Actually, to be even honester, I think the most appealing factor about maintaining a blog is that, while there's the possibility for it to be read by anyone, thereby making it something of a catharsis, it will, in all likelihood, be read by absolutely no one (With exception, of course, to the fine, fine employees at the DHS; how's it hangin', fellas?). I may, in the future, decide to share this blog with a few individuals; however, exactly when that will be all depends on if I feel I've returned to form. For the time being, I will stick to the credo that worked wonders for me in high school: Silence is goldie.
So, under the premise that I am posting my first blog in over two years, I thought it would be best if I re-introduced myself to the blogging community. To do that, I've arranged for a highly-respected (albeit deceased) American philosopher to sit down and conduct an interview with me, asking questions, as it turns out, compiled from a few of these chain surveys that seem to get ceaselessly passed around the Internet. Some of these questions are somewhat common, others are not; likewise, some of my responses are more humourous than others. Hopefully, this will give you, the reader, an idea of what direction this blog is going to take. So, without any further adieu, I give you...
FEAR OF A BLACK SHIRT: A CONVERSATION WITH JACK BANDIT
BH: First and foremost, I would like to say that it's an honour to meet you, Jack.
JB: Believe me, the pleasure's all mine. Thanks for taking time away from, you know, Heaven, to hang out with me.
No problem. Let me get one thing out of the way right now: For the record, I am baked out of my fucking mind, okay? So let's not set our expectations too incredibly high.
They've got drugs in Heaven?
Duh, dude; it's fucking Heaven!!! Let's get started, shall we? (clears throat) Now...Jack, if you could have dinner with one famous person, who would it be?
Now, hold on a second there. One famous person, my ass. I’m not having that at all. It'd be way too hard to pick just one. You’d have to let me get away with at least four, or I’m not playing this game.
(Sighs) Fine, you big fuckin' girl. If you could have dinner with any five famous people, who would they be?
Wow. I ask for four and he gives me five. Well, presuming that it didn’t matter whether they were alive or dead, I’d go with you, of course, Kurt Vonnegut, John Lennon, Hunter S. Thompson and George Carlin. I could imagine Carlin wondering if he was the butt of some kind of a sick joke.
Yeah, I'd imagine that could be a little bit spooky. Vonnegut's an interesting fellow, though. We were glad when he came aboard. He and Carl Sagan and I have taken our fair share of field trips to neighbouring galaxies. I'll let you in on a little secret: Vonnegut was right about them sirens of Titan. Hot damn, was he ever!
Wow. That sounds fucking awesome.
Maybe you can see 'em someday. (coughs) Doubt it. We're getting sidetracked though. While we're on the subject of celebrities, if you could sleep with one famous person, who would it be?
Hmm...you know, I wouldn’t really want to sleep with anybody. I’d find the question a lot less sleazy if the word ‘sleep’ was replaced with ‘grow old.’ And if that were the case, I'd be busting my balls to sweep that Kristen Bell off her feet. I just recently began watching Veronica Mars on DVD, which, as weird as it sounds, I probably wouldn't have considered doing if I hadn't found out that she was a vegetarian. Honestly, I didn't really have much of an opinion of her before that. And even though I don't plan on seeing it, I have a certain appreciation for her doing a movie about having to abandon modern technology, even if it's because the dead have found a way to use it against us...y'all can't do that, can you?
You know, I don't think so. I once tried to channel my soul into Demi Moore's vibrator, but I gave up after a few months. I'm pretty sure it isn't possible. So is there anything else about this dame that you'd like to add?
Well, she's short and, as far as I can tell, somewhat modest; I like that. I'm a girl next door kind of guy.
While we're on the subject, exactly what kind of person would your ideal mate be?
Well, as much as I used to in the past, I'm trying not to do that kind of thing anymore. It'd be pretty hard for someone to live up to, and I'd be setting myself up for a big disappointment.
C'mon, brother. Humour me.
Yikes. Well, she'd be intellectual and preceptive, and she'd be able to appreciate the Goatboy. She'd be smarter than me but she wouldn't resent me for it. She'd be a good animal person, and she'd have the kind of personality that would allow me to be comfortable to display my burgeoning sensitivity. She'd borrow slang terms from Gorilla Monsoon and say quirky shit like, "This is not your father's fart machine." And she'd be the kind of person who likes to listen to Iron & Wine and Okkervil River and Bonnie "Prince" Billy but breaks out the Aretha Franklin or the Fleetwood Mac when she dances around the house in her pajamas on the weekend. And, you know, she'd be generous and conscious of politics and world affairs, but not too in-your-face about it. It's really neither here nor there, to be honest. I'll admit that I occasionally fantasize about having someone to snuggle with during my favorite primetime television dramas, but with all I still have left to sort out, something like that would do more harm than good. At the same time, I've really enjoyed the time I've had to myself this year, and I don't feel it's necessary to give that up any time soon. To be honest, if I were able to get my hands on a puppy, that'd be all the company I'd need in my life right now; besides that, I'm pretty content being alone. I'm fuckin' rambling, man. I hope that was a clear enough description for you.
Well, it sounds like you're prepared to be lonely for a while. Can't say I blame you. But I couldn't help but notice that you didn't mention any preferences towards a female's physical appearance.
Well, Kurt Vonnegut once said, “There is no way a beautiful woman can live up to what she looks like for an appreciable length of time,” and I've found this to be true. As long as her personality was in order and we got along like gangbusters and she looked healthy and didn't gave people the impression that she was strung out or something, I'd be able to rest comfortably. Which isn't to say that I wouldn't mind if she was strung out and just didn't look it, but I think you know what I mean. I will say that I find myself discouraged by a girl who has let her hair grow further than her armpits. To me, that's just redneck-ish and gnarly. Oh, and stripes. I like a girl who looks good in horizontal stripes. But it's like I said, I don't have my fingers crossed or anything. If you don't mind me throwing another Vonnegut quote your way, "Love is where you find it. I think it is foolish to go looking for it, and I think it can often be poisonous."
Do you have some kind of sick fetish for Kurt Vonnegut that I should let him know about?
Well, I have found a great deal of comfort in his writing. I mean, John Q. Public and I have never really been comfortable in each other's company, but in the past year or so, it feels like the gradual shift of my so-called "political leanings" and beliefs about the world in general have made me feel more ostracized than usual; I generally get the cold shoulder not too long after I make make the mistake of entrusting them with others. A big part of my decision to cut myself out of most forms of socialization had to do with my not wanting to feel like such an outcast, and I've felt a lot better about myself since I made that decision, but I still can't help looking at the world, or at least the culture, I live in and know that it considers me weird. I mean, it's not like I'm receiving alien signals in my brain that are telling me to behave this way; I'm guided by logic, just like everyone else. All that being said, having my beliefs echoed and reinforced in the words of such a celebrated literary figure like Kurt Vonnegut has done a lot to quell the paranoia. When I read something like, "America is the interplay of three hundred million Rube Goldberg contraptions invented only yesterday," or, "I was taught that the human brain was the crowning glory of evolution so far, but I think it’s a very poor scheme for survival," somehow, I don't feel so worried that I'm some kind of goofball.
I'm sure he'll appreciate that. So anyway, back to the questions I had prepared. By your definition, what is love?
It's a mid-90's quasi-techno dance song immortalized by Will Farrell and Chris Kattan. I'm somewhat sure that that tune pretty much hit the nail on the head, philosophically speaking.
You can either have trust or love. Which do you choose?
I guess I'd take love. Not really cuz I'm looking for it, but I was always under the impression that trust was part of the love package anyway.
Does love equal sex?
I wish it were that simple, but there are about a million other things that are part of the equation too. Like kids, smoking and a desire to raid the fridge.
Hey, that's really clever, John Spartan. Yeah, I saw Demolition Man, motherfucker. Write your own goddamn punchlines, you sad, American piece of shit!
Are you gonna ask me a question or not?
Oh, so sorry; so sorry. I don't know where I was going with that. Where was I? (checks notes) Ah, yes. What attracted you to your most recent ex?
She permitted me to give her advice she didn't ask for and allowed me to feel wiser than I really was. Although initially, it was her haircut that got my attention.
Mm-hmm. What didn’t you like about your most recent ex?
She was probably the fakest person I've ever met in my life.
What is more difficult for you: looking into someone's eyes when you are telling someone how you feel, or looking into someone's eyes when they are telling you how they feel?
Hmm...well, I think a certain level of trust and comfort would have to come along with telling somebody how I felt about something, so that being said, I think I'd be able to look them in the eye when I did it. I have a hard enough time looking at people when they're talking to me about anything, let alone something as frank as their true feelings about a particular subject. I'd probably be trying really hard not to laugh at the thought of wanting to say, "Well, can I still be Garth?" Compound that by the slim but all-too-real chance that I had to drop a mad Rob Ducey at the time, and suddenly, eye contact becomes a near-impossibility.
You are on a non-stop flight from
I guess I'd call whoever was picking me up. I'd say, "Hey, guess what? I just saved you a trip to the airport! Oh, and tell Pietro I won’t be attending that hat convention in July."
You have just been informed by your doctor that you that you have approximately one month to live. (1) Do you tell anyone you are going to die? (2) What do you do with your remaining days? (3) Would you be afraid?
(1) I think I'd get a t-shirt made for every day I had left that said, "I have approximately (insert number of days I got left here) days to live. Be nice, please." That would save some time. That way, if someone came up to me and was like, "What the fuck's your problem, asshole?" I’d just point to my shirt so they'd know. Problem solved. (2) I would apply for a shitload of credit cards and max them all out on cool toys and shit like that. Then I'd break all of them. Then I'd pile up all of my statements and lie in the middle of them and die whilst wearing a t-shirt that had "FUCK CREDITORS" printed on it. (3) I think I'd be pretty scared until I realized the freedom that came with the loss of hope. Unless the illness that was killing me was debilitating me physically, I'd probably lose any inhibition I previously held. I’d sneak motorized yard tools into movies and annoy the shit out of everybody. I’d be like, “Hey wise guy, management didn’t say a damn thing about these here hedge trimmers. You mind your fuckin’ business.” And if they give me any lip after that…shirt.
Did America put a man on the moon?
I’ve heard a few conspiracy theories, but I haven’t conducted a thorough enough investigation to make up my mind one way or another. When I was a kid, it was like, “Yeah, we went to the moon and
Oh, fuck you. Take some responsibility for your fucking life. So you're walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late even once more, you are fired. Do you save the dog?
First of all, I’m pretty sure that my old boss was too afraid that I’m a sociopath to ever lay down that kind of ultimatum. That being said, if he ever did, I’d probably insert my wang into a big bowl of nacho cheese and then smack him across the face with it, just to further the aforementioned theory along. In keeping with the question, though, I would rescue the dog without even giving it a second thought.
You are unfaithful to your significant other. Do you tell her? Why or why not?
No, I learned my lesson. I'd definally keep it a secret next time. You're supposed to laugh.
...Right. You've been offered your dream job on a silver platter with no strings attached but you have to leave all you know to get it...do you?
Well, wait a minute. Isn't that, right there, a string attached? What the fuck's going on here, did you get these questions off the Internet?
Oh yeah? Have you seen the nightclubs in Heaven? Have you ever tried to write an interview with Elvis and Hendrix waiting for you to go out skirt-chasing? I DIDN'T FUCKING THINK SO!!! Now, where were we? (checks notes) Ah, yes. Your best friend confesses that he/she has feelings for you, more than just friendship. What do you do/say?
I'd probably say, "Hey man, I know I might act gay a lot of the time, but I'm not." Then I’d propose that we make smoothies and watch professional wrestling, because there’s nothing more hetero than watching two oiled-up guys wearing leotards walk around in a circle while hugging each other for a half hour. While drinking smoothies, no less.
Think of the last person who you knew that died. You have the chance to give them one hour of their life back, but you have to give one year of your own. Do you do it?
Well, if the hour could've been inserted at a time in the guy's life when he needed it, like if the time would've helped him get laid when he was a strapping young lad, then sure, I'd sacrifice a year of my life to help him accomplish that. It'd be nice to help. But if it was just tacked onto the end of what he already had going, that'd be some bullshit that I wouldn't wanna put him through. Guy was hurtin' like a motherfucker when he went, and his last year or so wasn't easy, so to give him another hour of that would be fucked up and cruel.
If you were another person, would you be friends with yourself?
Yeah, I'd finally be able to be unabashedly honest with somebody and not feel like I have to worry about him misconstruing anything I said.
Would you rather have a great friend you could share everything with or a great lover you can't really talk to?
I’d opt for the friend. I’ve had the other and it fucking blows. It’s like, “Holy shit, can you fucking believe it? They're trying to pin all this climate change bullshit on individuals and give us the the illusion that we can save the environment if we use low energy light bulbs and turn our thermostat down two degrees in the winter, but they conveniently neglect to inform us that corporations and the governments who fail to regulate them are the biggest polluters the world has ever seen and that the most plausible solution to global warming would be to abandon industrial civilization altogether.” “That's nice. Did you hear about Ashley Tisdale? SHE GOT A NOSE JOB!!! Now take your pants off.” "Now wait a second. First of all, who the fuck is Ashley Tisdale, and why should I give a damn about her nose? You know, the only way you could be more unattractive than you are right now would be if you were a turd dipped in poop juice sprinkled with dookie cubes." And big ups to myself for using the word ‘opt.’ That word doesn’t get much play around these parts. I stand by my decision to use it.
Yes, that was used well. And I'm a liar. How about this: Would you have a "Happy Button" installed on your body, connected to your brain, which would instantly make you very happy whenever you pressed it?
No. What makes the highs so good and glorious is knowing that you're out of the lows. Having a button readily available that made you happy all the time would take the living out of life, if you ask me. Frankly, I think that's a stupid question.
When was the last time you told someone HONESTLY how you felt, regardless of how difficult it was for you to say?
Well, earlier this year I hung out with this girl a few times, and she was a little underage. I didn't know if she had it in for me or not, so I figured that the best way to avoid that altogether was to cut the bullshit and be totally honest about my past mistakes and personality flaws and all that, in the hopes that she'd think I was a geek or a fuck-up or a dork or what-have-you. And I've never really given myself the opportunity to do that. It sounds stupid now, but I've always been too insecure to share certain things about myself with people. But I threw caution to the wind when I was hanging out with this girl, and I found out what a relief it can be. I think that's why I idealized her for a little while after we parted ways; I was somehow able to trust her and be more open with her than I've ever been with anyone else I've ever met. I was only friends with her for a very short time, but it was the most eye-opening and positive experience I've ever had with a girl. I really value the time we spent together because it allowed me to re-evaluate what I look for in a female, and more importantly, a friend. The funny thing about that is, if she was 8 or 9 months older, I probably would have given into carnal desires and wouldn't have made the discovery that I did. So, it's, uh, it's interesting.
What would be (or what was) harder for you to tell a friend: That you love them or that you do not love them back?
Well, out of process of elimination, I guess it'd be harder to tell them that I loved them, the reason being that I just don't have the kind of rapport with my friends where such a proclamation would be made. I do love my friends and I hope that they know that. I love them like family; at the same time though, I can go a really long time without having to see my family. There are times that, when I'm away from my friends, I'd like to give them a hug and tell them that I'm glad to know them, but when we get together to hang out, it just seems like it'd be kinda weird. It's like we've all got our bubbles, our little force fields. Which is fine, I guess. But if I ever said that I didn't love them back, it'd be a lie.
What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up? Why would it be hard to lose?
This is gonna sound corny, but I believe it was Rakim who said, "I'm just an addict; addicted to music. Maybe it's a habit. I've gotta use it." That's probably the biggest thing keeping me from adopting a more primativist lifestyle, aside from the fact that I have no survival skills to speak of. I'm not sure if I'd be able to go without listening to music.
Do you like your music loud or soft?
Well, it depends on what you mean by that. If it's volume you're talking about, I would prefer that music be played loud enough to drown out any other auditory distractions; I was practically born with a pair of headphones on. It deeply annoys me when people talk through all the good songs when it should be apparent enough that I'm trying to enjoy them. If you told me that you liked a particular song, I'd do my best to keep my mouth shut so you were able to take it in fully and enjoy it without being interrupted. If you’re asking if I prefer aggressive music or calm music, I’d say that it all has its place. While I consider his most recent album to be utter dogshit, I can appreciate the artistic statement that Marilyn Manson has tried to achieve throughout his career. I thought his cover of "Working Class Hero" was really appropriate. He might not bring it from the heart, but one couldn't argue that he didn't bring it from his brain. A lot more cerebral than people give him credit for. Perhaps the most ironic rock star ever? I don't know. On the other hand, guys like Eric Bachmann and Joshua Radin; their stuff just fuckin' breaks my heart.
Name five albums that you've been listening to a lot lately. Quick.
Iller Than Theirs by Iller Than Theirs, Hidden Vagenda by Kimya Dawson, Angelz Wit Dirty Faces by Living Legends, The Brag and Cuss by Rocky Votolato, and I just recently realized the awesomeness of one Paul Simon.
Any female musicians that you'd like to take out on the town?
I fuckin' knew you were gonna ask that. Let's see. Um...OOH! Ingrid Michaelson! Ingrid fucking Michaelson! Ingrid Michaelson is so fucking hot! And she seems like such a goofball too. Her lyrics are so edgy and quirky and cute and her music's so airy and palatable. Definally one of the cutest sounding artists I've heard this year. I recommend the song "Far Away;" it's excellent. I would kill to take her out for a night on the town. I'd woo her by engaging her in conversation about the pretentiousness of vinyl upholstery.
Seen any good movies lately?
Let's see...Into the Wild. Probably the best movie I've ever seen. It totally scratched where I've been itching this year. I was really able to sympathize with the movie's portrayal of Chris McCandless. It seemed like he had the same complaints about this culture as I do, and that we both seek a particular kind of self-actualization that modern society isn't able (or for that matter, willing) to provide. Another movie that I saw recently that I was really able to identify with was The Assassination of Richard Nixon. Sean Penn played this socially awkward guy whose personality kept him from being able to relate to people, and that caused him to be clingy in his relationships. It was kinda hard to watch because I understood the character a little too well. Another one that I really liked was Where the Buffalo Roam, in which Bill Murray played Hunter S. Thompson. It was one of the coolest comedies I've seen in a long time because it set out to do more than just make me laugh and succeeded. And I really, really liked Year of the Dog. That movie was made with a very specific audience in mind, and somehow, I was able to sympathize with its point of view. Seeing Molly Shannon's character transform over the course of the movie was a little like the lifestyle changes I've made this past year, and that made me happy. I had just decided that I wanted to get a dog about a week before I saw this movie, and it really kinda drove it home, as they say.
Would you rather sleep alone or with someone else?
Well, when I'm alone, I would rather have somebody to cuddle with, but when it actually happens, it's hard for me to get comfortable. Somehow I always end up with a girl who kicks or twitches in her sleep. There have only been a few times that I've slept with a girl and been able get a full night's sleep without getting smacked in the face or kneed in the gonads. It sucked. I know I'd rather sleep with someone than "sleep" with someone, but what's crazier than that is that I think that I'd rather wish that I had someone to sleep with instead of actually having someone to sleep with.
Imagine: it's a dark night, you are alone, it is raining outside and you hear someone walking around outside your bedroom window. Who do you wish was there with you?
Someone who'd be able to appreciate the humour in me opening up the window and trying to startle the person so much that they lose their footing and fall of the roof.
What did you fear was going to get you at night as a child?
I saw Killer Clowns from Outer Space at my aunt’s house when I was about 7, and as a result, I developed this completely rational fear that they lived at the foot of my bed. For approximately two years after that, I slept in the fetal position every night.
Were on on acid when you watched it?
No.
Then I don't get it. Are you old-fashioned?
For the most part, I don’t think so, although I can be in certain cases. For example, one time I called one of the party hosts at the bowling alley I used to work at an asshole because I didn't think her teenage ears were ripe enough to hear the word "cunt" being spoken. It was a judgment call, and maybe I was being presumptuous by thinking that, but I think I made the right choice by calling her an asshole instead. I really do.
Fuck it, man. As soon as they hit thirteen, it's time for the earmuffs to come off. Open up the soundproof booth and pat her on the shoulder, because she's on next, you know what I mean? Shit. Cunt. Twat. Snatch. Rapid fire, man.
I see. I don't know if I'm quite as flamboyant.
What a pussy. Thank God I'm almost outta here. Would you prefer it if good things happened or interesting things?
Well, on a grand scale, it would seem to me that the frequency of good things happening isn't nearly as high as the interesting things. Interesting shit happens all the time, and this planet is, more or less, in a state of utter chaos. We need more good stuff. And to clarify, when I say "good stuff," I mean something that can universally be interpreted as good, and not some shit like the New England Patriots going undefeated. I'm talking about a cure for cancer or the Wyld Stallyns coming along to save us and lift civilization's collective unconscious.
The Wyld Stallyns...a major reason why I used to pray for nuclear holocaust. Which would you choose: true love with a guarantee of a broken heart, or to have never loved at all, and why?
Given the alternative, I'd probably take never at all. Knowing me, I'd probably do something to sabotage the relationship anyway, so knowing that the whole arrangement was doomed to fail would only serve as a justification for me to hasten that process. I'd be suspicious all the time and expect the end around every corner, and eventually she'd get tired of my bullshit and chuck deuces. It'd be a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Any deep thoughts about life?
I'd like to see a James Bond movie where James Bond gets behind financially and has to apply for a debt reconsolidation loan, because even when he's negotiating with the loan officer, I bet he's real smart-alecky.
Peace.
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