It Ate My Brain
Good evening to all of you out in TV land. Regular viewers of our show are may be unfamiliar with the tragic circumstances surrounding the interruption of our normal broadcast schedule. The RKS-Hench Broadcasting Alliance offers the following possibilities to the weeks of dead air:
1. “Nervous Exhaustion & Malaise”
2. Sunspots and their negative effect on human brain chemistry
3. Pac Man Fever
We appreciate your perserverence through these dark days when laughter left the land. This post goes right out to you, all three of you Hench Blog regulars, killing time at work by spending it here.
Fig. 1: In the first part of our program, we would like to offer you the blog posting that got abandoned a few weeks ago. It was in reply to one of our most valued viewers (and a nice guy), Mike Metevier. Mr. Metevier commented on a nasty little bit I’d stuck up about Neil Young, and I suddenly felt bad for my endless, crummy complaning. So in this abandone post, I tried to make up for my general moron-ness, but then ended up slipping into again! Let’s take a look:
>>> “Well, well, well. I have been in a bad mood ever since returning from my Serbian adventure last week, and this has resulted in (amongst other things) a rather Andy Rooney-esque posting on my humble little blog. Andy Rooney, for those of you who aren’t hip, was a fat, geriatric creep who used to do these segments on 60 Minutes where he would complain about stuff.
“The first time I ever saw Andy Rooney, he was complaining about Rain-X, which is that stuff you wax your windshield with. If you’re going really fast in your car, the rain kind of streaks off really fast, thereby improving your visibility. Well the segment has Rooney driving around really slowly, saying “I just don’t understand Rain-X! The rain is still there! Rar, rarrr, rar! Rar! Raggh rar ar arrrrar!”
“Since then I’ve seen him complain about razor scooters, his own eyebrows, soybeans, and vans. That’s right, vans. The segment had him trying to parallel park a van, exasperated, saying “Rarr! Rar rarararrrr!”
“For some fucked up reason, I sort of like Andy Rooney and actually own a book of his complaints. The book also has a couple of upbeat, pithy pieces on the such topics as “cities,” “food,” and “difference.”
“‘I like cities. In fact, rarr rar ar. Cities!’ goes one piece I’m very fond of. I’m paraphrasing, of course.
“At any rate, I myself have been known to kvetch, although I usually try to kvetch with my eye on comic effect. Unfortunately, when I’m really fucking miserable, my kvetching gets kind of nasty, and I have to put a stop to that. For instance, I’ve lately been targeting singer-songwriters in this blog, and while I know that there are literally tens of you out there reading this, I would like to apologize for endless saying “Bob Dylan rarr ar ar rrar!” Very boring, I know.
“Today I direct my wavering vitriol elsewhere, to today’s modern rockin’ groups such as Hot Hot Heat, the Ponys, the Stills, the Dears, the Wrens, etc. The issue I’d like to discuss is: Why is this stuff so fucking sterile?” <<<
See what I’m saying? It’s ridiculous, the kind shit-eyes mood I can get into. Hence my long absence.
Fig. 2: You know, I recently went to all points in Eastern Europe, and now it kind of feels like that happened a thousand years ago instead of last month. I’ve been that busy, and I’m not a guy known to let myself get too busy. Didn’t even have time to ride my bike. You know, when life starts getting like that, you’d better hope that you’re doing something that you love, because if you’re not it’s kind of like you’re dying or something. I barely remember the month of August, and now it’s all gone. So beware! You could have one of those “I woke up today and I was 50″ moments unless you’re doing what you like to do. And, uh, I clearly need to be drinking more Cote du Rhone (sp?) on the old rooftop with a book, riding the roller coaster, finishing writing the stories, and laughing at shit.
For instance, think of all the time you spend in the day just kind of lying around, feeling bad about stuff, or staring at the wall. [I'm sure that I'm not the only person that does this.] If, for instance, you used that opportunity to memorize a really funny joke, you’d be much more amusing the next time we hung out.
Fig. 3: Linda McCartney Meals: these things are surprisingly good. Now, I never understood the deal with Linda McCartney, and always sort of thought she looked like a horse, albeit a very British horse. Then again, I never really liked Paul McCartney’s solo stuff, not even that “Jet” song (although the Controllers did a good version). Linda McCartney is kind of a cultural artifact these days, lost to time except for her amazing fucking frozen meals that you can acquire at nearly any health food store.
In fact, I’d go as far as to say that in the wild kingdom of celebrity foods that come to mind, Linda McCartney’s meals rule with a ruthless, iron fist. But then again, what other celebrity foods are there?
Coppolla wine: From the vinyards of Francis Ford Coppolla. Although I like the vino, I never bought it because for one, it’s too fucking expensive, and two, the guy hasn’t made a good film since the Godfather II, and even that was, frankly, questionable.
Newman’s Own: Newman’s Own lemonade, salsa, etc. Vaguely good food, although I’m suspicious of where it rates on the RKS Health Index.
Snoop Dogg Flavored Rolling Papers: OK, these aren’t really food, but I saw them in a bodega. Has anyone used these things? They might be called something else.
Garth Silberstein’s Beer Milk: Although he struggles in nation-wide obscurity, Garth Silberstein is kind of a celebrity amongst the Bennington community (2001ish) and probably has more friends and acquaintences than anyone I know. One summer Garth invented beer milk, which was a 16 ounce glass with one part beer and one part milk. I never dug it, but some people swear by it. For some reason, this also reminds me of the discovery me and my friends made when we were little that, if you added Nestle’s Quick to a glass of orange soda, it would taste like a Tootsie Roll. Then you would throw up. Beer milk might make you throw up if you drink a lot of it, but I think in small amounts the milk will lower the pH of your stomach, calming it. I’ll tell ya—it needs all the calming it can get with that unholy mixture of hops and lactose you’re putting in your stomach.
Fig. 4: Conclusion: This concludes our broadcast hour, because it’s time for me to leave the office and go ride my bike and look at things that are interesting.
