Random Observations

[Guest Kotzenjunge]

With the lack of a steady thing to do on here other than remark on other people's foibles and opinions, I've discovered that there is a lot I want to say that has nothing to do with anything in discussion at the present time. I mean, when I was a Maximum Proconsul, I, you know, had something to do. True, writing something like this is a considerable step down from owning five continents indirectly, but you do what your options allow.

 

So this is the first installment of what will probably be a weekly thing, or if clamored for more by the masses, biweekly, possibly daily if reaction gets that good.

 

In all actuality, this will get little response, but ah well.

 

RANDOM OBSERVATIONS FOR AUGUST 24TH, 2002

 

Soundtrack for this week: My Winamp playing my KaZaA shared folder. Why does Scott Keith think we give a crap what he's listening to?

 

Hold off on the craziness for a little while, as I need to describe my evening. Tonight I went to the Sertoma Classic, which has become something of an institution in this area(everything south of Columbia in South Carolina). Over two nights, Thursday and Friday, twenty four high school football teams compete in one quarter exhibitions, and is really more about the fans than anything, since there is a spirit competition and stuff, the winner of Thursday meeting the winner of Friday for the title of Grand Champion, and if I am remiss on the title, it needs to be changed. Six quarter games are played on each night, with a bunch of boring teams with a couple of actually talented ones with boring fans playing on Thursday, and another bunch of boring teams with one or two more talented ones with hype fans playing on Friday. James Island(my alum) played tonight, so I went.

 

Some of the people there I hadn't seen all summer with the exception of people I worked with. My former assistant Academic Team coach had a weird white-boy Jerry Curl going on, so I didn't know who the hell he was when he said hello. My reaction of "Oh Shit! It's Tucker!" was not really noticed since he's only 23, but it still gets Line of the Night honors. No one noticed the beard, for reasons stated below.

 

My barber totally killed my beard today when I went in for a haircut and a trim. I had to take my glasses off for the haircut, so when he asked me how much I wanted my beard trimmed, he used his goatee as an example. In my bad vision, it looked like a good length. Unfortunately, it barely qualifies as a line of stubble on my jaw now. I was pimping the Lincoln beard you see. So yeah, no one noticed it.

 

My attire for the evening: All black, with the exception of my blue with white pinstriped "newspaperboy hat." If you can think of a better name for one of those hats that Trips used to wear backwards, I'm glad to hear it. I had to keep a marker on me, as my fingernails lost their blackness about halfway through the night. I just went into the section of a team that had already played(thus lacking in fans) and touched it up. I need to find some black paint fo sheez. It was useful for giving my number to a girl on her stomach. No paper, shirt autographed by everyone, arms... why didn't anyone think of the arms? I didn't do it, one of her friends did... weird people.

 

I stuck out like a sore thumb in all black, but it was for good reason. I was going to head over to another section of another school that a girl I knew went to. I felt a need to be able to go between schools without wearing any identifying colors. Unfortunately, it kinda killed my fervor for my (former) school's team. Our colors are blue and orange, so imagine how I stuck out. I got hype, but not as much as I normally would. This is all from a person who at Homecoming last year was Trojanman(we're the Trojans), including a blue Afro wig, Yin-Yang paintjob on my face with 20 on one cheek and 02 on the other, orange dress shirt(a gem from my uncle's 70s collection), blue cape, blue tie, white undershirt saying "The SENIOR Whole F'n Show!", and blue jeans with 20 on one leg and 02 on the other, whose legs are rolled up to reveal my socks with the orange JI's on them.

 

I was a regular Gus Gloomy. People looked at me funny when I'd cheer, as if I wasn't supposed to or something. Disheartening, even though that was the reaction I was going for. There wasn't much to cheer for anyway, as our team managed to fumble three times in the one quarter exhibition and thus make our opponents, a mediocre-to-bad team, look great. Fortunately, like I said, they aren't very good, so the final ended up being 7-0. I was going to dance if we scored, and bust out a crip walk if we won, along with a dance number I'd do next to the cheerleaders that would blow them away. Speaking of blowing, on to the girl I knew.

 

She went to another school, so I went to their section. She was part of the throng of people occupying the bottom part of the stands though, as there were Local TV crews there getting crowd shots and stuff. I just talked with the boyfriend of one of her friends and then perked up when I saw that she was on her way back up into the stands after the camera went away. I think my black was camoflauge somehow, because she NO-SOLD my existence. Pretty odd considering when I saw her earlier and didn't say anything, she got annoyed that I was ignoring her. She must have an attention quota from each person, and when it's filled, she doesn't talk to them anymore. Anyways, she was acting like a total crackhead, one of those bad unentertaining crackheads. She has White Bread Girlitis, which is a disease tame girls have. This disease has symptoms like:

 

Going "Whoo!" all the damn time, and Ric Flair is nowhere nearby(Not the Flair Whoo, I guess this means they're wild or something)

Lots of denial of being a crackhead(real wild people, or at least interesting people, play along)

Seemingly doing a weird mild seizure/dance constantly and opening their mouths, sort of singing a song to themselves(you know, where they just can't sit still because they're in a music video in their little world)

Doing the little lift-up-the-skirt thing(This adds some kind of erotic appeal I suppose)

 

Whatever, you get the idea. Sheltered girls acting like they actually have a wild side, when watching Animal Planet("for that funny Aussie guy LOL") is as close to wild as they get. I no-sold her bordering-on-insane behaviour and talked to her friend, who had yet to say a single word, and therefore was more entertaining than the one I was originally wanting to talk to. She sort of paid attention to me(think Mark Henry sort of selling Angle's offense), but then they left and I had to go back to my school again. Since she goes to a Catholic school, I hadn't seen a minority for a looooong time, and was glad to enter the melting pot of my school's section again, where... everyone was gone!!! Like I said, after the games, the fans leave. I talked to the only fun people left(black people), and walked out of the stadium. It was during this period I noticed that I get along with black people much more than white people. They're just plain more fun as a whole.

 

Oh! The bathrooms at this place. There were stalls, okay, fine. As for folks who didn't need to #2, there was what I'm calling the Pisswall. It was a pipe about five feet high dripping water down a wall, with a series of drains, and the part that water touched was cordoned off by a small brick barrier. I walked in there and just stared blankly at the Pisswall, then decided to go for a stall instead. Before I went into one, I saw that all of the toilet paper was on one six foot long bar hanging above the two middle stalls(out of eight). Remind me never to go to a Citadel football game when the majority of the crowd isn't teenagers who would mind this kind of waste disposal. As I turned to leave, sure enough, a guy was turned to the Pisswall, draining the lizard. On a funny note, this was when I figured out what the Pisswall was. I thought maybe someone had smashed all the urinals as a joke or something, after all, it is a campus that has hazing and something called Hell Week for freshmen.

 

So I left the stadium and went to look for my ride. It didn't come until 10:34, and it was 9:54 when I left the stadium, after telling them to be in a certain place at 10:00, since it would take me a little while to walk from the stadium to the place I had said to park(a park on the river nearby). They said they'd park next to the Police Station(which was also very close). Fine, okay. So I go to the Police Station, and I don't see them. I was also insanely thirsty, so I went across the street to the baseball stadium(AAA, Riverdogs) to see if they had any water fountains. I don't know what inning it was since that part of the scoreboard wasn't working, presumably late though since a lot of people were leaving despite a tie score. I walked right into the place, even though I was a sweaty weirdo with black fingernails and a black shirt over his shoulder. I had on an undershirt, so I wasn't walking around topless or anything. I walked past two police officers at the gate, didn't say a word. I walked into the ballpark itself, no one said anything. I watched a few pitches and an out from the entranceway to that section, nothing. I was happy that I could do this if I ever got bored and didn't feel like paying for a ticket, but I still had to find a water fountain, because all the yelling and such had dehydrated me terribly when put together with the 900% humidity of Charleston on a summer evening. The water was warm. I guess we can't have it all.

 

I waited outside the stadium for a while, since my ride would have to pass it, and got home around 11:30 after a stop at the grocery store. I banged out a roleplay for an E-fed I'm in and then came on here to make all of your lives brighter.

 

Now, for actual observations:

 

I may have only spent a few minutes in the ballpark itself, but seeing the clientele of the stadium coming and going out of the gate really made me mad about the strike, especially the sight of a grandfather and his small grandson, which immediately made me think of my grandfather and I doing this same thing eleven or twelve years ago, when I'd be the kid's age. As I sat on the curb, another kid with a glove that looked huge on his hand and a full-size bat sat down near me. He had a ball too, presumably a foul one someone larger than him had caught and given to him. Boy, was he happy about that ball. I saw a lot of kids there. Kids who were enjoying a night at the ballpark. It was all so wholesomely All-American that it kinda chokes me up. Fathers explaining rules to their sons, uninterested females, people eating hot dogs, applauding every out(I could still hear stuff outside the stadium, since it's minor league and thus not that big), all those little things that made baseball a family sport. I guarantee that no one there spent a lot of money either. Now the best players will be gone from our lives indefinitely. I say Good. Good for minor leagues. They may not function as farm systems or not, I don't know how such things work in strike time, but attendance will increase and more kids will get to know what it's like to go to see an afternoon game, since they couldn't go to the big league game because daddy couldn't fork out so much money. Whatever. You get the idea. Strike = Bad for Major League baseball. They're the ones who have ratings and stuff to worry about.

 

Now to drop the serious stuff and get back to what I'm best with: Um... well, I'm not really good at anything, but I can make farcical jokes and stuff.

 

Mozarella sticks are awesome. I ate twelve of the things last night while playing Simcity 3000, and didn't get the runs! Amazing!

 

Was what led some musicians to turn into know-it-all activists, hippies, vegans and such us calling them "artists" for the first time? Of course, I'll still sing along with them. I just won't give a crap about things they write or things they say.(for those curious, this was prompted by a Moby song coming on Winamp)

 

If The White Stripes nor Eminem win Best Video of the Year, I'm going to be supremely pissed. White Stripes rule anyway, and the video was a great concept. If you squint while watching it, it gets even better. Eminem's video is just all around gold. It gets better the more I see it, oddly. I still do the "Hey!" thing every time, popping up to a standing position and spreading my arms out. Hey!

 

E.C. Ostermeyer or whoever it was on 411wrestling.com's SummerSlam reviews column, comparing the SummerSlams over the years, was Scott Keith sparknotes word for word. Talking about 2001, the writer even said it was the best BASED on Keith's ratings!

 

Sometimes saying "I feel like I've been taking crazy pills!" is all we can say.

 

Am I the only one disappointed that the original Smarks got lives and thus don't write as much on the 411 subsite anymore, or am I just afraid that one day I'll get a life myself?

 

Blind Date is a tremendous television program. Tragic it only lasts a half hour. Truly one of the funniest things on television now. The scary part is that I'm almost in their age range to be on there.

 

Which reminds me, I think I'll make a tape for The Real World next time they ask for them. I honestly think I'd be great on there. I could get along with the upper middle class black guy, bisexual female, gay Asian man, emotionally unstable artist of some kind, normal guy, and the super-duper ladies man guy. I could be the... well, then again, they might not like me on there, I don't fit their idea of a cast member. Is there any reason they still call it that? Take seven people off the street, even 18-22 year olds, like on the show, at random. THERE IS NO CHANCE IN HELL YOU'D GET THAT KIND OF UNGODLY MICROCOSM. Remember: Class, Ethnic, and Sexual Conflict = RATINGS!

 

My "Finally The Spoon has come back to..." line no longer has the panache it once had. Life imitates art.

 

Public props to Dames for his NWA reviews, which have helped me pay attention to NWA without actually buying the shows. I told him last night that I liked 'em, but felt it should be made public and maybe give his reviews some hits. He'll thank me later.

 

I want a blackbox so badly.

 

Maybe I'll just build a big-ass satellite dish in my yard and hook it up to the TV. Fargo Public Access may be interesting for all I know.

 

Props to all the SmartMarks writers actually. Kinetic's Britney Spears magazine interview summary was brilliant, because one doesn't normally review interviews in textual form. I mean, all he had to do was read. Also, he walked the tightrope between the pits of not liking Britney's new behaviour and liking her behaviour, but being sarcastic about it.

 

Personally, I'm glad she's acting like a real person her age. How old is she now? 20? Hmm, in my range, and she said being her turns guys away... I could give her a little Italian and Irish to add to her... um, what IS she? There isn't an Atlantis, so I know her geneaology couldn't have come from there.

 

SummerSlam looks to be a good show... maybe. I'm ordering it, but looking forward to it with reservations. I say Brock wins in 13 rounds with a knockout and Benoit hits a gamewinning homerun to beat RVD, which oddly leads RVD to face Brock in the Super Bowl in January, after Brock kills Undertaker in the World Series, Jericho in the Winston Cup Series, and Edge in the NHL Finals. Oh yeah, look out for me reviewing SummerSlam in a tongue-in-cheek way late Sunday night sometime on here. It'll be in the WWE folder because I want people to see it, dammit.

 

I have finally exhausted my material. Now to take a week for this to build up again. Kinda like garbage or mildew, depending on your taste in air freshener.

 

Nah, it's not late...

 

This Week's Musical Gem: My Block, by Scarface. A delightful song of childhood and solidarity among neighbors, to a great piano-driven beat.

 

I'm done. Toodles, see you next week.

 

Fo sheez,

Kotzenjunge

(Patrick Spoon)

[The Dames 0]

Yay! I got a plug!

 

Dames

[Guest Kotzenjunge]

Twenty views, one reply. Welcome to the world of columns, Patrick!

 

Fo sheez,

Kotzenjunge

[Guest treble charged]

I've heard the type of hat you're referring to called a 'poor-boy' hat before.

 

Good job, though.

[Guest justsoyouknow]

Cool.......

 

Fingernail polish? Can I call you "Emo Boy"?

[Guest Incandenza]

Twenty views, one reply. Welcome to the world of columns, Patrick!

 

Fo sheez,

Kotzenjunge

And it doesn't get any better when you write for the main page, believe me. Good work, though.

[Guest Retro Rob]

Why did you have to relate that horrid barber story? You see, I've been growing in my hair and sideburns for a good months. I look like a thinner Elvis with blond tips and highlights. Anyway, with schol starting, I figured it would be a good time to get a trim. So on Monday I'll be going to the barber. Until then I'll be crossing my fingers that he doesn't butcher two months worth of work.

[Guest Incandenza]

I'm a head shaver, and have only twice in my life had a "professional" do it, and BOTH times they fucked it up. Each time, I found myself the next day with a pair of tiny scissors cutting the little scragglers they would miss.

 

So, up until this past Thursday, I had a friend of mine do it. The man always does a superb job, but I felt I had been taking advantage of his kindness for too long, so I have started doing it myself. And, I must say, I did far better job than someone who gets paid to do this sort of thing. (I mean, how hard is it to SHAVE SOMEONE'S FUCKING HEAD?!?!?!)

[Guest evenflowDDT]

That sucks about your beard Kotz... why, I just recently trimmed my "Lincoln beard" myself... now it's safely down to beatnik/"I'm an artist, STUPID!" length, which will be good for college.

 

Don't worry about not getting any replies. This has gotten more replies than all of my columns combined... plus, speaking of not getting a reply, if I may make a random observation of my own, I tried to call two of my new housemates two days ago and NO REPLY! NONE! Stupid message machine and *82 b.s...

[Guest DeputyHawk]

Mmm, South Carolina high school football culture. I somewhat foolishly participated in an exchange program to Spartanburg SC a few years back. Quite the culture shock from Edinburgh. I loathed the experience at the time but in retrospect met a lot of cool people and succeeded in living a completely different life for a few months. Pep rallies. Wild. Are the Columbia Gamecocks still sticking valliantly to their injudicious mantle? Interesting ramble by the way. Hope SC is more receptive to black painted finger nails than it was in 1995, otherwise a fractured orbital bone it shall be for you.

[Guest Kotzenjunge]

Don't ever, EVER call me an Emo kid. As for the Spartanburg experience, which school were you sent to? I only ask because it would probably be Dorman, which excels at seemingly EVERYTHING, football, soccer, baseball, basketball, academic team, golf, tennis... they have trophies literally all over their school. They never run out of room, because they have roughly seven million students. Meanwhile at our school, we were forced to remove most of our Academic Team trophies, which account for literally 70% of the trophy case.

 

Pep Rallies OWN. I miss those so badly.

 

And sorry to frighten you about barbers, everyone who was. I go to one of those few small shops that are left, where middle-aged dudes literally hang around and shoot the breeze all the time. I may not get the best job done on me, but dammit, the human value is worth it.

 

And thanks to everyone for responding. Too bad the people who write for the actual site don't get this much. CRIMINAL! I says, CRIMINAL!

 

Fo sheez,

Kotzenjunge

[Guest DeputyHawk]

Mmm, Dorman High School it was. Strange days. That school used to have lots of race problems, I don't know how it is now. Spartanburg's a funny old place. I miss America. Might hire a camper van and do a trek across the lower end of the country, take in New Orleans and Arizona. Ah, to have money and freedom...

[Guest Kotzenjunge]

New Orleans RULES. Never been to Arizona though.

 

Race problems in the southeastern United States? Get the fuck outta here!

 

Fo sheez,

Kotzenjunge

[Guest DeputyHawk]

Racial hatred was pretty scary shit for a little fish-out-of-water scottish kid abroad. We only really dislike the english, and that's mostly tongue-in-cheek anyway. Race riots and bomb-threats from the klan and cloned men in flannel shirts with pick-ups and missing teeth was not on the exchange propaganda. Fun year though, all told. New Orleans does indeed rule. Are you a Santeria fan, teutonic sick boy?

[Guest Kotzenjunge]

No, not at all. I'm a Nothingism fan.

 

And glad someone picked up that A)my name is German, and B)it involves vomit.

 

Fo sheez,

Kotzenjunge

[Guest J*ingus]

Race riots and bomb-threats from the klan and cloned men in flannel shirts with pick-ups and missing teeth was not on the exchange propaganda.

What the hell happened to you?! I live in Tennessee, and let me tell you that race riots and the Klan doing anything but sitting around and drinking are exceedingly rare in these parts. I mean, they hated you because you're Scottish? That's not exactly a rare or oft-hated-upon group of people. I mean, God, Mike Myers was doing the "if it's not Scottish, it's CRAP!" skit before 1995. For sheez, I was served by a Scottish waitress at Waffle House tonight. It's not like your race is compromised of black Jewish/Wiccan AIDS-infected illegal alien transgendered lesbians or something similar that the good ol' boys would despise. What did you do to get THAT kind of reaction?

[Guest Kotzenjunge]

(marks out for Jingus saying "fo sheez")

It's starting to catch on! Whoopee!

 

Fo sheez,

Kotzenjunge

[Guest DeputyHawk]

I was never the direct target of the racial abuse, just caught up in the middle of it. Was called out for sitting in the 'Asian section' of the lunch-hall on my first day and given quite a lot of stick for it, but other than that I was just a naive observer to the nastier side of intolerance. I was so dumb, I didn't even know the Klan still existed in America until I saw a uniform in something called the Redneck Shop in Spartanburg SC. This was shocking to me at the time. Still is now, actually.

 

I did get beat up for wearing nail varnish and an REM (!) shirt, which apparently didn't conform to the local dress code but nothing racist about that, just me trying to be a wise ass to what I saw as a small-minded jerk, and failing miserably.

 

For New Orleans, Voodoo's so all encompassing at a push you could spin it right round into nihilism, pour some rum on it, sit back and warm your hands as a whole worldview melts into a waxy confued blob. Very exciting, misunderstood religion. What is fo sheez, please?

 

I remember Mike Myers' SNL Scottish Soccer Hooligan Weekly sketches from my time there. Genius. "One time I woke up in a horse, hacked my way free of my equine cocoon..." It's funny coz it's true.