My Brief Brushes With Greatness

Originally Written: 12/01/10

This image is not photoshopped in anyway.
It was taken in 1971 and I was dressed as RoboCop.

As my quest to meet Lily Allen continues, I thought now would be a good time to tell you about the other celebrities I have come into "contact" with in my life. This is important you see, because I was born with a misshapen spleen and a floating rib made of chalk in my body, which harnesses some of the GREATEST POWERS KNOWN TO MAN. Well, that's what I've been told anyway. It was supposed to start working around puberty, but it just never seemed to switch on. My organs are fucked, they just kind of move around the inside of me, really slowly. Almost all my intestines have been near my collar bone for over 6 months now.



So I went and chilled with a witch-doctor in South Peru, who was an asshole. He burnt me with his cigarette once on purpose, told me it was tradition and then he laughed. Anyways, he also told me that my internal turmoil would only truly break free of their spell once I had sucked the fame out of an unknown amount of celebrities around the world. Which seemed logical and I left feeling somewhat enlightened I guess. I knew it was worth the shot anyway, and I set about on my quest. This is how far I have come:




Famous For:
A top supermodel of the 1990's, and she married David Copperfield.

The Story:
When I was like 12 years old or something, I had a massive crush on Claudia. I collected a bunch of her pictures and showed them off like she was my girlfriend. One day some 7th Grader promised me that he had her signature, and he would trade it for the pictures. I would've jizzed in my pants if I was a year older. I agreed, and sure enough, he brought me her signature the very next day. In the end, it was a fake and a cruel joke, so maybe this entry doesn't count.


Famous For:
Drummer for SlipKnoT. Lesser known as the guitarist for Murder Dolls, and even lesser known for other stuff too.

The Story:
I was in Australia and I went to see SlipKnoT. One of the drummers (I like to pretend it was Joey) threw his drumstick in the crowd. I was nowhere near it and didn't even see it. But after the show I was standing in the queue to take a piss and the guy next to me had it in his hand. He let me touch it with my index finger. I sighed with relief and he looked at me like I had just puked on him.


Famous For:
Bassist for Hole and The Smashing Pumpkins. Also done some solo stuff.

The Story:
I went to see Smashing Pumpkins when I was 17 or so in Cape Town. D'arcy had just been kicked out of the band for DRUGS and Hole bassist Melissa Auf Der Maur was filling in. At the very end of the show, she threw her plectrum into the crowd and my sister caught it. I was so pissed off with my sis, I pretty much expected her to give it to me, but she didn't. Anyways, I did touch it and my insides vibrated.
I spent the whole next morning phoning every hotel in Cape Town trying to track them down, and actually did find one that had a "James Iha" who had just checked out :/


Famous For:
Singing in the Nu-Metal band Dry Kill Logic.

The Story:
Who is Dry Kill Logic? Exactly. But at the time, I really liked them because I was 15 years old and NU-METAL WAS SO SICK MAN.
Anyways, I found their email address somewhere, and mailed them pretending I was a journalist in South Africa. I said I wanted to interview them for a magazine and the singer Cliff Rigano responded, saying "ok".
I sent him 10 questions I pulled out my ass and he answered them. I totally tricked a lead singer signed to Roadrunner Records, nice.
However, it didn't do much for me, they just weren't famous enough.


Famous For:
Singing in the Post-Hardcore band The Blood Brothers. Also involved with The Vogue, Neon Blonde and Jaguar Love.

The Story:
This is a big one, as The Blood Brothers are still one of my favourite artists ever. Their album Burn Piano Island, Burn (produced by Ross Robinson) had just come out, and I was hooked man, really hooked.
So I searched and searched the net for an email address, and I eventually somehow found their oooold official website which was obviously made before they were famous. And it had an email address.
I mailed and Johnny Whitney responded, and he was my favourite. I was all like "OMG YOU LYK FKN RULEZ MAN LULZ" and he was very decent about it. He was quite amazed that his music had reached me in South Africa, and started to ask a lot of political questions.
I hate politics. Somewhere along the line I think I told him that "yes, people were dying in the streets, but nowhere near I lived", and my general message probably came across really apathetic and borderline discriminatory. I wish I had of worded it better, but it was too late, he stopped responding to my mails. BUT I'LL FORGIVE YOU JOHNNY BOY.


Famous For:
Singing in the Post-Grunge band Seether.

The Story:
Before Seether there was Saron Gas. Important difference: Saron Gas was pretty much the biggest South African Rock Band around 2001 and they deserved it. Then they got signed to the American label Wind-Up Records in 2002, changed their name to Seether, and sounded like every other watered-down Wind-Up band that exists.
Shaun did fuck Amy Lee from Evanescene though, so his organs must've been going ape-shit.
Anyways, I went to one of their shows when they were still South African and playing at Mercury Live in frontof a small(ish) crowd. People were stage diving, so I got up on stage, moshed around with them a bit and then jumped into a sea of hands. It was awesome.
After the show I ran back stage like a good little groupie and asked Shaun Morgan (who was known as Shaun Welgemoed at the time) to sign my album cover. He did so, and a drop of sweat landed on his freshly marked signature. "Sorry" he apologised.
He had no idea that I was planning to eat the entire cover when I got home.


Famous For:
Picking up girls and teaching people how to do the same.

The Story:
I know you don't know who he is, but when I met him, I knew of him well. He is pretty much the guru of picking up chicks, arguably the original Pick Up Artist. Read Neil Strauss' The Game, because it is an excellent book and introduced me to Ross' work. It even talks about how the guy ran around like a dog after Carmen Electra trying to sniff her ass. She's pretty famous.
ANYWAYS, I won a free seat at one of his seminars over Twitter, worth $1500 so I was stoked. It was 3 days worth of Nero-linguistic Programming and Hypnotism, the whole thing was kinda weird. I got to shake his hand ("Your hand is sweaty! Everyone wipe your hands BEFORE you touch me" he said to me) and take the above photo.
Whilst I did get celeb-shock and blurted out my words like I had some kind of speech disorder, it still wasn't enough to really power-up my chalk rib. This is because PUA is lame and now I pick up chicks using drugs and money.


Famous For:
Pretending to beat people up.

The Story:
Oh yeah! Seven-Time World Wrestling Entertainment Champion! Can you feel that shit? CAN YOU!?!? I have his signature bitches! Read it and weep He signed my fucking January issue of the official WWF magazine when I was 8 years old. So what you gonna do now, huh?
Yeah, then you get older, and you don't care anymore. But like or not, Bret Hart has that magical thing called "Fame", and I have his signature. It's in my January issue of the official WWF magazine. And that is why whenever things are going my way, I like to take a moment, pause and say "Thank You Bret. Thank You."


Famous For:
"Singing" for The Streets.

The Story:
Mike Skinner is well famous, proper like. I am a big fan, I even have his lunchbox and trading cards. So when I looked in the newspaper and realized he was playing a show just down my road at the Roundhouse, I was all like "should we go?" and my housemate was all like "yeah, let's go" and so we went.
The show was mind-blowing, and using our "pretend it's all just meat™" method, we pushed our way to the front.
At the very end of the show, Mike jumped into the crowd. Everyone surged towards him, and I could see his arm in range. I lunged as hard as I could, and my floating rib sparked and rattled as my hand gripped onto his wrist. I could feel his fame getting sucked into my very being, and he noticed it too. He yanked his wrist from my dirty fingers and was gone, carried away by the waves of people. But I have a part of him now. Oh yes, Mike. I have a part of you now.


Famous For:
Singing for The Deftones.

The Story:
Deftones are one of those bands that have never sucked. As the people's taste changes, this band effortlessly slides into new sounds and everyone loves them. All the while their competition melts away into has-beens and what-nots.
In 2009 I went to their show at the HMV forum. The show was wicked, I was at the front, and I never wanted it to end. Not surprisingly, it did end, but just before they walked off stage Chino started to slap the hands of the front row audience. I stuck my hand out as far as I could, and willed with all my might "you will touch this hand". And he did.
This is bigger than it sounds, as this is the only example where someone in the "famous" region has touched me on their own accord. It was a brief slap, but I haven't washed my hand since and my deformed insides remember this as the closest it has come to awakening.


As you can see I'm not doing to well. You just read an entire blog about a guy who has actually never met anyone famous in his whole life. How does that make you feel?

At least now you know the truth of why I want to meet Lily Allen. You can stop asking. It's not because I like her or that I even know who she is. It's just that she is famous, and once I get my photograph, my mutated guts will surely have enough power to summon a demon or make money or something. I mean, surely, right? Right?? SURELY.

Eventually I am going to try and make out with Paul McCartney regardless of what happens.

Thanks for reading my blog,
Love Jared



OUTTAKES


This one literally just happened. Buck Angel is pretty much the most famous guy in the world who has a vagina. I tweeted him with "I watched some of your porn and I threw up a little in my mouth. Keep up the good work." and he responded with "HAA!! Awesome glad I could help! WOOF".
Not totally famous, but the dude has a vagina, c'mon.


David Firth is the "Salad Fingers" guy, but he does loads of other and better stuff too. He is making some kind of full-length feature, and he blogs about it here. I commented and asked a bunch of questions and he answered. Yay, I am a massive fan.


If you know Reggae, you know this guy. When I was 11 years old or so, I did not know Reggae. I was on a plane to go somewhere, and this massive rasta group was there. They all looked stoned AND I BET THEY WERE. When the air hostess asked the one guy for an autograph, I knew something was up.
I turned around and said to the guy "Are you in a band?" and he said "That's what they tell me mon". Only 5 years later did I realize how cool Burning Spear was, but by that time it was too late, the organs had missed it.


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Happy Birthday Jesus!

Originally Written: 17/12/09

It all began, as things do, in my head. It was a slow click, and it didn’t make sense. Why was it that some of my friends were hell-bent on arguing that there was a tooth-fairy that snuck into their rooms, replacing the useless teeth with small change like some kind of currency? This bullshit was beyond me. For everyone knew it was a tooth-mouse, right?

Because that made sense, and in hind-sight, was definitely more logical than a fairy. I had seen mice, I knew what they were made of. Even in recent years I can testify that a mouse is more than capable of entering under the door and scratching under my bed, and I have never seen a fairy do this. So the concept of a friendly mouse with an excess of human money wasn’t that weird for a seven year old kid. But a fairy? That was a whole new can of worms. If one was to believe in fairies, well then you might as well believe in gnomes and goblins, dragons and the Tokoloshe. Mice exist, I swear to god, I have seen them.

Now, I think I would’ve accepted this if girls believed in the fairy theory, while guys believed in the mouse. The fairy is not only a more feminine mythical creature, but girls obviously had no idea what they were talking about. They had cooties after all, and who knows what the fuck else. But why would my seemingly intelligent guy friends believe in such an atrocity? I just had to ask.

“Mom?” I approached the subject carefully on a day I will never forget. “Is the tooth-mouse really real?” Her face changed, it was slightly amused as if she knew this day would come. Maybe even proud that her son was growing up. She pulled me into the study to make sure my little sister didn’t hear her.

“No, he isn’t, Jared.”
Ok, that I could handle.
“And the Easter Bunny?”
“No Jared”
Ouch. Ok, ok. Maybe all isn’t lost though.
“And Father Christmas??”
“No.”

It swelled up inside me. It couldn’t be. I had put so much faith into this man. The man that in many ways had over-shadowed Jesus as the true giver, the hero celebrity of Christmas.

“No!” I eventually cried “No! He is real! I know it!”
“Ok, yes Jared, you’re right, he is real.” She turned away.

That didn’t sit right with me. The dream was over, there was no magical fat man who would climb down my chimney (a chimney which didn’t even exist). My fucking dad was eating the cookies, which was almost more unfair than anything else. I had been tricked by my own parents. I was a sucker, a pre-teen, ignorant sucker. How had I been such a fool?

You better watch out, you better not cry,
You better not pout, I'm tellin' you why,
Santa Claus is coming to town.
He's making a list, he's checking it twice,
He's gonna find out who's naughty and nice,
Santa Claus is coming to town.

It’s amazing that any of us could sleep at night. It was a game our parents loved to play, a sadistic laugh every time they used the Christmas excuse to keep us in check. "Don't do that Jared, Santa is watching" which is a scarier thing to hear than "Satan is watching" at that age.

But no, not me, no more, I was in the know.

Of course, the next Christmas was even better. No longer was I paranoid that the quality of my presents was weighed by an old man watching my good and bad deeds. I wanted what I wanted, and it was my parents who got it for me, or failed. Oh the joy! The realization! The freedom! And it finally made sense why this powerful man skipped those in poverty every year.

St. Nicholas was real though, we all know that. A giver, the true Santa who used to give to the poor and earned the nickname Nicholas the Wonderworker. He was the original model of Santa, the reason why we thought the latest remote-control car or Barbie’s play-house came from The North Pole. And yet, his story is criminally overlooked, and I want to pay homage to him here.

Many legends have developed surrounding the saint. Most people know that he used to put coins in people's shoes when they left them out of their houses. But did you know that he once resurrected 3 children after they were slaughtered by an evil Butcher and sold for meat? I mean, that's got to be true. Then again, if I was cut into little bits, I'd rather stay dead, but each to their own. He also once threw money in a poor man's window so he could afford to get his daughters to marry people and get out of his house. So yeah, he was obviously really rich, but a kind rich man is better than a kind poor man, trust me.

St. Nicolas day generally falls on the 6th of December. Nobody knows this, and yet we still celebrate a model of his actions 19 days later. Plus, St. Nick didn’t have a factory of toys. And whoever came up with the fucking elves idea (just a glorified version of child-labour) is beyond me. Who named the reindeer? And how much time did we waste learning all these stupid facts?

Fun and games aside, there is a real reason why we celebrate Christmas, one that pre-dates any Santa-myth. The most famous person that ever existed: Jesus Christ himself.

Now I must prewarn, I have many Christian friends. And I am all for that, find your own way to worship God (or whatever you want) I think it is important. But if you get a little squeamish when your views are challenged, I mean no harm, please stop reading.

I believe in Jesus, I do. I think a story of that magnitude had to start somewhere. I used to wear a cross everyday as a respect to that, an icon that changed history to such a degree that wars have been fought in his “honour”. And on the 25th of December, 3 wise men followed a bright star and found the miracle baby, the savior, Jesus Christ.

Except this didn’t happen quite like we have been told. I’m sorry, but the proof is under your nose, if you choose to look. The Bible itself never even mentions the 25th of December, in fact it has been said that Jesus was born during Summer as it would be unusual for shepherds to be “abiding in the field” during December when fields were unproductive. Scholars generally agree it would be more likely that Jesus was born in September. So much for those naivety plays you did in Junior School - there is no mention of a donkey, a stable or even the innkeeper ANYWHERE in the Bible.

So where did this come about? Why the hell are we giving presents to each other; parents eating cookies and scaring naughty kids; extra long church sermons remembering the birth of the saviour etc? All without any historically accurate literature (including the Bible) relating the significance of this day to... well... anything?

Thanks to the blasphemous Da Vinci Code and Zeitgeist, the facts have been quite wide-spread. Almost every tradition in the Christian religion was stolen from Pagan cultures. Mithras, Osiris, Adonis, and Dionysus were all "born" on the 25th. All of this is crap, however, because what we are really celebrating here is the day that the Sun reverses its southward retreat, which was significant to those peeps living in BC who loved The Sun so much that we can actually trace almost every form of organized worship to the fiery ball in the sky. And I am all for that, I fucking love The Sun.

So there you have it. We are still just celebrating something that was put in place by people who thought the earth was flat and that we were the center of the universe. Progression my ass, you guys are still a bunch of monkeys. Not me tho, I'm kind of like a rubix cube.

Anyways, regardless of The Sun, Jesus or Santa: Christmas is a joyous day. I love it. The vibe is unmistakable, old people indulge in extra wine, the food is superior, there is unity. It’s the day of giving and receiving, about feeling good, about making others feel good. And even the most heathenistic of us all can see the positivety in that. But whether you use this day to eat too much, to connect to your Lord, to love your family, or to get stuff... remember that it's all a crock of shit and you are an idiot.

Have a Merry Christmas.
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