Archive for March, 2010

A Several Small Animals Anecdote: Marmot Soup.

March 26, 2010

SSA Loves You

I was cooking the other day when someone asked me for a taste. “Man,” they said, “what did you put in this?”

Love, motherfucker,” I said, “don’t you know I lived in Asheville, North Carolina. There’s so much peace and understanding floating around down there you don’t know who to hug first.”

 “It’s just that I’ve never tasted anything like this.”

“Clearly,” I said, “You’ve never tasted marmot.”

“What?”

“That’s marmot soup.” I said.

“Whatever, man.”

“You know what the secret is to a good marmot soup?” I asked.

“Shut up dude.”

“It is love my son. Love.” I said. Then I turned off the burner, kissed their forehead and skipped joyfully away. “Enjoy the Marmot!” I shouted.

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A Chance Meeting: Saddam Hussein

March 16, 2010
Evil Dictator. Smooth 12 foot jumper.

I was walking down the street today when I saw a man that looked just like Saddam Hussein. “I thought he was dead,” I thought to myself.

“Nope, still kicking,” Saddam said.

“Holy shit, he can read my thoughts.”  

“I’m not reading your thoughts,” he said, “You’ve been talking out loud this whole time.”

“I should really apologize to this woman I saw before I ran into you,” I said. “So wait, you’re him, I mean-uh, you’re you, you’re really Saddam Hussein?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, “But let’s just keep that between us. There are some folks who are still pretty unhappy with me.”  Saddam motioned for us to walk and talk. He spoke openly about his ordeal. I guess it had been weighing on him pretty heavy. The execution had been a fake, the guy on the cell phone video was an imposter. “Why do you think they leaked a cell phone video?” he asked. Pretty easy to fake one of those. For a while he had to stay cooped up in this tiny apartment in Red Hook. These days it seemed like most people had forgotten all about him so he’s started trying to get out a little during the week. He said he was on the way to play some basketball with some friends and asked if I wanted to play. How could I say no?

Let me tell you something about Saddam Hussein. He has a great mid-range jump shot. Smooth as silk. Trash-talker too. It became a little easier to remember that he had recently been employed as a brutal dictator after seeing him on the court.   I wanted to bring it up. I kept trying to work up the nerve to ask him about it. The murder and the genocide. He seemed so agreeable now. Like a hip basketball playing grandfather. I could never bring myself to do it. I’m supposed to call him Thursday for some two-on-two.

Jerry the Love Mastodon Takes Letters From Readers OR Love and Arson: Burned by the Flames of Desire

March 3, 2010

Fire Love

Dear Jerry the Love Mastodon,

Lately things just haven’t been the same between my wife and I. I’ve taken to staying out later and later and it’s gotten to the point now where I stop at the bar on the way home and stay until they throw me out. Then I stumble home at four a.m. stinking of booze and cigarettes and get in a loud fight with my wife. Last week the neighbors called the cops. Now I’m staying in a cheap motel in a rough neighborhood. You’ve got to help me Love Mastodon, I’m at wits end.

 — signed Heartbroken in Hoboken

Dear Heartbroken,

It’s like my father used to say: “Women: drink too much when you’re with them, get arrested when they leave you.” Most people would tell you to go back hat in hand and make an effort to rekindle the romance. I’m not of that school. I suggest a new hobby. Drinking clearly hasn’t worked out. Maybe its time to shake things up. Seeing as how hard drugs are probably readily available in your new neighborhood, it seems like the logical next step. You’ll meet new people, you’ll try new things. I can’t see any reason not to move in this direction. Arson can also be a thrilling distraction for a man in your condition. Many a night I’ve “let it all hang out” by setting a friend and/or family member a-light while they slept. Sure they get mad, but burns heal. You’ll be forgiven. In fact, the more I think about it, nothing says “take me back or else” like a Molotov cocktail through the bedroom window. You don’t have kids, right? You’re going to want to slash her tires so she can’t chase you down. It’s important to remember that this is a long-term strategy. She’s gonna be pissed for a while. You’ll need a clean escape and a place to lay low for a while. Especially if the fire gets out of hand. Let me know how this works out.

-LM