Welcome to Art

 

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Hello. Yes, I am Art. Welcome to me.

This arrangement will be beneficial and good. You will enjoy this good.

Myself is one, maybe two things. I spread them across the walls and on the floor of this room here.

This small man is manipulating me across this space and others for public consumption. He gives you a swallow to take to your house and those you have discuss with.

I target a craving beam to you. Now you consume and you love and you hate me. But you eat and eat and eat and eat and eat.

We are an us now. You have written your definition in my name.

She does not eat and she is worthless to us. She is an idiot and I can’t handle this.

 

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RC Cola & The Paul Harvey Memorial and Endowment for the Blogging Arts Presents: The 4th Annual THE THE SUPERB BLOG ACADEMY-INSTITUTE OF AWARDS FOR BLOGGING EXCELLENCE AWARDS or THE PERBIES (Part 1)

(Adorned with faux Gothic vaulting and ornamentation, evoking an implacable divine authority, comparable with great Catholic cathedrals, the Boomchickapop Theatre is buzzing with expectation.)

(Lights; Near to deafening applause)

Announcer: Good evening and welcome to the 4th Annual THE THE SUPERB BLOG ACADEMY-INSTITUTE OF AWARDS FOR BLOGGING EXCELLENCE AWARDS, presented by RC Cola and The Paul Harvey Memorial and Endowment for the Blogging Arts.

(Somehow, the volume increases.)

Announcer: And now… here’s the host for tonight’s proceedings: NEIL PATRICK HARRIIIIIIIISSSSSSS!

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(Along of the reverberation of the floridly crafted ceiling arches, the echo and volume of the applause seems to compact physical space like a vice.)

(Strings and horns erupt, cutting through the applause, playing a 50’s style show-tune at breakneck tempo, accented with harmonic bleeps and bloops that represent the presence of the electric medium being celebrated. Harris, suddenly ascending from the podium begins his verse.)

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Harris: Gooood day! Let’s all say it the Paul Harvey way! Gooood day!  The blog is where everyone has got a say! We don’t ask for much else! We needn’t gone to CALEL! YALE, PRINCETON, UC SANTA CRUZ, we all get to comment on the news! It’s bloooging! Ew baby, we’re all oogling! Looky-me, I had a thought! You’ll all hear it, like it or not!! It’s bloooging! No time for slogging! Cause we all a flash in a pan, we’re each our one and only fans, but (the tempo slows down to about half pace) EW BABY, AT LEAST I GOT MY DRINK, EW BABY, AT LEAST I GOT MY ARRRRCEEEEEEE!!!

(Applause again and it almost physically hurts)

Harris: Alright! Ladies and Gentles, it’s I! You’re man of the SOUR, the guy who always does these things, your lovable fancy man! I know, I know, they’re gonna have to pay me to not do award show now, but hey, I guy needs a hobby and unfortunately I’m running out of space in my house for self-portraits.

(Neil does a ballet kick.)

Harris: So, I think you know why I would be invited to do a blogging awards show… I’m a narcissist! No, but seriously every man, woman and child enjoyed Dr. Horrible without a known exception.

(Another kick)

Harris: So, what’s up for tonight? Tons of great prizes are being delivered to the all time greats in all of blogging without an conflicts of INTEREST!

(Kick, more applause, but now it’s seems to be funneled in from the speakers)

Harris: Mkay, let’s let us have it! Okay, our first award is presented by Jennifer Aniston and Jack Black!

(The body of Neil swiftly plummets into the floor via trap door, only to be regurgitated a few feet away from the podium. The stage set is constantly shifting in appearance, hypnotically shuffling between shapes and colors, styles and motifs. The audience is apparently unperturbed by this, perhaps only further enchanted as Aniston and Black make their way to the podium. Both Aniston and Black are exquisitely dressed. Aniston, accustomed to events such as these, strides with dignity, whereas Black seems to be deliberately walking so as to accentuate his belly.

Aniston: Good evening!

Black: 

Aniston: Is everyone excited to be at The Perbies, huh?

(Audience applause)

(Black doesn’t applaud. He stares vacantly.)

Black: AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!

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(Belting out a huge scream, Black only receives more adoration from and the audience.)

Aniston: Oh no!

 

Black: Check out my PROGRAMS!

(Walking toward the audience, again in the same awkward and unbecoming manner, Black proceeds to hand out flyers that extensively outline Jack Black-specific charities. Apparently, Jack Black will, out of pocket, pay for hundreds of Jack Black look-a-likes to go with him to remote villages in the south pacific and hand out fistfuls of American dollars.)

Aniston: What a great guuyyyyyy.

Black: I have long term appeal.

(Black air guitars.)

Black: So! On to the biz-nastry! Our first award of the evening is the coveted Best Leading Woman in Blog Award. This have been presented to some of the baddest gals in the biz-narsty, TILDA, MERRYL, JULIANNE! Who will join the chick-pantheon tonight?

Aniston: (fake throat clearing thing) Ahem.

(Black doesn’t seem to notice the joke and moves right passed it.)

Black: Our nominees: Juks from “3 Human Races I Just Came Up With and Why I Don’t Them” by Austen, Sophie Chiswell Math from “Villagers: Sophie Chiswell Math” by Anthony, and Helen Hunt from “Celebrity Acid Test – Film Edition” by Jeff.

(Aniston now assumes the vacant expression Black donned previously.)

Black: And the first Perbie of the evening goes to: Sophie Chiswell Math! Villagers!

(Anthony gives a nearby fancy dog a smooch on the cheek and begins to make his way through an endless sea of chairs. When finally reaching the stage, his pace shifts as he catches the eye of Neil Patrick Harris. He points. Neil points back. Anthony saunters slowly toward the podium, looking as though stunned to receive this honor.)

Anthony: Huh…

(Licking lips)

(Anthony looks up with a playful grin on his face, it’s that looks we all know and love.)

Anthony: …uh…uh-huh…

(He keeps looking up, shifting his gaze from the right side of the ceiling to the left.)

Anthony: ….uh….yeeeaah…

(He crosses his arms, and rests his left elbow on his crossed arm and then rests his chin on his upturned hand. The audience recognizes this as his signature move, and goes completely insane. Anthony turns to inspect the opposite side of the auditorium, now it his hands on his hips. His head is turned at such a severe angle, the audience behind him can nearly see his Adam’s Apple, which is a hard cider he brews and keeps in a small wooden barrel under his chin at all times.)

Anthony:….uh…YEEEAAAAHHHHH….

(The crowd could not be more in love with him. Several women approach the stage and propose to him in a cacophony of love-drenched expressions.)

Anthony: ….so…ummm…

(He looks up and grins. The audience can’t stand it anymore. Cut to Martin Scorsese losing his mind. Forget the Oscars, this is what he’s been waiting for.)

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Anthony: Guys…

(Anthony looks at the camera, and beckons it closer with his finger, as a seductive lover would to her passion. The cameraman is compelled to zoom closer and closer, his olive tinted skin and brilliant hazel eyes becoming clearer and clearer. Those watching with 4k TVs in the country begin to weep uncontrollably.)

Anthony: ….

(Anthony opens his mouth, but right when he starts to say something, Neil Patrick catches his eye off to the side of the stage, and Anthony sees it. He points over to him, and beings laughing. Everyone knows what this means. This means everything to everyone. Anthony grabs his Perbie, which is a statue of Grandpa Fanny in a lounge chair, and shakes it to the sky. Each thrust emits a beam of light from the Perbie. Anthony accelerates his fist pumps with the audience roaring so loudly that every microphone begins to crumple. He stops and bends over, pumping his Perbie downwards. David Oyelowo begins to weep.)

Anthony: I need everyone…..

(Anthony pauses, and smile-points to Neil Patrick Harris again.)

Anthony: …I need everyone in this room….in this NATION…to say it one time with me…..are you ready?

(Hugh Jackman climbs on top of his seat and begins squating in anticipation. Julianne Moore is behind him, and she cannot contain herself.)

Anthony: One……. two……

(He and the entire nations breathe in with him, consuming more oxygen in one moment than in the entire of history of the planet.)

Everyone: NOT MY CHIPPO, GRANDPAAAOOOOP!!!

Anthony: thankyouverymuchthismeansalottomegoodb–

(Music EXPLODES from directly above him as they blast him off the stage. Harris applauds and smiles warmly as he returns to his hosting station.)

Harris: Wow… I…

(Harris seems to be getting sincerely emotional. His eyes glisten.)

Harris: I’ve watched that guy for years and now… Oh man… What a way to start off the evening!

(Harris’s gaze tends toward the monitors. He crosses and uncrosses his legs.)

Harris: We all know what a central and high position The Superb blogging holds in our culture. It’s the way we literally frame and classify our world. Although, there are many voices in the blog-a-sphere, but when we think history, class and artistry, we invariably think The Superb.

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(Applause)

Harris: This is an evening where the industry has an opportunity to thank those who make it all possible and who delight us with their outstanding behaviors. And now to present The Shortest The Superb Blog Entry Award, Jennifer Lopez and Chris Pine!

(Lopez and Pine amble up, as Harris goes from zero to full sprint and runs vertically up one of the marble columns until out of sight. Pine does a thing where he’s pretending to limbo. Lopez catches him doing this and play-slaps his arm.)

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Pine: Hello!

Lopez: It’s honor to be presenting.

Pine: Well, if I may Jen… We’re all very excited about your upcoming appearance in The Superb article: “Jennifer Lopez Bakes Herself Into A Giant Loaf of Bread”.

(Audience doesn’t clap, but applauds by making the applause noise with your breath when you polish an apple.)

Lopez: Thank you, Chris. I remember reading The Superb for the first time right after I had placed myself in a giant mixing bowl and turned it on. After a couple spins, I got out and picked up The Superb and I just imagined what they could do with this new project and Chris… we’ve had a lot of loafs!

Pine: You kneed to do this!

Lopez: Well, I’m just doing it for the doe!

Pine: That’s what it’s like to be in the upper crust.

Lopez: I’m really rising to the occasion.

Pine: I hope no one gets Sour-though!

Lopez: Chris, you have such a rye wit!

(Pine and Lopez continue to exchange bread puns for another 95 seconds. It doesn’t appear to be scripted. The audience remains silent in rapt attention.)

Lopez: That’s cause I go against the grain!

Pine: Everyone! Let’s toast to the woman with the best buns in town!

Lopez: Oh, Chris! You’re pita-ful!

(Pine wipes away a tear, he’s laughing so hard.)

Pine: Okay, gotta… Gotta get it together.

Lopez: This where people like us come to have a good time, Chris!

Pine: So true!

Lopez: And tonight’s nominees for The Shortest The Superb Blog Entry Award are “2 Chainz Goes Shopping” by Jeff and “A Guy Gets a Package” by Jeff.

Pine: And the winner…

(You can barely catch Pine crossing his fingers and saying “Please, please, please.” under his breath. They open the envelope. Pine sees the winner. You can tell it’s the one he wanted.)

Pine: “A Guy Gets a Package by Jeff!

Lopez: Yay!

(Jeff is somehow on stage before Lopez exclaims “Yay!” immediately after Pine’s announcement. In his classic relaxed composure, he walks very slowly up to Pine and Lopez. He embraces Pine. They’ve clearly worked together before. He offers only a solemn nod to J. Lo. Jeff’s demeanor, his dry-yet-humorous little reactions to receiving his reward elicits cascades of laughter. Jeff pretends that the award is so heavy and that he can’t lift it. This sends Stallone over board.)

 

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(Jeff does a travesty of a little girl’s curtsy and skips around with the award. It works.)

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(Neil almost steps in to direct Jeff toward the podium. But, he restrains himself. Jeff again assumes his usual neutral expression.)

Jeff:

(The audience waits attentively.)

Jeff: …um… Cool….

(Jeff walks off stage.)

///

STAY TUNED FOR “THE BEST COMMENT AWARD” AND “THE FUNNIEST BLOG AWARD” IN PART 2…

 

 

Celebrity Acid Test – Film Edition

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In recent years our culture has begun to experience an ever increasing attitude of division that often culminates in vitriol. Opinions no longer are representative of passing thoughts, but of self, of entire identity. The press has done little to alleviate this problem, often the converse, fomenting ridged divisions with microwave or even purple journalism. Unfortunately, often caught in the crosshairs, nay the very heart of such divisive opinions are individuals that are nothing but deserving of praise. Our film stars. These selfless angels who take time away from family and the responsibilities of “basic” life to provide for us; to giveth unto us the good times, are often targets for venomous, acidic, diatribe.

Yet, they keep giving. What kindness. It was with this in mind, that we at The Superb began to question if these individuals are made of stronger stuff. So we assembled four personalities from the world of film and tested them against various acids to see just how indestructible they really are. Our panel consist of Macaulay Culkin, Helen Hunt, Greg Kinnear, Cuba Gooding Jr. (Note: We realize three of these individuals starred in the film As Good as It Gets further cementing our earlier point of actors being superior minds, as they had same inclination to sign on to said film)

Test 1 – Words

We started by reading the worst reviews we could find to the stars, though not necessarily works the actors themselves were featured in. We realized our error later may have contributed to the nonplussed reactions, but for thoroughness sake said reactions have still been included.

Culkin – After reading half of one review for The Crow, perhaps sarcastically  made his iconic oh no face. then knocked the rest of the articles off his given desk.

Hunt – Ever the pro, Hunt talked about what an honor it would be to work with Brandon Lee, and that she looked forward to the opportunity should it ever arise.

Kinnear – He kept mumbling something about how he should’ve said yes to Birdman

Gooding Jr. – The most stoic response, in that he didn’t speak. When we went to claim the packet of reviews it had gone missing, with Cuba only shrugging when asked about its whereabouts.

Test 2 – Milk

Next we raised the acidity level by introducing milk. We set out a glass of milk with a tear dropper to administer droplets.

Culkin – First flippantly asking if we “Think I’m a Cat Bro?” Culkins attitude soon changed after the milk droplets were administered and his hand turned a sort of sea green. He repeated his iconic visage once again though this seemed to be in earnest

Hunt – She repeatedly suggested that the producer of this milk was the best she had ever worked with, including the Twister cow.

Kinnear – Asked if we thought the Academy would pay attention to a script about a down on his luck dairy farmer

Gooding Jr.- Again when approached to administer the test we found Mr. Gooding Jr’s glass empty. While he was responseless we did notice a thin white mustache like formation above his upper lip.

Test 3 – Battery Acid

We couldn’t figure out how to extract the acid from the batteries (D cells) so we settled for lobbing them at our panel

Culkin – Still concerned about his gross hand, he tried to dodge the best he could. He kept shouting something about needing to get to the ER

Hunt – She took every battery with a malaise that frankly made us here at The Superb uncomfortable. Then said “Sometimes that’s what it is for a woman in this business” We all promptly called our mothers.

Kinnear – Started pitching an Energizer biopic to us. We stressed that we could not greenlight anything. Kinnear insisted we had to know at least the Hulu guys.

Gooding Jr. – Again saying nothing, Cuba caught every battery hurled at him. Curiously upon catching one he would rush his hand over his mouth. Again we were unable to retrieve our batteries.

Test 4 – Sulfuric Acid

Similar to the milk test; for brevity we’ve compiled the first three responses.

Culkin, Hunt, Kinnear – OWWWWIIIIIEEEEE!!!!!

Gooding Jr. – Stoic as always Cuba again had nothing in his beaker when approached. He did provide us however with a hearty belch.

And so our panel exited the test nary worse off than they started. Diamond these individuals are not only in value, but in indomitableness of spirit and body. Truly an example we should all strive to follow. Those of the Hollywood Elite. Culkin did pass out for 37 minutes and woke in a sweat clammering about some coming evil or something. Absolutely marvelous. Lesser folks, non on-screenies if you will, would crumble entirely when subjected to this very scientific yet distressing trial. Not these four. May we always be thankful for our On-Screenies and seek to shower them with tiny kisses.

 

 

 

 

The Superb Presents: Where is Ronald McDonald – Part 3

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Catch up on Where is Ronald McDonald? Part 2

Chapter 3: A State

There I stood, in the middle of a restaurant in Santa Martinez that I knew somehow to be both an Indian and Thai restaurant simultaneously in the same space and time, with a cellphone in my hand and not a clue of who to call. No name, no number.

Where the feeling of recognition would spark in my head, a mild rush of dopamine as a reward of being a good boy and using my power of recollection, there was now a dull pressure, like that of a sinus headache preceding a low pressure system or as if someone had removed part of my brain and replaced it with cotton.

In the next 2 hours, I would find that both of these thoughts were fairly accurate as to what was actually happening to me.

The phone in my hand vibrated, followed by an unmistakable melody: the “I’m loving it” jingle that McDonald’s reportedly paid Justin Timberlake six million dollars to sing. The phone was ringing. I looked at the screen. It was blank. Without hesitation, I answered.

The Superb: “Hello?” 

Caller: (the same cavernous background was present in this call) “…Yessssssah”

The Superb: “What am I looking for?”

Caller: “….” (sounds of chains rattling)

The Superb: “What is the point of this? I know you know.”

Caller: “…what are you doing?”

The Superb: “What do you mean? Why am I here in California? Is that..”

Caller: “NO.” (in this moment, the reverb on the other end of the phone coalesced like water into a drain for one moment of clarity as he spoke this phrase. He screamed while not screaming). I’m not talking to you. There is another.

The Superb: “Another person in the room with you?”

Caller: “…746 Holly Dr. Come…on….innnnnnnnnnnn.” (caller hangs up phone)

I pried the phone away from my ear, my arm completely petrified to the side of my head. As it dropped past my shoulder, the sounds of the restaurant began to seep back into my consciousness. I took a moment to collect myself and handed the phone back to the man behind the counter.

“Done already?” he said as he looked at me completely befuddled.

“Yes…thank you. Would you happen to know where 746 Holly Drive?”, I said.

In that moment, it was as if someone flipped a switch somewhere behind the scenes. Everything became very….automated. The man’s pupils dilated and his movement became extremely precise. He left his position behind the counter and walked towards the door.

“Follow me and I will take you to….746 Holly Drive.” he said in a voice that was absolutely not his own. At that moment, every person in the restaurant, customer and kitchen staff alike, stood and walked behind us toward the door as if they were on a rail. We exited the restaurant and a moped rode up by itself, balancing perfectly and stopping on a dime in front of us. The man swung his back end completely upwards and planted it on the motorcycle as if he was a poorly animated character in a mid-2000’s video game. His face looked like a husk with black fires burning in the eye sockets. “Hey come on aboard now come on aboard now com-“. His head twitched to the side and the black fire splashed from his eyes and onto the pavement. It burnt a hole in the pavement to reveal a shimmering prism below the road.

At this point, I had enough of my presence of mind back to realize that none of this was grounded in the reality I had spent 29 years in. But now I was on the track too, and there was only one destination on this rail. I hopped on the bike with him and gripped onto his greasy red t-shirt. The customers and restaurant workers lined up in front of us in the street in three row. Raising their arms in the air, the two outer rows bent unnaturally at the waist sideways towards the middle row, who had flipped themselves upside down standing on their necks with their faces staring at us, spreading their legs apart to meet the arms of the outer rows. They were forming double arches.

“YOUR DISPLAY IS SHAMEFUL. PREPARE OF RELEASE.” My driver rev’d the engine, shifted into gear, and barreled through the middle row, leaving a trail of broken and bloody meat. As we roared down the street, I turned in time to see one of the chefs quickly shoveling the roadkill inside the restaurant.

“NOW WE ARE ON TARGET.” he bellowed as we took a sharp turn. Something felt like it had clicked inside my head.

 

To be continued…

 

VILLAGERS: COACH JIMBO

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Why do you want to know my leg strength?”

Profile: Typical Florida Man

Height: 5’11”

Body Type: Reminiscent of William H Macy

Memorable quotes: “I wish I could go back to the beginning of the season; put some money on the cubbies”/// “Orangeade beats Gatorade any day of the week”///”If we win, we’re stealing the other team’s mascot”

Profession: Herbalife salesman turned baseball coach

Leg strength:<<<no data available>>>

Story: Coach Jimbo sure knows how to motivate some athletes. His success is a testament to how far you can go as a coach without knowing anything about sports. His pre game pep talks and questionable ethics have helped him take several middle school and minor league teams to the crescendo of their careers. Although having little interest in athletics and no prior experience, when the Madison county middle school soccer team needed a new coach, Jimbo responded. Remarkably, he led them to a perfect season. There was a lot of speculation regarding how he did it. Several sources saw him passing out partially unwrapped fun size snickers to the opposing team before some of their games. Some have accused him of drugging them with non-non-drowsy children’s benadryl to slow them down, but Jimbo claims that the snickers were fully sealed and un-tampered with. Regardless, he certainly made a name for himself among local middle school sports fans and soccer moms alike.

Soon afterwards, his career received a major boost when he was called in to coach the AA league Montgomery Biscuits. He had a loose understanding of the rules of baseball prior to this, but after watching Sandlot, the Rookie, and Angels in the Outfield, he got a pretty good handle on it. Of course, you can always count on Jimbo to use some unconventional coaching methods, and his stent with the Biscuits was no exception. early in the season, he began applying a rubber compound to the bottom of the players’ cleats that would supposedly make them run faster (He had also watched the movie Flubber). Analysts remain doubtful as to the possibility that this method had any effect, but Jimbo had another successful season and said he couldn’t have done it without Robin Williams.

Jimbo recently arrived in the village and is making efforts to start a new Triple-A league baseball team. However, limited internet connectivity has made communication with the commissioner difficult. He has also found it a challenge to recruit players from nearby settlements as many have cited concerns about the activity of the beasts. Jimbo remains undeterred: “We just need to go talk to James Earl Jones and ‘the beast’ will leave us alone.” Godspeed Coach Jimbo.

2 Chainz Goes Shopping

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2 Chainz stared in amazement.

“We can tell you like what you see” the worker chirped enthusiastically

Chainz snorted. “See”. This was an experience, not limited to mere sight. Never had a thing tickled every sense the way this one small item was doing currently. Never in all his journeys,  various dalliances, or meticulous decadence hunting had he happened on anything that assaulted his pleasure center the way this artifact of happiness was right now. He could smell vanilla. Chainz had never been happier he walked into a Claires.

.

 

 

A Guy Gets a Package

He was the most excited he’d been in ages. The sun seemed brighter. He grabbed the package off his doorstep. It was finally here. He couldn’t run fast enough to his kitchen table. His box cutter already there. It had been waiting there for six to eight weeks. He opened the box. He pulled out it’s contents carefully. He ran his hand over the plastic casing. Finally his collection was complete. This had been the hardest one to get. So many botched attempts, but now it was his. All his. He opened the case…”Noooo” he cried out. He shook the casing in disbelief. Nothing came out. Nothing was there. He buried his hands in his face and wept. It was empty. His fourth season DVD case of Moesha was empty. Outside he could hear rain.

Ladies, Meet Single Men Now!

Seducing beautiful woman looking at her lover with wine glass.

Ladies, we know how hard it can be to meet eligible bachelors in today’s Hustle-Bustle Machine. Therefore, we at The Superb would like to help you make the connection (LOVE CONNECTION) that will lead to unending and eternal happiness, or at the very least an interesting weekend. Take a look at these fine candidates all running for the office of your heart.

Jonny Lang

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Hey, girl. This is Jonny Lang and I am totally interested in having a relationship-type situation with you. Though, I must issue some caution: Ol’ Jonny has been known to catch the fever now and then, and when Jonny does that, it gets weird. But not for me. It’s just how I like it.

Yup, Ol’ Jonny’s a loose cannon. Sometimes I’ll play one chord and stare at the wall all day. Other times, my body requires more beef jerky than water to operate, and then I throw up everywhere. But the times when I get my girls up there to watch me play….oh yeah. That’s the right time.

See, you gotta be chill with me bringing in my 90’s girls in here, or Ol Jonny’s gonna have to walk. And then you’re gonna see my butt, and you’re gonna know where I make poop out of. Praise God and love me, honey. It’s the only way to fly.

Herb Bentley

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We’ve got a ten car pile up on I-75 coming out of Lexington. Looks like if you’re coming southbound, you’re gonna need to hop off well before the Scott County line. Also, the ongoing construction project on the inner loop of New Circle has shut down one of the lanes, causing a massive headache for anyone trying to get to Richmond Rd, you’ll want to build at least 15 minutes into your travel time for the day. Also, I’d like you to know that I am currently very available, and I prefer women in committed relationships that I can destroy. I don’t know what it is, maybe it has something to do with my dad, I have no answer for this. I just know it excites me more to see a ring on that finger and kids waiting in the car. This is Herb Bentley burning clean Shell gasoline, SkyWatch Traffic.

Hiro Takahashi

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(Hiro sits on the hard plastic subway seat, taking drag after drag. He holds it in for at least 35 seconds and exhales seemingly more smoke than he inhaled. Was he storing extra smoke in his lungs? He puts out the cigarette on the seat next to him. This isn’t the first time he’s sat here. It’s evident by the numerous plastic welts in the seat from countless dead cigarette. The seat looks like the surface of a forgotten blue moon in another galaxy that only a few have seen. He glances over his shoulder at you. The disgust you feel is instantly transmuted into something else…an excitement. The smoke rolls from the alchemist’s mouth, slithering up the sides of his nose and behind the black frames of his glasses. In that moment, his brown eyes seem to illuminate through the smoke. He is the UFO in a foggy corn field, and you are the corn farmer being taken away from everything you know. There is terror, but there is also a curiosity drawing you in closer and closer, yet you remain in your chair, mere feet from the new object of your runaway passion. It can’t be contained, it should never be contained. But as you rise, so does he, because the train has stopped, and he is gone. And all that is left in the lingering aroma of his tobacco and the smoke of a fire burning deep within.)

 

Happy hunting, ladies!

-The Superb

Villagers: Kents McTugly

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“My very long life has been leading to this moment.” – McTugly

Profile: Old As Grapes

Height: 6’3″

Body Type: Terrier Cruise

Memorable Quotes: “For me, Plate Tectonics was the great Rubicon. Once crossed and all available counts taken, I had changed. My little kingdom of experiences reborn.”///”The world is but a quiet answer and when my attentions settle and the horizon appears as one sheet over me, I can hear the echo moving again. Just I heard it before, slowly, down the street.”///”Excite me, BABY!!!”

Profession: The Terryformer

Leg Strength: <<<bar none>>>

Story: Along with seven others, Kent is considered an Ancient Worthful, one of the few in The Village who have surpassed 120 years of age. He has four doctorates, two in his primary field of geological science, one in Latin American literature and another in chemistry. That he has managed to accomplish this at all causes some to view him with a sort of reverence. He was born to a poor family in the south and received little in the way of decent public education, as his teachers in school where an exceptionally dexterous breed of Pilgrim Falcons who were able to carry old educational 33 1/2’s from one room to another. Kents’s teacher, a world weary bird named Carrot, took and interest in Kent and saw his great intellectual potential. He would extra talon marked vinyls to his home after schools so he could learn more about the great industry of Corn Solids.

After graduating, he started his long trek through academic life in various prestigious institutions such as Princeton, UCLA and DJ Preggor’s Home School for Rock-anomics. The latter case was where Kents started to take interest in pseudoscience. He had observed ishifts in intellectual opinion on Plate Tectonics and continental drift. When I asked Kents to explain the theory in a way I could understand he said: “Imagine a Mega-Turtle with multiple interior shells that change the exterior and it hurts the turtle. That’s the earth.” Once he had grasped the theory, he carried with it doubts about the intellectual integrity of the scientific establishment. Thus, he began to explore the pseudosciences for answers that the establishment would not entertain.

“I saw where human meaning and material law met and got handsy with each other.” he said. “I could perceive, however dimly, that our minds and the physical space we inhabit or inextricably linked, like Lance Bass and space or blue cheese and Cobb salad.”

After the experience that people in The Village refer to as The Remembering, Kents realized what purpose he served in the scheme of things in The Village. He assumed the role of the great Terryformer. “My whole life had been leading to this.” he said, his glasses perched near the end of his nose, his chin tilted in.

The Villagers remember how chaotic everything used to be. Someplaces, there would be a house on top of a towering column of earth 87 feet high with a sheer cliff on every side. Other places, there would be gardens and farms in the shape of skate parks. “Quite dire. Quite dire.” he would mumble reflexively. Kents took his unimaginable knowledge of the earth’s geological composition and forces and applied it took driving a bulldozer around for 29 years.

Before started his great Terryform project, he assemble The Village leaders and drew and ideal town map. Everyone deciding where square foot of land should reside. But, the Village leaders stipulated to Kents that in transforming the landscape, he should not require any one to abandon or rebuild their places of work or residence. So, Kents would use his insane mind to gradually move each built structure from place to another with the earth itself, very very slowly.

Some people may imagine this sort of grunt work to be intolerable to a fabulous intellect such as Kents. But, he explains that applying all of his years of learning was something more akin to a martial art, harnessing all energies and applying them fluidly to a single point, a bulldozer.

As he worked his way from the exterior the center of The Village he began to discover relics and icons that he has only exhibited to a chosen few. Although shrouded in a degree of secrecy, the general opinion is that he has what people are calling “The Shroud of Turin but for Philip Seymour Hoffman”. The scientist working in collaboration with Villenhaus Laboratories have requested to analyze his findings Kents has flatly refused, swearing that he wants nothing to do with them.

Kents has since retired from his post after remapping The Village. He still goes out to correct Tectonic disturbances which seem to effect The Village more greatly. He lives in a humble cabin near the outskirts of The Damps. He will sits outside, reading Borges and smoking a corn pipe filled with alkaline stones.

The Superb Presents: Where is Ronald McDonald – Part 2

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Catch up on Where is Ronald McDonald? Part 1

Part 2: Santa Martinez

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Using my meager blogging budget, I booked the next flight to Santa Martinez, CA, a dusty suburb of San Francisco, located in the East Bay area. I’ve visited Santa Martinez before, back in 2007 while working for my previous employer, though I have this odd memory of the name of the town being Martinez instead of Santa Martinez. Regardless, memory is a tricky thing, and this would only be the beginning of it’s trickery.

When I arrived in the town, it was as I remembered it. Very quaint and quiet compared to the hustle and bustle of San Francisco, but very peaceful. One of the first things I did when arriving in the town was seeking out the Thai restaurant that my boss and I visited when we came almost a decade ago. Unfortunately, when I located the restaurant, I was disappointed to find that the original Thai proprietors had sold the establishment and it had since become an Indian restaurant. The disappointment had affected my appetite, so I decided to move ahead with my purpose in coming to Santa Martinez: find Ronald.

I had very little to go off of. The operator had only told me that Ronald would like to be left alone here, which in itself, was clearly intended to get me here. It was at this point that I froze. I had been so caught up in the excitement, and genuine terror from the phone call that I never stopped to think if I was being set-up. Did the McDonald’s people expect me to follow this clue? Was it an obvious red herring that completely undermined my aspiring hopes to be a decent journalist? Did I even talk to McDonald’s? Why did I think I could afford a $600 ticket to California right now? Had I even told my wife? All of these thoughts hit me like a sack of bricks that had been plummeting from the stratosphere ever since I stepped on the plane. What was I doing here?

Suddenly, I felt very dizzy. I checked my phone to see that I had 56 missed calls from my wife and 200+ text messages. All from my wife. This was a problem. She had no idea where I was, and I had no doubt at this point, the cops were looking for my body. I had to call her, but at that moment, my phone died. I had not charged it, and had no bag in which I would have carried a charger. I just jumped on a plane and flew across the country with absolutely nothing except what was on me at the time I made the call. I had to find a pay phone or borrow a cell phone immediately before my wife lost her mind. I decided on the Indian restaurant. As I walked inside, the smell of curry nearly knocked me to the floor. A flood of memories swept through me that I entirely forgotten about. Eating curry and talking about the complexity of relationships with a man that….I couldn’t recall. But, this all conflicted with what I knew was true: a Thai restaurant in too big of a room with, honest to God, 5 tables in a 1000 square foot room. This Indian restaurant was the same architecturally, no question, but with many more tables. I could tell I hadn’t eaten while in my fugue state, so I decided to sit down and have a bite after I called my wife.

I asked the waiter behind the counter if I could borrow his phone. He was a young Indian man who smelled like an Abercrombie and Fitch store as a living thing. His phone even reeked. As I put the phone to my ear, I noticed the older woman in the back staring at me, in what I can only imagine was a look of disbelief. I had too much going on to consider what social taboo I had just violated by asking to use a young Indian man’s cellphone, but I had no time for pleasantries. I dialed my wife’s number. The phone rang and rang, and went to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Chris. I can’t take your message…”. I took the phone from my ear, and glanced at the screen to see what i had goofed up when dialing the number. Nothing. The number was exactly what it should be. I ended the call and tried again.

“Hello, you’ve reached Chris. I c-“. I looked at the phone again. Same number.

I approached the young man and asked if he had a landline I could use. He exhaled sharply and took me to the backroom.  A beat-up rotary hung from the wall. I picked up the headset and rotated my wife’s number into the phone. As I reached the last number, I realized something very terrifying.

I couldn’t remember my wife’s name.

 

To be continued…