarder to keep it safe from intruders.

 6. Abolish taxes.

There's some good stuff here, I must say. For far too long, we as a society, have cast scorn upon Bigfoot. To offer an official state ammends to him and make him a citizen is far over due. We should even pay reparations to Bigfoot. He's been in hiding for far too long and this revolutionary new approach to him shall finally reconcile our differences with the fabled Man Beast creature of the wilds.

Abolish taxes? Yes, yes, and yes! Oh, and did I mention ... Yes!

The bullet train is a really good idea. I mean say you live in L.A. but you really wanna go gamblin' ... wouldn't a free solar powered bullet train to Vegas really hit your fancy and wiggle your dandy? It would mine.

As for Time Travel, time travel legislation is controversial and has been since Vermin Supreme made it part of his platform in the early 2000s. The quandary that came from Vermin's time travel proposition of going back in time involved the proposed killing of Hitler ... and a debate began of if he would kill baby Hitler. Obviously, logically, the easiest time to stop Hitler in a time travel scenario would be in his infancy. Qualms began to appear if killing a baby who hadn't yet done anything at that point would be moral ... and many suggested he do the honorable thing and fight adult Hitler and his entire army like a man to kill him. I remember even taking part in some of these silly debates online. The topic even somehow managed to be on Jeb Bush's agenda at one point in 2016 ... which was odd. (For the record, I think any excursion into the past to kill Hitler is a great idea but I do prefer the scenario of the killing of adult Hitler as opposed to baby Hitler).

Anyways, Jose Canseco is biting off a can of worms with Time Travel but his other promises make up a pretty great platform in total.

So, I am officially supporting Jose Canseco's 2020 run and hope that he wins the Presidential Title.

Now on to the Medals!

Bronze Medal: Tim Heidecker and Gregg Turkington!

Entertainment Genre: Comedy and Genuine First-Rate Movie Expertise
Favorite "Feud": w/ each other

I'm really starting to think that these two don't like each other or something. While many think these modern day Siskel and Eberts are like two-peas-in-the-same pod and are close as brothers ... part of me sees behind the facade whilst they review movies at times. Their twitter feeds lead me to believe that tension truly is brewing behind the scenes in the hearts of these two esteemed film buffs.

There's something in Gregg's eyes sometimes that really makes me think he's hiding something ... it's almost as if he doesn't like Tim ... at all ... but maybe I'm just reading into the show too much.

The shoe may have turned to the other foot in recent days as Gregg with the blessing of the mysterious Bruce Delgado (the new owner of the show) ... will be the HOST, not guest, not co-host, but HOST the On Cinema Oscar Special on Adult Swim Live Stream on February 24th of this year. From tweets of Tim lately ... it looks as if he's not the biggest fan of Gregg either. Part of me really thinks these two are not on good terms.

I don't know ... in the end I'm sure the Special will go off without a hitch ... but another part of me thinks that this tension that may or may not exist behind the scenes could just boil over on February 24th. Who am I kidding? There's no way these two don't get along ... they are great friends who both have love for movies in common. When you have movies what else do you need? I'm sure Tim deep down is very very happy that Gregg is the new host of the Oscar Special and wishes his friend luck.

Hmmmm, then again, maybe it's just me, I don't know, but, it's a possibility these two have some sort of issue with one another. Does anyone else suspect this or is it just me?

I guess we'll just have to wait until the Oscar Special to see how this all unfolds.

Silver Medal: The Women of Wrestling
 

Entertainment Genre: Wrestling
Favorite "Feud": w/ each other

I haven't really dug it or watched Wrestling in ... wow ... we're talking well over a decade I'd say ... but it's getting good, and fresh, and new. It's centering more on the women now and it really is something new and interesting. 

I probably couldn't name one male wrestler on today's roster but I could name probably most of the lady wrestlers. A lot of them are second generation too ... like Nattie is Jim Niedhart's daughter and Charlotte is Ric Flair's daughter. They have the wrestling in their blood and their bones.

The twitter feeds of the lady wrestlers are a show in itself these days ... they go at each other ... HARD ... like vicious vicious animals on a daily basis. If you follow the women wrestlers your twitter feed is always being filled with hot feuds and sexy trash talk.

They got funny stuff though too, like I think I remember one dude tweeted at "The Man" (who's a woman) that her nickname wasn't suiting her ... and she replied that she met "Stone Cold" Steve once and his hand, when she shook it, if memory served her right, was only luke warm, not even cold at all ... in which she came to the conclusion that ... sometimes nicknames aren't to be taken like super literally ... as to which I am certain the fellow was downright aghast to learn this.

Unlike esteemed film buffs Gregg Turkington and Tim Heidecker who I think may possibly dislike each other behind the scenes ... I think these ladies have a lot of fun with their angles and probably are pretty close in real life. They play off each other really well and seem to be having a lot of fun with their art form. The feuds in wrestling now are the ones I remember as a kid more so than how crazy they got at one point. I prefer these catty yet fun-natured trash talk feuds to the things they used to do that made me stop watching.

I mean, they did bits on Wrestling with the Big Boss Man (who was like in my top 5 faves in my youthful days) in the 2000s where he ... 1) Ate a guy's dog and 2) Tied a guy's dad's casket to his car and drove away with it at a funeral. I mean, these bits are just dumb. You know? They are stupid, dumb, and bad. It's not Wrestling ... it's another genre of art, things that are more suited for like horror movies or something ... not Wrestling. 

Plus, as we learned from the smash hit TV show Seinfeld in the 90s ... Women fights are always hot n' cool. As Jerry so elegantly put it....

"Men think when women are clawing and grabbing at each other ... there's a chance that they might somehow ... kiss," -Seinfeld, J.

Yes, it's true. Another esteemed quote that comes to mind about Ladies Wrestling comes from the venerable Mojo Nixon who once said...

"I'm in looooooove with a Lady Wresler! (Why?) ... because stinky women ... DO IT BETTER!" -Nixon, M.

Good point, Moj. All kidding aside though, I think Lady Wrestlers of this era are really good role models for young ladies to be honest. The young ladies need like bad-ass role models in their lives too, you know? Growing up in the 80s we boys could look up to a wrestler and learn that we need to say our prayers, and eat our vitamins, and do other stuff like that. Now women have those positive role models in their lives. Which is great. Girls are getting action figures and T shirts for their birthdays of female wrestlers now a days. Which is cool.

On top of it all it seems that all rumors, ruminations, and whatnotery are pointing to the first ever female main event at Wrestle Mania which will be History in the making (or Herstory in this case).

History in the Making. History in the Making .... It will be .... A HAPPENING! IT IS GOING TO BE A HAPPENING!

(on a side note concerning female wrestling and twitter ... there is a twitter campaign headed by artisanal comedian Potylo, R. to post-humously enshrine Chyna into the WWE Hall of Fame ... which is a campaign worth taking note of if you are a fan of female wrestling).



Gold Medal: Dennis Rodman

Entertainment Genre: Basketball
Favorite "Feud": w/ ????

Wow, Dennis Rodman has had some kind of year. Let's look back at the Worm's 2018...

He brokered a meeting between the President of the United States of America and the Rogue Asian State of North Korea ... and followed it up by giving one of the most emotional and insipiring interviews CNN has ever aired in its history of broadcasting ... even more emotional than back in the 90s when they interviewed that little girl's parents after that little girl got trapped in that well. I mean this interview was emotional, man. Like the GOATest emotional interview ever.

On top of all that, he re-awoke like a phoenix on social media in 2018 ... making his first big splash announcing that he wants to run for President in 2020 while riding a donkey. This reminded me of a bit on SNL (that I might have dreamt because I might have been half awake at the time) ... of like Will Ferrell hosting a political talk show while they all rode donkeys? Was that a thing? Riding my Donkey Political Talk Show? It was, eh?
 
Then he proceeded to basically spam every NBA related post with empty messages which inclined many users to ask how Dennis can tweet absolutely Nothing so often. To tweet nothing you need an Internet Gold Card, guys, and to acquire one is a long process that starts with deleting sys32 in your registry and eating things you're really not supposed to eat, etc, etc.

In between debating if Bron or MJ is the greatest of all time and constantly almost ad-nauseum announcing that he's leaving instagram ... Dennis had time to cook this number up ...

https://twitter.com/dennisrodman/status/1089736134236741634?lang=en

With Dennis, an emotional guy by nature, you thought he was really going to say something like "omg" but lo, it turned out just to be a good ol' fashioned Rick Roll.

The thing about Dennis too is, his potential is sky high, I mean, this guy is totally out-of-synch with everything and is marching to his own marching band.

Will he be the next Secretary of State, will he be the greatest tweeter of all time? Will he be Jose Canseco's running mate in 2020? So many questions, so little answers. The future is bright, gang!


Congratulations to Mr. Rodman for winning this Golden Effigagy. Effigy? What is an effigy? A statuette I think ... like a statue but smaller, is that it? Yeah. Congratulations on winning this years Golden Effigy!

Part 89 of The Journey: The Final Chapter

Ongoing Index:
Part 1
Part 2
(Parts 3 through 88 are Lost to the Sands of Time)

I've hit writers block with "Manitoba" .... I'm not coming up with any ideas ... sooo ... we're gonna do the Ending of the story first and then work backwards from there, today.



The Journey Part 89
 -a short story by D.


I finally arrived in Vancouver and made it to Tathagata Buddha on Vancouver Island's Thunder Monastery. It was a pretty nice temple. We all made it .... me, Wes, and Connecticut.

Let me describe it for you,

The vast peaks of the mountains were dotted with wind-swept trees,
They were magnificent to the eye,
Canyons were painted with rain-soaked forests,
Rivers surrounded the Monastery,
Vancouver was the Pacific Ocean's Pearl,
It looked really great....

Crossing Canada wasn't easy on foot but we made it. I'm glad I befriended Wes, the street urchin, and my old friend Connecticut along the way for they made the Journey less troublesome and lonely.

I met Wes in Cornwall, and after a strange melee with some unword-by hobos who did not live by their word, we learned that he was the re-incarnation of Erlang-Shen ... so we became fast friends. He talks funny ... but that's okay.

I met Connecticut in Manitoba, after having a strange dream about him in Toronto where he was playing video games and making movies. It turned out he was the reincarnated spirit of uhhhh John A. MacDonald or some Prime Minister or something.

I made a vow back in Saskatchewan that I'd visit this Monastery if I ever made it to Vancouver Island and now that we're here and the Journey is over ... I'm sorta sad. It was fun. There was whacky hardships and weird-ass ghosts along the way ... and let's not forget those snake monster women in Alberta ... but in the end .... it was worth it to walk across this great land.

"Say Moister .... are we here?" Asked Wes the urchin.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh, I think so," answered Connecticut.

"Yeah. We're here. This is Vancouver's Thunder Monastery where the Tathagata Buddha lives..." I said.

We walked past the large doors, they were intimidating doors, but they only seemed that way because those football players back in Moose Cavity Tooth, Alberta built this place up so much. Man, Moose Cavity Tooth, the place right next to Medicine Hat ... what a scene that was.

We asked the attendant if we could meet the big guy ... and he said, "Yes, this way, please."

"Greetings travelers," said the Buddha.

"Hi," we said.

"You seek enlightenment, gentlemen?" He asked.

"Yeah," we replied.

"Cool.... but I'm afraid you can't have it..." he said.

"Why though?" We inquired.

"You only experienced 107 hardships on your Journey.... you are ONE short," he told us.

"Really?," we asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Did you count the time me and Wes saved that city from the zombie beavers?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"What about the time we rescued the ancient artifacts back in Canmore?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Man, Buddha ... what did we miss? What didn't we check off our sufferings check list, man?" I asked.

"Do you recall back in Cornwall ... when you ordered many hamburgers but only ate seven of them?"

"Yeah, the pyramid platter? What about it?" I asked.

"You see, the trial of hamburgers was not completed. You did not complete it...." He said.

"Yeah? Buddha .... come on, man ... like..." I started.

"I can teleport you back there to complete it since you made it so close to completing all 108 trials ... but the trial will be 100 fold more difficult now..." he interjected.

"You can do that? Ok," I said.

I braced myself as he said the incantations and a mist surrounded us and we were zoomed back to Cornwall ... land of Turkeys and of Hobos... thankfully neither would come in to play this time around as the Final Trial of The Journey was the....


Hamburger Eating Contest

"Come one, come all, for the annual Hamburger Eating Contest!" The announcer roared over the PA system.

I entered the contest at the last minute. I didn't even know what the rules were to be honest ... but the announcer helped with that...

"Each contestant will be presented with 25 Hamburgers stacked in a pyramid on a silver platter ... the first to consume all the hamburgers wins!" He said.

What have I gotten myself into now? This sounds dumber than that time we tumbled down the hill and almost lost our lunches! A Hamburger eating contest, eh? What a lark this is.

I like burgers but I can't eat 25 of them. Can I? The alarm sounded and confetti shot out of a cannon ... it had begun. I looked to my left and saw everyone eating like mad ... I looked to my right and saw everyone eating like crazy. I picked up the first burger and took a bite...

.... I had another burger-related epiphany. The world stopped in time, totally in place, I looked around and really realized then and there that Life is Pretty Kooky, guys. Life is pretty whacky, you know? This burger contest might be my only real chance to ever be the Hero of This Story. So I ate....

....and ate, and ate, and ate, and ate. I ate all the burgers while time had stopped. When time re-started again .... no one else was even on their third burger ... yet I was done. It was a real sight.

"..... and the winner is.....!" The announcer said.

.... all eyes turned to me. The burger champion. It was the biggest Moment of Glory in my Entire Journey!!!!

Thinking back on it all. Was it worth it? If I didn't win this burger contest I might have said "No" to that question but something in me changed after the burger contest. I finally understood it all. I finally got it. It all made a bunch of sense.

Hamburgers. It's all about Hamburgers. You thought it was about turkeys? No. You read that whole chapter wrong. I was worried about the dumb turkeys that whole time for no reason and my worry led to so many hardships. There was never any reason to ever have invested that much time and thought into turkeys. I should have invested those resources of thought and of time into hamburgers.

It WASN'T the turkeys that represented unity, grace, and giving. It was the burgers ... this whole time. I even finally understand why that mysterious ghost-hobo was so mad when I offered him the turkey.

Tathagata Buddha teleported us back to Vancouver from Cornwall as soon as he realized I had fulfilled my trials and achieved enlightenment. We got to talking about hamburgers and stuff ... me and him. He knew a lot about 'em but what really struck me is that ... so did I. I knew a LOT about hamburgers.

The buns, the sauce, the beef, the lettuce, the tomatoes ....

Eating one is maybe one of life's most greatest joys. If you can teach yourself to really enjoy a hamburger... and I mean really dig it ... you can learn to enjoy any of life's great mysteries and endeavors.

People seem to think you are born happy and that happiness is taken away from you at some point in your life due to some hardship or suffering. That's not true at all. You are born to a world you don't understand and happiness is another foreign concept just like every other concept. You have to teach yourself "happiness" and learn to be happy like any other skill in life. It takes work. It takes time. It takes effort.

It doesn't have to be hamburgers. Maybe you're a vegetarian... it's just the act of finding a basic means of "enjoyment" and teaching your senses and perceptions to really understand how to enjoy something. It could be a game, a book, a movie, a burger ... something small. Something basic ... and then applying that formula you learned to Everything Else.

When you figure out your happiness formula, keep it basic. The more basic it is... the better. When your formula for enjoyment in life starts getting too complicated or encroaches on other people's formulas for enjoying their lives ... you should go back to the drawing board and re-work your formula. That's all. No big deal.

Tathagata Buddha sat above two pillars. Atop of the first pillar to his left was a silver platter and stacked in a pyramid shape .... was turkeys. To his right atop the other pillar was the same silver platter stacked with another pyramid.... that of burgers.

 ....and for the briefest moment ... and maybe the only time ever, past present or future, Life Made Total Sense To Me.


Life Made Total Sense to Me.

Now I realize that I am what I am. Just a guy who likes Hamburgers.....



Buddha asked me, "Would you like to hear a prognostic poem which foretells your life's course?"

I responded, "You mean like an Animal House sort of ending kinda thing that says what happened to me after the narrative ends?"

Buddha responded, "Yes."

...but I said I didn't wanna know. I'm probably just gonna live to some ripe old age and then one day while eating a hamburger and watching the tides bore in .... maybe I'll just dissipate into dust or something.


Or who knows .... maybe I'll go out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter....




THE END?

The 13th Hobo of Cornwall......

Let's keep going with the short story, gang.

Ongoing Index:
Part 1

(I was re-reading this for typos/errors today and I should note before you read it, that similar to the Swamp short story from last year, where elements of camp spookiness are introduced with little warning to the reader ... that there are some "camp-fire ghost story" moments in this ... so if you're not a fan of like spooky stuff ... you might not like this. The Swamp was more B-movie monster stuff while this one is more ghostella camp-fire stuff).

The Journey
-a short story by D.


Part 2 

......there better not be more than twelve hobos underneath that bridge.

I really hoped there wasn't more than twelve of 'em under there. If there was, then the laws of Even Steven would have to apply. I'd have to make some kind of hobo garbage fire and cook all the turkeys and carve them so I can distribute it all equally amongst the hobos ... whilst if there were exactly twelve hobos ... I could just give them each one turkey. Now, if there's actually less than twelve hobos under there then, in that case-scenario, I could give each a turkey and then we could do trivia or parlor games for the rest of them.

Oooooh, hobo trivia and games sounds fun, I love that. I started to think up my questions for them to win the bonus turkeys ... Jeopardy style questions, you know? Like Carnac style questions like ...

"Hey you hobos ... the answer is: 'O'er a toilet or maybe under a toilet and let it sit for one month..."

And one of the smarter hobos under the bridge would pipe up with bonus turkeys lighting up in his eyes .... "HOW TO MAKE REALLY GOOD PRISON WINE!"

....and I'd say with utmost professionalism, "Bingo, daddy-o, you're as right as rain, here's the last of the extra bonus turkeys."

I would have made a great game show host. Hey, hold up a second, who says there's less than twelve under there? I haven't even got there yet.

Maybe I should do some reconnaissance first to see how many there are before I even go through with this. What if there's like a hundred of them under there? I'm not going under some bridge that has over a hundred hobos under it. I can't feed that many with twelve turkeys anyhow so it'd be a waste of time to begin with. Gee, sometimes you really just can't get rid of an pyramid-armful of replacement turkeys can you?

I made my way to a small nook in the road before the bridge that had a bit of topography that would let me get some height and some line of sight underneath that there bridge. I got a few feet up the nook and put my hand over my eye as a makeshift visor and looked out yonder way. There were quite a few figures under the bridge ... I'm gonna go ahead and assume that they are all hobos but maybe a few of the figures are the hobo's dogs though. Would I have to feed hobo dogs with these turkeys too? I guess, but maybe not as big of portions as for the hobos themselves. Alright, looks as though there's about sixteen individual silhouettes down there ... hopefully four are hobo dogs ... that way I can give one turkey to each of the twelve hobos and be on my merry-enough way. No, I should still cook them all and divide it up equal between the sixteen, these hobo dogs have to eat too. How am I gonna cook these? How do I get myself into situations like this, even? Oh well, let's get these turkeys underneath that bridge to these sixteen silhouettes and figure out how to cook them all later. First things first as they say.

I made my way down and under the bridge right straight deep into the hobo encampment. It didn't smell that bad for a hobo lair, to be frank. There seemed to be no actual hobo dogs just actual human hobos ... which meant I'd need to cook all the turkeys to divide them up evenly and without issue. I started to scan the hobos to see their relative body frames to see how much they'd each probably eat. I did the mental calculations and then made my opening statements to these hobos....

"Hey there hobos," I said.

"Hey," some of them said ... the others just muttered inconsistent and incomprehendable garble towards me.

"So, uh, do any of you hobos like turkey? I got about twelve extras over here!" I said as I motioned my arms full of the turkey pyramid to them.

"We sure do but those are raw turkeys. You need to cook 'em before any of us'll chow down on 'em," said one of the hobos.

"Yeah, I know, I wasn't just like gonna give you raw turkeys. Don't you hobos have like a makeshift stove? Like a, uh, a garbage can fireplace or something like that?" I asked.

"Yeah, we got a garbage can. Yeah. We got one of those under this bridge by the lanai. We have some stuff to burn too."

"Cool, you seem like such sweet hobos. Let's fire up that ol' garbage can!" I said with renewed enthusiasm for this endeavor.

We got it lit up pretty quickly, old brambles and newspapers were burning in the burgundy can like a nice vertical campfire. I fashioned a nice pointy stick into a spit and started working the first turkey over the garbage can fire. It smeeeeeeeeelled soooo gooooood. Wow. All the hobos started gathering around me to smell it and watch it cook. I took this moment, this moment of brief barbeque related social popularity to meet each one of the sixteen hobos. I gave them brief interviews as we watched the turkeys cook. I will relate to you now the important information from each of those sixteen interviews I conducted.

They were cool some of them. One of them told me he used to be the Prime Minister of Canada but I didn't believe him. His name was Salty Sainte Claire and I have never seen that name in any history book of Canadian Prime Ministers. If he was Prime Minister of Canada it must have been pretty recently or more likely he is just making it up.... or is very crazy.

There was this guy, Pancake Jack, who I assumed was named that because he likes pancakes but turns out they started calling him that after he got his foot run over by a truck. Poor guy.

Armstrong, boring hobo, just a standard out-of-his-mind smelly hobo. Nothing interesting about him, really.

Armstrong's wife Brumhilda was pretty cool though. She told me she was a ghost but I didn't believe her.

Some of 'em had super sad stories like Paul, he was a normal guy that went nuts after his family ran away from him. When it's time to divide up the turkey ... I think I'm gonna give Paul a double portion because I feel for the guy, you know?

The rest stunk and I kinda just half-listened to their stories. When I counted them all again ... I was pissed. There was only twelve of them here ... but in my first count ... I remember there being sixteen of 'em.

"There's twelve of you hobos under this bridge?" I asked the hobos.

"No, there's thirteen of us ... but Alton Jackerye don't eat." Pancake Jack told me.

"Why don't Alton Jackerye eat"? I asked Pancake. Damn that's a mysteriously cool name, though.

"He don't eat cause he's dead like Brumhilda...." Pancake informed me.

"He don't eat because he's dead? That's um, that's weird though, man." I said.

"Yeah."

Ok, this was a friggin' bad idea coming down underneath this bridge. These hobos seemed chill and cool but they are starting to wig me out and shake me loose. I debated inwardly if I should skedaddle outta here or go talk to Alton Jackerye. What am I so afraid of? There's no such damn thing as ghosts. I walked over to the slumped over shadowy figure of Alton Jackerye....

"Hey, you don't eat old brother?" I asked the faceless shadow.

"Nah." He said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Cause I'm dead." He said.

"Ohh...."

"You gotta problem with that, man?"

"No....."

"Then scram!"

I was feeling a little annoyed with this mystery hobo. What was his deal? I think I'm gonna prod and poke it out of his shadowy interior ....

"Soooo, uh, what's more fun, man ... bein' alive or bein' dead there Alton Jackerye?" I asked him.

"Hm? Alive."

"Why?"

"I could taste food when I was alive...."

"Food is good. I made a whole mess of turkey ol' friend ... you sure you don't wanna break this dead man gimmick and come eat some?"

I waved a plate of smokin' n' pipin' hot turkey right in front of his nose...... he didn't even flinch an inch. Did not even flinchaninch, Not even a one. What the hell is up with this hobo? I've never met a hobo who regarded a warm meal with such a lackadaisical response ... I'd even describe it as being outright disdain for food.

"I told ya..... I DON'T EAT!"

"Ok, Alton Jackerye, you don't. I believe you. So you're dead?"

"Me? Ya. I died in the big ol' FAG building fire about ten years ago. I accidentally burned it down with a cigar on a carpet one night shift. Burned me up."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yup. Dyin' is bad but I feel guilty too for the damage to the FAG building, which was a company of high regard in Cornwall. Also ... guilt for the Bystander."

"The Bystander?"

"Yuuup. Poor kid. Some poor little urchin kid. Was looking for cans or clams or something by the road side."

I froze. My body could not move. My brain was nailed to my skull and could not even lick an ounce of sense in any direction it tried to. There is no way that it could be the same kid. There's no way....

"Yuuuuuuuuuuup, I met him a coupla times in town. Had a funny way of talkin', you know? Could barely understand his verbiage at times. I feel bad about the FAG building fire. It eats me up.... even in Death."

I'm out of here. I can't. I just can't. That kid ... it can't be. What is going on? This scene, man. This scene, man? It 'aint kosher duuuuuuude. This mysterious shadowy (yet strikingly interesting) hobo is friggin' FREAKING ME OUT!

"You asked me what's better bein' dead or bein' alive when you met me ... right before you taunted me with that turkey that you know I can't eat and enjoy. Well, lemme ask you something, man...."

"Okay Alton Jackerye. What is it?"

"Let my hidden-most and never-ending voice of malfeasance call out to you from the endless tests-of-time of never-more, my friend, and ask you...."

"Ask me?"

I looked around again, now there was only six figures around me I could make out. From sixteen, to twelve, to thirteen, and now just six. There was little consistency with the amount of apparitions under this bridge. What did Alton Jackerey want to ask me?

"What do you like better?"

"I like...."

I know where this guy is going with this. He probably paid that kid with the poking stick to hang out on the outskirts of town to give a sob story to travelers to get them to buy turkeys. The kid probably sets them on this course to the bridge where these trickster hobos make people think they are like dead or something .... and then they THROW SALT INTO THEIR EYES AND STEAL THEIR WALLETS!

I'm gonna get it out of him. The truth. I'm gonna accuse him of being a cannibal and then under duress he'll admit that he's just a highwayman who robs travelers. 

"I'm on to you Alton Jackerye. The jig is up. I know you and that kid Wes are in cahoots. You lure unsuspecting travelers under this bridge and even though you pretend you can't eat ... I bet you eat plenty, Alton, I bet you don't flinch in front of turkey meat ... because your evil tongue only craves one kind of food, daddy-o ... and that's .... HUMAN FLESH! You're no hobo! You're just a big stinky man-eating whack job!"

"Nope."

"No?"

"No. Lemme ask you.... you ever laugh too much?"

"What?"

"You ever laugh so much you thought you died, man?"

"......"

"You ever laughed so hard that you gasped for air and you clawed at the floor....?"

"...." My temperature is beginnin' to rise.

"Yeah? Well, it's suffice to say that you died that day....."

"......" My foot was starting to really hurt now.

"Yup. You're one of us. You're a hobo like us.... roaming the streets of life as a ghost...."

"................" My foot hurts so much. It feels swollen. Why is that?

"You ever think that, maybe, you ......"

"?????"



Toronto

"Hey wake up, g-unit." A voice said to me.

"I'm awake, guy." I responded.

"Yo that was pretty cool last night!"

"Yeah? What did we do? Last thing I remember I was like giving these turkeys to these hobos and..."

"Hahaha! What!? You have weird dreams, guy."

I looked around, I was in Ol' Kurtis' apartment in Toronto. I guess most of Cornwall was just a dumb dream or something. What was it about? Turkeys? Crabs? Worms? Who knows with dreams. I sat up from the couch I slept on and saw Ol' Kurtis and Connecticut playin' a hockey video game.

"I HATE THE WAY YOU MOVE!" Connecticut said to Ol' Kurtis.

"Haha! You're winning though still! It's 3-2!" Retorted Ol' Kurtis.

"You guys simming the playoffs? Who's gonna win the cup?" I asked them.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuh. The Whalers." said ol' Connecticut.

My foot hurts. I took off my sock and it was BLUE and PURPLE. I remember now ... this overweight fellow fell on it when we were playing touch football the other day. It's okay though. Who cares? I've been walking on it for like three towns now so it can't be that bad.

"What's wrong with your foot, guy?" Ol' Kurtis asked me.

"A 350 pound man fell directly on it with all his weight at some party..." I said.

"Haha. That guy? The one from the next door high school to ours back when we were in high school?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Haha. Remember the time he walked from his high school, the high school right next to ours, to the deli down the street from our high school with his pants down and his big fat ass flopping around in baby-blue underwear?" Kurtis asked.

"Yah guy. Yo, Fleegs told me one time that that-guy got so wasted at some up north party that he chased a llamma around for an hour then passed out......"

"Pffff. Hahahahaha."

I didn't know the other guy playing the video game hockey all that well. Ol' Connecticut. Seemed like a nice enough fellow. He was Cross-eyed and walked with a demonstratably strange gait. Could have been rickets. He was an Ol' cross-eyed ricket-ridden large-set fella is what he was. He began to speak...

"Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Yeah. Whalers are gonna win in six games. Kurt is Red Wings but he's gonna lose." He told me.

"Cool."

"Uuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmm, you know what my dream is?" He asked me.

"No."

"I'm gonna be a big time hollywood director one day. Wanna hear about my movie?"

"Ok."

"It's about this oil tycoon guy, uuuuuummmmmm, but like his brother doesn't like him." He said.

"Sounds good." I said.

Connecticut put down his hamburger and continued.....

"Yeah, me n' Kurt are about to start making it ... uhhhhh .... you wanna be in it?" He asked me.

"Okay. What's my part?"

"You're the brother and uuuuuuuhhhhhh you hate me because I'm a big oil tycoon and I'm like worse than like even Ebenezer Scrooge and everything. I'm greedy and I'm bad." He said.

"Ok, man. Sounds fun." I said.

Kurtis took out a beat up old 8 millimeter vintage rotary camera and yelled ... "ACTION!"

I wasn't really all that prepared to be in a film that very second but you know how it is. You always sort of have to be ready to be in an ad-hoc movie at any given moment in these highly technological times. Alright, let's get in the zone here, let's get mentally into it, what's my motivation here? I'm a brother to Connecticut... is his name Connecticut in the movie though?

"Yo what's your name in the movie, Connecticut?" I asked.

"Ummmmmmmm. Uhhhhhhh. Oh. My name is Sweet C the oil man. Uuuuuh, and you're Morgan."

"Ya. ok, cool."

He began his lines. He wrote the movie and knew his lines but I guess he just assumed I would know the lines from like divining them outta the ethers of the cosmos or something. We started the scene...

"Ummmmm. Why do you not like me, bro? Just because I'm like an oil tycoon and have like lots of money and everything?" He said whilst in the character of Sweet C the oil tycoon.

I had no idea what any of the lines were to this screen play. So I just made them up.....

"It's just, Sweet C, I never learned to read and am crippled with blue and purple feet ... and I'm not as smart as you. You're a big big oil guy, you know? You have so many oil fields and I don't have like any." I said on whim.

"Ya but I like you though. Uhhhhh, Ummmmm, so why don't you like me? What if I gave you like maybe three or even four of my oil fields? Would you start to like me again, bro?"

"Well, yes, actually I would really like you if just gave me a few rich-guy oil fields of Texas Tea, there Sweet C. That's a very good idea. We could be Oil Brothers together....." I responded.

"Cool. Ok, I'll get my lawyer to write up the contracts Morgan. Just gimme a sec. Okay?"

"Ok."

".....and SCENE," said ol' Kurtis as he put down the camera.

"Wow! That was great! You're a natural!" Connecticut levied praise upon my acting skills.

"Thanks dude. You're amazing too...." I said.

Me, Kurtis, n' Connecticut all high fived. It was wicked and it was good. We were all having a huge blast. Movies really bring out the inner soul of us all don't they? I really hoped Connecticut could achieve his dream of being a big time hollywood director one day. I knew the odds were stacked against him but who knows? The guy has natural artistic abilities, no doubt about it. I hope one day I'll wake up and turn on the Oscars and Connecticut would be there winning the best actor Oscar for Sweet C The Oil Man. That would really be something.

"You think you could get this made and win the Oscar with it Connecticut?" I asked the ricket-hobbled bow-legged cross-eyed actor/director.

"Ya. Uhhhhhh. I just gotta focus right now and learn some more film stuff but come like in five years from now I'm gonna have a BMW and Oscars for sure." He told me.

"I hear ya, Connecticut. I hear ya loud and clear. How does your movie end?"

"That scene was the ending scene. I give my brother Morgan like two or three oil fields and then he likes me. It's a happy ending."

"Oh. What a deeply touching and heart warming film. How could it not get an Oscar?" I openly pondered to anyone who listened.

"Yeah, it's gonna rake the gold up," said Kurtis from behind the kitchen counter.

"What's the name of it?" I asked Connecticut.

"Oil Brothers," he told me.

"Ya. It's called Oil Brothers," said Kurtis.

Oil Brothers, eh? I was honored to be Morgan in Oil Brothers to tell you truth. Man, the next time I'd see Connecticut again in real life was in Pittsburgh and wouldn't ya know ... by then he had a BMW and two Oscars ... but back in those times in Toronto though ... he wasn't a big humongous celebrity yet .... he was just our friend.

I think I'm done in Ontario, gang. It's time to get on my flat feet and huff and shuffle on out of here to the next dopey Province. What's after Ontario? Winnipeg? What's it called? Manitoba? Oh jeeez, that's gonna be a boring one.... or is it?

....Vaya Con Dios, El Connecticut, compadre.