"The firefighters are so nice."

So Nice Youth RAWKED me to the max at Rock n Roll Fantasy Weekend. (Pic Cred.)

Impending DOOM permitting, they will do so again at McCarren Park Pool this Saturday. Incidentally, the clever little sobriquet "So Nice Youth" was coined (or ripped off someone else) by my friend Todd, who has yet to back out on this Saturday's show.

(Give him time, people; I'm sure there's some pivotal televised professional sporting contest that will demand his urgent attention.)

I was made aware that it's been a long time since I rapped at you by a threatening letter from Typepad, the company I've deemed worthy to host the venerable Fists With Your Toes. Long story short, there's been some dissatisfaction with my performance:

"Today, you did not show for blogging (all day). I am now told you don't plan to blog tomorrow because you are 'not feeling well'. You and your representatives have told us that your various late arrivals and absences from the blog have been the result of illness; today we were told it was 'heat exhaustion'. We are well aware that your ongoing all night partying is the real reason for your so called 'exhaustion'. We refuse to accept bogus excuses for your behavior...

You have acted like a spoiled child and in so doing have alienated many of your co-bloggers and endangered the quality of Fists With Your Toes. Moreover, your inactions have resulted in several dollars in damage. We will not tolerate this further..."

And blah-blah-saber-rattling-rat-a-tat-tat. Signed by one James G. Robinson, CEO of Typepad.

Whatever! It HAS been FORKING HOT! Well, okay, the past few days have been pretty damn sublime. But the first five months of 2006 have been the warmest since they started counting in the 19th century! Fun fact, eh?

Ha ha ha. Anybody have an "ins" with Stephen Hawking?

Those weblog bigwigs can eat my shorts. It's disgusting what these g-d damn people are doing to me. As well as the people in my life that I work with/for. It's vulgar and I'm saddened for myself. ("Inside myself?" - ED.)

And, ANY of those willing to fall into judging me in any way in the future or past, can watch the video tapes that these men/women take of me while they are being invasive towards my DAY off…Which I never have anymore!

(Good Grief. Someone in the other room is listening to Dubya try to speak about the Islamic Fascists and how America is so becoming safer as a Police State. Isn't it cute when he tries to sound official?)

Anyway, maybe Morgan Creek Typepad has a point. I have been kind of exhausted from all the work and having to watch these Godless Connecticut liberals surrender to Al Qaeda sending some spineless Democrat to the Senate.

So for a few days I'm going to try something new here at Fists With Your Toes and share the burden with a guest blogger. Please give your undivided attention to my good friend who prefers to remain anonymous: THE MAN IN THE BROWN HAT.

Hey Netizens, I'm The Man in the Brown Hat! Now, I told Max I didn't want any photos of me -- should've known that inveterate jokester would have to have his little laff. Rest assured, ladies, that photo hardly does me justice. Besides, red slacks with yellow blazer? Right hand open and left fist clenched? I'd never make it past the velvet rope at Misshapes working that look!

Anyway, I'm really grateful to Max for giving me my big break on the Internets, about which I've heard so many rumors. (Go and click - one more time for old time's sake.)

I was talking over my choice of pseudonym with (Max Power approved) Selfh8tinghipster and she gave it two hateful thumbs down. Her big beef was that it sounded too much like The Man in the Yellow Hat. You know, from Curious George?

That had not occurred to us, Dude.

So let me clear up any confusion. As a boy I used to love reading a little column in the local Chatham Courier penned by a semi-mysterious The Man in the Black Hat.

Each week typically covered the little goings-on in the local village with a Rockwellian whimsy, minus the sickly saccharin. Of course, at the time I just liked it because how Boss would it be to be an adult with a Kick-Ass pseudonym like that?

For some reason, I never put it together that the man who penned the column was a family friend whose lawn my older siblings had diligently mowed over the years. In fact, it wasn't until Max axed me to fill in here that I did the leg work  Googled him and put it all together.

When I was five I was inducted into the Malden Bridge Rabbit Club, whose purpose remains inscrutable to this day. But at that age induction into any club - even The Clean Plate - is a source of great excitement for a boy. The pride was made even more acute by my giddy realization that the club was comprised entirely of older, well-nigh double-digit girls. (Sadly, that was our only official club meeting for reasons unknown to this day. "It wasn't me, was it?" is the question that's haunted me ever since.)

Anyway, I did not put 2 and 2 together until tonight that the kindly gentleman who officiated at the induction ceremony, and whose very house we had gathered in, was none other than The Man in the Black Hat. His name was Albert Callan Jr. and the little paper he published and edited was once nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for exposing "the largest floating craps game east of the Mississippi" in Hudson, NY.

The Man in the Black Hat columns are collected in a book to be found here on Amazon. ("Hurry - one copy left!") More on Mr. Callan, as I remember calling him, can be read here (on page 28.) He passed away last December at age 87, obituaries here. 

Anyone still awake? I realize this is probably only of interest to me, but if I'm going to be laying some hot guest pipe here it's important for readers to know the source of my inspiration: Mr. Callan who lived the dream of being a grown man with a weekly column & and one sweeeeeet pseudonym.

Anyway, writing sure is time consuming and I'm "exhausted"! Anyone want to guest blog for me while I go check out the action at Crobar?

Oh, almost forgot:  Drink free beer for the environment this Sunday starting at 1:00 p.m. Then face off with Max Power on the Dodgeball Court of Destiny over at the ool. (He's taking a brief break from exhaustion to show these scenesters how ball is dodged.) Also, Deerhoof, Beirut, Apollo Sunshine, Harlem Shakes AND ?uestlove spinning!

(No head shots!)

Comments

[self-h8ting hipster]

let me make a correction here, man in the brown hat: I gave that two "h8teful" thumbs DOWN. I give the same judgement for your short shorts. But you can read abou that in my BLOG soon enough.