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            At the end of a narrow road, at the bottom of a hill that slowly rises away from the water, lies the pier. Brightened early each morning and darkened early each evening by way of its eastern facing vantage point, the pier chatters and cranks and clamors at all hours with the sound of fishermen dispensing their harvests. Above this din can be heard the laughs, gasps and conversations of the visiting vacationers who line the decks and walkways while the brute ballet of ocean life plays out before them.
            The fishermen pay little attention to their guests. Perhaps a quick glance, a smile aimed at a baby, a frown towards the parent; little else is passed between these castes apart from the meals lying in wait, quivering in bins on the boats. These fishermen were hardened by the water, shaped over generations like the sandstone of a canyon.
          The village surrounding the pier was home to many of the fishermen, their lives already requiring too much devotion than to expect a commute of any length. Most drove their pickup trucks to the dock from homes along the shore or from just deeper into the town. For nine months a year, the village was quiet, isolated, and operating in a realm of serene impoverishment that had come to define these coastal hamlets.
            When summer arrived, so too did the tourists, with their foreign cars and domestic attitudes, they seemed as corporations unto themselves. The village become a bustling ocean resort, with children towing rafts to the shore, couples pedaling rented, ill-fitting bicycles to ice cream shops, and the locals creeping back into the shadows, coming out only to provide the necessities that money could not import from elsewhere. The first cool breezes of September carried these visitors, and their wealth, away every year, and the village returned to the business of its quiet, desolate destiny.
            And so on it went, year after year, as regular as the tides.
            Russell “Russ” Massey had fished the waters that extend out from the pier for many years. Like his brethren, he was a hard man, known to take to drink and women whenever it struck him to do so. In other circles and circumstances, this might not blend into the fabric of the community so seamlessly, but the tides of the ocean seemed to cover the wounds of the village en masse. Russ, along with any and all of the other inhabitants, were freed from societal norms and pressures that existed outside the village lines, yet were still slavishly directed to serve their commerce.
Russ had known many women, and several had tolerated him long enough to produce his children. Several he claimed and occasionally supported, while several others quietly carried their questions about town with them, receiving no more or less attention from Russ than any other soul he encountered. All of the townsfolk knew Russ to be withdrawn, fiercely private, and many thought him to care for nothing save for his day’s catch and his next drink. What no one knew was that far down the road that goes down the hill to the pier, up back where the pines had entrenched themselves against years of storms and the houses grew larger and less frequently inhabited; there was a quiet dirt driveway leading to a small modest cottage. And in that cottage lived the one thing that Russell Massey truly loved.

Days in the Jungle

There Are No Days in the Jungle
There are no days in the jungle. The puma-cat and his furred meals, they that are down amongst and about the brush, running so as they do, shall not allow for any. In the jungle, there is but junglery. So it is, amongst puma-cats and their furred meals, the day-less jungle.
Quite exquisite, this day-less fascination is. In fact, it seems to hurl forward alongside the puma-cat and his amphibious co-conspirators with each of their wretched leaps. Indeed, we within the expedition observe many creatures who surrender themselves to the quandary of their hopeless plight; here, where time is for naught.
Daily we send ourselves, begrudgingly, into the depths and open-jawed tentacles of this sponge-beast. Our charter was to go forth amongst native lands, catalogue and colonize, yet how can such records be kept when one finds himself devoid of proper ingredients?I beg of you, sir, pray tell the methods of your genius, surely they cannot survive the plague that God himself has set upon The Tropics. Yet I ramble in my writings. Please, excuse this transgression. I am faint from the heat.
I shall not neglect my duty, be it as it may, regardless of perils and tribulations, put upon and expected of us by all the beasts and inhabitants of this jungle. These wretched things, be they upright or cursed, all seem to share in the wanton bliss of impending doom. Therefore, I consider it my privilege and duty to share with and present to you the findings of our Official Expedition.
Day One: Arrival upon shore. Greeted by but the sand and shrubbery. The tides have brought fortune, tonight we rest well.
Day Two: Our expedition begins at dawn. I awaken to sounds of Hell’s Angels, sending forth from the brush offerings of wicked temptation, endless fortune. The song parlayed forth has yet to meet the ears of a true man of God, I fear, and it shall lie before me as my duty to tame and Christianize this Godforsaken land.
Day Three: Our expedition was met with certain difficulties upon the morning. Boatmen reported sightings of creatures, fair and fowl, though I cannot see the former possible in this Hellish place. I miss my Annabelle and her vagina.
Day Four: We have decided to lay camp downstream, away from the open coast. The men talk of savage natives lurking beyond the brush line; I suspect foul Celtic superstitions play their hands, and their wordy imaginations.
Day Five: Camp laid downstream, away from the coast. Here we have first encountered the dreaded puma-cat, as one leapt upon and tore my rigger-man asunder. Tonight I weep for him, and tenderly recall the nights I took his wife’s vagina.
Day Six: Ghouls! Beasts! The Devil’s infantrymen! Yes, I see them. See with mine own eyes! They walk this jungle, prowling like deranged, upright frogs; frogs that hold dear their wanton desire for the damnation of all of God’s creation! Tomorrow we shall engage these reptilian demons, and set forth in blessing this land under the Name of the Sacraments!
Day Eleven: I write in panic. Even now I hear the wretched, leathered beast-men and their cursed-tongued incantations through the Devil’s underbrush, like the steam off of a smartly drawn bath. Horrible, animal intruders into God’s domains! I shall set my men forth upon them, with the conscience and clarity of the Sacramental Words as their armaments, even as the fever and bleeding of the Devil’s very curse sets in upon us. I am too feverish to sleep. Nay, I shall comfort myself with thoughts of the Queen’s vagina.
Day Four-teen: Heat. Crush my soul, embrace my spirit, raise me to He which creates this struggle. I am low before you. Says the puma-cat, “your jest is observed, dear Lord. I obey.” Damn you, cat idolater! Turn to your spritely she-commanders, and bring forth our Redemption!
Day Six-teen: Our struggle seems to have run its course. Sixty-seven of my men have died, the majority of whom succumbing to the fever that besets us. Fortunately, our vile opponents have fared no better with regard to the unleashing of our Lord’s fairest judgment. Even now, the man-beasts and women lay amongst us, dead and dying within and amongst the harsh and cruel underbrush. I have instructed my men to burn the men,and leave the women to me. God calls upon me to inspect their vaginas.


Andre. Andre, it's okay. Andre... WHO TOLD ANDRE I WAS GOING AWAY? WHICH ONE OF YOU MOTH... no, no, Andre. I'm not yelling because I'm, hang on... LISTEN, WHICHEVER ONE OF YOU ASSHO... Andre, I'm sorry. I'm not going far, I'm only going for a short time. Yes, I'll be back in a week. I know, I know, it seems so long, especially seeing how awe...HEY, I HEARD THAT, YOU BAST...Andre, please. Let's play a game. You can go back to wearing a wig and smoking crystal meth until August 1st, and then I'll come back and everything will be just like it was when you were married to Brooke Shields. Better yet, let's get drunk and play this game, and it wilI be like you're married to Steffi Graf's body and Brooke Shields' face from 1985. I don't know what that means, but I've played that game, and it's awesome. Ready, set...go.

GhostOfTyrone will be back on August 1st. (ish)

Metaviews, Vol. 2

The questions from one interview, the answers from another.

ANDERSON COOPER: All right. So I've got some questions from the audience here.

Eric Williams from Texas: "What do you consider to be the most important event of your life so far? Was it being discovered, producing your first record, what?"

GENE SIMMONS: Ooh! Maybe it's a discussion we can have.

AC: All right, well, that leads us right into the next question. Soloman Obi has written in to you, Justin. And he asks: "How did you feel performing for Obama? Was it different from what would be a normal concert?"

GS: But let's not start something we're not going to finish.

AC: Lovely. Teehram from Pakistan: "What do you enjoy the most while being a superstar, my love? Do you like traveling, screaming girls, for example, or attending the awards ceremonies or shows or concerts?"

GS: Let me ask you something. Why is it shtick when all women have ever wanted ever since we've crawled out of caves is, Why can't a man just tell me the truth and just speak to me plainly? Though, if I do that -- you can't have it both ways.

AC: You have the most unbelievable following. Are you used to all these screaming fans by now?

GS: When you look at it, it says, "Boy that guy's got a lot of money." You know why I'm pulling your leg? Because I can't touch it from where I am. This is a serious kind of –

AC: D.J. Khaled from Nigeria. He's written in, Justin. And he says: "Being a celebrity at such a young age, have you gained or lost anything?"

GS: I will contend, and you try to disprove it, that the most important thing as we know it on this planet, in this plane, is, in fact, money. Want me to prove it?

AC: I don't think any of us like math.

GS: The first thing you need -- besides air, which so far is free, and by the way if you went scuba diving, you're paying for air -- the other thing besides that is food, it's what we need to survive. I don't know what other tool I would use besides money to buy it. Although, as a woman of course you have the ability to sell your body, then get the money, and then, with that, get food. But ultimately money is part of it. And so --

AC: Remain humble and you will go far.

GS: Really? How do you get food?

Metaviews, Vol. 1

The questions from one interview, the answers from another.

Oprah Winfrey: I had heart palpitations coming through the White House gate, recognizing that this really is now your home. It's the White House, and it's your home.

Jim Morrison: Could we start with something lighter?

Oprah: Your saying that makes me feel different than I've ever felt about the White House. When you say that, I actually do now, for the first time, think, "Yeah, it is the people's house." How did you come to understand that so clearly?
Jim:'s a couple of years old and if we had done it...well, we tried to do it at the time we were doing Waiting For The Sun, and it wasn't just didn't seem to make it in the studio, so we used one piece out of it, Not To Touch The Earth, and if we hadn't of put it on a live album, I think we would have just shelved it forever, so I'm glad that, even in the imperfect form, that it exists. I think it's better than if we'd never done it.
Oprah: What was your prayer the night before you moved into the White House?

Jim: ....Well...I...a....obviously you don't really talk about those things with people. It's kind of hard to talk about, but I would say...a...I don't think it was that bad...and...a...I never really noticed it too much except for...a...a...when you read magazine articles, but living in a town like don't notice that kind of thing. People are pretty...a...blaze about things like that.
Oprah: How did your feet feel at the seventh ball that night?
Jim: Oh, I liked it. I enjoyed it. I thought I was...a...I've always liked reptiles. I've always had a fondness for them. I mean we did evolve from reptiles and I'm...
Oprah: And how are you adjusting? What are your days like?

Jim:...Well...initially...I didn't start out to be a member of a band. I wanted to make films, and um write plays, books, and so when I found myself in a band, I wanted to bring some of those ideas into it. We never really did too much of it though.

Oprah: What are weekends like?
Jim: Sometimes it could be suicide...Sometimes it could be murder. There are a lot of ways people die...I don't really know.
Oprah: And how is your mother doing? I am so impressed with her. We had a conversation right before you moved, and she said she was going to make sure you all had your dinners as a family—but that she would not be at the table.

Jim: I think that really it was a life style that was on trial more than my specific incident. I guess that what it boiled down to was that I told the audience that they were a bunch of fucking idiots to be members of an know...what were they doing there anyway? The basic message was...realize that you're not really here to listen to a bunch of songs by some fairly good musicians. You're here for something else, and why not admit it and do something about it.
Oprah: Will kids get to visit the garden?
Jim: They had this beautiful ceremony down at the Garden Of Self Realization...outside. It was very nice. The next day, everyone split down to the tip of Baja for a week's vacation and they just got back and they want to have a meeting, and so I guess we're going to have to discuss the future. The group's at a critical point now, the crossroad in a way, but specifically we'll be talking about the new album we have to record in about a couple of weeks, so we'll probably be talking about that.

Oprah: It's wonderful that you want to be so inclusive. But do you get privacy when you need it?
Jim: The cops in L.A. are a...a... different....different than in most towns. They are idealists and they're almost fanatical in believing the rightness of their cause...of their profession. They have a whole philosophy behind their tyranny. Whereas, in most places the police are doing a job, but in L.A. I've noticed a real sense of righteousness about what they're doing, which is kind of scary.
Oprah: So you can take off your shoes.
Jim: A hero is someone who rebels, or seems to rebel, against the facts of existence and seems to conquer them, but obviously that can work at moments. It can't be a lasting thing...but that's not saying that people shouldn't keep trying to rebel against the facts of existence...Who knows, someday we might conquer death....and disease and war...
Oprah: That's so good to hear. Because you know what? We live in an American Idol culture where it seems like everyone just wants to be in the spotlight.
Jim: I think that the music has gotten progressively better...tighter...and more professional...more interesting. I just think that people resent the fact that...three years ago, if you remember, there was a great renaissance of spirit and emotion and revolutionary sentiment. When things didn't change overnight, I think people resented the fact that we were just still around doing good music.
Oprah: And how do we change the perception of what women should be able to handle? Parents have always needed help—but our generation decided that women should somehow do everything. Yet for thousands and thousands of years, parents had kids so that the kids could help them!

Jim: They...sometimes it could be an accident...

Oprah: Your saying that out loud is so powerful for women. And liberating. You're a mighty force. You know, I've wondered: Do you feel the glare of the fishbowl?
Jim: I can't decide whether to be a citizen of the world or to identify with a particular country, but I guess you really have no choice. I think that whatever happens, that America is the arena right now. It's the center of action even will take strong, fluid people to survive in a climate like ours, but I'm sure people will do it.
Oprah: What I see in you is a confidence that comes from such an authentic place. A reporter who interviewed me 10 years after she'd first met me said, "Gee, you're the same person—but it feels like you've become more of yourself." When did you get to be this much of yourself?

Jim: It was a very interesting trial. I've never seen the judicial system in action. The...a...the progress of a trial from the first day to the last, and I had to be there for every day--being the defendant--and it was fascinating. Very educational. I...I wouldn't have chosen to have gone through the experience, but...a while it was happening, all I could do was...
Oprah: So when did it hit you?
Jim: I was busted once in New Haven, CT., during a concert. Other than that. I haven't noticed it. But, when you’re travelling with a band, they usually give you...oh...I don't know...many people have had hassles...but we're a pretty sedate dopers, or sex maniacs, or anything like that. So we haven't really run up against too much harassment.

Late Show

Transcript of un-aired excerpt from the December 2004 “Late Show with David Letterman”
David Letterman: “Alright, uh, next guests. And, uh, wow. (Laughs). Our next guests have been around for 35…is that right? 35 years ladies and gentlemen, and they have been, uh, cool and hip the whole time. Cool and hip. (Laughs). Paul. Paul, can you tell me anyone else who has been cool and hip – cool and hip – for 35 years? Paul?
Paul Shaffer: David.
DL: (Laughs) Yes Paul. Uh, how are you tonight?
PS: I’m fine David. I feel cool and hip.
DL: Cool and hip.
PS: Stevie Wonder!
DL: (Pause, laughs) OK. Well, here they are… Ernie, Bert, Cookie Monster and Big Bird from Sesame Street!
DL: Hey gang (laughs). Yep, just uh, just sit on down, there you go. So, is this your first time in New York? (Laughs, audience laughter).
Big Bird: No David, we’ve all been here before. Haven’t we, guys?
(Others agree)
Ernie: We spent a lot of time here in the Seventies.
Bert: 54.
BB: 54.
DL: Well, okay. Say, you know, and uh, I only say this because your audience – you know, your audience – (audience laughter) have all gone to bed by this late hour, but this is the kind of city where a group of guys like you could really, you know, tie one on?
(Audience laughter)
Bert: That’s really behind me, David. Can we talk about my album now?
DL: Er, (laughs) well…
Ernie: Bert, we’ll all get to talk about what we want, like we said on the plane.
DL: (Pause, laughs) Yeah. Hey, you know, Paul and I were talking right before you guys came out, and, 35 years guys. Can you believe that?
BB: A lot has changed, that’s for sure. I think, well, I think that it’s starting to catch up with us.
(Others agree)
DL: Catch up, how so?
BB: Well, the other day we were doing an opening for a new shopping center near Pensacola, and there were Hooters girls there. (Audience laughter) And I’m talking to one of the kids who was on the show in the 80’s…
Ernie: Jason...
Cookie Monster: The coke one.
BB: Yep, and he’s there like someone is going to recognize him. And I’m thinking “Jesus”, you know? And then, I’m thinking…
Bert: I wrote a song about this. Can we please talk about my album?
DL: Sure, Bert, eh (laughs, looks at camera). Uh, Paul, have you heard this album?
PS: No David.
Bert: It’s called “The Tides of the Dance.” Anyway, the song is called “Can’t Fly.” Basically, it’s you on the dance floor, and you can’t fly. You just can’t. I wrote it after reading about a suicide bombing in Jerusalem. I thought “someone involved there definitely watched me growing up. Some one right now is watching this with their kid, yelling at the television, screaming"[CENSORED]! This is all [CENSORED]!
Ernie: Bert, Bert…

Bert: What are we doing here? We're lying. To children.
CM: Yeah, and then 9/11 happens, and what’s that all about?
DL: (Pause) (Audience laughter)
CM: So now that’s funny? I’ll tell you what’s funny. Have you seen any of those drawings that kids did after 9/11? The ones where everyone is falling out of the scariest looking flaming ladders you’ve ever seen, and these crazy dragon planes are flying all around, hanging right below that messed up sky kids draw, where they put all the blue at the top? Who do you think saw more of those, us or you?  (all silent, Bert shakes head). No, tell me, who?
BB: It was hard.
DL: It must have been. I can see that. Well, I really wish you guys the, uh, the best and, folks the 35th season of Sesame Street…
Bert: My album comes out the Tuesday before Christmas.
(Audience laughter)
Ernie: Sorry Dave.
DL: No, this is, uh (laughs)… Uh, Paul, this is uh…
PS: Hip and cool, David.
Ernie: No, Dave, it wasn't.
CM: Jet lag.
DL: Alright, please thank the guys from Sesame Street and we will be right back with Ciara and Missy Elliot.

The Recommendation Letter

July 6, 2011

Abbott State University
Hu/Manatees Department
3245 Lafayette BLVD
Salem GA 35261

To Whom It May Concern:

I will try to keep this brief, because this sort of thing kind of freaks me out, to be totally honest. And like Jeff, I like to play it straight. Let me repeat that: Jeff is straight. Not that it matters. And by that I mean, I'm actually not sure about that. Not important.

Anyway, I had no idea that Jeff was into science, let alone spicing up genes. To put it bluntly, I am not. I am a wordsmith, hence Jeff asking me to write this on his behalf. Here’s the point: I had heard for a while that Jeff wanted to study the Hu/Manatees, but when I tried to ask Jeff about this Hu/Manatee project, he seemed pretty confused. Again, I do not speak the language of science. I’m probably offending whoever is reading this right now, because I have learned that you science people are very analytical. You’re probably picking this apart right now, in some sort of uncomfortable metallic chair…but enough about you and me.

As far as Jeff’s qualifications for this project, I can provide the following anecdote:
One warm June evening several years ago, Jeff and I were returning home from our favorite restaurant, by foot, through the streets of Atlanta. Well, what should we find on the ground in front of us but a crisp, new twenty dollar bill? Nothing. That’s what we found: “A Jacko,” as Jeff fondly refers to them. Without missing a beat, Jeff says “I can’t walk anymore, bro. Let’s grab a cab.” I said “Jeff, this is a trap!” to which he coolly replied “dude, stop stealing my Ritalin.” With that, Jeff deftly motioned to the passing taxi, and we were home before I knew it. Since that night, I’ve been trying to think of a way to describe Jeff’s actions by using animals. Now it all makes sense: he had the cunning skills of a human, paired with the girth and grace of a manatee.

I just read that back to myself. Wow. It’s even more impressive when you read your own memories. The point here is: if there’s anyone qualified to splice the genes of a human and a manatee, it’s probably you. And you’ve decided you need help. Jeff can help you. Again, I really had no idea that Jeff was into science fiction, or stuff like this, but what I do know is that apart from everything I’ve said above, he’s also seen Saw IV like fifteen times, and I’m pretty sure he’s also seen that movie “The Re-Animator”, too. That’s pretty much EXACTLY this position, so, Jeff is your man.




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