All I know is that I don't know.
All I know is that I don't know nuthin'.



Links and whatnot

Blogs and Friends
Preacherman
Johnny Payphone
Mr. Nosuch
Teresa Strickland
radiohodgepodge
Just Cheap Dirt
xpurple
Fairly Crass
Babble Book
Staircase Wit
Pezman
Jack Jackson's Dirty Pictures 2000
Jgrrl's LJ
lfirebrand

Funny, yet true
The Onion
Modern Humorist
Something Awful
X-Entertainment
Seanbaby
What's Better?
Homestar Runner
Triumph, the Insult Comic Dog
Get Your War On
Maakies
A Softer World

News and stuff
Plastic
Google News

Movies
IMDb
Roger Ebert
Cinema Confidential
Rotten Tomatoes

Music and Art
Pitchfork
They Might Be Giants
Bongwater Taffy
Rate Your Music
Rocket From The Crypt
The All Music Guide
2.13.61 Publishing
Tha Friendly Gangstaz Committee
The Wooster Collective
Star City Scene
OLGA
The Terminals
oh my god
The Zyklon Bees
Strawberry Burns
Lone Prairie Records
eagle*seagull

Genuinely Useful Stuff
The Straight Dope
Adbusters
SpamCop
Pandamail
h2g2
Download.com
Analog X
The Free World
Pilonidal.org



Oral Sex Donations Accepted

Mail me
AIM: RawkStah
My Profile
My MySpace Space



HOME

Archives:

This page is powered by Blogger. Why isn't yours?

Get Firefox!
Monday, September 02, 2002
Oh, yeah. I remembered what the hell I was gonna post about in the first place.

I have some 'fragments' in my head. It's something that happens every now and then. It's actually been awhile since I've had some. Sometimes the fragments are just character concepts. Like my alter-ego, Chad Spencer, a man whose goal in life is to find the place in France where the naked ladies dance. Not just any burlesque house or ballet academy, nosir! That won't do for him at all! He wants to find the legendary place with the hole in the wall and everything, as immortalized in song. Sing along if you know the tune!

There's a place in France
Where the naked ladies dance.
There's a hole in the wall
Where Chad Spencer sees it all.
And they say they don't care
when he chews their underwear.

Chad isn't into the whole underwear-chewing scene, but he appreciates the fact that his destiny is laid out in song.

I currently have 2 fragments in my head.

The first is based around the Glen Campbell song "Country Boy (You Got Your Feet in L.A.)". It sounds like the theme song to a TV show that never existed. If you want to understand where I'm coming from, you certainly shouldn't use any sort of file-sharing program or music searching program, and, for the love of Pete, don't download it from the cyber-web-net. That's how the terrorists win, people.

Anyway, back to the song that you hopefully didn't download. I figure that the show is based around some dude just wandering around. More like "Highway to Heaven" than "The Incredible Hulk" or "Kung-Fu". Probably a dude who was on top of the world, (looking down on creation) and quit at the top of his game. He had it all -- mansion, cars, women, money, power and sugar. Then, one day, he just woke up, and realized that he just wasn't happy. He was never a working-class hero -- just some guy from Tennesee who got lucky and made it big doing what he loved. But, he grew isolated, and forgot why he loved what he was doing. So, he tore up his contract, sublet his house, put on his boots, and started walking. Wandering around, leaving LA, and heading east. Meeting people, trying to rediscover what he was singing about in the first place. He'd travel around, help people out, and, at the end, he'd keep walking. The opening credits would be a montage made from the pilot/premiere episode, showing who he was, and why he was doing this. The end music wouldn't be meloncholy, except for the few episodes when he had to make a choice to leave a girl behind, or when the kid in the wheelchair and the sister raising him pleaded with him to go back to recording. This would have been on CBS. Now, if I could write this damned thing, I surely would.

The other fragment is an animated feature akin to Yellow Submarine, except, to be all post-modern and a jackass, it would promote conservative values and capitalism. The narrator is Mr. Mirth, the Man who Sells Happiness. The cost isn't high -- just a song. Give Mr. Mirth a song, and he gives you happiness. The better the song, the more happiness you are given. But, then, some people think that basing the amount of happiness being doled out on the 'quality' of the song is unfair and arbitrary. "All songs have value!" they say. "To say some songs are better than others is discriminatory to people who are pushing the boundaries of the art form, or tone-deaf." So, they decree that Mr. Mirth must give the same amount of happiness to everyone who brings him a song, be it a Vivaldi concerto, something by Brian Wilson, or the sounds that my ass made yesterday when I was feeling icky -- all songs have equal value. But then, people just start bringing songs like "My Burp" or "Armpit Farts" or "Nookie". They all get the same amount of happiness, but they start noticing that the quality of the happiness isn't nearly as good as what they're used to. The happiness is the same, but, they've developed a tolerance to it. They ask Mr. Mirth to give them more, but, he points to the Decree. Then there's a revolt against the people who made every song idenitcal in terms of worth, and things go back to the way they were, with the quality of the song determining the amount of happiness. Then, they discover that with a surplus of happiness, they can all share the happiness simply by sharing their songs with people who might not have as much happiness. (It just dawned on me that I could work in a REALLY good dig at the RIAA with this thing... damn! I'm fucking cool!)

BTW: If anyone is gonna be a jackass, this shit is © Grant Bennett and JohnnyCorp, GmbH.

However, if anyone has more ideas about fleshing this stuff out, lemme know. :)





Comments by: YACCS