the definition

pioneer. revolutionary. trail blazer. thats me in a nutshell. i do this thats so advanced, others dont even have the ability to comprehend it for a year or two. today its for another reason though. today i have no hotwater, thus im forced to heat water on my stove, poor it in a bucket and use that to bathe. its a shitty job, but the masses need me to put my best foot forward and that included looking both fresh and clean.

take good care of it

"it never seemed like you much cared for the greats, at any rate."

sometimes you talk to people you haven't talked to in awhile, and within a few minutes they remind you of exactly why you haven't talked to them in awhile.

but back to the quote, yeah i never really cared for the greats. so what. i just didnt really like them. actually, to be more accurate, i found them to be boring, mind numbingly at times. this wasn't to say that all classics are dry and a chore to read, i do actually like some of them a lot (i.e. the works of joyce and twain), but i've always read what i like. i dont know if i really came to realize this until recently, but thats always been the deciding factor on whether or not i read a book. its status as a classic, if others hated it, or if it was a genre work, none of that shit mattered to me. the only thing that did was that i would feel satisfied at how i spent my time when i finished it.

because of this, im not exactly the most well read english major (with a focus on creative writing, but still) but im ok with that. dont get me wrong ive read a lot, but not really any of the stuff i shouldve read (books on bobby fischer, yes. books by dickens, not so much). it sometimes used to bother me in my survey classes, but ive come to grips with it. plus i still have a lot of time to catch up on those "greats" should i ever choose to. who knows maybe i will. theres plenty of stuff written pre 1800 that im interested in. and i do see tristam shandy on my bookshelf right now.

regardless of whether i do try and of those classics the point of this post is mainly to say that, we should all consume what we want, not shit that we find lame. arts supposed to better our lives and provide enlightenment, but if we feel its a big waste of time, it aint doin that. so fuck it read, watch, listen, and eat what you want. dont settle for anything less.

***

big ups to charlie on some amazing shit as of late. were still rough around the edges here at bring back the hindnburg, but i think were starting to show what were capable of.

youll also notice a lack of quality from minxie. the reason for this is that hes a no good piece of shit asshole. probably too busy reading mary shelley or masturbating to championship montages of those decrepit boston redsox. most lopsided world series ever? yeah, but also the most boring ever. guess it figures the world series trophy would end up in a fucking liberal fronting racist city after all that. as curtis pointed out one good thing ever happened in boston, a molasses factory once exploded. thats all. thats probably a gross exageration but i am just displacing my hatred for minxie on boston, because im guessin he probably loves him. hes all about the bandwagon n shit like that.

speaking of curtis, anyone heard from him lately?

MADD

Mothers Against Donald Driver

He plays football. I don't like football. I don't like him. I like globes, gumby, giraffes, and other things that begin with the letter "G".

Yeah, I like time machines too except I call 'em gtime gmachines.

Also, Sergei... Curtis Granderson called you soft. While calling from Applebee's.

American Sushi? BULLSHIT!



There are things we know and things we don't I guess that's why this blog is here. I realize it's a big open venue (I meant that sexually) but I can't think of anything to discuss except how Sergei has to shave inside his mouth. For a man of his origins, that is mildly surprising. It'd be really surprising but I've met his mother. (I meant that sexually).

I do charity but it's hidden charity. It's also for kids. Sometimes children come up and ask "Hey Minx, why you shoveling up all that dog shit?" I look them straight in the eye and tell them "It's because I love you."

Save your worship for the deserving...

First a forewarning. This post concerns any and all things fast food. If you're a diabetic (Curtis) please read no further. Diabetics are the ones who can't eat fast food right? Anorexics you should probably skip this as well.

1. Chipotle. I don't care what you think or what your problem is. If i make a coupon on an official college document it means you give me a free burrito. It doesn't mean that you give me a free burrito and then call the Dean. I don't care if there were 250 burritos. You better not call the Dean. Why? Because it means I'm in trouble.

Chipotle had to be addressed. Not because they are good or significant in the ways of Colorado conceived Mexican food. They need to be discussed because they are relevant to the personal anecdotes that comprise my today. Anything else concerning Chipotle is of no concern at all. Chipotle is a good lunch but that lunch is a far (and loud) cry from logical.

Chipotle may be fast growing and popular with Brady Quinn. I may eat there on a weekly basis but they will never have my heart. They will not cook for my kids or birth those same kids. They are too exotic, fancy, and hip at this window in history. Eating Chipotle is like a One Night Stand with Feist.

We can agree that commerce at it's origins equates to an American Hunger. Not need based, but thriving off impulse it is far from satisfying in any nutritional sense. We're bloated for a reason, but our bursting seams are not in vain. they are the result of experimentation in variety. This will come to an the day American Sushi is invented. it will be sponsored by Applebee's and use a lot of bacon and cheeses in it.

This experimentation inundates all fields. We live in an era devoid of any logical firsts with every field bordering on their equivalent of American Sushi. These American Sushis (Daft Punk, Dirk Nowitzki, Pixar) are fantastic in their ways but they don't hit home because their origins are that damn murky.

Two Beef Patties, Special Sauce, and like Eight Loaves of Bread. I can understand those origins. This is the sort of food i would invent when drunk, starving, or both. Though i must say i doubt I will be in Darfur with enough Rum. Even if the Peace Corps lay in my future my flask isn't enough of a spark to invent anything. I also heard that Peace Corps provides food, though I'd go either way.

This Big Mac, this All American original has a past, present, and future. it's simplicity is such that it can strike a chord with everyone. A single bite has a basic formula that screams but one sentiment. "This is how I taste. I taste like I deserve to exist". This makes it deserve to exist.

It's not the best food I've ever had. It isn't even the best burger but it gave me a feeling of great gratitude towards whoever had the stones to invent it.

There are more than enough thresholds of judgment. How is the quality? What are the motivations? Does it abide with the regulations of the Metric System? Upon meeting strangers tastes in the things everyone likes, but no one delves into the motivations behind such preferences. The above are meaningless without knowledge of the why behind them. It's seeing the lava without seeing volcano. We could like the same movies but you wouldn't know that my favorite movies are my favorites because they feature a woman sensually eating a strawberry.

Of course this isn't true. I find strawberries disgusting. The only sensual act I can imagine with a strawberry involves burying it.

Why do I like things? What do I like? I like things that should exist. After a certain experience I give thanks to the fact that such a sensation exists, not because of my joy, but because it is an easily imagined output of the world as I know it. A corn maze, a Big Mac, Die Hard. These are things that, analyzing the spectrum of what I know, should exist.

Die hard should exist. Things happen to Cops. Bad things happen in high rises. There are always chances for redemption. It may have been a fast paced thrill ride that invigorated the target Bruce Willis audience, but it was something more. It was a situation you or I could have imagined. it was a situation that we probably HAD imagined. With food, with art, with real estate, and everything conducive to abstract thought, this quality is the scarcest and most valuable.

It can be can taste like rusty toenails and produced with the motivation of promoting Cat Abortion but if it even abstractedly resembles an idea of our own there is no doubt that we would cherish it.

The most recent Die Hard was pretty damn good, but it never would have occured to me otherwise.

The Big Mac, this vehicle for secret sauce, tastes like part of my person. It is reminiscent of growing up, seeing commercials, and chasing my sister with a knife after watching too much Simpsons. Without tasting before, I had tasted it before albeit only in my imagination.

Big Macs taste like a scared, secret part of my brain that is the most delicate, impenetrable part of any person. Chipotle tast6es like Mexican food produced in close proximity to Snow Capped peaks. Which would have occured to you?

Also, I really doubt I could trick 250 people into attempting to redeem coupons for burritos.

-Charlie

PS I talked to Archibald about this same scenario once. I really miss him now.

heavens to betsy!

...and to you dear reader, i leave my ribs....

it has been brought to my attention that some of my compatriots (im looking at you minxie) feel that im not carry my weight in regards to all things hindenburgian. to each and everyone of you whose hatin i say the following: fuck all yall. i do what i can, but when you are busy scripting the lives of those you hold near and dear, certain things must take a back seat, regardless of their seeming importance.

in addition to this i've come to an important philosophical breakthrough. i currently find myself on the precipice of a new way of thinking. one thats currently flippin my shit and that i dont understand just yet. lets just say that im starting to visualize the narratives of everyone i encounter, no matter how acquainted i am with them. its a hard one to get ahold of but im getting it one baby step at a time. i think we will all be better because of it.

be excited past, present, and future loved ones, the world may be bleak now but shits on the rise. and everything keeps coming up us.

hurah hurah hurah! talley ho!

p.s. staches are killer

Bigger is Better Until You Can't Buy Gloves

"Tell Dmitri Young he's not allowed in my room anymore" - Text Message From Archibald.

I speak only one language but believe it or not I have friends of many tongues, including English. One of these friends is named Pete, he has blond hair and sex at the library. You do what you can for kicks in the MidWest. Pete once pledged to play drums with the Beatles and cried for a week upon hearing John Lennon had died. Tom Petty took pity and offered him a spot but Pete turned him down straight and narrow. Pete's Mom didn't turn down Tom Petty. He is number two in her heart behind her lover, Paul.

I don't know Paul but he is in Iceland. Pete asked me to write him a letter in case he got homesick. This is that letter.

"Dear Paul,

The idles of Iceland must be treating you well. Some call it the great tourist attractions of Iceland. As for me, I call it karma. Any faux-stepdad who buys his faux step sons an IPOD (each) deserves allt he love and affection a nation can offer. I advise that you take in all Icelandic charms (sans Bjork), except those that might adversely affect your relationship with my friend's mother. Her name is Cathy. I think.

I can not relate to your experience of being in Iceland but I can advise you from the standpoint of being within eyeline of it's shore. As an eleven year old I was almost in Iceland. I was close but no cigar. I figure that's as much as I need to know to provide sterling insight. The best thing you can do is to stay in the boat. Keep rowing as to not be a let down, Lastly, try not to cry when you see the sea turn red with slaughter. You may feel hurt at the vantage point of seeing 300 Pilot Whales beheaded. You may want to punish Scandinavian Ancestors for their blubber reliance. Look at the blood, and remember even carnage can be cultural, especially here.

Try to get the locals to listen to Lil Wayne. This is a good joke. They already listen to Lil Wayne, but only the mixtapes.

A good travel tip is to try as many different cheeses with as many different body parts as possible. I'm of the school of thought that you can taste differently with different parts of the body. Keep your eyes peeled for Dmitri Young. He's been known to travel and beat wives. If you don't pay attention he could marry and pound you within an inch of your life. This tip is applicable in pretty much every instance of life ever.

Iceland isn't known for thier snake population but trust me, they're out there.

Your heart may be homesick. You may missed your loved ones. However, libraries are depressing places. Try to stay along as possible. There's a good chance that you aren't even missed much. Just kidding. Pete says he misses you and that you guys don't hug nearly as often as you should. As a matter of fact, Pete says no one hugs as often as they should. He also wants to kiss you.

Have a great one,
Charlie"

Mini Bacon Cheeseburgers!

What a night! Not only for the Boston Red Sox and Josh Beckett but for my stomach as well. Nestled in at the bar (a bar!) at a Suburban Applebee's I ate not one, not two, but three plates of mini cheeseburgers. I don't know what it is about a tiny portion of meat but it allows for the maximum amount of enjoyment in burger form. How's that for irony. Big burger= good. Little burger= GREAT.

Boston scored a lot of runs last night. Where's your god now Todd Helton? Just kidding. I assume your answer would be "heaven". Jokes aside it was a very good game for the Boston Red Sox. They were doing so gooid that I joked to the rest of the people (at the bar!) that even Daisuke Matsuzaka was going to hit a home run. They didn't laughed so I called my good friend Pudge Rodriguiz to tell him the joke. Pudge didn't answer so I called Carlos Guillen. He didn't answer either so I called Sean Casey. Sean said "That's a great joke, Curtis." Sean's a great man. That's why I'll be naming my first child SeanCasey Granderson. I want to have so many kids.

Religion might not have come in handy last night but it could soon. Faith is a tricky, slippery thing and I'm sure the Rockies still have it.

Revised Prediction: Rockies in 5.

Forty Cents on The Dollar

Archibald y ou old rattlesnake. I k now your heroine habit ias merely recreational. If anything you need a good lay, a street fight, or a friendly game of Soccer played with Young Americans. I guess these things aren't easy for pussies like you to come by so you decided to go the pussy route and enter rehavb. I won't deny that I love you but I will say that you are a coward. I know for a fact that you've never built a Snowman or walked across a state. In my eyes that is a Pussy. PUSSY! Get out of rehab and help with this here blog.

As Curtis Grandy Granderson so eloquently stated we are living in an age devoid of plate techtonics and debauchery. I wish random sexual encounters were part of the everyday vernacular but they're about as common place as wooden swing sets. We live in quite the boring age. No one mills and no one plants.

When the nights get lonely I wonder what it would be like to find my own fooid. I picture my Dartmouth self wandering through the woods picking out assorted berries and finks. I see my Dartmouth self picking old meat off a particularly juicy Yak (in my fantasies I am always a Sherpa). I see my Dartmouth self wandering the village parameters while gorging himself on eyes, fingers, knees, and toes, knees and toes.

I guess my Dartmouth self listens to Raffi. I guess all of us do in some facet of our subconscious. This is a good thing. I imagine this is an innovation along the lines of the chain saw.

The modern world is a slight bit purtrid, and more than an iota easy. I guess that's why General Mills has still existing cereal. Everyone knows Frosted Flakes blow. The common knowledge is that they are far from satisfactory, yet we all still eat their bullshit. I don't care how good that "Road To Wellville" film was. I don't want to taste America. It is bland and without any taste of India. I would like to taste India in my breakfast cereal.

Everything is so easy. Everything is so hard. It's near impossible to ask people human questions.

I'll be in my mobile home writing novels about Tractors.


" Gerry the Tractor shone under a bright, yellow sun. He was tilling a field with his sharp blades a cutting. He tilled til there was corn for everyone. He was a good tractor. A good tractor with a dark secret. "

A BIG WHATEVER TO FREEDOM. It is no longer worthwhile to be American. At least it is no longer entertaining. the music of chance no longfer plays in my quarters. I would have to be a refugee or ridiculously rich and French to lead the kind of life I want to lead.

Here's to refuge and/or baguettes!

Tis the Season

Today marks the beginning of the World Series and the twenty fourth day of October. It is one week til Halloween. I am excited to find out who I am going to be for Halloween because each year I dress up as the World Series Champion. It was a bit awkward last year, when my team the Detroit Tigers, played in the series and lost. I wore a lot of wrinkles, got a dog, and went as Tony LaRussa. It was a hoot and a half, even if Todd Jones told me I was a disgrace. Todd Jones, what a yukkster!! YUKK YUKK!!!!

A lot of you have been writing in to ask what I have been up to since the season ended for Detroit. I have had a good time back home in Illinois. I have been on three separate blind dates. I got to talk about baseball on tv. I also sent Gary Sheffield a get well gift basket for his off season shoulder surgery. It was returned half eaten. That Gary is a yukkster too!

While I can I would like to congratulate Jimmy Rollins on his season. It was like mine but in sunglasses. Radical!

I am a fan of blogs and have been asked here by my good friend Archibald to cover the World Series for New Hindenburg live from my home state of Illinois. I said Archibald, I don't bet, but he insisted that I would simply be writing about the Series. I learned how to write in College while I was getting my education and figured I should put that to good use.

This series pits the Boston Red Sox versus the Colorado Rockies. The Rockies have won twenty out of twenty one games while the Boston Red Sox live in a city where a molasses factory once exploded. This series is full of stars. Manny Ramirez, Josh Beckett, David Ortiz, and Curt Schilling, are all very good at baseball. The Rockies have Todd Helton, who knows Peyton Manning.

I called Todd for some insight.

*RING RING*
Todd Helton: Hello?
Curtis Granderson: Is your refrigerator running?
TH: Yeah.
CG: Well you'd better go get it!

I crack myself up sometimes.

This should be a great series matchup but there is another contender: Religion. I am not religious but I guess these teams are. The Rockies have credited God for their winning the NLCS when the only reason the Rockies are here is because of Plate Techtonics.

My prediction: Rockies in 4. Mother nature wins all battles. Ever heard of Pompeii? You're about to Boston.

Off to Applebee's to watch the game!

new friends/old friends

last night i kicked it in the place magic made magical. i could feel all the wisdom and fucking amazingness of one of time's all time greatest beings coursing through my body.

in addition to this i made two of the bestest buds a person could ever make. well maybe not made friends with, but spied on and took pictures of. pretty much the same fucking difference right? BFF #1 was a leathery ox of a man, sportin the best camo cargo pant/combat boot combo ive ever seen. i mean his obvious love for the eagles and lack of intelligence were bummers, but when you got that kinda style all can be familair. BFF #2, was the exact opposite of #1. #1 was all about the endless summer, while #2 was all about one thing, worshiping the night. he was like a character from Castlevania, only real and fucking bad ass. leather, iron crosses, and big boots all over the place. amazing. plain and simple.

thats all bitches signing out from here to eternity i remain the indomitable,

sergei the switchblade wielding tortoise

p.s. for those of you out there with any interest, Archibald was entered into a rehab facility yesterday. mr. samuelson (a fucking kick ass dood if there ever was one, if only archibald could be as cool) flew him out from his moms in chesapeake bay. gettin away from him mom will probably be a good thing. at least that what all of us here at bring back the hindenburg are hoping. good luck arch. even if you did fuck up the launch we still wish you the best

ScrewCurtis Granderson

If you don't read Sergei's post you happen to be a traitor, a scoundrel, or illiterate. If you're a traitor or scoundrel the blame is on you but if you're illiterate i can't blame you. Either fonts had no appeal or you were raised in Cleveland. In any case, blame your parents.

I come to you at this vile night, this eve of wrestling insecurities, with a message straight from the bottle full of scorn and swill.

Are you guys ready for some vitrol?!?

A friend and I were sharing secrets and y'know what? We were both insecure? About the same things, with the same patterns, and with the same questions. Although I'll admit I didn't ask him why he said he was gay on Halloween one year?

There is a certain pattern pervading us all. A source of insecurity? A scourer of inner purgings? A shit in one's fuck hole. I for one, think there is. There's a reason for this (besides the boozing Archibald). What do we do that's good?

Without charity work one can never enjoy charity work, exercise, or expulsions. Though charity is conbtrived and cliched I belive that an omniscent motivation should be "WTF they can use it" This would make more sense to you if you were a stowaway on a train and a large Black male caught you, grabbed you by the neck and threw you back into the train car. NO QUESTIONS ASKED.

I attempt to do my bit. I make efforts to improve things but there are those that deliberately stand in the way. If you shit on me literally I will shit on you figuratively. How's that for irony.

The sad thing is that these people fail to understand the scope of figurative actions. What a sad scope that is.

The inverse of this principle is how Norway is making itself Efficate.

a very good thing/a very bad thing

the new britney spears video is on mtv, and it has awakened in me the need to post. this post will be about ranch style's original texas beans, and how they are delicious.these are ranch style's original texas beans. they are pretty much all i eat. the main reason i eat them, besides the obvious fact that they are delicious, is that each 65 cent can provides me with two full servings (a price which surely can't be beat). and each serving of these scrumptous (and just a tad zesty) beans makes all seem right in the world. ranch style's original texas beans, remind me of a time when the world was a simpler place and my parents still prepared my food. most foods make me anxious, but not these, these just fill me up and warm my soul. and thats a very good thing.

now back to that new britney spears video which is pretty goddamn awful. like fer realz n shit. nothing even slightly redeeming. i fail to see a way that even lil wayne couldve improved this. and thats a very bad thing.


p.s. yes its true. archibald drank himself to illness. we were hoping to kinda keep that under wraps. but minxie posted about it and since were not about censorship its out there for all to see. so yeah, archibald is trying to get some help and we don't know when he'll get it (or if he'll accept it), but we assume he'll be back some day.

GHOST IN THE HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Want to talk about baseball?
More soon.
-Curtis

all things hindenburgian n shit

"Tonsils currently nestled in a puddle of mucous. Quite unpleasant."
-text message from Archibald Aurelius Samuelson XLIII




so weve been meaning to get this blog shindig on the road for a few weeks now, and just as we finally set things in motion fucking archibald gets sick. fucker. and as chuck said he is sort of the brains of the whole operation, a fact we will no doubt one day come to rue.

but fuck that shit. the kid (don't let his status as an accountant fool you, hes still a kid) aint gettin healthy anytime soon, and im tired of waiting around for shit to get sorted out. so here goes my attempt at trying to sum up all things hindenburgian. this is my perception of it at least, we all got different ones, and as thing progress im sure all of us will write our spiel at some point.

regardless the stuffiness of our names, all of us here at bring back the hindenburg are still pretty young things, and like all good pretty young things we find ourselves at an interesting crossroads in our lives in which we really have no idea what the fuck is going on. granted some of us have some semblance of a plan, but even if weve got that, that's all it is, a concept that may or may not come to fruition. regardless of our "direction" or lack there of we still find ourselves in a world thats cool, sad, boring, frustrating and pretty much any other description you can think of. with bring back the hindenburg we are attempting to record that world. we've spent enough of our lives consuming and now its time to create shit. well not shit, but stuff. you know what im saying.

so there you go the bring back the hindenburg mission statement (or at least mine). this blog will be anything but static, constantly evolving to meet our whims whether they be as individual or team based. hopefully the two or three of you who read this will like it, but probably you wont, and really that's cool, because we dont really give a fuck (actually we probably do but were just too cool to admit it). this will be where we try to recreate the absurdity of the lives we all lead.

we got big things coming soon. curtis granderson's (what a fuckin thug) world series coverage will start soon. if he gets around to it he'll hopefully post a preview before wednesdays game one. as to the other stuff thats coming? i dont really know whats weve got on deck other than my attempt to articulate why ive come to love mtv's real world so very much. what ever it is thought, i can guarantee that shitll have pop. because thats what our shits got, pop.

At least he's got spunk

My current residence is over 1000 miles from the nearest active volcano. My vacation plans are ruined.

So many people talk about so many things. upon hearing such vernbacular I have no choice but to admit to myself that "_____" is an important part oif life. I think all people do this, especially you.


The Bermuda Triangle was important once. We talked about it as kids. With that being said I'm talking about baseball. The World Series is this week and I'm proud to declare that blogger/baseball player Curtis Granderson will be covering it live from Illinois.

American Style Jeans

Though I will often lie about the fact, I am not exempt to social pressures. I believe they are pure social construction, along the lines of the Snowy Owl and Big Foot but nonetheless I adhere. In my defense if Big Foot told me what to do I would comply no questions asked. This attitude leads to many things, one of which is a folicile lightning bolt. However, it does not lead to Cocaine.

Last night, 3am. Sweetest Day was a' dwindling. A knock came on the window all frantic, and pane riling. A southern voice boomed "Hey Does your Chicken ave any blow?" Although the state of man is called into question when fowl become seen as sources of toxins that should only be used for ritualistic purposes, I cannot deny that I am proud of myself for living a life like this. Anytime your pet can be seen as a source of drugs you are at the very least making impression.

Though proud of the dividends it is this sort of mind set that sinks ships and creates brain tumors. Eighty percent of tumors have been linked to wearing pants that "just didn't feel right".

Peer pressure is so lambasted and cliched that it should be appearing in Target commercials. I am not immune to Target commercials. This is especially true in corn mazes. Children come scared in a non scary place asking for rescue. I vote for these very same reasons. I vote because I am american. i vote because I have never seen a volcano and never driven a blimp.

Does this diatribe have a route or is this drivel leading to yet another discussion of democracy (Obama = black= resonant) or post modernism (how the Foul Ball was invented)? I hope it doesn't . It is at that precise moment that the mission hits fail on this objectiveless objective.

Like my drug dealing chicken I suppose I am only at my best when annoyed or endangered. Chickens spend all day in a state of luxury. However, when an iota of perturbed comes across their spectrum of life or "coop", they rise into action, right their way, and resume to their previous state.

This chicken mind set has been put into place for many aspects of my life and I've countered and reverted with relative ease. This leads to a point of severe success and when I hear about terrible dust storms and fires part of me wishes I could be a part of them, for no reason than to establish whatever event occuring directly before as worth fighting for.

This is where it leads. Something has no worth until you fight for it. Hark these words Adam Morrison, the Cocaine isn't sweet on it's own. It's sweet because you racked your brain and saw a chicken as the only possible source. For such thinking you will be rewarded. Chicken makes the Cocaine sweet.

I've never done Cocaine, but I might be a mule.

Sincerely yours,
Charlie.

Status Report

Eager and Faithful Readers,

I am sure you will all be glad to know that I am on my way to wellness. Today I woke with a thirst for food other than soup and my throat, while inflamed, now feels as if it is made of a slightly less barren terrain. Mummy took my temperature and says that I should be back up on my feet any day now. Let us all keep our fingers crossed.

Until then I remain,

AASXLIII

P.S. Does anyone know Sergei's email address. I'd like to get him involved in our advancement of all things Hindenburgian.

So what if I am! Are you?

Charlie came to me for a reason. He knew my method and approved and the necessary precautions required. Charlie knows a lot of things. The other day we were video chatting on the internet. I was wearing a flannel. He was wearing some sort of Pirate Ensemble. Then he held up a globe and pointed out every country in Africa. This is the sort of man you want to become on the day that you finally grow bored with yourself.



Charlie asked me to post here and I did. A little drunk. At 9 in the morning. I hope it was from the night before but I have no idea what I've been putting in my coffee these past few months. I felt bad for the subject manner and typos so I decided to make it up to you guys. I'm sorry. There I said it. I'll never post drunk again.

INT. CROWDED COFFEE SHOP- NIGHT

Quiet couples sit in lush, oversized lounge chairs with various drinks, many of them wear cardigans. One couple ROB, 43, and JEANNE, 41, talk loudly, drowning out the atmosphere.

ROB
I enjoy soccer because you play it with your feet making it not so primitive in nature.

JEANNE
Yeah. If you think about it people don't use their feet for much these days.

LEANNE
It's not like it was back in Jesus' days.

ROB
It sure isn't. I bet he never paid four dollars for a latte.

The Couple laughs. A MAGIC BLENDER enters, discreetly kisses Rob's foot and blends it into oblivion.

FADE OUT

Fuck it. I'm drunk again.

If it's not a symposium than I don't care...

This Hindenburg like the real Hindenburg is comprised of three things Hydrogen, Bone Marrow, and Team Work. As the literal lifeblood of an all too begrudged state of mind I have strived til my fingernails quaked to bring the best our nation has to offer in various fields involving font. With the great launch taking so much effort it compromised Archibald's health.

If we are a head, Archibald is our brain. With Arch gone queasy I'm afraid that gone Terry Schiavo.

I don't know if I can go on and fight with the gusto that I should. So much for a launch. For the rest of the weekend I declare it "Letters from my Prison Penpal"



Also, does anyone else not find Jenna Fischer funny since she broke her neck? I just thing it's sad that she isn't resting.

Dear World It Is Me Archibald

Do you know what it feels like to be sick?

It is a bummer, is it not? I have spent the last few days on my sick bed, which my mummy so graciously prepared for me. It has been quite uncomfortable. My head aches, my throat is raw, my skin is clammy, and my overall disposition is one of exhaustion. In other words, I do not know if I am ready as of yet to fully contribute to Bring Back the Hindenburg. When I am though, I will return to pontificate on all matters that fall under my variable expertise.

Until then,

AASXLI

These Anenomes Have Prongs

There was a feeling when I woke up today. There was morning wood, but beneath it (or perhaps above) there was something else. A great feeling of joy. This relief, this joy, this irrational outburst of emotion better than morning wood was tied to the fact that I have hair. Long, flowing tendrils of hair.

I do not have cancer. I am not balding. I simply get drunk.

Drunkenness is a sort of warm, sticky feeling for me. I get polite and frequently end up in the company of waffles. This is almost always followed by me standing in front of a mirror holding a razor and getting ready to shave my head.

When people ask how I like long hair I sair "it's drunk and confusing".

What's A Blog?!?

Dear Friends,
Dearer Internet,

I have a painful confession for the both of you out there reading this immaculate drivel that might be spittle... I have no idea what I'm doing. I foray into this cyber adventure with the gusto that Dave, the dull stoner attendant at Merchant's, greets each and every day. Dave has probably been 3 years without a lay. At this juncture, I feel the same way about my brain. Things are interesting (akin to Dave's masturbation), but they are far from fulfilling. So far and so on, things are far from where I imagined they would be when I was a boy.

As a result I turn to you faithful and humble Internet. For the longest time you have been there for me in various times of need. If I need to discuss Rashard Lewis, if I need to hear the Traveling Wilburys, if I need to see dirty pussy it is you who are there.

HOWEVER. You should understand that this is not a compliment. I'd like to get a paper, I'd like to write letters, but mostly I don't want to be stagnant and obsolete. That's what slideshows are for.

The logical question is qhy I'm typing these words. The illogical answer is that this is the seed. Myself, along with a gang of cohorts deign to provide you with everything that the internet should be. We know you're bored, angry, and insipidous. Don't bother with the emotions. Let us express them for you.
This is a shollow microcosm of the work I hope to produce. If anything I hope to help everything but my own ego. If you want me (or my friends) to be anything, by all means suggest it. We're so weak willed we just might run with it.

I have no feelings on Rose McGowan. I have lots on Cuckoo Clocks. These are good feelings.

I'm sick and tired of being bored. I'm bored of watching Kid Nation... Thus begins the path to satiation.