The Concept of Irony

DFW: February 21, 1962 – September 12, 2008

2008-09-14T11:59:00.001-04:00

I Dream of Someday Writing an Entire Blog Composed of Quotations.

2008-09-09T19:31:00.006-04:00

"Such romantic claptrap...such childish drivel...but the kid was in despair over his ruined ambitions, facing up to the fact that he didn't have it in him to do the one thing he had always wanted to do, and he ran off in an impulsive attempt to redeem himself in his own eyes."

---Paul Auster "Man in the Dark"

For further plagiarism see also The Most Essential Use of a Blog

Justin Kahn

2008-09-01T11:41:00.001-04:00

is probably addicted to facebook.

Book Review Week Continued:Pride Cometh In the Summer.

2008-07-17T20:36:00.001-04:00

Today we are reviewing a whole bunch of books I have on computers. These books contain every manner of deep wisdom about how complex computer systems work.

But beware! Read these books with humility. For if you do not, you will think that your mastery of the domain of computers and robots is complete and total. And then in a fit of genius you will take your ipod apart and have no idea how to put it back together again.

Book Review Week: "When You Are Engulfed in Flames" by David Sedaris

2008-07-13T20:06:00.015-04:00

Unlike Dave Sedaris' other books, this one is inscribed to my father. As a struggling writer, it is is nice to hear what already established authors, especially ones I personally value,have to say.

Because with all of the insecurities, all the doubts, all of the difficulties that are unique to being an author, one does often wake up in the middle of the night wondering, "But is my father enchanting?"

For Further Reading on How Great Authors have Reacted to Justin Please See:

Garrison Keilor.

Dave Barry.

So then, save me, save me.

2008-06-24T14:24:00.003-04:00

Photo is courtesy of the very pious Radioactive Cotton.

The Practice of Medicine Used to Be About So Much More Than Just Getting Stuff That You Could Steal on Your Own.

2008-06-03T19:33:00.004-04:00

I called and made an appointment!

I waited in the lobby and in the exam room!

The doctor gave me a prescription I could have "Picked Up On My Own."

And call me old fashioned, but if you steal OTC prescriptions at least you aren't responsible for killing the hundreds of trees necessary to wrap up single sample pills.

Family Circus

2008-05-27T13:01:00.005-04:00

The parents are in town. That puts a lot of presure on me, because they always said when I was growing up that they wanted me to be more then just a really brilliant blogger.

You would think that being a really brilliant visual artist would count for something, but who can blame them if they just want me to get a book deal.

KEY FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T UNDERSTAND AVANT GARDE ART.
J=Justin
M=Mom
D=Dad
L=Lexi
L=Leo
P=I forget because I drew this cartoon a few days ago, and can't remember what I was thinking.

Murder-Suicide?

2008-05-21T06:00:00.000-04:00

No, just two lazy golden doodles engaging in marathon napping!

Roy G. Biv at Seventy.

2008-05-19T06:00:00.001-04:00

I’d like to think I made a difference, but everyone does. And now I’m useless. The years of being around kids finally took their toll. Not the kids, themselves, of course. It was all the sugar that caused adult diabetes, which led to my cloudy, almost non-existent vision.

What is the world like? Colors could have changed a lot since I was in my prime. Or they could be nonexistent. I don’t know, and it seems I’m going to spend my last days never knowing.

I have my sense of smell though. That is something to pass on to the kids: Rancid. Odor Yucky? I could change my name—but why should I? I can’t think of any more words for odors. Not any that kids would have to know throughout their whole life. And even if they did have to know them through their whole life, it isn’t like they would ever visit me and tell me about how I helped them find the right word for talking about their experience.

They never visit, they probably don’t even remember me, after first grade.

Nothing Spells Truble Like Watching My Niece.

2008-05-16T20:19:00.005-04:00

Lexi has only been here for an evening, and look at all the craziness she is already getting into with Leo.

It is going to be quite the week.

J. Kahn Apologizes in Advance to the Author for the Following Book Review.

2008-05-14T07:23:00.003-04:00

A REVIEW OF “MOLECULAR REGULATION OF 23A2 SKELETAL MYOBLAST DIFFERENTIATION AND APOPTOSIS” BY DR. MARGOT FREER.

Ignore the Helpless Pleas of The Carrots and Radishi.

2008-05-12T15:16:00.009-04:00

For sometime I have been eating as a vegetarian. This came about as a result of a number of important facts, i.e.

Fact The amount of grain that cattle consume could feed all of the currently starving poor.

Sometimes people challenge my statistics. So I throw red paint on them and yell, "Murderer!" This is because if I am not morally superior because of my food choices I really have nothing going for me, superiority-wise.

One of the great challenges of being a vegetarian is finding cheap, nutritious food that doesn't require a wife to prepare.

Recently I have stumbled upon pop rocks. It meets all of the basic requirements, while also serving to boost your brain power. Nourished by weeks of pop rocks I created a culinary masterpiece.

BONUS FUN VEGETARIAN SALAD RECIPE

1/3 cup of Lettuci
1 Gaggle of Radishi
1/5 cup of coleslaw
1 tablespoon of diced mint
1 lb of turnii
1/2 cup of croutons
3 lbs of pop rocks
A Cow (skinned)
1 cup of tablespooni
1 tomato
1 cup of other vegetables.

Mix Together!
Serve!
Eat!

People I Meet At the Coffee Shop from 9:00-5:00, Monday-Friday.

2008-04-25T19:46:00.008-04:00

Q: True or False? all Regular Mid-Day Coffee Shop Patrons are unemployed, crazy or have leprosy?

A: True.

Which is why I figured that I should talk to them so as to get some blogging ideas.

Today, I met an elderly man, who is apparently retired. He was, he said, a retired doctor who devoted himself to Jewish Mysticism.

I asked him what sorts of works he was reading, and he said it wasn't entirely a question of reading.

"But I want you to read this." He gave me a photocopied packet. "Keep it."

"Well," I said.

He excused himself.

I read the article and here is a line from it "The danger is not that the golem…will develop overwhelming powers ;it lies in the tension which the creative process arouses in the creator himself.”

Oh, The Secrets I Could Tell You, But Won't Because I'm Just So Very Conscientious.

2008-03-18T20:01:00.005-04:00

While on one of my daily visits to the grocery store I become concerned with what
happened to some of my favorite veggie-substitute products.

I don't know exactly why I need to buy veggie burgers and veggie monkey brains, but it makes me happy.

So, I asked the cashier what happened to the Morning Star Products.

She leaned in, actually they are making the {Our Store} Brand.

But I shouldn't even be telling you that.

I just looked at her.

Yet, deep down I knew that she was right. That's why I can't tell you what store, or what brand. But if I could tell anyone, it would be You.

Honestly, that just scratches the surfaces. I have secrets about how to improve your golf swing and how to know if S/He likes you and friends and family and the economy and work and the future and the lives of bees and my Own Personal Emotional Highs and Lows.

But like the proverbial grocer I really shouldn't tell you of such things.

Yet More of the Worst Spring Break Ever.

2008-03-12T08:57:00.003-04:00

My whole life consists of grading papers, because honestly finding a non-leaking pen isn't that hard.

To cheer myself up, I decided to commission a portrait of me grading papers.

It is a good likeness, I think.

The Worst Spring Break Ever.

2008-03-10T12:40:00.002-04:00

This morning two pens, leaked in my shirt pocket.

Call me a polytheist, but I believe that I have angered the fashion gods, due to maybe not paying homage to them.

On the upside, I will have a legitimate excuse, when I return to school. I.E.,Tried,to grade papers, but ran out of ink.

In Which Justin Uses the B Word to Describe the Subject of a Previous Post.

2008-03-08T21:08:00.006-05:00

No doubt, you will recall with fondest memories, my post in which I joked around with Mother Nature about dumping batteries in a lake just to mess with her.

She clearly didn't like it, and like the great big baby that she is, decided to respond.

My roses, which I placed outside just three days ago, can be seen here:

If that doesn't earn Mother Nature the name of belligerent, I don't know what does.

Anyway enough chatting, I have to dig Leo out:

“Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed."

2008-03-03T20:56:00.003-05:00

For years I have said the two greatest threats to humanity are 1)Electronic Publishing classes 2) Rebecca Spagnuolo and 3) an inability to grasp basic mathematical principles.

Imagine my surprise when the first four of the above resulted in, what is maybe the greatest blog to come out of the Kent region. Ever.

And I don't think I'm biased here, just because this blog has a link to my blog through a picture of me.

After all that link comes at no small cost: Why must Shannon past a goofy face on my handsome body?

In Which Justin Is Once Again Punished by the Universe For Being Virtuous.

2008-03-02T11:23:00.004-05:00

I have some amazing posts for you guys. Unfortunately they all require the use of my camera.

But my camera requires batteries.

And here is the kicker: Because I love mother earth more than my own life, I buy rechargeable batteries. But here is what those tree huggers in the battery industry don't tell you: The battery recharger is very hard to keep track of.

I could have sworn it was in my home office, near the dart board. But it isn't: Neither is it behind the toilet tank, or in the dishwasher. I have no idea where else it could be.

So I am going to go out and buy me some batteries. And then I am going to dump them in the river, just to make the point to mother nature.

And then I am going to buy more batteries, load up my camera, and post some of the most amazing, mother earth-shattering posts ever.

The Unapologetic Reception of Sly Kahn.

2008-02-20T16:11:00.007-05:00

News of my 38th Triumphant Return is Everywhere. This is as it should be. But it has also made think hard, about how much better than my triumphant returns--at least when compared with the body building mentally deficient set.

Virtually everyone I know has seen the most recent Stallone films. And most everyone I know, begins by admitting that they saw Rocky XVI or Rambo VXIII with a profuse apology,

"No, I know, but I grew up on those movies..."

Or

"I have always displayed a propensity for making poor life choices, but it looked so good..."

But COI enthusiasts need no such apologies.

In fact, based on this week's reception they feel no need to comment in any sort of way.

"Short Posts Are Good" Week: The 38th Unexpected Return of Justin.

2008-02-18T08:17:00.000-05:00

I put a dart board in my home office, where I write, thinking that if I needed a distraction from my writing, I could always play a game of darts.

I spend 8 or 9 hours a day in my office.

I haven't written a thing since my previous post, but I am getting really good at darts.

This is Our Last Goodbye.

2008-01-28T07:07:00.000-05:00

I wanted to give you, dear readers, a chance to beg me for a part of my library before I begin donating it to the library.

Has my library ever done anything wrong? No, not once. And yet I am cruelly tearing it apart, limb by limb. Such is life in the modern world, where an honest man can't live peacefully in his bungalow with his collection of forty thousand books.

It wasn't easy but I have decided that I am giving away Rod McKuen's New Ballads. Since January 01, when I began the great library clean up project, I have wrestled with the idea of getting rid of this gem.

I finally decided to part with it, because
1) In the last 35 years since the book was published McKuen must have published more ballads, rendering this title false, and I will not allow my home to become a den of books with lying titles.

2) I don't know who Rod McKuen is.

3) He has the same hair cut as Leo, which is awkward when the three of us go out.

One down, 39,999 to go. Begin begging:

Now.

Rated U for Unbelievable:

2008-01-21T19:16:00.000-05:00

With the return of Kelmaree, making it clear that women all over the world are waiting for my next post, why has there been such a delay?

Before I answer, parents shield your children's eyes; faint of heart, call the ambulances, now.

My dearest children, I who live in a state of monkish simplicity have undergone one of the few catastrophes that can prevent the most determined of men from writing.

Heart break?

Illness?

No, no. These things are child's play for the real writer. The just become so much more fodder for the writer.

My chair broke. After eight years of faithful service, Larry's plastic spine broke in twain. Or in terry. Whichever one, is the fancy word for two.

But the point, is I had no where to rest my weary butt.

And so now you know. I will tell more, when my feet aren't just absolutely murdering me.

Humbled.

2008-01-12T18:07:00.000-05:00

Every since Taihae has returned to my blog's comments section it is like I am living in my own personal Spring Time.

Roses are blooming in my living room (which suggests I should probably clean as I didn't plant anything in there).
And I am reminded of my ability to attract minimally committed readers from around the globe.

But I have also been distraught by a question: Why have so many of my blogger friends disappeared? Please note that they didn't simply stop reading, but they abandoned their own blogs.

Just before I was going to admit suspecting that he was my long lost brother Comrade K's blog disappeared.
Part-Time Buddha?
And of course those in limbo and Texan limbo.
As hard for me as it is to admit, I finally see that it must be the genius of my blogging which drives these readers mad.
If I can't blog on the level of Justin, they must reason, I might as well have a life.

But Taihae is a vivid, and maybe just a tiny bit sad, reminder that the life out there just isn't worth it compared to living vicariously through me.

Guest Blogger Wednesday: Leo Drew a Comic for Us.

2008-01-09T21:44:00.000-05:00

For Every Season, A New Attack on Justin.

2008-01-07T06:48:00.000-05:00

Many of you will recall with some horror my June 08 post in which I described my neighborhood's mockery of my lawn mowing techniques.

They are not any kinder during the winter.

(Pictured: My Driveway)

Yesterday, I may have accidentally gotten my car stuck at the end of the driveway. As I got out of my car, A helpful neighbor pointed out "That is why we shovel the shoulder of the driveway and not just up until the sidewalk."

To which I replied, "Good sir, did it ever occur to you that I am planning my triumphant return to bloggerdom? And that hardly allows me the leisure to clear my whole driveway?"

No doubt this stung badly enough. But I am ruthless, like a rabid golden doodle. So I added: "Between your wife's exact remarks on my lawn mowing and your salient observations on my shovelling, you two should be interesting all the year around."

*
Later that evening, I replaced the deicing salts they keep at their back porch with anthrax.

I plan to come up with something even more diabolical for lawn mowing season.

Have a great monday!

Cleveland Rocks! We are #14 in literacy

2008-01-05T00:01:00.000-05:00

According to a recent study Cleveland ranks #14 in overall literacy!

2G2BT?

How??????????????

I no!!!

THE STUDY MUST INCLUDE TEXT MESSAGES!! KNIM?

Clevelanders TXT!

War and Peace?

:(

Odyssey? Iliad?

: (

TXT'ing!!
: )

Blogs?

Hopefully!

Favorite Animal?

(\_/)
(o.o)
(___)0

Breaking News:Leo is Not Nearly as Housebroken as Previously Suspected.

2008-01-03T06:34:00.000-05:00

Instituions regularly crumble over such things.

Wars have broken out over far less.

Which is why it is shocking I haven't had a complete mental break down over this.

Leo has decided to put up a poster of Josie and the Pussycats.

I'm not mad that he charged it to my credit card. But I wish he would have asked me first.

On the other hand I guess I should be glad that if he was going to put up a cat related movie, he didn't opt for a Garfield poster.

Crazy J's New Year's Sale.

2008-01-01T06:49:00.000-05:00

If your new year's eve was anything like mine you are still recovering from the strong smell of cleaning chemicals and the repeated lifting of old boxes in the basement and attic.

But now you and I will both recover because I am pleased to offer you some amazing deep discount sales on some buried treasure I dug up.

It may be 2008, but you will feel like it is mid October in 2009 with this action max gaming system. Simply attach the receiver to your TV, throw in the videotape and repeatedly aim the (toy) gun at the attached receiver since that is the only thing that measures your accuracy. Minimum Bid: $300.00/$450.00 with the pictured carrying case.

In these unpatriotic times nothing will boost your spirits like "Ballads of the Green Beret" and other classics I found in a box.

Act now and I will throw in this bottle of stuff that was inexplicable lodged in between the records.

Wait, I'm crazy not stupid. I'd go bankrupt with those kinds of deals. but if you act now I will throw in a half roll of scotch tape.

Let the bidding begin at $5000 Patriotic dollas.

And have a very happy new year. Unless you don't bid on my hot sales--you lot can just bugger off.

Like Shakespeare Only More Mysterious.

2007-12-17T14:31:00.000-05:00

Amongst those who believe that the identity of Shakespeare is unknown, one of the most unusual evidences that "William Shakespeare" was just a stage name is the famous picture of him.

Notice anything strange?

B/C you are so perceptive, you noticed the double line extending from his ear to his chin. Proponents have claimed that the double line shows us that the person pictured is wearing a mask--you would have to be enormously fat to have a double chin extending up to your ears.

In the interest of titillating posterity I have had an ambiguous portrait commissioned.

Can you find the tell that suggests there is more to my identity than meets the eye?

Justin Prattles on About a Topic...For the Last Time.

2007-12-10T23:57:00.000-05:00

If there is one hackneyed topic around concept of irony it is certainly the Shoji Screen, which I have talked about so many times before.

But something so terrible has happened that I feel I can only begin the healing process by talking about it.

In order to divide up my office, I ordered a Shoji Screen from a very reputable Online Shoji Screen Retailer. The reasons for this are obvious:
1. I want to put my writing desk behind the Shoji Screen so that I could respectably write with the window shades open.

2. Because I'm Kooky!

3. Rice Paper.

Needless to say my decision to buy a Shoji screen was well considered. But look carefully at the picture. Notice that my Shoji screen is damaged! And how am I supposed to attain Zen like serenity with this grossly misshapen Shoji Screen? And people will be able to see me in my undies through that hole!

Returning it isn't feasible, as shipping is half the cost. So I might as well just throw the Shoji Screen in the compost pile and lament that I didn't listen to my Mom's oft repeated advice: Never buy from deep discount Shoji screen retailers.

Q. Do The Ambitions of Justin Know No Bounds? A. No.

2007-12-03T17:19:00.000-05:00

Contrary to my last post, I apparently will not get my AARP Card next year when I turn 30.

Realizing this has given me an entirely new lease on life.

The fact is that thanks to modern life enhancing technology AARP cards are not distributed until an individual's mid-30's. But I can't think that far ahead. That is why I am focusing on:

10,000 Things I would Like to Do Before I Turn 30.

#1 I would like to buy furniture that doesn't come with its own little wrenches.

Partly because I want something that feels more permanent, partly because I am really bad at using those little wrenches and mostly because I am worried that the environment will suffer greatly when I finally throw them out (The Fifth Quadrant doesn't recycle Allen Wrenches.)

Happy Birthday to Me, Mr. President: Or 365 Days Until I Recieve My AARP Card.

2007-11-19T19:37:00.000-05:00

(I persuaded the Make-A-Wish foundation to arrange for Marilyn Manson to serenade me for my birthday. She just left and she looks nothing like the picture. An extraordinary let down.)

On Saturday night I met a buddy of mine for a drink at the local pub. In the course of our discussion, focused on how to end global poverty, I made mention of the fact that we always get stuck with the same old waitress.

He asked if I hadn't noticed that the high concentration of hot waitresses and hot patrons were located in the front at the bar, by the main entrance. And that we sat in this section because I always ask for it.

"But there is a draft by the main entrance," I said.

And this was all before 12:01 A.M. this morning when I advanced another year. Which strongly suggests that by the end of this week I will be unable to go womanizing without wearing a shawl.

But that's O.K. the best writers don't achieve greatness when they are young and strong, but when they are old and frail and even the thickest shawls won't protect them from the gentlest breezes.

366 days until greatness.

Thought for the Day
Old age is the most unexpected of all the things that can happen to a man.
James Thurber

See Also:

Justin's Birthday 2006.

Concept of Irony's Birthday 2006.

Goodbye Mr. "Stormin'" Norman Mailer

2007-11-12T19:26:00.000-05:00

In the tradition of great eulogies such as those penned by W.H. Auden and Derek Zoolander, I would like to say a few words about the loss of the world's greatest author ever: Mr. Norman Mailer, who passed this weekend.

Unlike a lot of those fraudulent news sources (New York Times &c) The Concept of Irony didn't write a eulogy or obituary years in advance, so that it could be published within a half hour of his passing. Because our position around here is, honesty first; lies, deceptions, ambiguity and more lies, second.

Mr. Mailer was the author of such works as The Executioner's Song, Advertisements for Myself, As I lay Dying, Huckleberry Fin, People Probably Just Skim the List,Oswald's Tale &The Odyssey,

Of course Mr. Mailer was never published in the newsletter of the American Physical Society.

Whereas I have.

Which I think pretty much puts his work in perspective.

But what of the man? He was known as a selfish man, yet he could find it in his heart to appear in Gilmore Girls.

He had six wives, one of whom he stabbed. Have I ever stabbed my pretend fiance, Lindz?

No.

Is it because she has a restraining order out against me?

Yes, very likely.

Does that make me better than him?

Yes, very likely.

But this isn't really about me. This is about the passing of a man who apparently had a giant ego.

And such a man is as different from me, as are any of the many people who are vastly inferior to me.

So let us say goodbye.

You will missed, and not soon forgotten, Mr. Norbert Miller.

I Am Not Making This Up: I Am Best Friends With Author Dave Barry: A Photo Essay.

2007-11-05T06:24:00.000-05:00

Don't mean to brag but my weekend was way better then yours.

No real surprise there: Otherwise I would be reading your blog rather than you reading my blog.

When I heard Dave Barry was coming to town I immediately called my only remaining friend in Cleveland, Rachel.

She agreed to be seen in public with me, if I gave her one of my air conditioners. Sounded fair enough.

Even though I was in an amazing amount of pain from cutting myself with a razor blade while taking a cutting from a plant, I still had a great time.

Aside from befriending me, Dave Barry did magic tricks and read and told jokes.

Adults asked questions like, Do you agree with Rene Girard's theory of mimetic desire as an organizing principle....

Kids asked questions like, How come in the third novel, the camel goes poop on the king's head?

O.K. I asked that question.

Unfortunately, when I returned home, the plant had died.

But it was all worth it, because Dave Barry gave me his autograph and his eternal friendship.

A Relatively Somber Reflection On the Campiness of Evil: Or, So This is Halloween,And What Have You Done,Another Year Over &c.

2007-10-29T06:02:00.000-04:00

There certainly are things against someone who thinks that Halloween is the best of holidays: The fact that it was invented by greeting card companies (to ward off evil spirits);the vast amount of tooth decay and fattening that occurs amongst our otherwise healthy, fit youth; the worshipping of evil forces and of course the ritualistic killings.

But I think my reason for exalting Halloween outweighs those drawbacks: I get to hear Michael Jackson's Thriller played on the radio and that of course brings back to mind the happiest moments of my childhood career in television consumption:watching the video for Thriller.

I get to remember zombies dancing, and what is obviously Smucker's jelly coming out of the zombie's mouths and the immediate commercials for So You Want Your MTV.

Which accumulated in a feeling that horror didn't totally make one hundred percent sense.

Thriller might be one of my favorite televised moments in my childhood. It is nice to feel like there is something fundamentally choreographed and requiring make-up about horror.

It is a feeling which I wish I could get back.

Happy Halloween (the war is over).

FUN BONUS FACT ABOUT JUSTIN TO TIDE YOU OVER TILL NEXT MONDAY OR WHENEV.

When I used to watch the Thriller video as a kid, I would pop Reese's Pieces, so as to prevent myself from becoming afraid. In retrospect I see that this was a kind of cognitive mix up with a scene from E.T. But of that story and those horrors you will have to wait until next Halloween.

Leo the Entertainer.

2007-10-22T06:55:00.000-04:00

When he takes the stages, there is no one else like him. Not Elvis or Tom Jones or Larry King.

People-who I have no desire to talk to- stop their car to say Hi. To watch him sit, stand, sit, shake hands.

But when he isn't in the little puppy lime light, it is an altogether different story--a story so horrifying that it is worth your time to read to the end of the post.

He is like an empty shell.

In the morning he takes uppers, and in evening he takes downers. In between he takes Schmako's Bacon Strips! ®

(The vet says Schmako's Bacon Strips! ® are fine, so I'm not so worried about that. But the vet also prescribed Heartguard with E ®, so you have to wonder.)

Sure Leo can be abusive and cruel, but mostly I just worry about him.

I tell him that, the despairing refusal to be oneself, is the root of every evil.

Leo doesn't even pretend to listen anymore. He runs the brush through his hair, and makes for the stage.

I wait in the wings, knowing that one day the crowd will turn their collective back on him.

Justin Raises a Stink About the Nobel Prize: Part One of What is the First One Part Series of Recent Memory.

2007-10-15T17:52:00.000-04:00

(Pictured Al Gore, upon receiving the Nobel Prize.)

According to a highly reliable source of mine, a Cleveland Newspaper that would sue me for linking to them, the decision was recently made to award the Nobel Prize to Al Gore for his "contributions to global warming."

Frankly, I am outraged.

Call me crazy, but I don't think that we should applaud someone who is contributing to Global Warming. And if we are, I think I should get the award.

I.myself,go out of my way to buy and destroy large quantities of Styrofoam, to run my lawn mower year round and to kill as many trees as possible by writing stories that will never see the light of day in my Moleskin notebooks (the brand of Picasso, Hemingway and others who hate Trees!)

That is why I want you to think of Justin for the Nobel Prize in 2009.

I will even take the one for Economics.

Thank you.

A Brief Post by a Hideous Man: Part One of a Two Part Series.

2007-10-08T20:51:00.000-04:00

Today, the doctor removed the bandages that protected the finger which had been sewn up after Leo chowed down on it last week.

The doctor can't be blamed for letting out a shocked gasp when she saw the chewed hamburger lump of flesh that is my left third finger.

Despondent, I reverted to behavior patterns that I thought I had overcome: I hit a local eatery and ordered a ham and cheese.

Just when I thought I hit bottom I noticed a familiar face. A face that I had once been in a feud with.

It was Shannon. Of my blog fame.

"Hey."

"Go away--I am adopting the story of my monkey-husband for the screen! I am sorry you have failed as a writer, but not all of us want to share the same fate!!"

But I could plainly see that she was just coloring in a coloring book.

I sat down at the table next to her.

Speaking to no one in particular, I said, "I got a dog to meet girls. And all he has done is make me so hideous as to be unacceptable to even the most saintly of women."

Shannon, also talking to no one in particular said, "You have to take Leo to public places."

I,to no one at all, "I take him for walks at the ol' fishing hole and my basement, and the junk yard. But there aren't even girls my own age at any of these places."

Shannon pretending to talk on her cell phone, "Take Leo to one of those training classes to make your dog into a Police Dog. Then you will no doubt meet many eligible young ladies and they will be forced to see you week after week, unless they want to loose their tuition."

I finished my meal with a quiet dignity, plotting and scheming to meet some girls who would have to risk a sizable class tuition to get out of our relationship.

I Used to Think Nothing of Writing Three Posts On a Monday!: Part Two of a Paltry Two Part Series.

2007-10-08T20:02:00.000-04:00

Earlier in these most truthful of pages, I had mentioned that my drink is Coke and Scotch.

In the interest of keeping our relationship honest and pure and one hundred percent up to date, I must tell you that is no longer true.

The scotch and coke worked out to be 6 buck a pop. 6 x 6 x7=252 bucks a week in coke and scotch! That represents nearly a third of my beverage budget.

But ultimately it is not about the money it is about satisfying my ever curious taste buds. And the drink which is holding my attention is, Red Bull & Worm Poop!

I know what you are thinking: Britney Spears' Favorite Drink! So what, I say. There is something exciting about taking uppers and organic fertilizers. Because it is like, "Hey what a rush!"; But also, "I'm drinking worm poop!"

When Designer Dogs Attack: Part One of a Very Special Three Part Series.

2007-10-01T07:21:00.000-04:00

The fact is that my relationship with Leo, the Golden Retriever-Poodle mix that I named after Leo Tolstoy has been strained from the beginning.
It was bad enough that he has been insisting on wearing this stupid collar he got at a thrift shop.
But then on Saturday he only made things worse when he jumped and bit my finger.

I bled a lot and just when I thought I was going to pass out Lindz dropped by.

"I'm dying," I said.

"Have you put on weight? You look fatter. Also, clean your kitchen."

I continued to bleed. Disgusted by the sight of me she left me alone.

So I bled. By myself.

On Sunday, I went to the library.

The librarian inquired about the blood flowing down my arm.

I said it was nothing.

I went to the pet store to buy little doggie shackles and doggie straight jackets.

"Are you O.K.? You are bleeding."

To BE continued....

PART TWO!!!: Part Two of a Very Special Three Part Series.

2007-10-01T05:47:00.000-04:00

Why didn't I have the nerve to ask her out? Probably because of the massive blood loss.

Anyway, after being told by two people that I should see a doctor I decided to go.

The doctor said I was the bravest patient he had ever seen! And what a big boy for not dying of such a terrible wound.

Once he stitched me up he said that the nurse would come in to give me a Tetanus Shot.

"Oh, my dog doesn't have any rust on him," I said.

"It isn't really likely, but it is best to have the shot." He said.

"It isn't likely at all," I said. "My dog doesn't have any metal in him. Except the bionic leg."

With that the doctor took his leave.

He had healed my body, but he didn't heal the cynical part of my soul that uses sarcasm to deflect my inability to come to terms with my mortality.

And for that I am grateful.

Rated R for Graphic Images: Part Three of a Very Special Three Part Series

2007-10-01T04:57:00.000-04:00

My badly disfigured finger barely holing on to the TB shot card--And life.

The only other medical document I could find the strength to cling to--my contact prescription from earlier this year.

My fingers--Barely able to do the walking.

Fan Mail Thursdays.

2007-09-27T06:15:00.000-04:00

(Frank, 2 lively, my friends. Sorry. I can't access my own comments sections. Maleah: I guess you are too loyal to actual leave a comment.)

Dear 'Anonymous Reader',

Thank you for your thoughtful letter tied by twine to a rock of 09/26/07.

Obviously, as an up and coming writer in the fifth quadrant of Cleveland Heights, it would be foolish of me to respond to each and every piece of fan mail I get.

However, since you went to the effort of mailing your letter rather than simply throwing it through my window, I decided that you were worth a special, public response.

The idea you suggest ('...quit...) is one I have thought of frequently. But what stops me is the very idea captured in the second half of your letter (beginning with, "or...")

I wonder what else might happen if I don't quit.

It seems like I have made so many sacrifices for my art (I have seen 'Adaptation' nearly fifty times!) that the off chance that I will become a literary star is enough to keep me going. About twice a week.

Your closing also gave me hope (The one word line beginning with, "L...."). I don't know if you meant platonic or what, but it is just going to be me and my roomba and my dog watching, "Whose the Boss?" this Friday night. I'm just saying. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable.

Thanks again for your support and me sure to send me another line before postage rates go up again!!!

Love,

j.

Where Are They Now?: My Offspring.

2007-09-25T20:47:00.000-04:00

Since most of my readers have picked up on the fact that I am all washed up, I regularly get emails asking, "Where are they now?" about such famous characters as:

~that girl who I was back-up-plan engaged to

~the guy who used to report in the comment section on the status of boats passing his window,

~and of course, my boy Henry PLANTagenet

The answer to all of these questions is somewhere in my closet.

But Henry is definitely the only one that is still growing.

"I Have Seen the Enemy and It is Curiosity." --Bustopher Jones

2007-09-19T17:39:00.000-04:00

(NOTE: I would reply to the comments of each of you my dearest of friends and soul mates, but the comment function is not currently working. At least I know we are in this together.)

Because I have come to really trust you, I have decided to tell you what my problem is.

My problem is that I am overly curious. This curiosity prevents me from operating in anything like an efficient manner.

This morning, I saw a dandelion. A normal person would just pick it and drink the sweet, sweet dandelion milk. Or mow the lawn which is yielding dandelions with a six foot diameter.

But me. I had to look very closely at the dandelion. And think about the meaning of dandelions. And figure out if amongst the class of dandelions, whether this wasn't a peculiar specimen. Then there was the taking of notes. And then the ordering of several books on dandelions.

Needless to say I missed all my classes today.

And were it not for the fact that it provided me with something to blog about it, I would be none the better for my endless curiosity.

My dearest readers, if I can overcome the stranglehold of curiosity, I will see you next week.

Nothing Is Different But Everything Has Changed.

2007-09-17T06:30:00.000-04:00

My life has come to a virtual stand still. That's why I didn't bother posting.

Because I would have to make stuff up.

And with all the real stuff going on in the world, like O.J. Simpson getting arrested for robbery, who has time to write or read made-up stuff?

But now that I have started blogging something has happened! I just found a new favorite drink: Coke and Scotch!
(Picture courtesy of the Guggenheim)

I guess it isn't the most exciting news, but it was John Lennon's favorite drink. So in a way, I guess that makes me like a fifth Beetle. But I don't want to dwell on that thought for too long lest, I taint my modesty.

And on that humble note, I end my triumphant return to blogging.

Back to School Monday's.

2007-08-27T06:30:00.000-04:00

As the immortal Shakespeare said in Richard III Act 1, "Now is {the beginning of the Fall Semester.}"

One of the most delectable dimensions of teaching is the opportunity to absterge past transgressions and begin anew.

I mean teaching is so much more forgiving than writing. One semester you can imitate the practices outlined in Cicero's On the Orator and 16 weeks later you can imitate the retro-comedy of Lenny Bruce. A bad sentence doesn't hang forever in the classroom.

Now for all eternity, the fact that I tried to work 'absterge'(see above) in to a sentence will be known.

Tomorrow morning I will try to work Quetalcaol in to a sentence. If that doesn't work out there is always next semester to try to work it in, in a more polished manner. And if not in the spring, there is always the summer.

Otherwise, I may have to join a chat room to put my vocabulary on a worthy, yet forgiving, display.

Does Justin Believe That Television Provides an Answer for Everything?

2007-08-24T06:17:00.000-04:00

For those unwilling to read the entire post, the short answer is, 'Yes'.

One of my summer projects was to renovate the basement. The plan was simple: clean it up, set up a gym (including a pool), set up a small office, put in an elevator, an escape tunnel, a recording studio and a smallish movie theater.

Or at least waterproof the basement.

With the start of the new semester, on Monday, it seems like I'm not going to be able to accomplish any part of my plan.

Does that mean I'm going to quit?

Of course not. Because I'm a winner. And like any winner I have a vast assortment of
ways of coping with life, learned from television.

That's why I have picked up on a new plan. Rather than all of those silly innovations I have redesigned my basement to serve as an homage to Agent Mulder's office.

Like my office, Mulder's was in a basement. And like Mulder's, mine has a very classy UFO poster.

It is not what I initially planned, but it has merits. I hope that my office will allow me to get some writing done. If television doesn't provide all of the answers, I'm sure that my own illuminating writing will.

Justin Hopes for Plea Bargain in Illegal Fighting Ring.

2007-08-22T06:34:00.000-04:00

My confession is coming at a bad time. First "Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick is waiting to hear if he'll ever play professional football again after agreeing to plead guilty and face prison in his federal dogfighting case."

Now, I am coming forward to admit that I have been fighting my roomba against other roombas, against old fashioned non-robotic vacuums and even local mutts.

The truth is that I have been suffering from a great boredom. I got involved in robotic vacuum fighting in the hopes of seeing something really exciting. But frankly, and I promise this will be the only pun this year, it sucked.

Detractors will say that my confession isn't sincere and that I'm coming forward since a hyperactive puppy ripped a section of my roomba apart leaving the poor vacuum unable to function properly. To these detractors I say, my dog will get you too if you don't shut up.

I feel terrible about not only about my behavior but the impact my actions will have on the children. When I was a kid I could look up to guys like Michael Jordache and I'll never forget him. But today with the likes of Michael Vick and myself I really worry that kids will think that cruelty is a part of being a muscular stud.

And for that I am truly sorry.

"I hate writing. I love having written"--Dan Brown

2007-08-20T12:46:00.000-04:00

I used to imagine that in my early thirties, I would spend my days and nights telling whoever will listen of my former literary glory. I imagine that I might even tell them some pen names I used.

I would speak not only of my once incredibly popular blog, but the manuscripts that fill my faux leather boxes.

However, at the rate things are going, I expect that I will be telling these tales much before my early thirties. Perhaps as early as the second half of my 29th year.

The reason is fairly simple. I am just too busy. By the time I bake a loaf of bread, roast some coffee beans, grind them, make espresso, tend to my various herb gardens, and watch 13 hours of television, it is nearly time to catch the late night movie.

This kind of schedule is hardly conducive to being a literary great.

I am learning to accept my fate, and you will too if you ever get a taste of my home made challah beer bread.

Justin: Greater Than the Beasts, Slightly Lower Than the Angels.

2007-08-16T13:20:00.000-04:00

After hours of crying over Ingy, I decided that I must rejoin the real world. So I went to the library and picked up dozens of movies to watch. One of them was to have a momentous impact on my life. I picked up Grizzly Man, thinking it was going to be a horror flick. It turned out to be a documentary about a man who lived among bears.

I was so moved by the desire to return to nature that I packed up 7 of my sturdiest suitcases and sought to live at peace with, but also to have complete domination over, some small part of nature.

For the past two weeks I have lived amongst a pack of Wild Onions. In living with them I have learned to accept a very primitive side of my nature: For example, photosynthesis.

But it is time for me to return to civilization. I have exhausted the mysteries of nature and now I must once more return to my probing the mysteries of humanity.

I thank you dearest readers, for not leaving me, and beg your patience while I bathe myself in preparation for a return to city life.

Eulogy Monday's:Goodbye, Mr. Bergman.

2007-07-30T14:59:00.000-04:00

Ingmar Bergman, who has provided me with countless hours of enjoyment and my students with countless hours of suffering, died today. He is perhaps most famous for the personification of Death as a chess playing Goth.

Repeatedly, Woody Allen has been quoted in the obituaries. I guess they called him because several of his movies, parody Bergman.

Plus, my number is unlisted.

But in this time of mourning, they could have thought of me. Sure, I may not have paid homage to him in a series of films, but I did buy a dog to hold up my poster of the seventh seal.

It (the seventh seal, not my dog) remains one of my favorite movies if for no other reason than the line that is spoken in the middle of the film about the 14th century plague.

"Love is the blackest of all plagues"

Goodbye, Mr. Bergman.

Goodbye.

Apology Fridays Uncensored: If Only More Literary Feuds Could End as Gracefully And With As Clear of An Apology to Justin (Comrade K, nudge, nudge.)

2007-07-27T08:50:00.000-04:00

By Shannon "Rrrrrrr" Simpson

Dear Mr. Justin,

My name is Shannon R. Simpson and once a long, long time ago we were friends. That has all changed due to some, stupid, stupid decisions on my part and I would like to apologize for my past behavior. But, let me begin by saying that I do believe there has been a bit of a misunderstanding between us. This misunderstanding has sparked me to say and do things I never meant to say (send) and I believe the same on your part.

Truth be told, Mr. Justin, I am actually very sad that I will be missing the Cleveland Premeire of Helvetica tomorrow night. I must admit, and would prefer that you not share this item with your readers**, but sometimes I make fun of things (even though I might think they're exciting) that seem sort of nerdy, just so I look cool. I know it's wrong. And, I KNOW I would love every minute of Helvetica. I will anxiously await its arrival to DVD.

While a movie can be experienced by way of DVD on a later date, sadly the WVIZ/WCPN Globe in a Glass can not. The Globe in a Glass is an event I am very deserving of right now. I have been extremely stressed since a wizard, disguised as a Sears Air Conditioning sales person, failing to sell my husband an air conditioner, turned my dear Adam into a Ginger colored monkey (see attached photo).

When he is not gleefully allowed to ride holding on to my head he slings poop at everyone and everything and screams incessantly. My cats have run away and I haven't slept in 2 weeks. I am desperately trying to find the aforementioned wizard but not only does Sears not have any record of an air conditioning sales person named Mordecai, my good friend Tabitha upon touching my monkey/husband informed me that she believes Mordecai has orbed to another realm 622 light years away. This is perplexing to me mainly because I don't know what it means other than I have one mean fucking monkey on my hands now.

But, this is none of your concern. I don't want our friendship to end because I was lashing out over a personal situation that has nothing to do with you. Please forgive me Mr. Justin, and let us be friends once again.

Sincerely,
Shannon R. Simpson
PS Do you know anyone that wants a monkey?

**Lazy Ed.'s Note:Ooops.

Yet Another Literary Feud.

2007-07-25T20:43:00.000-04:00

You can imagine the surprise I experienced when on returning home I found 95 pages of carefully handwritten text stapled to my front door.

It was from none other than Comrade K (Link No Longer Available.)

(Photo:Comrade K slanders Justin on the front door of Justin's Chateau. Credit: Kahn Home Surveillance.)

The gist of his charge can be divided into two parts. The first was that Monday's post utilized the dramatic construction of Sophocles' Antigone.

Just as Sophocles constructs the play so that Antigone twice buries her brother, so my post was constructed so that I could discuss poopie in containers--not once, but twice.

Guilty as charged! I happily learn from writer's better then me. And it was while looking for a writer better then meself that I came across Sophocles.

The second part of his charges (pages 2-95) is that this demonstrated a complete lack of imagination on my part; that when I am stealing ideas from ancient Greeks it is obvious my time is up; that maybe reading Rush Limbaugh's blog could be considerably more intelligent and interesting and original than what concept of irony has become.

To This second set of charges I respond (html_hrefid="btnShowCurrent" " onMouseover="btnHov(this, 'btn
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onfocus="blur()" />

Stupid People Should Not Be Allowed to Watch House, M.D.

2007-07-23T16:57:00.000-04:00

Dr. Gregory House is very funny. This funniness stems from him being so smart while other people are so dumb! Often he makes fun of them and is often mean to them! This is good entertainment.

Tragically, people who are not nearly as smart as Dr. House and Me, have begun adopting this, "I don't care about you" attitude.

This should not be.

One example, will suffice.

Today, The Dog Whose Name Has Not Been Determined (But Sir Toby is Pretty Good) had his first vet appointment.

I was asked to bring a stool (Poopie) sample.

I got a good sized stool (Poopie) sample. I put it inside a plastic bag. Then I put the bag in a small Tupperware container.

Then my sister called me and I told her what I had done and she said, 'No, it is supposed to be the dog's stool.'

Come to think of it two examples will suffice.

So I repeat the process, putting the dog's stool (Poopie)into a plastic bag, and then putting the bag in a Tupperware container.

At the appointment, the doctor(well, dvm) didn't return my Tupperware! So at the front desk I asked what's up with that. They apologized and said they had thrown away the Tupperware and the plastic bag!

Oh, sure go walk all over me, House DVM!

My ideas and attitudes and interests and love for Tupperware don't mean anything compared to your super genius!

I guess my commitment to using the same plastic bag over and over because that's how much I love mother earth doesn't mean anything to you!

By late afternoon, I would have felt very lonely if it weren't for sir toby (?) staying by my side as I cleaned out the plastic bag and Tupperware from my first stool sample.

RE: The Naming of the Notorious D-O-G.

2007-07-20T19:40:00.000-04:00

Ladies. Please help me. My sister believes that I should not name my dog Mercutio.

For extra credit, briefly support your reasoning for answer #1.

Unsubscribe, Please: A Literary Feud So Significant That It Deserves a Post.

2007-07-18T21:15:00.000-04:00

Concept of Irony and Justin Kahn were once friends with major up and coming writer Shannon Simpson.

We used to post her private correspondence to save us time from writing. Sometimes we did it without giving her credit. Actually, frequently.

But an email received today, makes that friendship no longer possible.

We at COI, believe in satire. And ridicule. But there are lines that MUST be drawn.

It is hard for all of us around here to believe. Not two weeks ago we were considering changing the name of this blog to "Concept of Irony featuring Shannon Simpson."

But today's email, making fun of the documentary film Helvetica , rules out that and many other possibilities.

As serious writers we believe that the typeface Helvetica,is worthy of a documentary film--and an extra heaping of respect. Not an email subject line that reads HELVETICA!? more like HEL-YEAH!-TICA!!!!

If she in fact, "just called and pre-ordered 15 tickets so I can have a whole area to myself with no annoying whispering or weeping to disturb me," Justin and COI would commend her. Instead we break away from her. Publicly rebuking her and making it clear that if she is ever to grace the pages of COI it will be only after she rejects her foolhardy arrogance that undermines the respect all typefaces deserve.

The Reese's No Bake Dessert Bars Are to Die For.

2007-07-16T18:24:00.000-04:00

That's right.

I'm not even trying anymore.

You see, now that it is obvious that no one* is reading COI anymore, I can write about anything without consequence.

I was writing for myself long before January 1990 when I started this blog, and I will be writing for myself long after the Internet dies in The Great Radiation Explosion.

So, I have kind of mixed feelings about this product. On the one hand, it doesn't require baking. On the other hand it has 1500 hundred calories per ounce serving.

Since I eat three or four pans at a time, I'm thinking of going to the effort of baking them, so as to burn a few calories.

*(Except m. who could learn a thing or two about cooking from me)

A Pretty Obvious Metaphor of My Life To Anyone Who Enlarges the Picture or Squints At the JPG.

2007-07-13T11:45:00.000-04:00

NOTE: The top box is really heavy, and crushing down on the bottom box, which is very sensitive and requires for its flourishment 16 hours of sleep and being in a state of non-crushedness.

Chateau D'uh Justin.

2007-07-11T18:27:00.000-04:00

The hours of working in my yard are finally paying off. My vineyards are blossoming.

My sophisticated, yet hardly arrogant readers, are no doubt aware of this fact: the finest wines in France are organized according to various appellations.

An appellation is a geographical region monitored by a very strict set of rules to guarantee the highest quality. The rule books often run to hundreds of pages. Aside from keeping quality up the appellation system is frequently behind the extraordinarily high prices of wine.

This method has not been successfully duplicated in the United States.

Until now.

I have started the Cleveland Heights' United Quadrants Appellation. It is going to be much better than Bordeaux and all those other soon to be second raters.

Right now, my appellation has just two rules:

1) You have to win a spiderman from a Grab-a-Prize machine and display it in your vineyard.

2) You have to promise to be my best friend forever (bff).

Those who join me will certainly be clinking glasses, to our extremely marked up success, in the near future.

Wednesday's Post.

2007-07-06T18:40:00.000-04:00

Only the luckiest of my loyalist readers (and bestest buddies) saw it.

Even they (if they exist) received only a glimpse of the thing. It was like a shooting star.

But I removed the post with such speed that only one of those really accurate clock things could tell you how much time elapsed before the post was removed.

Critics of my decision will not doubt wonder why I removed it. And with such haste.

One such critic would say,

"It might have brought peace to warring nations--if even you had left it up for a day."

Another critic could argue,
"Just reading the comments to that post might have brought hope to one of those rabid squirrels."

And I can see the point they are trying to make. My post could have done a lot of good in this world.

It could have made me rich.

But living for those sorts of external rewards is not that Manner In Which I Roll.

For the first time I see that I must follow my internal instincts. Even if it means posts must pass through cyberspace quicker than even the most crazed reader can catch during one of their rapid refresh sessions on COI.

(Dedicated to M. )

Fan Letters to Justin Monday.

2007-07-02T20:32:00.000-04:00

By Shannon "It is My Blog, Too" Simpson.

(To Read Today's Post, You Will Need:An Index Card. Thank You.)

Justin:

At first I wouldn't write you because when you put that post up titled "Angelineggers" I thought you were casting racial slurs. I cried, I joined the CBC (Congressional Black Caucus) the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) and even started my own human rights group -IYRASSWPIOTY (If Your Racist Around Shannon She Will Point It Out To You). I've been travelling all over the country making speeches for the last two weeks demanding changes in our mixed up and backwards society. Changes starting with the crazy kamikaze bloggers that offend any and everyone without an ounce of cedibility (sic) and sit above their perfect platinum keyboards tippity tapping away the very souls of people they (in many cases) have never had coffee with since last summer! Tuesday Al Sharpton and I had lunch(See Picture). It seemed that things were really starting to happen.

And, then it occurred to me this morning, that maybe, perhaps, you were actually combining Angelina's name with Dave Eggers last name and not actually racist at all! If this is true, it gives me hope for the future. It means my speeches can come from a place of love and not hate, and more importantly it means that I can tell Jesse Jackson to stop hitting on me and I can FINALLY stop giving Jesse sexual favors in exchange for political clout.

Picture of Shannon Simpson and Jesse Jackson

COI NOTE: I am so sorry first of all to Shannon and then to the most faithful loyal reader (s) in the world. I really meant to photoshop Jesse Jackson's Face over Dave Egger's face. Second, please use your index cards to hold over the Dave Egger portion of the photo and imagine the photo I failed to photoshop.

The Lawn Sequel to End All Lawn Sequels.

2007-06-29T18:18:00.000-04:00

What is it about my lawn that makes the neighborhood kids think twice before yelling second rate blogger when I am getting into my car?

What is the secret to my rugged, masculine yard?

I will tell you: I water my lawn with puddles of my masculine sweat.

I first realized that was the secret of my success when a beautiful patch of flowers sprung up in an area where I had ripped out a hundred foot oak with my bare hands.

Sure, ripping out trees is mildly straining, but to see the grass grow green, the roses blooming, the piles of dirt turning into small rabbits makes it all worthwhile.

The Lawn Update to End All Lawn Updates.

2007-06-27T17:57:00.000-04:00

Ever since I won your hearts with my post on how hard it is to mow the lawn literally two of you have written to ask how my lawn is doing.

The truth is, my lawn is doing incredibly well.

Ever since I realized this was not the lawnmower:

Turns out I was trying to mow my lawn with a giant block of concrete attached to some metal pipes. Today, I decided this is a terrible way to mow the lawn. I also grew curious about what magical tool my parents had left me.

I called and asked my Dad what the concrete thing with metal pipes is.

"That's a lawn mower, son."

"Could I talk to Mom?"

"Mom, what is the concrete thing in my garage?."

"It is a wheel. Your great grandfather invented it."

"Wow. Like a piece of history."

"That's right. Just don't try to mow your lawn with it. Your Dad did once, and killed all the grass. The neighbors were ruthless."

Theoretically, I Could Be Crass.

2007-06-25T00:01:00.000-04:00

I have spent more money on Dimethyl Sulfoxide in the last week than most men do all year.

Parents: Teach your kids about life. Buy them a Dimethyl Sulfoxide. Otherwise they will hit puberty and believe that paint peels itself.

Every penny I spend on Dimethyl Sulfoxides is well spent.

Nothing to make housework more enjoyable than having a half dozen Dimethyl Sulfoxide around to help you.

If you can't afford a Dimethyl Sulfoxide you could always try sulfoxide or sulfone, which has similar solvent properties. (This paragraph isn't meant to flirt with crassness. Just trying to be informative.)

Tell Me About It…Stud

2007-06-22T00:01:00.000-04:00

By Guest Blogger Angela

Ladies, I think we’ve all been on dates where the man does nothing but talk. From appetizer through dessert, it’s all about him. By the time dinner is finished, you know everything about him. Or if not everything, certainly more than you expected to know. It turns out that there is an evolutionary reason for this.¹

In Sex, Time and Power, Leonard Shalin posits that men fall in love with their eyes and women fall in love with their ears. This certainly helps explain why so many men direct their conversation at a woman’s breasts-they don’t initially care what she has to say, only how she looks. Interestingly enough, women tend to be more impressed with what a man has to say than how he looks. Conversation was the original sexual lubricant, with humans communicating with each other “more often, and over a longer period of time, before they have consensual sex than any other animal.” ²

In any given day, a man will speak approximately 2000 words and a woman 7000. During the courtship stage of a relationship, this ratio changes-hence the chatty first date. “Speech is an integral aspect of courting and a key component to successful mating. Ultimately, a man must be skilled in the art of wooing if he hopes to pass along his genes³.” So when he doesn’t pause to ask you questions it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s self-absorbed. It may indicate that he’s interested.

1. When in doubt, always blame evolution.
2. Sex, Time and Power page 201.
3. Ibid.

The Summer Album of 2007.

2007-06-20T13:59:00.000-04:00

Each summer I pick out an album that I listen to regularly. Last year I picked Glen Gould's Goldberg Variations. I listened to it nearly every day and it brought a great sense of purpose and meaning to my already awesome life. This year I picked another album, but I am hardly able to find the time to enjoy it. In writing these remarks I am hoping that you, adorable and loved readers, will be able to enjoy it for me.

I am of course referring to Sound Effects, Volume 1. Just by counting one can see that with 99 sound effects it is nearly 3 times better than Gould's pathetic 32 tracks.

Some of the tracks are deserving of special mention. Track 9,Car Crash, is very much like RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR, BOOOOM.

But I don't want to give away too much. Like any great album, the point isn't so much to put into words what is happening in the music, but to allow the music to express what goes beyond words.

Angelineggers.

2007-06-14T09:03:00.000-04:00

By Dave Eggers Stalker and Guest Blogger Shannon Simpson

Check out the picture of Angelina and look at the book she's reading!!!!! What is THAT!?! I don't know if that makes me like her or the book more or less!

This is way too weird! Wait a sec., just cuz she's HOLDING it does NOT mean she's actually READING it, right? Cause if she were I would have to call her up and be like, "and then the part where Achak loses his friend to the lion... " and Angie would be like, "I KNOW! Come and be in this movie with me!" And, I would be like, "No, Ange, my life is here, in Cleveland, with Adam. You know that."

In Which Justin Recieves an Extra Helping of Encouragement and a Good Lesson on How to Handle Fame.

2007-06-13T20:54:00.000-04:00

"Irony is naturally a sophisticated and mode, and the chief difference between sophisticated and naive irony is that the naive ironist calls attention to the fact that he is being ironic,whereas sophisticated irony merely states, and lets the reader add the ironic tone himself."
--Northrop Frye in Anatomy of Criticism

My parents bumped into Garrison Keillor the other day.

He is a real live humorist who, plus also, has his own bookstore. Pretty much my dream existence,although my bookstore will have a coffee shop and my stories in the New Yorker will fix the hole in the ozone layer and do other good stuff too.

Mr. Keillor was kind enough to autograph the very valuable stationary my Mom had with her.

His words are now framed on the desk where I am doing some of my best writing---The endless practice of autographs which will be put to good use any day.

Justin, Resident of Light.

2007-06-11T17:09:00.000-04:00

Sometimes if there is nothing on television and I don't want to buy another box set of DVDs I will watch a good painting.

None ranks higher on my list than Thomas Kinkade.

The only thing that slightly confuses me (without in any way diminishing the pleasure) is where the light comes from in his paintings.

One can make jokes about how there must be mad scientists conducting high radiation experiments inside the cottages that Kinkade paints. But any survey of mad scientists will tell you that even a nuclear reaction would not provide the amount of light pictured.

Last night, as I pulled in my drive, I noticed a spooky Kinkade light emanating from my home.

And then it all clicked: I had just moved several of my hydroponic garden (with fluorescent light bulbs) near the window.

What you see pictured is the inside of my home. But I am pleased to say that it is no different than what you would find inside any home painted by Thomas Kinkade.

Despite My Best Efforts I am Unable to Fit In Amongst the Neanderthals of the Fifth Quadrant.

2007-06-08T18:07:00.000-04:00

The fact is that a combination of weak upper body strength, debilitating allergies, fibromyalgia and a certain impatience at any task which doesn't have a chance of granting me a kind of immortality, makes mowing the lawn a very difficult task for me.

In and of itself this is no problem. I know my weaknesses. I also know the many, many things that make me awesome.

But having neighbors and random hoodlums comment on my unusual mowing patterns is becoming unbearable.

It started several weeks ago, six a.m. on garbage day. I was taking out my garbage,before even having my first coffee when this beast says, You Sure Lack Your Parent's Steady Hand at Mowing a Lawn.

Today, during my sub-par attempt,a man with a poodle says, You Sure Don't Make That Look Easy.

To which I ran over his poodle with my lawnmower.

(The poodle, to make matters worse for me, was totally unharmed.)

So now, my quadrant has forced me into a corner. I'm looking into hiring or buying a goat to trim my yard.

But my sister says that is silly, I should get a llama.

I am tempted to resolve the matter by calling my old landlord. He never did anything while I was paying rent. Now that all of the contractual pressures are off, perhaps his latent genius for solving problems with spring forth.

Tolstoy and I.

2007-06-07T00:01:00.000-04:00

Pop Quiz:Is the following picture of the great novelist Leo Tolstoy or the Great Blogger Justin Kahn?

If you are like most people your answer is "I dunno." And that's O.K. Tolstoy and I are nearly indistinguishable in many respects. But today I want to highlight one particular similarity:our attitude towards physical labor.

Tolstoy frequently gave up writing to do the work of peasants. He believed that this was more natural and somehow more redeeming than thinking and writing.

I,too,sometimes need to swing the ol' level around rather than work on my haiku translation of Dante.

Actual peasants were frequently annoyed with him b/c he often slowed them down when working in the fields.

For the last week and a half, I have been working at least 4 hours a day around the house. On days when I don't have professional responsibilities, I spend as much as 9 hours fixing up the homestead. And this is what I have finally accomplished:

I finally put up my beer opener. That's it. I don't feel redeemed.

At least I don't have any peasants around to complain.

I Should Have Had the Foresight to Find a Guest Blogger for Yesterday.

2007-06-06T07:20:00.000-04:00

When I woke up yesterday morning, I knew it was going to be a good day. I knew that by getting up early I would have time to watch the boxed DVD set of the British office, and then eat lunch and most importantly write an amazing concept of irony post.

Little did I know that I would have a jar of olives that would change my life.

I was pretty happy to be eating colossal olives. It made me feel pretty good to think about how lucky I am to be able to afford colossal olives when a lot of people could only afford to buy regular sized olives. Not that I'm better than them. I just happen to work for my olives.

Anyway, I was having all of these happy thoughts when all of the sudden, I had the taste of blue cheese and realized that the blue cheese taste was in fact coming from inside the olives!

Someone liked me enough to put blue cheese--my favorite--inside of the olives!

Between eating the olives and going to Trader Joe's I just didn't have time to write a post. Sorry about that.

I probably should have had the foresight to find a guest blogger for today, but it does seem that I should write a post myself every so often if for no other reason than to prevent the copyright from transferring to the public domain.

Guest Blogger Mondays: I've Fallen In Love With My Blog

2007-06-04T07:29:00.000-04:00

By Garry Evens

It happened by accident, see. I was minding my own business, see, learning to talk like a film noir. And here's the way it went down: I tried to log onto my account and Blogger wouldn't let me. And why not? I tell you, why, friend. Robots. Spam robots.

Here's the message from Blogger:

Your blog is disabled

Blogger's spam-prevention robots have detected that your blog has characteristics of a spam blog. ( What's a spam blog?) Since you're an actual person reading this, your blog is probably not a spam blog. Automated spam detection is inherently fuzzy, and we sincerely apologize for this false positive.

You won't be able to access your blog until one of our humans reviews it and verifies that it is not a spam blog. Please fill out the form below to get a review. We'll take a look at your blog and restore it in less than a business day.

If we don't hear from you within the next 20 days, your blog will be permanently deleted.

I thought about that phrase over and over: "One of our humans review it?" No human reads my blog (I have over 17 emails from a litter of cats in Ottowa, Manitoba to prove it!). And I thought about said robot's ultimatum: "your blog will be permanently deleted." I quickly opened up my mailbox and sent my blog an email--an impassioned plea for restoration. I wrote: "If Blogger is reading this, please restore my blog. I don't have much to live for anymore. This blog is all I've got left, man. I'm broke. The Tall Dark Haired Girl is consuming much of my good brain power. And I'm broke. This ain't spam. I swear it. Oh, God, restore my blog."

That's when I realized that I'd fallen in love with my blog (cue "Wonder Years" music).

You see, falling in love with a real human being doesn't make much sense. I've been pining away for The Tall Dark Haired Girl for months now and I've been getting pretty frustrated. Sure, my blog doesn't give me much in the way of conversation. I mean, it's quite cold, really. But it's loving in its own way. It never complains about my bad grammar or typos, and when I write something that's not particularly funny, it doesn't let on its disappointment. I never have to ask it out or try to read into the way it talks to me, and I never have to comb my hair in a way that covers up my bald spot (because tall girls can see that sort of thing). Yes, my blog and I. We've been friends for over two years, and, yes, I nuked all of my previous posts. What was I supposed to do? I was frustrated by The Tall Dark Haired Girl and my mind was all messed up. I can only hope my blog can forgive me and love me despite my lack of good judgment.

In the end Blogger restored my blog. Turned out my posts were just being ironic. I was just having some fun, as the kids say. Robots can't detect irony, see. They only know death, destruction and canned meat products. They know nothing of love.

"I grow old … I grow old … I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled."--Rosie O'Donnell

2007-06-01T20:43:00.000-04:00

As I approach my 30th Birthday (November 19, 2008) I have begun seriously thinking about my rapidly fading legacy as a comic genius.

It has been pretty rough on me, moving from the 4th quadrant where I ruled as amongst the top bloggers (upper 25th percentile, to be precise)to the 5th quadrant where I am less than nothing (-25 percentile, to be precise).

That's why I need encouragement wherever I can get it.

I thought I was going to get in my inbox when my mom called and said she was going to email me a picture of her and her favorite comic genius.

Sounds good, I said. And I waited for one of the pictures from my parent's going away party. Of my Mom. And me. Obviously me.

What I got was this picture. As I immediately realized that neither of the people is me, I put the picture through Concept of Irony's Face Recognition Software.

Turns out the lady on the right is my mother.

The gentleman on the left is Colin Mochrie of Whose Line is It Anyways.

Well beloved readers, half of whom kick me while I'm single, I spent $45,000 on face recognition software to learn that I'm not my mom's favorite comedian.

And the other half would rather be reading Mr. Mochrie's blog.

Meeting People is Easy.

2007-05-31T14:13:00.000-04:00

Bobble Head Dwight is a Chick Magnet.

At the Bobble Head Park

Girl: It's so warm out and it is only May.
ME: Well, it is May 31. You don't have to exaggerate.

Girl: Well, it isn't even summer.
ME: Do you seriously think it only gets warm in the summer?

On the Street.

Random Girl: What are you dragging?

Me: I'm taking Bobble Head Dwight for a walk.

Random Girl: He looks like Hannibal Lector with that little collar on.

Me: Shut up. Who asked you?

On the Lawn.
Neighbor:So, you're watching the old Bobble Head.

Me: Yeah I'm Lisa's brother. I have a blog.

Neighbor:Oh, I thought she just had one brother.

Me: That's me.

Neighbor:And that he was killed in a tornado. While on a plane over the Antarctic.

Me: Not that I know of...

Neighbor:And that his body was never found, and so there is no point in ever talking about him again.

Me: Well, nice meeting you.

Neighbor: Hmmm.

Any Tips On House Breaking Would Be Much Appreciated.

2007-05-30T00:01:00.000-04:00

(Because of the extraordinary response to yesterday's Bobble Head Dwight Post, I'm going to just keeping mining that vein.)

I don't want to exaggerate how Not-House Broken Bobble Head Dwight is, but not only does he leave the living room looking like a minefield, but he scrawls indecent remarks on the wall.

Mark and Lisa said that there is a very special souvenir in it for me, if I can house train Bobble Head Dwight.

In fact they said the souvenir would be from the Mall of America. If you know anything about me it all, you know that my two favorite things are Malls and America.

Late at night I dream of what the bonus souvenir might be:Perhaps an An American flag from a Kiosk?

If I am to earn that prize I have to find a way to control Bobble Head Dwight. It is so discouraging. Every time I ask him if he understands that he can't take a dump (no matter how minuscule) in the living room he shakes his head yes. And then thirty second later, it is like we never had a Where-To-Dump-Conversation in our life.

Justin Ventures Beyond the Borders of Cleveland Heights.

2007-05-29T00:01:00.000-04:00

No doubt at least one reader will remember last year when I did some cat sitting for my sister and brother-in-law. Those were some crazy times.

Once again, it is pet sitting time!

Their family has expanded beyond last year's cats and so has my responsibilities. My Brother-in-law, Mark, decided to take in a Dwight Bobble Head.

My bleeding heart readers will be pleased to hear that Mark rescued Bobble Head Dwight. Mark felt like there are just to many homeless Bobble Heads that need a home (b/c of not having a home) to go and buy one from a bobble head farm.

So he rescued Bobble Head Dwight. From Bosnia. With an elite team of special forces. I'll tell you the story some time. Though astute readers will certainly note plot similarities to Chuck Noris' Delta Force Four.

But that story must wait. Dwight is quite a hand full. And it looks like I must run off and break a fight up between Bobble Head Dwight and the neighbor's metronome.

Pacing Myself.

2007-05-28T12:10:00.000-04:00

Howard Gardner, in his book Creating Minds, looks to define the conditions that encourage the most creative people. One of the conditions that he has observed is that scientists tend to develop rapidly at a young age, whereas writers tend to require much more time.

He explains:
Poetry is a Young Man's art.
Fiction is the art of Middle Age.
Essays are for those in their twilight.
Blogging is mastered only by those who are way past their twilight.

So in fact, any remaining loyal readers, I am not puttering out. My blogging is way ahead of the curve by at least five years.

Words Can Not Express the Vicious Cycle of Poor Blogging That I am Trapped In.

2007-05-24T12:01:00.000-04:00

Neither, apparently, can the add chart function of microsoft Word.

*COI*

Update and Geography Lesson.

2007-05-23T11:06:00.000-04:00

My four remaining readers have no doubt noticed that postings have been a bit thin.

This is because nearly every day I have been travelling around half of the Cleveland Heights Quadrants. This excuse seems relatively weak to anyone who is not familiar with the layout of my home town.

Shockingly One Quarter of my readers were unsure as to which quadrant I have moved to and the same quarter of readers was under the mistaken impression that the four quadrants are one, two, three and four!

This Official Map© of the Heights Area no doubt clarifies things. As you can see I am moving between the fourth quadrant and the fifth. This would be no problem were it not for the border. Every other day I trip over the thing.

I'm Happy. Be Happy For Me.

2007-05-21T00:01:00.000-04:00

My muse gave me that title some time go. I had imagined that I would use it to announce that I had taken over my new quadrant as Top Blogger or Audrey and I got back together. But I have finally accepted that the later will not occur and the former will take all of my Wordfullness and lots of time to achieve.

Still, could I be any happier than I am after watching,The Simpson's episode, which was done in the manner of today's finest art--An Episode of 24?

No, I couldn't be any happier.

P.S. Audrey: I was just joking about accepting the finality of Us.

Review of Spiderman 3--Warning: Contains Spoilers About Justin's Yesterday Afternoon.

2007-05-11T19:29:00.000-04:00

Every day for the last week, Lou at Home Depot, has been telling me about two things: 1)The New High Grade Sprockets that have come in 2)How I absolutely have to see Spiderman 3.

I always trust Lou on two things: 1)sprockets and 2)World Cinema. So I quickly found myself in a theater ready to take in one of the great movies of modern times. But what happened is this.

I ran into one of those Grab-It Toy Machines. It was filled with Stuffed Spidermans and also Stuffed Venoms.

As you know the Grab-It machine is a game that requires enormous skill.

As you know doubt, also know, I am a man of enormous skill.

$16.00 and an hour into the movie, I finally grabbed a Spidey.

Have a great weekend, and if you need anything requiring my enormous skill, do not hesitate to contact me.

Do It Yourself Mondays:Building a Bookshelf.

2007-05-07T20:42:00.000-04:00

For Susan

(Motivational Mondays have been temporarily suspended, until there is something to be motivated about.)

This week we are going to look at how to organize your massive book collection.

To get started, you are going to need a book on how to build a bookshelf and a drill. I wouldn't buy the book, because that would mean you have to build a bigger bookshelf.

Just grab a copy from the library. Or steal a copy. That way you can just toss it when you are done.

Next, you are going to need a tape measure. I just bought the cheapest, Blue Tooth enabled, Laser Guided, Fiber Optic, Bullet Proof, Self Duplicating model. But if you are a talentless hack, you might want to get one of the high end models. For a few grand more you can get a good one that will measure stuff for you.

Now that you have your tools, you need some lumber. I have to admit I didn't 'Nail This One on The Head' so to speak. You probably should get some flat lumber.

I'm mature enough to admit it. I chose the worst possible lumber. But the fact is, that I've learned from this experience.

Probably the biggest thing I learned is that I could put my books between these incredible book ends. They look like a man is walking right through my books. Even though there isn't anyone walking through my books. I don't even think such a thing is possible.

Good luck with your COI-DYI. Be sure to send pictures of your spectacular projects to me, so that I can post them and take credit for inspiring them.

Still Not Able to Post.

2007-05-03T20:55:00.000-04:00

Last month, I mentioned finding an Easter basket on my doorstep. Initially, I assumed that my Landlord left it for me, but than I found it was actually my neighbs, Curtis and Jess. Once I found out it was they, I began dropping by each evening to request a refill.

One evening, just slightly after 1:00 A.M., Curtis for some reason handed me the whole bag of Easter Candy.

"Just take it, and leave us alone."

He slammed the door, before I could thank him, but that food is getting me through this stressful time.

I am only sorry that I, too, have to metaphorically-like slam the Door on you, most precious reader, for just a few more days.

Be strong.

Live Well.

Where there's smoke there is fire.

Beggars can't be choosers.

I'm out of cliches.

Justin Lets You Down Again.

2007-04-30T00:01:00.000-04:00

Because my schedule is incredibly packed with all new episodes of many shows, I am taking a few days off.

But I'll make it up to you.

Someday.

A Man About Various Quadrants of Town.

2007-04-27T18:14:00.000-04:00

Posts are short this week because I have been travelling back and forth between The Garbage Can Perched On the Roof (nee The Penthouse) and my newly acquired Kahn Estate.

I have to admit that the Kahn Estate feels a bit strange. It is located in a totally different quadrant than I have been living in. In fact, just as an interesting note,it is actually the quadrant that is the model for the town 'Twin Peaks' in the TV series of the same name.

And for that one special Twin Peaks Fan out there, let me just say, Diane, never drink coffee that has been anywhere near a fish

Motivational Monday:A Recipe for Success.

2007-04-26T18:26:00.000-04:00

A lot of weeks, I have Motivational Monday a bit earlier on. But not this week. I wanted this Motivational Monday to be really special. Not like all of that crap I was feeding you before.

Honestly, I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to write something motivational. But then I looked inside my freezer (pictured) and I saw the perfect image of everything you need to stay ahead in life.

First, you will notice that my freezer has a hard drive in it. This is because I kicked my hard drive and as a result, it stopped working. Which is very NOT MOTIVATIONAL, because it contains lots of important stuff.

So I did some Internet research and learned that putting a hard drive in a freezer can restore it. Of course, the point isn't that you have to freeze your hardware, but applying some good old fashioned MacGyverism can help solve your problems.

Second, you will notice that my freezer has broccoli in it. Broccoli is yummy, and very good for success.

Now, go get motivated!

I Will Give You Three Hints:Awesome, Awesome, Awesome.

2007-04-25T21:38:00.000-04:00

If you can guess the faculty member you will win a free coffee!

When I Heard That the Childhood Home of J. Kahn Was For Sale I Started Signing All Kinds of Papers.

2007-04-24T20:51:00.000-04:00

I have no idea what they said.

Thankfully, I don't think they were legally binding. Many of the pages required less than four separate signatures/initials. Our court system can't seriously treat those as binding documents, can they?

A Recap of My Parent's Going Away Party.

2007-04-23T12:06:00.000-04:00

My parent's going away party was a huge success. Even though the preparation was hard because of the painful arguments with my sister, I'm glad she won. Chuck-"E"-Cheese would have been a really bad idea.

As might be expected, all eyes were on me. Even though it was an emotionally charged day, I think it provided everyone with a certain Je Ne Sais Qua since they got a chance to see me.

Concept of Irony Goes Into Over Time: The Dave Eggers Saga Concluded.

2007-04-21T11:30:00.000-04:00

By Shannon "Please Stop Attributing Quotes To Me" Simpson

“You mean that silly poem Justin and I submitted to McSweeny’s forever ago?”

“Silly!” The Eggman shook his head in disbelief.

“Well, you rejected it, I mean we got a whole letter and everything.” I had no clue where this was going.

“Sheer genius. GENIUS!” Dave said his eyes almost popping out of his head. “Don’t you see Shannon? You must start paying attention. Of course we couldn’t publish it. Isn’t it obvious?!” he motioned for me to lean in closer and cupped his hand around my sweat filled ear and whispered “Save the Bacontina, Save the World.”

“Huh?!”

“Listen, The Eggman doesn’t have time to explain,” he began to explain pulling a pad of notepaper from his satchel. “Hand your book to The Eggman and I can act like I’m signing it. Hurry!” he insisted. I handed over my brand new copy of “What is the What” and he scribbled hurriedly on the title page. “Read this later, when you’re alone. And remember what I’m about to tell you, Shannon. Relay this word for word to Justin. The two of you hold the key. You must never write this down or let it get into the wrong hands. Okay? The key is in the Bacontina and what I’m about to tell you. Okay?! Are you ready? Okay, pay attention! There’s a place in France” he began, “Where the naked ladies dance.”

I furrowed my brow unsure through my sweaty ears if he’d said “prance” or “dance.”

“Listen!” he said. “And a whole in the wall where the men can see it all. Did you get that” he asked? I nodded.

At that moment it seemed, Vegaterri had finished her recounting of the evil screaming bitch-baby and bopped on over to the table.

“Other peeps need to rap with the Davester too.” She hinted.

“Sorry,” I began.

“No, it’s okay Shan, do you want a picture? I’ve got this nifty pixilated camera doohickey here if you’d like to commemorate the moment?”

“It would be my honor,” smiled Dave acting calmer than I’d seen him all night.

“I will talk with Justin tonight.” I whispered as Vegaterri’s camera whirred to life.

“Ahh, good. Very good.” Dave said and gripped my hand in a reassuring shake and we both smiled broadly as Vegaterri snapped the picture.

My time with Dave ended I walked to the exit. I tried to think about what had just happened, what I was to do, and what might be to come. I looked back and saw Vegaterri once again recounting her Bitch-baby tale to Dave with sweeping arm motions and a flurry of F-bombs.

Alone, I opened my book. On the title page Dave had written:

“To Shannon Your Attention means the world. DE”

And then I knew what I had to do. “See you in Harlem, Dave” I whispered. “See you in Harlem.”

The Most Important Blogging About Dave Eggers Ever: Part Two of ?

2007-04-20T00:01:00.000-04:00

By Guest Blogger Shannon "This is a Hostile Take Over of Your Blog" Simpson.(Pictured here with Dave Eggers.)

“Could you believe that bitch-baby in front of us?!” Vegaterri began, and I knew it was safe to inspect the note (once she gets started on bitch-babies there’s no stopping that one). The note was sealed with the letters DE in hot red wax. I unsheathed my gold-plated letter opener from my belt and opened the note. “Wait for me” the note said in what I can only guess was black Sharpee. It was signed “The Eggman.” I almost stopped in my tracks. Who was DE?

“And that fucking bitch-mother of that fucking bitch-baby has something coming as well…” Vegaterri continued. She hadn’t noticed the letter.

We met our friends in the lobby and decided to wait in line to meet Mr. Eggers. While I was trying to piece together who the note was from we joked about fanny packs and STD’s. Puddles of sweat formed in my ears (I never outwardly sweat –it makes one look nervous) as I carefully inspected the other lecture attendees for who could have been the culprit. An hour and a half and no leads later it was finally my time with Dave. There was so much I wanted to ask as I slowly stepped towards the table, like about irony and post-modernism and the native American parallels with those of Achak’s tribe and whether he preferred blue to red. I would never have the opportunity to ask a single question because as I approached the table Dave hissed “The Bacontina!”. I was stunned and looked around but he was talking only to me.

“Whuh?” I stammered confused.

“The Bacontina!” He hissed again louder. “The Soothsayer told me all about you. He said you would be like a ‘Brown Stick’ and Justin would be like a…” Dave stopped and looked back at the line and then behind me. He grabbed my hand and yanked it down so I had to kneel at the table.

“Where is Justin!” He asked frantically.

“Um, I um, ah, teaching a philosophy class, I think?” I answered trying to wrench my hand from his grasp to no avail. He gripped it tighter.

“Don’t lie to me I’m lactose intolerant” he spit menacingly. “Where is JUSTIN!”

I was hoping my friends back in line 4 feet away weren’t noticing Dave’s odd behavior. I looked back at Vegaterri and could see her pointing and could just make out the words “Fucking bitch-baby father” and knew I was safe.

“I swear Dave, I would never lie to a lactose intolerant, he’s really teaching a class.” With this he released my hand.

“Call me ‘The Eggman’” he insisted visibly upset. That’s when I pieced it together.

“You’re DE!” I said surprised. Things were getting very weird.

“Keep it down, kid.”

“Wait, what’s going on? How do you know about Justin?”

TO BE CONTINUED?...

The Most Important Blogging About Dave Eggers Ever: Part One of ?

2007-04-19T09:22:00.000-04:00

By Guest Blogger Shannon "Minimalism Sucks" Simpson.

I’m still trying to piece together the events of last week. Isn’t it strange how one day you really think you know yourself and within hours that can all change? That was how it was for me last week when I encountered Dave Eggers for the first time at the Akron Public Library. Some of you may know me as Shannon and others of you may only know me from the Gypsies and Soothsayers that refer to me under burdened wagon trains as “The One.” Regardless of what you are about to read, I will always maintain that much as yourself I am just one lonely being that decided upon this difficult road that we call life.

It was a cold night as I steered my car through the rain from Cleveland towards the Akron Public Library or, fate, as I know refer to that edifice of knowledge. I had my good pal Vegaterri in the passenger seat and we sang lovely folk songs like “Whip It Good” in glorious harmonies unaware of the looming danger. Things seemed to be going really well for us when a native Akron Townie informed us that, no, we didn’t have to pay for that spot after six; and we took our seats a full 2 dollars and 25 cents richer than we had planned. But this is when things started to get strange.

Dave was late. And when Dave did arrive he was without his speaking companion Valentino. Everyone was concerned and Dave didn’t seem quite able to shake the fear that had obviously entered his trembling hands and eyes. His jokes were minimal and it became obvious quickly that this was not the Dave of “A Heartbreaking Work…” Then our eyes met and locked. While Dave pointed out people from the audience and answered their questions he kept his eyes lasered on mine and the connection between us was undeniable. “I’m married” I mouthed to Dave while he spoke of Valentino’s village. “That’s not why I need you!” His eyes answered desperately. I looked away.

As the auditorium emptied and we made our way to the line to wait for an autograph someone placed a note in my hand. I looked around but couldn’t catch who might have put it there.

TO BE CONTINUED?...

Publish or Perish:The Choice Isn't Always Easy.

2007-04-18T12:07:00.000-04:00

In February I read a story called, " The Birthday Party Log of Ned, Born on February 29th." The joke being that the birthday only comes every four years, so the person ages differently than people with an 'annual birthday'. Reading this story totally shocked me.

Late last year,perhaps for the first time in literary history, I had the same idea as another author. About half way through January, I put some of these ideas together. If I'm not tired from watching Boxed DVD sets, I like to jot a few words down. January 15 I wrote Birthday Toasts to a Leap Year Baby.

Unfortunately I had no idea my muses were begging me to finish the thing.

So I put my draft (pictured) in a binder.

I put the binder in my lock box. Put the lock box in my desk drawer. And then I put my desk in my secret compartment. And then I sealed the door to my secret compartment with wax and the Seal of Sir Justin.

And because of that, I lost a great slice of literary glory.

I should very much like to bury the resulting pain with my stacks of drafts in the secret compartment.

But redoing the wax is such a pain.

A Motivational Monday That is Late, But Hopefully Isn't a Debacle: Justin Gets By With The Help of His ESN.

2007-04-17T00:03:00.000-04:00

In the wake of yesterday's debacle involving my highly inaccurate first post, and my poorly received second post, a lot of people have asked me why I don't just give up on life.

I will tell you why.

No matter, how pathetic my efforts are at holding on to my status as one of the top bloggers in the fourth Q. of Cleveland Heights, I realize that I have an Emotional Support Network ® ©

At first it was Me and Henry PLANTagenets against the world. But of late, I have vastly expanded my social network:

These guys are really there for me. Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve them, but then I think about how much I paid for them.

Does it matter if I'm a great author or the destroyer of literary magazines?
Not with my ESN ® ©.

Does it matter if I spend all of my my money on Infomercial products that promise Space-Age Gardening Technology?
Not with my ESN ® ©.

So, let's go back two weeks.

Start goofing around. Achievements are overrated.

And find yourself a ESN ® ©.

Was This Morning's Motivational Monday Nothing More Than a Sybmolic, But Unintentional "Hara-kiri"?

2007-04-16T12:13:00.000-04:00

I guess I really blew it with today's motivational Monday. I swear, that from Friday-Sunday night the Monkeybicycle page was defunct. But now they are back. Good for them.

Frank, Comrade K, Cassandra, I'm sorry.

This may be the end of credibility for me. How can you ever trust me again after this debacle?

The answer is, unless you are really gullible, you can't. And I'm sorry.

But I've drafted a little recovery plan, and hopefully everything will work out.

I'm sorry.

Motivational Monday: Anyone Can Fail, But Only Justin Takes So Many With Him.

2007-04-16T12:01:00.000-04:00

Last Motivational Monday I showed you how I did something great by publishing a story.

And, if you clicked on the story I linked to, you would have read my amazing story, published on a site that has been around for a couple of years.

I took a great risk by putting my work out there. And when I published I felt great.

Guess what happens if you click on the link to my story right now. The page tells you that the website is now defunct!

Hah!

So maybe my story resulted in the death of a literary institution!

At least I tried!

And you should try to! When you end up destroying something other people worked so hard to achieve, your good friends at COI will help you and them rebuild.

If we haven't ruined everything by then.