Saturday, March 15, 2003
Boz of The Grand Ennui Guest Post
That Should've Been Posted By Me A Long Time Ago,
But He Still Loves Me Anyway...
Here it is ...
The Kenneth V. Cole Fan Club News.
The last couple of months of my senior year in high school were really a drag, so I did what any self-centered young twerp would do, I started a fan club for myself.
Those were strange times, not the best of times, not the worst of times, just strange times
Take that Charles Dickens.
Martin Luther King had just been murdered.
The Democrats were fighting among themselves to see who would take the place of the much feared and equally despised Lyndon Baines Johnson.
Meanwhile, Richard Nixon was saying “sock it to … me, sock it to … me?” on the television show Laugh-in, so at least we didn’t have to worry about him, the rat bastard.
And of course that silly little war was still raging over in Vietnam, and even though the town I grew up in was blue collar to the max, only one person that I knew, was killed in action, and that was Tom Yoklewicz, who dropped out of school at sixteen and died in Vietnam before the rest of us had even graduated from high school,
But I digress…
This is a post about me … me… me …
Like I said, I started a fan club for myself, and the amazing part was that about twelve people actually joined my little attempt at self-aggrandizement .
The members I remember were:
Jill Stephens the seventeen year old schoolgirl with the body of a woman, hubba hubba: and make no mistake about it, she was the real reason that I started the club, I had the major hots for her mind and body, and the fan club did actually result with me getting a date with her, but just one, self-aggrandizement can only take you so far, and the last I heard of Sweet Jill she had married some Navy loser six months after graduation, and lived happily ever after.
Greg Zmud: my best friend who I lost contact with because his soon to be wife hated my guts, I think she felt that I exerted some kind of mind control over Greg, and if there were to be any mind control exerted it would be her’s.
Doug Wong: my token oriental friend who either became a doctor or a drug addict, or both.
Bob Zechmiester: who had been a star athlete before, at the age of fifteen, jumping off the roof of his friend’s garage into an above ground swimming pool breaking his spine, or whatever it is you do your spine that paralyzes you. I think he became a teacher.
And Finally there was
Beth McKenzie: who had a stare that could make any hard-on shrivel up into next to nothing and quiver in fear. I have no doubt that she was a lesbian in training, and probably became quite adept at it.
And isn’t this post dragging on, and I haven’t even gotten to the point, which is …
The Kenneth V. Cole Fan Club News!
The KVCFCN was a newsletter I wrote just about every day from mid April till we graduated.
What is was was a non computerized version of my current blog, without the boobs, as written by a seventeen year old, the one and only hand written copy passed from member to member to member.
Some of the highlights, well, maybe not highlights, but some of the things I can remember about the newsletter were:
Joe Smith, my choice for President in the 1968 election. Joe had just returned from Argentina after a 20 year holiday, and bore an almost sickening resemblance to Adolph Hitler, and was in fact Adolph Hitler, oh the sly satire on the political situation of the time.
Shlome Katz and Beylo Wemple, two characters that popped up whenever I needed a dupe or fall guy to make fun of, sort of the same role Kevynn plays today.
A lengthy plea of devotion to the then almost unknown Goldie Hawn, pledging my heart, my soul, my love, and all the money I had saved up from cutting lawns the summer before, if only Goldie would flash her Double AA ‘s at me. Even then I had a thing for celebrities, and their boobage thereof.
And of course their were bits and snippets of song lyrics from “I Feel Like I’m Fixing to Die Rag” to “Sock it to the Soul Man as he Boogaloo’s Down Funky Broadway.”
And I made the Boogaloo song title up, another bit of sly satire reflecting the popular music tastes of the time.
And now I am getting tired, read bored, so I will do a spell-check and ship this off to Mister Malone, and I bet that Kevynn will delete all the swear words, cause he is a prude that way, but I don’t care, it’s his life, and he has to lead it his way.
And as the Master, Frank Sinatra, once sang …
That’s life, that’s what all the people say
You’re riding high in April
And shot down in May.