April, 2014:

Some say the existence of urban legends are, in fact, an urban legend.

Another week, another special Awesome Talk final word. I tested this one out on about seven different focus groups and they all agreed: “Those sure are words.” Were they right? READ ON.

Some say the existence of urban legends are, in fact, an urban legend.

The other day, due to circumstances I’d rather not disclose, I found myself with a large collection of teeth that I needed to dispose of. A few thousand frantic public library Google searches later, with phrases such as “teeth melt” “teeth melt no evidence” “teeth melt no evidence as few steps as possible”, I came across the old urban legend that said a tooth could dissolve in a can of soda. And that’s one of those things where you think, “Huh that’s kind of interesting” or you’re like me and you think, “Huh that’s kind of interesting, but what about like, an obscene amount of teeth. Like, more than an average person should have in a foot locker.” The library was closing, and there was no time for further research. It was, as Redman once said, time 4 sumaksion.

“Good morning John!” My neighbor waved at me from the next yard over as he watered his lawn. “What’s uh… going on over there?” I think he was talking about the bottles of soda I was pouring into a kiddie pool next to a foot locker labeled DEFINITELY NOT TEETH. “Hey good morning Bill. Oh you know, house stuff.” I stared at him, dead eyed, as I poured the last bottle into the pool. “Well, I’ll uh, let you get to it then,” Bill said as he dropped his hose and slowly walked backwards into his house. I grunted in his direction and stirred my concoction with a badminton racket. Long story short, I learned that teeth do not dissolve in soda. Not even cute little baby teeth. I also learned that it’s not easy to drag a kiddie pool full of soda and teeth onto your neighbor’s lawn when it’s swarming with bees. They don’t tell you these things on Snopes. Sometimes you need to visit thisissomerealshit.com/fucking_deal_with_it.html.

This happened once probably maybe who gives a shit

This happened once probably maybe not who gives a shit shut up

Heartbroken, it was time for more urband legend research. Maybe my favorite one is that Disney World visitors are not allowed to die on the premises. Say you were having a massive heart attack after a raucous twirl on the teacups, park workers would supposedly drag you into the parking lot to die, far away from the magic and whimsy. God that’s the best. What if you were decapitated on Space Mountain?  Would they keep your head frozen in a jar like Walt Disney and throw it on a bus headed for Universal Studios? What if you saw a dude dressed up like Donald Duck and he was teaching little kids how to smoke meth and your soul died? Disney World representatives did not have answers to these questions, but I think “Sir you need to stop calling here, this is Dorney Park” is actually code for “We’re illuminati lizard men, and we can do whatever we want.”

So all I’m saying is, don’t trust the internet to debunk urban legends. You have to get out there in the field, get your hands dirty – flash your highbeams at passing cars in the night if their lights are off! I mean, what’s the worst thing that could happen? How are you gonna know whether or not it’s a gang initiation thing unless you witness them pull a u-turn, run your car off the road and then stab you to death?  “I was right. I was so right,” you’ll gurgle as the newly initiated gang member is presented with his monogrammed jacket and plaque. The gang will all cheer and lift him up on their shoulders, but really, it’s you they should be celebrating. You, the stabbed to death, urban legend… what’s the opposite of debunking? Bunking, I guess. The stabbed to death, urban legend bunking hero.  Godspeed.

My Video Will (transcript)

Last night on Awesome Talk I skyped in the following bit of business, heavily inspired by my love of The Heart, She Holler. I even got dressed up, like a real song and dance man. I did not dance, but I’m told there will be a song added in post. Below, please find…

My Video Will (transcript)

Family, friends, I’d like to welcome you to my video will. If you’re watching (reading) this, I am dead. OK so for the time being ignore that part. If you’re watching (reading) this any time other than right now, I am dead, and I can only assume that I died doing what I loved – rescuing blind children from a burning orphanage. How is it possible that I’m always the first on the scene when the blind kid orphanage goes up in flames? Look, some questions are better left unanswered. Clearly you’re having a hard time dealing with my death, and you’re thinking all kinds of crazy mixed up thoughts. That’s the first stage of grieving – accusing the deceased of arson.

Now that I’m dead, you’re probably wondering what you should do with my corpse. It’s very simple: I am to be cremated, and my ashes are to be placed inside the salt and pepper shakers of a dining car headed towards St. Croix Falls, Wisconsin, the snow globe capital of the world. Once they arrive, my ashes are to be placed inside three snow globes. One depicting my ash’s train ride to St. Croix Falls, one depicting my loved ones placing my ashes into three separate snow globes, and one wildcard. The wildcard can be any snowglobe of your choosing, as long as it has some kind of sentimental attachment to me. Maybe depicting that scene in Scream where Rose McGowan is killed by a garage door. Although there wasn’t any snow in that scene… ok scratch that. The wildcard snow globe now has to depict the Battle of Hoth. Also, this probably goes without saying, but never shake the snowglobes.

awesometalksuitNow for the earthly possessions segment of my video will. I was a man of simple tastes. I loved nothing more than spending time with my family and friends, having a few drinks and heh heh, having a few laughs. That being said – All of my hard drives are to be destroyed. Drill a thousand holes into them, take them to a firing range and blast them to bits, then submerge the bits in some kind of super acid. As for my online presence, my password for every account is the same, and it is tattooed underneath my left eyelid. Granted, you’re going to have to get a little Aeon Flux on my face to retrieve my master password, but that’s what I would have wanted.

To my wife, I leave my collection of plaid shirts. Remember how we always talked about lining the walls of the house in plaid? How a dead man’s shirts would really spruce up the rumpus room? Well now you can do that honey. I love you so much.

To my friends in Awesome Talk, I leave you all of my unfinished special final words. There’s some real gems in there, like I have this one sentence about a Terminator going to a job fair and scanning the room for complimentary pens. It’s really great, and now it’s yours.

To everyone else in my life, I dunno, baseball cards or something, who cares. So, summing up: I am dead, 3 separate snowglobes, master password under my eyelid. Thank you.