Straight out of the Ken Archives, my one attempt at writing semi-erotic self-insertion They Might Be Giants slash fiction. Just rememebr, I wrote it 5 years ago, and it's free. It's written in posts to a message board, and I've included the posts in between so it makes a little more sense. The names of the innocent have been removed. The names of the guilty remain. So, without further ado, let's enter the WaybackwhenIwasevenmoreofadork Machine:

******~~~Time machine noises~~~********

HEY ALL! Message board consensus question! Read this!

Posted by L..... on November 22, 1997 at 19:41:01:

Do you think the Johns lost their virginity in high school? I don't
think they did.
What do you think?

---

Heh heh... mm heh heh heh

Posted by Ken on November 22, 1997 at 20:58:02:

I know for sure that Flansie lost his when he was 17. Yup.. and there's
this wonderful thing he does with his toes...

I mean! Uh... uhm... I dunno, why? Gettin' worried, L.....?



Need some help? ;)

---

Dear god, Ken! Noooo!

Posted by D... on November 22, 1997 at 21:52:57:

[post missing]

---

Oh, you better believe it buddy!

Posted by Ken on November 22, 1997 at 22:02:12:

Hey, you know, he was lot wilder in college. Thass right, that man's got
the four way hips. Yeah, he ignores me now, but a few years ago, it was
Triple-SeXXXy around the clock, baby! Every night, red alert in tha
F-man's britches. Not only, block-rockin', but city-shakin! and I'm not
talkin' about beats here. Oh no, he's got the body that rocks the party,
and that's not all it rocks. My world will never be the same, not
without the serious lovin' he gave by the bucketfull!

---

That... that bastard!

Posted by D... on November 23, 1997 at 00:28:24:

He said *I* was the only one!

And never mind that I was only ten then!

---

Yeah, he told me about you.

Posted by Ken on November 23, 1997 at 01:19:01:

I'm sorry man, but when he said he was going out to those Barry Manilow
concerts, nuh uh. Straight to my house. Actually, he screamed your name
once when we were being intimate, I cried for an 3 hours straight. But
he made it up to me, oh yeah, in spades. To tell you the truth, I always
had it bad for Linnel. Sometimes I pretended it was him there with me,
that I was smelling his unkempt hair. Huh, and Flansburgh thought I
meant him when I said, "Oh GOD, JOhn!". Yeah, he was just using you for
emotional support and a place to stay. He was just using me for...
everything else, though. He was a predator, he always told me he was
going to leave you any day, but then that record contract came around,
and suddenly it was Mr. Oh-yeah-I'm-straight-as-the-Kansas-inters
tate-bigshot-rock-star... that... bastard! Oh sure, he's married now,
but so was Oscar Wilde!

*sob*... the memories...



Jesus, I need a cigarette...

---

Ken...oh boy.....

Posted by S... on November 23, 1997 at 01:38:40:

You know...that last post was kind of...arousing. I mean, reading it
was, y'know kind of pleasureable. I know it might make you feel
uncomfortable that I find your experience with Flans,
well,...interesting to say the least, and if so, I'm sorry. I just tho
ught I should let you know that I was touched by such an honest
outpouring of emotion and physicality. I commend you. I'm going to go
read it again now.

---

I would suggest that our younger guests not read this post.

Posted by Ken on November 23, 1997 at 02:08:47:

Is there no better way to get everyone to read a post? Well, let me tell
you about the time I tried to get Linnel...

It was all pretty sad, actually... I used to work at a Kinko's in
Manhattan and deliberately throw all of the Cosmic Orange cardstock into
the dumpster out back. Why? You might ask, because there was this verrry
foxy guy who happened to deliver new reams of paper to our door on his
bicycle. Pathetic, huh? I can't believe I didn't get fired. Fortunately
no one ever found out. Anyhow, this young fellow was none other than our
favorite accordionist... oh... those fingers... erm! Well, yes, so he
made deliveries there regularly, and I made polite conversation with him.
He was a pretty neurotic little guy then. As it turned out, he thought
himself something of a musician, and after a few of these engineered
meetings, I managed to finally meet him outside of work. He actually
asked me if I wanted to hear him and his friend try out some songs they
wrote. I found it odd that such a shy fellow could ever consider being
in a band, but there it was. Anyhow, they were practicing in Linnel's
garage, and there was this other guy by the name of Flansburgh. I could
see why Linnel was in this band, this Flansie guy just exuded
confidence. He could see the genius lurking inside of Linnel, and
convinced him to help him with writing music. I thought they
were actually pretty good, Flansburgh did all the singing, and Linnel
really opened up more when he was playing, tapping his foot, and bobbing
his head... it was so cute! Anyhow, I regularly started attending these
sessions, watching them practice. It started to become apparant that
Flansie was eyeing me. I could see that his confidence applied to more
than just his music. Then, after one of these sessions, Flans took me
aside while Linnel fiddled with a mixer. "Ken", he told me, "I can see
the way you're looking at John while we're playing. Let me tell you, he
isn't interested. If you want to talk about it, you can always come to
me, y'know." He squeezed my shoulder in a more than friendly way. Well,
that weekend, I went over to Flans' place, and he made it clear that he
could provide me with everything I wanted from Linnel. He was seeing
Doug at the time, but that was pretty easy to forget about after the
first kiss.

A few weeks later. I made these trips to Doug's place, where Flans' was
living, pretty frequently. Sometimes he would come over to my place, but
the result was usually the same. I still wanted Linnel, though. Although
I had pretty much been convinced by Flansburgh that he wasn't interested
in anyone, let alone other men. Well... one weekend, as they were
practicing again in Linnel's garage, Flansburgh broke a string pretty
early on, and went down to the music shop a few blocks over to get
another one. I played on Linnel's keyboard while he drank some coffee
and went over some lyric sheets. I had an idea... I started playing that
which no pianist can resist: the bass line to Heart and Soul. Linnel
froze behind his lyric sheet and put down his mug. He smiled and stood up. I
knew it had to work, at least it was something. I could tell he enjoyed
that sort of corny stuff, and as he tapped out the melody with one
finger, raising his hands up really high in that special way of his, I
realizied that Flansburgh was really no substitute. I'm a terrible
keyboardist, and my hand found its way up the scale too high, Linnel's
hand came crashing down, but landed very softly upon my own. I looked up
at him, and he was looking at me, with those eyes. Those deep... deep eyes...
and he didn't move his hand, and he looked different somehow, something
about him had unwound, he was less uptight-seeming. "Oops...", he whispered.
Just then Flansburgh came back with his blasted string... and whatever
it was in Linnel that had loosened him up so much snapped off like a
light. He turned away quickly, and nothing ever happened between us
again. I kept seeing Flans and wanting Linnel, and well.... you know the
story...

---

ohhhhhh

Posted by S... on November 23, 1997 at 02:18:48:

I love this stuff. You are amazing. The depth and detail are just so
wonderful. like a long, slow...well, needless to say, I really liked it.

---

What, you think I'm making it up?

Posted by Ken on November 23, 1997 at 02:21:27:

Listen, if you'd been there. and could feel his gentle touch as his hand
slowly slid off of yours...... brr.......

I'm sorry I don't mean to obsess about the incident, it's just.. that...
it's all I really have...

---

No, not at all!

Posted by S... on November 23, 1997 at 02:25:33:

I am just saying that the tenderness with which you describe these
intimate moments is so poetic. I can actually feel the sexual tension,
the needing, the wanting, the desire...it must have been truly some of
the most emotionally trying times in your life.

---

Tell me about it.

Posted by Ken on November 23, 1997 at 02:30:10:

Yeah, it was, all in all, a pretty weird situation, it's affected me
fairly deeply. I keep wondering to myself if I listen to the albums
because I honestly like the music, or if I just want to punish myself
emotionally. And Linnel just has this way of saying "Pennsylvania", that
makes me wish I had done something back then. But Flans gave me
security. I was just a coward. I can't even imagine what life would be
like now if I had let it go beyond that one touch.

Anyhow, thanks for your compliment, I have to admit that it's really
just how I saw it, and the words can never really describe how I felt.

---

well, it makes me feel...

Posted by S... on November 23, 1997 at 02:32:44:

privileged...to have seen this little bit of such an important part of
your life. You have earned my utmost respect. Perhaps, someday, once the
spotlight has faded...you can play Heart and Soul again, and not just on
the keyboard.

---

*sob*

Posted by Ken on November 23, 1997 at 02:36:48:

Thank you, S..., that's such a nice thing to say. I guess there always
hope for the future. I don't know if he'd want what's left of me,
though. I've had a lot of things happen to me since then, and done some
things I'm not entirely proud of. My feelings for him haven't changed,
though. Maybe he'll need someone to care for him in his golden years.
And with that hussy Robin (or is it Karyn?) out of the way, I can do it!
He's only deluding himself with that woman.

---

I think I saw this in the movie theater already.

Posted by L.... on November 23, 1997 at 12:07:59:

Yeah, wasn't it called "In & Out"? Busted again Ken!

---

What?

Posted by Ken on November 23, 1997 at 14:09:38:

You know, I never saw that movie. Guess I'm not busted after all.
Frankly I think they must have stolen the idea from my personal
experiences.

---

I hate that

Posted by S... on November 23, 1997 at 22:06:26:

Mine works in reverse though. I write these amazing stories...and then,
they start to come true!! I think I have to do more writing. Oh, by the
way guys...do you recall my "Turn Around and Bend Over Story"? So, did
he use that line on you too?

---

Turn around and bend over?

Posted by Ken on November 24, 1997 at 03:07:50:

I don't recall that story.

Well, we weren't really into *that* sort of thing in particular.... I
don't I should be sharing the more intimate details. They are not
something of which I am terribly proud.

---

Your exploits *are* pretty well known...

Posted by D... on November 23, 1997 at 21:48:37:

...I'm personally surprised that noone found out about them until just
now, actually.

---

Yeah, getting movies made of one' lifestyle can be pretty annoying.

Posted by Ken on November 24, 1997 at 03:13:35:

I mean, just look at how many people have ripped off from my own
personal experience. There's In and Out, apparently, for one.
"Heathers" (Only they changed the ending I'm still very much alive,
thank you.)
"Labyrinth"
"Diabolique"
"The Wall"
"Backdoor Busboys in Vegas III"
You know, that sort of thing.

Saw XXX at the drive-in last night. A fine, fine action film. I don't know if it will usurp the 007 franchise as king of the spy-film genre, but they have certainly created a good character with Xander Cage. A few things about the movie I would have changed were I in charge, though. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it very much. The action scenes were excellently done, so incerdibly over-the-top and XXX-TREME! However, there were a few things... (Do not continue to read if you don't want the movie spoiled for you. Well, I'm sure you've either seen it or you're not going to, but the following won't make much sense if you haven't seen it. (Not that it does make sense if you have.))

The car-theft

The Senator's mistress (althoguh it could possibly be his wife or daughter, but I like to think mistress because the senator is very clearly scum), should have given Xander a surreptitous wink or minor swoon upon watching him steal her man's sports car to illustrate that Xander is a hot sexy bad-ass whom the ladies love.

The cocaine plantation

When Xander is tooling around the Columbian cocaine plantation on a handy dirtbike, being chased by attack helicopters, there is one portion where he jumps the bike between two rows of barbed-wire fence with a well-placed whip, which is, admittedly, pretty fuckin' cool. However, earlier in the film, he is discussing the barrel-roll superman seat grab. Now, while he does perform an impressive one-handed seat-grab later in the film (the other hand firing a hnadung into some unfortunate henchman), there is no barrel-rolling and there is no logical reason for him to perform said seat-grab, especially considering he slays his one witness.

Now, if the gap between the rows of barbed-wire in the cocaine plantation were just small enough to fit a sideways dirtbike through, it would nessecitate the seat-grab, because Xander would then follow the bike through the gap. The barrel roll would be justified by the fact that the gap is horizontal. If Xander's going to talk up the barrel-roll Superman seat-grab he's been working on, he'd better do a fucking barrel-roll Superman seat-grab.

(Also, I know it would have been completely out-of-character, but it would have been pretty funny if, while Xander was jumpin his bike through the cloud of expldoing cocaine, he inhaled deeply through his nose, crossed his eyes and screamed "I CAN DO ANYTHING!!!")

The sex scenes

Or rather, what sex scenes? For a movie named "XXX", there sure ain't any even single-X action. Xander's a bad-ass, but his kissing scenes were pretty non-passionate. And since their sticking to the PG-13 James-Bondy route of no actual sex scenes, the kiss is supposed to sum up how the following sex would go. If this is the case, no wonder he's so into all this extreme edgy behavior, he's making up for something ("That's okay, X, it happens to lots of guys.")

He's this big, masculine, chiseled, thrusting, sweaty hunk of man-beef! Would it be so much to ask him to lift a woman up entirely by her buttocks and shove her crotch in his face? You can do that in PG-13 movies, can't you?

The firefight in the submarine dock

The secondary villian, a chain-smoking sniper, is informed by Xander, while he is undercover, that the smoking will kill him one of these days. Well, naturally we know that his cigarettes will somehow lead to his undoing. And in fact, towards the end, while Xander is leading a police raid on the Anarchy 99 compound, this sniper has the police pinned down in an underground submarine dock. They cannot see him, so Xander whips out a heat-seeking rocket, which naturally (you've got to suspend some disbelief for this) homes in on his lit cigarette and kills him. "I told him smoking would kill him." A-hyuk. However, this is done in a brief and unsatisfactory manner.

What should have occurred is that after Xander launches the rocket, we see the sniper smugly blowing a smoke ring (which actually occurs in the film), and then a slow-motion reaction shot of the sniper, wide-eyed, seeing the rocket coming towards him, through the smoke-ring (pure genius) and annihilating him just as he is about to hastily toss away his cigarette. Now tell me that wouldn't be sweet.

The final confrontation

The way in which the main villian was destroyed was equally disappointing. I don't actually remember the prime villian's name, so we'll just call him Mr. Bad-Guy. Now, he is set up as a pretty crazy, wicked dude, so we're pretty keen by this point at seeing him meet a fitting end. The scene: Mr. Bad-Guy has launched his unmanned submarine, which is armed with enough bio-chemical rockets to kill millions of people. He is taunting Xander as he pilots a boat away from his compound and Xander is trying desperately to shoot him with an M-16. Xander tries, misses, tries, misses, tries, hits, Mr. Villian loses control of the boat and crashes into a cliff.

Whoopee.

Instead, let's have Xander shoot the boat's engine, which catches fire. The villian then leaps onto the unmanned submarine from the boat, which proceeds to crash into a cliff and explode. At this point, the villian is aware that everyone knows he is the one who intends to gas these cities and bring about world war 3 and thus, total world-wide anarchy, so his plans are a failure. He can only hope to kill as many people as he can before he is stopped and is now in full-on Dr. Strangelove mode as he rides his engine on destrcuion down the river. Xander has this whole sequence where drives his GTO alongside the sub and harpoons it, etc. etc. This is all valid, but he should be chased by umm... the hot evil chick! Yes, did I mention the hot evil chick? Well, there's a hot evil chick who turns out to be good, so there should also be a hot evil chick who turns out to be evil (preferably at some point they have a kung-fu battle (in a shower)). So hot evil chick is driving her Dodge Viper after them down the road firing at them out the window with her Skorpion machine pistol, and when Xander pops the roof off his car, it tumbles underneath her car, causing it to launch into the air, flip over, and crash into a tree, exploding into a massive fireball.

So, Xander gets aboard the sub in the same manner which he does in the movie, harpooning it, parasailing behind it and sliding down the rope, just in time to avoid the line being severed by the cub passing underneath a brisdge. Mr. Bad-Guy desperately tries to yank out the harpoon to no avail, and looks up in time to see Xander's boot smash into his face. The harpoon remains attached, but he line snaps and whips the water behind the speeding sub. A fistfight ensues, and Xander easily beats Mr. Bad-Guy's ass, knocking him off the submarine and then focusing on stopping the rockets from launching, which have, by now, raised themselves out of their housing.

Don't count Mr. Bad-Guy out yet, though! Everyone knows that you need to kill the final bad-guy in an action flick at least twice. Mr. Bad-Guy has grabbed the harpoon line dragging behind the sub and has pulled himself back onto it. He wraps the cord around his waist to prevent such a mishap from occurring again. Meanwhile, Xander, unaware of Mr. BG's presence, is punching frantically at the controls, then hits upon the brilliant idea of removing the rocket and replacing it into its launch-container upside-down (this happens in the movie as well), when suddenly a cord is wrapped around his neck from behind! Xander struggles with Mr. BG, who is laughing maniacally, and backs him the submarine's tailfin. Mr Bad-Guy is momentarily stunned and releases Xander, who turns around and swings at Mr. BG's head, Mr. BG ducks the punch and while Xander is off balance, kicks him in the rear, sending him tumbling into the water. "Ha ha!", laughs Mr. BG, who then walks back to the rocket, grabs it, notices that the timer (did I mention that there was a timer? There's always a timer.) is at 00:00, and the rocket fires into his face. Mr. BG screams and clutches his eyes, stumbling around. The sub begins to sink, thanks to the upside-down rocket, and Mr. BG is dragged underneath, still attached by the wire. Underwater explosion, the biochemical agents are rendered harmless by the water (I did not make that part up) and the audience has received a quality kill.

Revolution Studios: Please feel free to contact me for any help with XXX2.

So, I know there are 4 elements of hip-hop (MC's, DJ's B-boys and Graf Artists), but where does the Human Beat-Box fall in all of this? It is certainly an aspect of hip-hop culture. The roots of mouth music in general can be traced back much further than the advent of hip-hop, it's true, but the specific art form of human beat-boxing undeniably has its roots in hip-hop music.

So, should it be considered a subset of MCing, or perhaps a combination of MCing and DJing? Or is it another element entirely? Should I, a skinny white boy from Santa Cruz, really concern myself with such things?

I'd like to take this opportunity to say, "Hello!" to anyone who has begun to read this after hopping over from Big Blogger All-Star. You know, if that thing ever gets boring, feel free to come over here and be amused or confused by the views I spew when infused with booze. I apologize in advance if I make no sense, but some people seem to like it. You might like it too. I hope so.

It has recently dawned on me that I type about 20-30 times the amount of words that I speak in any given day. You can't fault me for lack of content. You can fault me for lack of coherent content, but not lack of content.

Believe it or not, I was a model once.Yes, there was once a time... long.... so long ago. If you think I'm hot now, you should've seen me back in the day. Man I was... really....really ... ummm... skinny. Regardless, I modeled the concept of "bicycle safety" for an organization who printed up those little pamphlets on Saying No to Drugs, Preventing Pregnancy, Dealing with Bullies that you see in your guidance counseler's office during middle school. I was driven to Watsonville high for a photo shoot on a overcast day during (I believe) my freshman year of high school. I and four or five other dorky aspiring famewhores donned bicycle helmets and rode some ten-speeds around the campus, then doffed our protective gear for a game of basketball which illustrated our radicalness despite the obvious stigma of being concerned with protecting our skulls.

One thing I recall is sitting next to a girl in the van, my leg pressed up against hers. I remember thinking that the she felt as though her muscles were gelatinous. This theory was further established by the fact that she had semi-transparent skin. She is one of the few people I've met who I would describe as "amoebic". Ew. (I had strange thoughts when I was younger (but certainly not any more).)

I recently applied for a job with the parent organization of the one for which I had posed. The interview was obtained mostly due to the fact that the interviewer was a friend of my mother's, (Weeeellll... my interview opportunity wasn't totally, but at least 50% nepotism-based) and I was in waaaaayyy over my head for the responsibilities of the position were concerned. Now, I can sing my praises pretty professionally when pressed, but it was not to be. I knew this when I left the building that day. This was during my period of Xtreem unemployment, and it was all I could do to not beg the interviewer when it was over to allow me to show off how well I remembered the bicyucling hand signals and to let me have another shot at the catalog.

Ahhh.... despite the fact that I have to put in so many hours. It is good to be working again.

Dear scientists,

I like science as much as the next guy. But sometimes you guys can really suck. Please do not give lethal doses of powerful drugs to elephants or mice for stupid reasons.

Sincerely, Ken

Somehow I bet these were the same guys who thought it would be funny to give the dog the beer bong in college. (Thanks to fark.)

I'm glad that the squirrel is gone now.

Often I will walk to a cafe near my work for lunch so that I can enjoy a sandwich or curry or something and read in peace. To get there, I must walk over a freeway overpass, which means I am pretty much the only non-vehicular human being I see all the way between here and there. This allows me to beatbox without interruption the entire way, which I also enjoy.

Unfortunately, this also means that if a random dead squirrel shows up on the sidewalk, it is not removed for many days. I have no idea who to call about these things, and by the time I get back to work I've pretty much forgotten about it.

It's not smashed like it was run over by a car, and there aren't any power lines above the overpass, so I'm pretty sure he wasn't electrocuted. I guess he must have just siffered a heart attack while crossing. So it's not really that gross, but due to the thin sidewalk, I am forced to walk in close proximity to it on the way there and back.

Now, the fun part is when my paranoia slips into the realm of the supernatural. Once I get past it, I am almost convinced that it has risen, shaken off its coat of ants, and is now scampering after me in some sort of pastoral post-mortem zombie-frolic, intent on sucking my blood, or... *shudder*... eating my nuts. It really takes a force of will to prevent myself form turning around and checking that it's still lying in exactly the same place as before.

Fortunately, as I said, it is gone now. Some poor CalTrans worker (CalTrans, of course! I should've called them!) has disposed of it, I'm sure. It's a relief to turn that corner and not see the little furry carcass in my path any more, and I needn't worry about being assaulted by undead rodents.

Of course, now I'm worried that the overpass is haunted...

Well, I was going to bitch about Cap'n Crunch's Oops! Choco-Donuts, and how exactly Choco-Donut cereal is created by accident ( I mean, I can buy Oops! All Berries and Oops! All Rat Droppings, but there aren't Choco-Donuts in any other Cap'n Crunch variety of cereal!), but apparently I've been beaten to it. Instead, I'll make a boring pointless linky-link post, and say that as long as cereals are being based on facorty mishaps, I really wish someone would create Lucky Charms Oops! All Marshmallows!

I have returned from Santa Barbara unscathed. A big fat humungous, gargantuan brobdig-fucking-nagian CONGRATULATIONS!!! to Steve and Rhea for finally (get it? Becuase you've been together for 8 years! Ha ha ha!) tying the proverbial knot. It was a kick to see you guys doing that ceremonial thing. Here's to you.

Best man duties are not as hard as I had imagined, but few things are as hard as I imagine. I managed to not drop or lose the rings. I actually spat out a first toast that I think made sense, even though all I can recall of it is that I said I'd known Steve for 8 or 9 years, when in fact it's more like 12. Duh.

Things I forgot to bring:

• Nice shoes (borrowed from Steve's dad)
  
• Tie (borrowed from Steve's dad)
  
• Extra gifts for Steve (will be mailed later)
  
• Directions to Steve's parent's house (returned to San Jose to get them, still made it in time for rehearsal, go figure)

All in all it was super-killer and totally worth the trip. It was fun to see old friends again and meet new people and pretend to be a with-it mature adult person for the ceremony and see Steve and Rhea say their vows. *sniff* it was so beautiful! And thanks to them for foolishly entrusting me with the best man duties. I'm glad I didn't screw it up. Congrats again!