BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

THE PUF REPORT: Part 3 of 5

As a rule, PUF always has a mascot.

Now, the thing about the mascot is that it changes every year. I’m not entirely sure what the first few mascots happened to be, because while I have been headlining the fest for something like 8 years, I came into the mix somewhere around the time of PUF #3.

Back in ’01, when #3 happened, the “mascots” were sheep. Not real sheep, mind you. Nobody wanted to clean up the sheep poo.  So, real grass eating wool makers were replaced by the next best thing – life-sized cardboard cutouts made in their likeness. But then, they eventually progressed not only into cutouts, but plush stuffed animals and plastic toys as well. Which is one of the things that drove the mascot diversity PUF is known for today. Even so, I believe sheep were still the mascot in ’02, as to this very day I have a nubbly little plastic novelty toy sheeplike thing that was somewhat of a party favor handed out at the fest.

The picture above is obviously not a sheep. It was taken in ’08, when aliens invaded PUF. Although, now that I think about it, sheep and little green men might have gotten along just fine. Well, maybe not gotten along per se, but I’m betting the alien dudes would have had some fun with the sheep. What the sheep would have thought of that is anyone’s guess. I suppose it would largely depend upon the individual sheep and… well… things we simply won’t go into here.

Uhh… Ahem… So, moving right along…

Of course, the point here is basically to illustrate that the mascots have become an important – and expected – fixture at the Festival. To that end, I’d like to offer the following quote directly from the Festival Organizer herself,  Tish Owen. In her book, Chasing The Rainbow: Facilitating A Pagan Festival Without Losing Your Mind, she states:

WHY ARE THERE ANIMALS AT PUF? – We really have no good answers to that question, except that it amuses us. We did not start out with an animal mascot or even a name. But over the years, we have had too many bagels donated, cooked pigs, a sheep incident, the fire, the accident, the flood, and then we just started adding the animals for fun. Then at some point, someone started killing the mascots and it has devolved. We have had: bagels, sheep, pigs, penguins, flamingos, Chihuahuas, and flying pigs!

There have been more, such as the aliens, since the publication of her book. And, as you can see here on the right, she wasn’t kidding about the mascot killings. A poor, inflatable blue-green dude met his demise on the road right outside the VIP cabin one night. The scene was odd since no cars had come by for several hours, yet there it was, flat as the proverbial pancake. It definitely made us wonder if it was perhaps a “staged accident”.

But, at least in this case the particular end met was a bit more swift. Among other victims of the “serial mascot killer” another alien was found in the walk-in freezer in the dining hall. It was frozen solid, and still had a… well… there’s simply no delicate way to say this… It still had an “anal probe” protruding from its rectal orifice, which prompted site investigators to conclude that the green dude had been tortured as well as frozen to death. Of course, this theory led to… Yeah, you guessed it… An Alien Autopsy.

Sometimes there have been notes from the killer. Sometimes not. I think it largely depends upon the particular killing – that being whether it was one of the planned murders, or merely an opportunistic sort of hack and slash.

Still, there are times when the method or arrangement of the corpsified mascot remains is a message unto itself. For instance, during the year of the flying pigs many a winged swine met a horrible and terrible fate. One in particular was the little piggy who had none. In point of fact, the reason he had none is because he was the roast beast. He was even layered between two slices of breand and served up to Tish herself in her lunch one day – ostensibly so she could “taste test” the roast pork that was to be served for dinner that evening. It’s quite possible you heard her laughing when she unwrapped the sandwich, no matter where you happen to reside. We definitely heard her from one end of the campground to the other, and many points beyond.

By now I’m sure you are wondering just exactly what all this has to do with “dingles”… Well, nothing at all really. But, we’ll get to them eventually…

This year, 2009, was a first for PUF mascots. You see, instead of sheep, or frogs, or chee-hoowah-hoowah’s, we had Pirates. That’s right, Pirates. Not Pie Rats. Although, Pie Rats could possibly be fun. But, I digress…

Since the mascot was actual human being type of people it made things a bit more difficult on the “serial mascot killer”. After all, if you “kill” a stuffed, plush penguin, all you do is make a mess. If you actually kill a festival attendee who is dressed as a Pirate, the sheriff shows up and there are hard questions demanding answers. Therefore, miniature rubber duckies with pirate garb molded onto them served as the victims. Them, and Peeps. Yeah, I know, it was sort of like Peep sacrilege, but what can ya’ do?

Anywho, moving right along, this year’s PUF had a fantastic lineup of guest authors. Kristin Madden, Dorothy Morrison, Raven Grimassi & Stephanie Taylor, Moi, and even Christopher Penczak. (Can anyone see where this is going?)

Well, just in case you haven’t caught on just yet, think about the following… Pirates are the mascot, we are a bunch of authors who like hanging out together, because we are authors we make a living with words, and we all  pretty much have severely warped senses of humor… And, we’re punny… Very punny… Ya’ there yet?

Yeah… We dubbed ourselves the Pirates of Penczak…

But, even through the “bad pun groans” wafting from my PC speakers I can still hear you asking, “But, Murv, what the hell does all this have to do with a dingle? And, moreover, what the hell is a dingle anyway?”

Well, to answer the first question, not a damn thing.

To answer the second, you’ll have to ask Raven and Stephanie, because you see, all I know is Raven won’t let Stephanie go into the dingle by herself…

More to come…

Murv

The next installment in THE PUF REPORT: Part 4 of 5 – Food, Glorious Food…

I don’t know if any of you caught the recent news report about this. It was one of the feature stories on The Early Show, and since I like to sit and ogle Julie Chen and Maggie Rodriguez every now and then it’s a program I catch on a regular basis. (Just kidding, I don’t really ogle them. They are both very easy on the eyes, though, I can’t deny that.)

Anyway, as it happens, just the other day they had a feature about Marriage, Relationships, and Intimacy in the wake of starting a family. Basically, some University did a study – probably with our tax dollars if I had to guess – and came up with the conclusion that better than 90% of the time,  once a couple has a kid, intimacy and moreover sex within the adult relationship declines dramatically. They even pointed out that this happens most especially within the first couple of years.

No shit… You know, I never would have figured that out without their help. I mean, it’s not like you suddenly aren’t getting any sleep, or that your whole life doesn’t hinge solely on the well being of this screaming poop machine.  Or that your wife is now in the land of unbalanced hormones and will be for a while. Had they never done this study I’m afraid I might have wandered aimlessly through the rest of my life, always wondering why such things happen.

Okay… That’s enough sarcasm from me for the time being.

So anyway, they talked to some guy with a pile of letters behind his name who is billed as a relationship expert. He was the co-author of the book to the left there… Hmmm… I think the cover artist must have been looking in E Kay’s closet for inspiration or something… But, I digress… I’ll admit, I haven’t actually read this particular book, but I did read one of his other self-help missives – She Comes First. It’s a tome geared toward helping men please their mates in the… you know… bedroom. I read it because I’m all about doing whatever I can to please the E K. It tends to reduce the number of beatings I have to endure, and stuff like that.

However, with regard to She Comes First, let’s just say some of the things in it frightened me. Quite a bit. Not all of them by any means, but there were a few… And, I’m married to Satan in High Heels, so I’m not easily frightened. Okay, I’ll be honest; they didn’t really “frighten” me per se. They did, however, make me go “ewwwww!” At any rate, I won’t go into details, but… ummm… well… ’nuff said… shudder… ewwwwww!… Okay, now ’nuff said.

Anywho, they were talking to him about the Love In The Time Of Colic book – (that I am inadvertently advertising for him… aww hell, maybe he and/or HarperCollins will return the favor) – but, back to the story, one of the things he went on to outline is that couples have to make time for one another, do the date night thing, give each other 20 second long hugs – (Where 20 seconds came from I dunno… Probably all that research is my guess. E K and I usually go for a 2 or 3-minute hug, but then we love each other and all that silliness so we can actually endure physical contact that lasts longer than 20 seconds.)

And, of course, there was also the whole thing about the S word… Yeah, S E X.

Okay… I’ll fess up… We had ourselves another “no shit, Sherlock” moment right then and there. But, to be fair, maybe we are just a bit more well adjusted and free thinking than some other folks and some of this stuff simply hasn’t dawned on them. Therefore, I’m not going to put the guy or his work down. If it helps someone out there, rock on. It’s just that the concepts seemed like no brainers to the Evil One and me.

Still, E K was in a semi-jocular mood… So, as this interview and feature aired, and she was preparing to leave for work, she came over to hug me and started counting aloud – One… Two… Three… Four…

Okay… I guess you had to be there. Trust me, it was funny at the time. Really… It was…

But, moving right along… We had both been chit chatting about this report, pretty much making comments at the TV much like the comments I made above. I did, however, mention to The Evil Redhead that I thought we had handled things fairly well, both throughout the munchkin’s infancy and now with her being an almost tween who demands a lot of attention. I also pointed out that a few good hugs shared between the two of us definitely did make my day complete.

She agreed… Well, I suppose I should say I think she agreed. Her reply was kind of one of those E K grumbling, “Yeah, okay, whatever, now fetch my things out to the car then kiss my feet, lackey,” sort of comments.

Still, even with the grumbling, since she seemed to be in a good mood I then mentioned the more intimately physical aspect of things. Of course, since our offspring happened to be sitting right there staring at the TV, I tried to do it on the sly – How would I do that, you ask? Simple – I said, “And besides the hugs, there’s the whole S-E-X thing.”

Yeah… I spelled out the word… Yeah… Yeah… I know. Our kid is nine, gifted, reads at a level way beyond her years, and has a vocabulary that outshines some high school students I’ve met.  Just bear with me for a second… There really was a method to my madness.

Of course, E K looked at me like I was a blithering idiot, looked at the kid, then back at me – once again like I was an idiot – and then shook her head and said, “Why did you spell it?”

“The kid,” I replied.

“She can spell, you know that.”

“Yeah, but I’m counting on the fact that she’s half asleep and drooling at the TV,” I replied. (For the record, it was Good Friday so the kid was off school.)

E K snickered and said, “Yeah, right.”

“What did you just spell, daddy?” the kid asked out of the clear blue, not breaking her zombie-like stare from the television screen.

“Excess,” I replied without missing a beat.

She mumbled, “Oh… Okay…”

I knew my ploy had been a bit of a gamble, but luck was on my side and it had worked. I looked back at E K in triumph, but she just scowled and cocked her eyebrow. My momentary elation instantly came crashing back to the ground in a crumpled heap.

You see, Her Majesty, The Queen Bitch Of The Whole Fucking Universe, Missouri Chapter, doesn’t like losing, especially if it involves her being wrong and me being…well…not wrong. Even if my “not wrongness” is purely out of luck or even a fortuitous accident. Moreover, not only had I seen that evil look before, unfortunately I knew exactly what it meant.

Seems I’ll be doing without any excess for a while…

More to come…

Murv