Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
When we were camping a couple of weeks ago there was a guy who walked
past us several times every day, and Andy hated him. It was a constant
parade of people going by, day and night, but for some reason the hound
had a major problem with this one particular frowning bald man. Most
everyone else was OK, but Andy would go completely ass-over-tits crazy
whenever Ol' Midnight Oil shuffled past.
My instincts told me to yell at the dog and try to get him to calm down.
But the thing was, I sort of agreed with him. I couldn't put my finger
on it, but I had mixed feelings about the guy as well. He seemed angry
and wound-tight, and that's not a good combination. Mix in cheap beer
and high temperatures, and you've got a potential situation on your
hands.
Plus dogs are keen judges of character, and you can't just go dismissing
their appraisals all willy-nilly. Ya know?
So I started yelling at Andy, for the man's benefit, but used fake
names. The first time I said, "Todd, shut up!" When he went
past again, I hollered, "Jimmy, that's enough!!" I changed the
name every time, just to keep things interesting. And, of course, none
of it even registered with Andy. Because, after all, his name is not
Todd.
I reminded everyone, as well, that if the guy would happen to return in
the dark of night, shirtless and brandishing a bloody cleaver, he
wouldn't be able to calm our dog by whispering his name. He'd be calling
him Robert and whatnot, and that would probably make matters worse for
him. I only thought of this part after the fact, but I acted like it was
part of the master plan.... Don't tell anyone, OK?
The Secrets thought it was all a riot, of course, and got in on the fun.
Then Toney started doing it as well. But they took it way too far, and
the air of authenticity was shattered. They started calling him Roland
and Hubert and stuff like that, and I just rolled my eyes in
exasperation. All my important work, being undone in a swirl of
goofiness....
"Roland's as legitimate a dog name as Robert," Toney said,
"Who names a dog Robert??" Then I heard one of the kids say,
"Calm down, Billie Joe Armstrong! Calm down!!" and I stormed
off in a huff.
No respect for the art of fake dog-naming, none whatsoever.
-- I signed a contract today with the
National Lampoon, allowing them to use the Wal-Mart Game in a book to be
published in October, called Not Fit For Print. They're to pay me
a small amount of money (and I do mean small), and I'll get a new
eye-catching credit to add to my resume. Then I'll put the resume in a
box, put the box into the car, drive the car around the world, until I
get heard.
Or whatever.
-- I've been meaning to mention this for a while now, but keep
forgetting.... Over at AOL
Radio, previously Radio@ Netscape, previously
Spinner, they have a new all-Replacements channel. It's called
Replacements O.D., and unfortunately, I believe it's only temporary.
But check it out while you can. They not only mine the old Twin/Tone
catalog, but bootlegs and solo albums as well. It's pretty damn
ass-kick. A few days ago at work I heard them play at least one whole
side of The Shit Hits The Fans. And that's not something you hear
at work every day, know what I'm sayin'?
-- And since we're on the subject, here's a funny article about Paul
Westerberg.
-- And now a completely unrelated link to an interesting article about
horror films that are so bad they're good, shoe-horned right into the
middle of this thing.
-- Over the weekend I'm planning to take your advice and switch from
Norton to AVG anti-virus. My Norton "subscription" is up, and
I'm not giving them anymore of my money. I asked you folks for guidance
a while back, and the response was loud and clear. Now if I contract
some sort of tunneling Singaporean worm that destroys my hard drive and
causes a house fire, I won't have to blame myself. I appreciate it!
-- Now I need a little more help.... What is StumbleUpon? As best as I
can tell it's something along the lines of MySpace, and that sort of
thing, but I can't really figure it out. In fact, I can't really figure
out MySpace either, but that's another story....
The reason I ask about StumbleUpon is because they're driving
substantial traffic to TheWVSR. For the past couple of months they've
been the number one referring website, and I can't really get my arms
around any of it.
What's it all about? I need closure, people!
-- And finally, something that should make me happy but, I'm sorry to
say, only succeeds in scaring the living crap out of me. Below are two
excerpts from an email conversation between two of your fellow Surf
Reporters, forwarded to me yesterday after one participant dared the
other.
If you need something MORE to laugh about than that, I could sometime
tell you about the "adult" dream I had starring one Mr. Jeff
Kay. Not a daydream, mind you, but a real one. I didn't know what to
think when I woke up....
Then, following a little "you've got to be shitting me"
back and forth:
That's about how I felt when I woke up. And it shall never be spoken of
again.. Because, really I don't want to think about a half-naked Jeff
Kay all too much, even if he WAS rubbing me down in the back of a camper
trailer....
Nice technique, though.
After I read this, blinked
about twenty times really fast, then read it again, I sent portions of
it to a close friend. Here's what he had to say:
I'm speechless. You have now reached the point in your artistic
career that you have women out there dreaming about you in your rolling
box o' beds. You are my idol!
If I weren't so rattled I'd say something like, "Hey, it's all
in the technique, my good man, it's all in the technique." But I
can't manage even a half-assed joke here. Because the thought of a
"half-naked Jeff Kay" in the back of a camper trailer gives even
me a full-body shiver. Holy shit!
Have a great weekend, folks. I'll see ya again on Monday.
--
When we were camping a couple of weeks ago there was a guy who walked
past us several times every day, and Andy hated him. It was a constant
parade of people going by, day and night, but for some reason the hound
had a major problem with this one particular frowning bald man. Most
everyone else was OK, but Andy would go completely ass-over-tits crazy
whenever Ol' Midnight Oil shuffled past.