There’s a koala bear, living in Australia, as most koala bears do. And one day, he decides to see the world, and he moves to the United States. During his first week in the U.S., he ends up at a big, wild, lavish party at a giant mansion. He’s wandering around this huge house, and into one of the many bedrooms, when in walks this beautiful woman. The woman proceeds to take off her clothes and get on the bed, and invites the koala bear to get into bed with her. So the koala bear jumps up on the bed and begins to perform oral sex on this woman, with considerable gusto. And when he finishes up, he hops off the bed and walks toward the door.
“Wait a minute,” says the woman. “That’ll be $100.”
“One hundred dollars?” says the koala bear. “Whatever for?”
The woman says, “I’m a prostitute. Don’t you know what a prostitute is?”
“No,” says the bear. “I’m a koala bear, and I just came to this country. I still don’t know these things.”
So the woman reaches for a dictionary that happens to be on one of the shelves in the bedroom.
“See?” she says, turning to the correct page. “Prostitute: a woman who sexual acts for money.”
“Oh, well,” says the bear. “I see. But what you’ve got to understand is that I’m a koala bear. You do know what a koala bear is, don’t you?”
“I’m not sure I follow you,” says the woman.
“I’ll show you,” says the bear. At which point he opens the dictionary to the correct page, and reads: ”Koala Bear: A small, furry Australian marsupial who eats bush and leaves.”
If they were making a movie about your life, who would you choose to play the part of Manhole?
Robert Downey, Jr. Or, for a way-better-looking, Hollywood version of me, David Duchovny.
Describe your most embarrassing drunken moment.
I used to have certain problems with… excess. So one night, I’d been out doing terrible things, it was 5 a.m., and I decided that, rather than risk going into work late, or not at all—which I often did—I would go to my office and sleep it off on the couch next to the front desk.
I ended up just not getting up, and sleeping through the entire workday, with my co-worker going about their business—very uncomfortably, needless to say—while I snorted and snoozed away.
The truly embarrassing part, now, is that at the time, I wasn’t even embarrassed.
What’s the worst band you’ve ever seen/heard?
Sigh. Where to begin? Nickelback. .38 Special. Any “Nu” Metal—which of course, isn’t all that new anymore. And yet it just won’t go away.
Anything that on contemporary country music radio.
I have a theory that no one who says, “I love all kinds of music” is really a serious music fan. Because serious music fans are defined as much by what they hate as by what they love.
You’re having a Moonshine Roof Garden Party at Preservation Pub. What three famous guests, living or dead, would you like to host?
Gautama Buddha; Charles Bukowski; Jack Kirby; and Quentin Tarantino. It’s my blog, so I get four.
Describe your worst date ever.
I asked this girl out once, and she said yes. Then she canceled at the last minute, and didn’t act particularly interested in a rain check. So I gave up.
Then she approached me, about a month later, at the restaurant I was working at. And she was acting flirty, giggling, talking fast, saying she’s so sorry we had to postpone our date. So I bit, and said, ‘would you like to try again.’ And she said, ‘oh yeah, just give me a call.’
I called her two nights later. And she said, ‘Well, Bob (some dude she worked with, whom I met once in passing) and I just had a long talk last night, and we finally decided we’re going to be a couple now. But you’re welcome to do something with us one night.’
So I ended up being the designated driver on a date involving this girl I liked, and her new boyfriend.
If you were going to torture someone, how would you do it?
If it’s a guy, I’d do something to the boys. No guy can take that very long. If it’s a girl… I dunno. I don’t think I could torture a girl.
I’d probably just call in the meanest girl I know, and let her do her thing.
What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?
I had one of my bosses tell me once, “Always remember: Leftie Lucy, Rightie Tightie.” That was a game-changer.
What’s the worst advice you’ve ever gotten?
“Just be yourself.” Anyone who ever says that should be shot in the #$% face. First, by definition, whatever you do, you are “being yourself.” You can’t be anyone else. Wherever you go, there you are.
Second, the fact of the matter is that “myself” is someone who’s really bad at whatever it is that I’m getting advice about. So being more of myself is only going to make matters worse.
Somewhere where it’s always too cold; where my ambitions are continually thwarted; and where they play nothing but contemporary mainstream country and bad ‘80s music.
And by the latter, I mean stuff like Phil Collins and Hall & Oates, both of which were recognized as shitty mass-produced corporate crap at the time, but that for some reason, are regarded as being really awesome now.
I read this in a book: God is a beach, and we are all the grains of sand which make up that beach. Individually, we are just tiny motes. But together, we are a part of the divine whole.