When last we met me, I was remembering how I came up with the idea to write about the sheer genius of Iron Maiden's Powerslave album vs. the sheer Power of Apples. And then I promptly passed out in a haze of "inspiration."
Which brings me to:
12:11 PM, Tuesday, May 5th:
After microwaving my lunch and sitting down to start composing the next chapter in this masterpiece, I decide how to begin this, and end up settling on:
1:24 PM, Monday, May 4th:
I give the following update to my fellow bartenders: "I ran out of lunch time. This will be at least a 2-parter.
Also, it probably makes no damn sense. "
I shortly receive this response:
1:26 PM, Monday, May 4th
Brant Brown: "Jon, brevity is a virtue."
I immediately snark back. This devolves into one of our numerous pissing matches (I think he is trying to haze me or something). Nothing witty is said on either side, so I will not recount it here, and only mention it as a bit of local color (and proof that it was my negative attitude that killed Pomp Culture not some "editorial decision," as the press release stated).
3:00 PM, Monday, May 4th:
Part 1 is published according to schedule and meets with the following critical response:
12:31 PM, Tuesday, May 5th:
3:03 PM, Monday, May 4th:The Serious Tip: 500 words or more
Jordi: "My personal guideline:
all other blogs: 300 words
Less than 144 characters: I'm Twittering that bitch" That's right. Jordi even pushes his blog in our private conversations. What a whore. Wait: don't tell him I said that, though. He will totally suplex me.
3:10 PM, Monday, May 4th:
Brant Brown: "Jon, I don't care for the direction of your post, but I do appreciate you working in the Tyler Perry quandary." I take this as the effusive compliment it clearly is.
3:41 PM, Monday, May 4th:
Chaim Witz: "Jon, though that post may not be fully appreciated until well after you've passed on from this Earth (quite possibly at the calloused hands of Brant Brown), let me be the first to recognize the tortured genius that emanates from those disjointed words. " I am momentarily flattered, then realize that Chaim also thinks the finest work of Western Literature is the 1970s KISS Adventures comic book, because "it uses real KISS blood in the red ink. Let's see Tolstoy do that."
6:41 PM, Monday, May 4th:
In our comments section, Nick V states "It took a few minutes to realize what you were talking about Wolter, but by the end I chuckled" By the end he chuckled. Exactly the response I wanted! Emboldened, I renew my vow to finish this, come hell or high water.
I sit back for a minute and try to remember where the hell I was going with this. Oh yeah:
1:01 PM, Monday, May 4th:12:35 PM, Tuesday, May 5th:
I write something to this effect before stopping:3:03 AM, Monday, May 4th:
I totally pass the hell out drunk, thinking I had a great idea for a blog post. (I am paraphrasing here).
I'm back on track!
12:54 PM, Tuesday, May 5th
6:48 AM, Monday, May 4th:
Oh god. Is that my cell phone alarm? Jesus Christ! I need to get up and go to work...holy god, my mouth tastes like country fried ass. Why do I do this to myself...
This goes on for some time, until...
10:13 AM, Monday, May 4th:
I step out of a near-endless staff meeting, still haggard and not-a-little-hung-over, yet determined to write the best possible blog entry on my lunch break.
10:16 AM, Monday, May 4th:
I realize that Powerslave vs. Powersauce is the stupidest idea I've ever had. Even stupider than those damn NES reviews.
10:18 AM, Monday, May 4th:
The following idea passes through my brain and is quickly discarded:Iron Maiden:
...THE IRON SHEIK
Again, Jordi would totally nail me if I didn't fact-check this one.
10:37 AM, Monday, May 4th:
I come close to googling pictures of Iron Chef before banging my head on the desk in frustration. Bad idea, as it re-activates my fading hangover.
10:53 AM, Monday, May 4th:
I hit a spark of inspiration, moments after I nix a plan to write about the incredibly awesome religious NES game Exodus (in which one plays Moses and Smites Pagans With the Power of the Lord). That one will come back. Trust me.
The plan is simple: I will write a "behind the scenes" look at how one of my posts comes to be. The only problem is: I don't have any good recent posts that I could possible remember the conception of. But I always say "when life gives you lemons, make crap up until you've filled the blue book." So I decide to write about the fact that I'm writing about the fact that I'm not writing anything at all. And by using dates, times, blockquotes, and different fonts, I can make a silly and pointless verbal puzzle that will both confuse and annoy all readers, while still making some semblance of sense if the reader wastes the time reading it.
And if anyone questions it...I'll say it's postmodern!
Armed with this confidence, I get back to doing my actual job until my lunch break.
I check the original entry again to make sure I know what the hell I'm talking about before starting to wrap this up:
12:11 PM, Monday, May 4th:
I begin typing the following:
I am not a prolific blo
...before spilling hot soup on my desk.