Jay Leno recently invited Mary Todd and me to a personal dinner in Los Angeles, an invitation that we were baffled to receive but accepted anyways. Even though neither Mary Todd nor myself were fans of his, we figured it would be rude to turn the offer down, and we like to think that we are not rude people like Stonewall Jackson’s family.

We arrived at the restaurant, which admittedly was very nice, a few minutes after Leno apparently had arrived. When we walked through the door he greeted us with a smug smile and told us he had already scoped out the best table in the house. So we followed him into the restaurant, eventually stopping at a table that was occupied by Conan O’Brien.

This table is already occupied

Leno - “Waitress, I have found the table we will be sitting at tonight.”

Waitress – “Sir, Conan O’Brien is already sitting here. You had the table last night, it’s time to let someone else have it.”

At this Leno started to throw a fit about how he deserves to sit wherever he wants because he’s the number one comedian in America and the backbone of a major television corporation. Eventually the waitress had no choice but to compromise, and stacked a table on top of the one Conan was sitting at, and placed our chairs on top of Conan and his guests’ laps.

Leno’s original smile and smug congeniality returned.

Leno – “Now this is more like it.”

So we reluctantly sat down on the chairs stacked on top of Conan and his guests and made our orders to the waitress. After a few moments of awkward silence, Leno leaned closer into the table and smiled.

Leno - “Do you like jokes?”

Not wanting to be impolite, and knowing that technically I enjoyed jokes made  by other people, I replied that yes, I like jokes.

So Jay Leno did a forty minute monologue of jokes that had subjects of dubious relevance, all while we waited for our orders, sitting on top of Conan O’Brien and his guests.

Leno - “You hear about this Hillary Clinton thing?”

Lincoln - “I mean, maybe.”

Leno – “Yeah, apparently she’s angry that Bill is taking the spotlight from her now that she is Secretary of State.”

Lincoln – “Alright…I think I’ve been hearing that off and on for the past few months. What about it?”

Leno - “She should talk to Monica Lewinsky if she wants to get in the news. Am I right?”

Although I was fairly covert in my annoyance, Mary Todd let out a very audible groan.

Leno - “What you didn’t like that one? You know what, let’s move on to something else. Did you know I own over four hundred cars? Isn’t that incredible? Four hundred. And all over the price of most people’s houses.”

Mary Todd and me exchanged confused looks.

Lincoln - “What’s a car?”

Leno - (responding uneasily) “You have to be joking. How do you get around?”

Lincoln - “We have our trustworthy horse and buggy. Honestly what is a car?”

Leno seemed to be getting smaller.

Leno - “They’re, they’re important. I have four hundred of them.”

I honestly had no idea what he was talking about.

Lincoln - “Are you talking about trains? I am familiar with trains.”

Leno seemed to be melting on to his seat.

Leno - “No! Stop! I own four hundred. All more expensive than the average house!”

Mary Todd – “I think he’s talking about chariots, dear.”

Leno - “No!”

Lincoln - “I’m going to go with trains again. Do you own four hundred trains?”

Jay Leno had now completely melted, right on to the seat. We then realized that it had now been a full hour and our orders had never come. Meanwhile, Conan’s party’s orders were just arriving.

Lincoln - “Conan, do you think we could sit with you? We’re sorry for joining a party that was crippling to your own.”

And Conan forgave us, and we had a great dinner.

For needing your cars to keep your ego and personal image alive, which is sad, and for attempting to squash Conan O’Brien…

Jay Leno is so uncool.

About a month ago, Mary Todd became obsessed with the idea of taking a tour of the television channel, TLC’s, headquarters. Over the years I have learned not to question her strange passions (such as becoming a Seal impersonator, starting a magazine devoted entirely to pictures of caterpillars, and trying to become a pterodactyl) as there is no stopping the crazy. So in any case, we made the trip.

When we arrived at TLC’s headquarters, the woman at the front desk seemed a bit confused as no one had ever made a request to tour the place, but eventually we were allowed inside when they recognized me as a former Congressman from Illinois. With free use of the Pony Express for life and a guarantee of office space in Springfield whenever I request it, being a former Congressman sure has its perks!

Anyways, we walked around the building for awhile and passed the places where they work on such culturally defining shows such as Police Women of Browerd County and Toddlers & Tiaras. Mary Todd was enjoying herself immensely (she even went into an epileptic fit from the extreme joy she was experiencing! This is pretty normal for her, no need to take worry) so at the very least I felt good about that.

After about an hour of touring, Mary Todd decided that if she did not get a Mountain Cooler Capri Sun pack (the drink with four fruity, wholesome flavors moms can feel good about) in the next five minutes she was going to literally die. So she darted away at full speed presumably to find a vending machine and left the tour guide and me alone with each other.

This is the last thing I remember before blacking out.

This is the beginning of a sex dream Mary Todd once had

I woke up in a rather small cage in what appeared to be some sort of laboratory in an underground basement of the TLC headquarters. Although it appeared like I was alone just as I was waking up, a few moments after regaining consciousness a swarm of people in ancient tribal attire swept into the room and dragged me out of my cage and into another room nearby.

The new room was also almost completely empty except for a throne made out of bones and a woman with blond hair who was lounging on top of the tribal chair. After standing in front of the woman for a few minutes with the people dressed in tribal attire, she finally spoke and introduced herself as Kate Gosselin.

The entire group of people dressed in tribal attire then lined up in front of Kate and allowed her to remove their hearts Mayan style one at a time.

Kate- “They aren’t worthy to hear my name, and as you will see in a moment, we have plenty of spares.”

She then rang a small bell and another identical looking group of people dressed in tribal attire appeared and began dragging me out of the room. But before we had reached the door Kate stopped us.

Kate- “Oh and by the way…Kate Gosselin.”

And so the previous Mayan-esque events happened again and she called in another identical looking group to finish dragging me out.

I ended up being placed on a chair facing a corner of the room which was mostly bare and unnaturally white just like the other two rooms, with the exception that the words “Our American Cousin” were written upon the corner in blood, and was left to wait. Eventually a woman in a pants-suit came into the room and introduced herself as the woman who runs the show previously named Jon & Kate Plus Eight.

She explained to me that I would be playing Kate’s new husband in the re-named show Lincoln & Kate Plus Eight, and that if I refused I would be forced to “give Kate another eight.”

After quickly asking if there was an option that involved death and being told that there was not, I saw that I had no choice but to agree to replace “Jon.”

The lady in the pants-suit then smiled a Nurse Ratched sort of smile and told me I needed to perform an act of initiation. She then walked out of my view and came back dragging a very attractive man in a well-brimmed top hat. The man was left, slumped and facing backward, against the corner of the walls I was facing.

Lady- “This is your clone, Mr. Lincoln. He looks exactly like you except for one glaring detail.”

The lady then walked back over to where I was sitting and handed me a Philadelphia Derringer pistol.

Lady- (whispering in my ear) “Let go of David Webb. Will you give yourself to this program?

Lincoln- “What? Who’s David Webb?”

Lady: “I know. I know.”

She could tell I was still very reluctant to shoot the clone of myself in the back of the head so she left the room once again, but returned this time with Kate, who was being carried while sitting on her throne of bones by another set of tribal attire wearing people.

Kate Gosselin: “I think it’s time to fill me up again.”*

After shuttering off that mental image I came to the conclusion that I was going to have to shoot this clone.

The two women could see the resolve that had finally entered my eyes and backed off. I stood up quickly and aimed the gun for the back of the clone’s head.

The room was filled with noise.

However, instead of coming from the barrel of the pistol in my hand, the source of the sudden volume increase came from the wall behind us. Mary Todd had just jumped through the wall.

Mary Todd: “I got the Capri Sun, let’s get out of here!”

Lincoln: “They’re not going to just let us leave.”

Mary Todd: “You have a gun in your hand.”

Lincoln: “I’m not going to shoot them! You know I wouldn’t even shoot a deer even if it was deering all over the place.”

Mary Todd: “You were about to shoot that clone.”

Lincoln: “Well clones probably don’t even have souls.”

Mary Todd: “Fine. Fine. I’ll squirt this Capri Sun in their eyes and they’ll be too distracted to follow us.”

Kate: “We’re right here. We can hear every word you are saying. All we have to do now is cover our eyes and we’ll be immune to your plan.”

And so Kate and the lady covered their eyes, and we walked out unnoticed.

Once outside TLC’s headquarters the fact that Mary Todd, the wife I make fun of constantly for being crazy, had just calmly barged into a highly dangerous situation and courageously saved my body from being used to give Kate babies really set in.

Lincoln- “Mary Todd that was incredible! How did you break through that wall to get into the room? It looked like it was made out of cement!”

Mary Todd- “I guess love breaks through all boundaries.”

I started to think that perhaps the crazy Mary Todd has been all along, has just been crazy in love.

But then she started trying to become a pterodactyl again, and everything was back to normal.**

Anyways…

What Would Mary Todd Pretending To Be Jesus Pretending To Be A Pterodactyl Do?

Kate Gosselin is so uncool.

*I am so sorry, reader! That statement is awful, and gross, and crass, but it is what she said. I am just trying to be as accurate as possible.

**Except for the fact that now I have to live everyday knowing that somewhere out there, a clone of myself exists just as I do. I just hope he has a better fate in front of him than replacing me on the most anticipated show of the Fall season, Lincoln & Kate Plus 8.

I have decided to host a writing competition that will require proficiency and skill in three categories:

1. Humorousment

2. Literacy

3. Physical Strength and Courage in Battle (one mother category with two children-categories, obviously. “Courage in Battle” would have been what we named Tad if he was a girl.)

Anyways, here is the challenge.

Write the text for the cover sleeve of a fictional book.

This challenge is completely open to interpretation. Just keep in mind the three categories of proficiency and skill that are required for sucessful submissions and you could be well on your way to owning the PRIZE OF THE YEAR! (If I can be Honest Abe about it, it is not the best prize of the year. But it is close!)

The winner of the writing contest will receive a vinyl addition of Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion! (Valued at $22.78 on Amazon! Exactly $2.22 from free shipping.)

This album is arguably the best album of 2009 so far, it certainly blew my cerebral lobe to pieces (John Wilkes Booth was all a conspiracy), and hearing the orgasmic qualities of the 2:31 mark of “In The Flowers” is even grander on vinyl. But that’s not even the best part…

I, Abraham Lincoln, will personally autograph the vinyl’s cover!

(I completely understand if you do not want me to autograph your vinyl. The autograph part is completely optional!)

Exclamation points all around.

I also understand that you may be tempted, as you are greedy, to submit your writing and not tell your friends in order to raise your chances of winning. So in order to force you to be more caring to your friends by letting them know about a low-key contest with a prize of small monetary value, I will be providing an incentive to tell your friends.

Whoever refers the most people to actually join in on the contest will receive a vinyl addition of the Dirty Projectors’ single “Stillness Is The Move”!

I will autograph this one as well if the winner so wishes.

Rules:

-Submit writing to the knowledgementco@hotmail.com by midnight of Thanksgiving (November 26)

-Multiple entries are allowed

-To prove that you referred people, the referred person must state that they were referred by (your name) in their email of submission

-Have fun

-Don’t stay up too late, it’s a weeknight and you have school in the morning

-Make sure to include your name and the fake book’s title in your submission

-By submitting you are agreeing to allow me to post your submissions on the site for viewers to see.

-By submitting you are agreeing to give me your address in the event that you win (not necessary for submission)

-If less than a baker’s dozen submit, I will be very sad

-If you are the only one to submit, congratulations on your win
If you have any questions, leave them in the comments section. I am sure I forgot to specify most things.

In the words of the great John Hodgman…

That is all.

Last night, Beach House opened for Grizzly Bear at the NorVa in Norfolk, Virginia. Mary Todd and I had the pleasure of attending.

Beach House's Victoria Legrand sitting down with a teddy grizzly bear

Mary Todd and I were very excited when we got our tickets for Beach House/Grizzly Bear,* as we are both huge fans of both artists. This may be somewhat surprising to faithful readers (there are none, who am I kidding…), as Mary Todd usually is not all that into bands such as Grizzly Bear and rather enjoys the musical stylings of a train screeching to a halt or the sound of a jackhammer bouncing off pavement. But I guess she has made an exception in her usually rigid musical taste (she enjoys the sound of a blender crushing ice, but detests the sound of a blender crushing vegetables) as she has received both bands with open arms into her ears.**

Anyways, we made our way into the crowd just as Beach House was beginning their set. After playing a couple songs from their last album, Devotion, Victoria told the crowd that the next few songs would be new material they had been “working really hard on.”

Now I know that John Wilkes Booth made it seem like it is very easy to blow my mind all those year ago, but allow me to assure you, it is not as easy as it may seem to do such a thing to my mind!

But honestly, the new material Beach House played for us was beyond amazing. Where their last few efforts have always had great orchestral qualities in their songs, the tempo of the songs never really went from the buildup into any sort of climax. But every single one of the new songs they played had orgasms to go around (in the music sense for most of the crowd, in the literal sense for Mary Todd).

I have always been puzzled (since the beginning of time, I promise) why Beach House is not considered in the same class as bands such as Grizzly Bear or Deerhunter or Fleet Foxes as I feel they are more than deserving. But after hearing what they have in store for the future, I am more than positive (3000% positive!) that once their new album is released, whenever this may be, they will no longer be considered second-class indie citizens.

Soon Beach House will be able to enjoy the hospitality of the First Class Indie Lounge whilst they wait

After a fairly short performance, Beach House excused themselves off the stage and cued up Grizzly Bear.

Obviously Grizzly Bear is amazing, so I will not delve into a lengthy description of this fact. Just know that their performance was great and leave it at that. Now on to details.

Going into their performance, I was a bit curious how they were going to introduce their new song, “Slow Life”, they are contributing to the upcoming Apocalypse Soundtrack***as they have been receiving a bit of flak and backlash for doing such a thing. But after calling Victoria back to the stage (she provides backing vocals on the song), Ed Droste announced they would be playing their song from the upcoming Mary Poppins 2 soundtrack, where a very audacious nanny fights the evils of having too much sugar, and therefore won a full pass for their Apocalypse Soundtrack contribution.

Victoria also accompanied Grizzly Bear for “Two Weeks,” which was backed by a beautiful electric-candle light show in the background. Unsurprisingly, Mary Todd orgasmed for this song as well and has actually not stopped since.

*Or Beach Bear, or Grizzly House, or Bear House, or Grizzly Beach Bear House, or you get the idea by now!

**Oh The Things That Mary Todd Recieves With Open Arms Into Her Ears is the title of my next children’s book

***The ancient Mayans predicted such a soundtrack would be compiled around this time in history and knew that it would bring about the destruction of the entire world. This is the plot of the upcoming movie 2012

Anyways, I will now be posting my reviewments on this site as well. I am telling you this so your brains don’t become confused when I write about something that in fact, could be cool. I know, you are probably thinking to yourself, “this is all happening so fast,” or maybe even, “Lincoln, do you think we could slow it down a little, I don’t think I’m ready.” But unfortunately, no, we can not. The train is already at full speed and someone cut the brakes (because that is just how trains work). This is the way it is going to be now.

And now the new cat I promised! (We ended up only having a big enough budget for one, not multiple new cats)

We’re going to need a bigger AWW!

Rainbow Arabia recently released their second EP effort, Kabukimono, on Manimal Vinyl Records which released Bat For Lashes first album.

I first encountered this band through a concert they did, that I went to with Mary Todd, with another up-and-coming act who aptly name themselves, The Very Best, and consist of a Malawian singer teamed up with a British electronic duo who cover songs by Vampire Weekend, MIA, and BLK JKS. But this is not a review of The Very Best, so I will stop proclaiming about them and move on to the matter at hand!

When I received this album a few weeks ago, I was fairly excited as I was impressed by their live performance back in the Spring. Right after our local Pony Express ponyman dropped the album off at our humble house, I marched right out to the family horse-and-buggy (cars weren’t invented until 1976, but of course you know this), popped the album into the CD drive, and went on a cruise around the neighborhood. I know, with the depleting ozone and the costly dependence on foreign carrots our nation has, I shouldn’t be taking cruises in the horse-and-buggy just to take cruises, but it’s just so relaxing. Also, I hear we are very close as a nation to growing our own carrots so problem solved, basically!

Anyways, I started to play the album and was immediately enjoying what I was hearing. The first song on the EP is called “Holiday in Congo,” and although I feel it is doubtful this Los Angeles male/female hipster duo has ever actually taken such a holiday, it is still a great song that makes a holiday in Congo seem like fun.*

As a whole, Rainbow Arabia sounds like a less political, more poppish, and more American version of MIA, which as my dear friend Andrew Jackson always says, “As long as the prostitute is not blatantly ripping off another prostitute’s style, the former prostitute is respectable.” Now that quote doesn’t completely fit, but close enough!

Rainbow Arabia certainly has their own sound, and it just so happens that this sound is pretty decent as well.

*Which, given the current state of that country, is quite a feat in itself as I feel there isn’t a big enough sadface in the world (maybe in Congo?!) to represent the horrors that must go with “Life in Congo.” Now as I said in the Emancipation Proclamation, “That’s enough of the real talk, now it’s time to dance, dance, dance!” And so we did, all into the night, with not a care in the world.

Tad’s school recently invited me to come in and give a speech to the student body about the values of honesty. Mary Todd, who had just finished watching a segment of Dr. Phil about how married couples should try spending absolutely all of their time together, read this personal invitation over my shoulder, as she often does, and insisted that she come along as well. Even though she isn’t known as Honest Mary Todd and if I could be quite honest Abe about it, probably wasn’t going to add much to the presentation, I allowed her to accompany me to Tad’s school.

She then rolled around on the floor and sang “Rocket Man” in a continuous loop for forty-five minutes because, if I could be honest Abe about it again, Mary Todd is crazy.

Perhaps this is what she was envisioning?

Because we were going to be giving a presentation to a group of Tad’s classmates, Mary Todd felt she needed to appear as cool as possible in order to impress our son. After much internal deliberation, she decided that wearing pre-ripped clothes would be the coolest thing she could do.

Mary Todd- “Pre-ripped clothes are what all the kids are into now, right?”

Myself-  “No. Don’t do it.”

Mary Todd- “Oh you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Then Mary Todd jumped through the window yelling “No whammies!” and landed in the deep end of our neighbor’s swimming pool. I would have been worried, but this is pretty routine for her.

Also pretty routine for Mary Todd

We arrived at Tad’s school a few weeks later so that I could give my presentation on honesty. I wore my “casual but formal” attire (button up with the sleeves rolled up, black pants, and a tie without the top button buttoned) and Mary Todd, not having changed her mind, wore jeans and a tank top that were both severely previously ripped.

The way the stage was set up, I gave my speech standing near the front while Mary Todd worked the slide projector (Powerpoint wasn’t invented until the Spring of 2006. Computers weren’t even invented until the Fall of 2006!) standing behind me. As I get deeply emotionally invested into my speeches, and this speech to a congregation of my son’s school mates was no exception, I knew there would be no way for me to keep an eye on Mary Todd during the presentation. Although this worried me as she has a history with these sorts of things,* I realized there would be no other option at this point and therefore began the presentation.

The speech seemed to go pretty well. I believe I hammered the points to metaphorical home that I wished to be hammered to metaphorical home. Such as a list of de-untruthed, untrue facts that people have not been honest in perpetrating about me. Such as;

-I was not born in a log cabin. This was a lie created by the government to help the Canadians sell more maple syrup. The reasons for this are unknown, but I have my theory.**

-I am not freakishly tall. I am more of an above-average, or, attractive height.

-My beard wasn’t really that long.

When I had finally uttered the last words of my carefully crafted speech, I became aware of my surroundings and looked across the audience. Instead of the captivation or at least the mild interest I was hoping for, it appeared that most of the audience was either rolling in fits of laughter or holding a look of utter shock and disgust. Although, looking back I truly wish that this response was directed towards me, the general direction of the group’s attention seemed to be behind me, focused on Mary Todd.

The pre-ripped clothes that Mary Todd had come in were almost completely gone, with only a few threads still clinging to her body. The already and purposely un-seamed threads had unraveled throughout the show all by themselves, and now Mary Todd stood practically in the nude under glaring lights in front of an audience of our son’s classmates.

And so, knowing that we had greatly embarrassed our son, we shamefully walked off the stage while burying our heads (in shame!) and drove home in silence.

Later that night, I asked Mary Todd why she hadn’t just left the stage when she felt the clothes unraveling.

Mary Todd- “I wanted to be cool like Janice Jackson.”

Myself- “Janet Jackson. And that incident was a long time ago.”

Mary Todd- “Oh.”

And then we fell asleep.

For unraveling off of my wife’s body while she was spotlighted on a stage in front of my son’s classmates…

Apparently the FCC is reopening this case of exposed human anatomy, even though it was five years ago and hardly a deal at the time. Why don't they pursue the most worst television crime of television that is The Jay Leno Show, instead?

pre-ripped clothes are so uncool.
*

Mary Todd gave me a fiery surprise during my Oscar acceptance speech for the newly created category of "Most Enthused About Top Hats"

**Gerald Ford, the President who started this lie, was really a cat and was promised a large sum of money by Canada to create this myth about me. I suppose the theory that Gerald Ford was a cat is not grounded in anything and does not relate to why Canada would offer him a large sum of money, as a human would be more likely to be tempted by this offer, but, quoting Thomas Jefferson, “I would never tell a lie involving a Cat President.”

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A few weeks ago, I received a letter in the mail from a group named “UFC,” inviting me to partake in a “Grand Competition of Fearlessness, Honor, and Blood.” Since I had never heard of this “UFC,” and because I am aware I have a reputation as a “great debater,”*

I assumed the UFC standed for something such as United Forensics Club and that I was being invited to participate in a debate that would require “fearlessness” of opinions, “honor” in keeping with the rules, measures, and above all the truth, and “blood” for the use of keeping our bodies alive throughout the whole debate. Sadly upon arrival, this did not turn out to be the case.

Sufjan believes Stephen A. Douglas was a great debater, but feels I was the great emancipator. He never says I wasn't a great debater as well though, so...interpret that as you will

I suppose a red badge of courage should have gone off in my mind when I showed up to the venue and realized that the “match” would be happening inside of a cage. At the time, I remember thinking that the cage was probably to keep us safe from any hot-blooded spectators who opposed our sharp-tongued viewpoints. This thought was quickly disproven.

After asking if I was ready, and if I would really be going out there in what I was wearing (I was donning my standard full-length suit coat, and steam-pressed black pants. Of course the answer was yes), I was led into the cage and into the middle of about one thousand screaming, white fans. I made a mental note to make sure the match organizers were aware of my Emancipation Proclamation and the outcome of the Civil War after the event was over.

On the other side of the cage stood my opponent, shirtless and hulk-sized. Although I do not like to think in stereotypes, it was not looking like this debate was going to be all that difficult. I was definitely getting a vibe that even Stonewall Jackson could defeat this man in an oratory fight.**

Skillful rascist, yes. Skillful oratory fighter, not so much.

To start things on the right foot, I meandered my way on over to the man-hulk and extended my hand in greeting. Apparently this was insulting to the man-hulk, as he returned my act of well-wishing with a cold stare and an exaggerated spit onto the debating ground.

Taken back a bit, I tried to about face by wishing the man luck and backing away with a half turn as to move on from what just happened, but the man-hulk was not ready for this awkward exchange to end.

Man-hulk (with a look that penetrated my soul)- “I want, you inside me.”

Myself (trying to give the tone of flattered but still making it clear that I am not interested in that kind of thing)- “Pardon?”

Man-hulk- “I am going to eat you alive out there.”

Myself (relieved, but to be honest a bit crushed as well***)- “Oh.”

Still not entirely catching on to the fact that I had mistaken the meaning of the acronym UFC, I stayed in the cage and waited for the referee to give us our debating topic.

As should have been obvious at this point, the debating topic never came. The bell rang and as I held my perfectly erect stature and looked towards the judges to ask what we should be debating, the man-hulk ran up to me and attempted to punch me in the face.

I say attempted because just as I was about to be knocked cold onto the cage floor, Andrew Jackson came riding up on his white steed and trampled the man-hulk to the ground. Then I jumped on his steed and we rode to safety.

When we were at a safe distance from the venue and I was no longer in any harm, Andrew Jackson dropped me off and said he had some unfinished business to complete.

And so Andrew Jackson rode back to the stadium and slept with every woman in the audience (consensually of course), as Andrew Jackson is not only very crazy but also very sexy to the ladies as well.

Looking back on this, there were so many clues that should have tipped me off from my confusion such as…

-there was an average of 2.3 skulls located either on clothes or skin of every person in the audience

-all the yelling (so much yelling)

-Harley Davidson was a sponsor

-most of the audience was wearing sleeveless t-shirts

-many of the signs read “Ultimate Fighting Championship” (this really should have tipped me off)

But nevertheless I failed to notice these, and therefore if it were not for my old friend Andrew Jackson, I may have ended the day with two holes in my head.

We are quite alike.****

UFC is so uncool.

*Not my words, I really am a humble person. In regards to my debating abilities, I would describe myself as meerly “alright” or even “meh (with a shrug as if to say even though I am aware of my great debating abilities, I am not going to be a John Wilkes Boothe about it).”

**This is not a reference to Stonewall’s renown craziness but in fact a reference to when Stonewall and me were on the same debate team in log cabin high school. Let us just say he did not have the most precise grasp over post World War II Middle Eastern turmoil, and leave it at that.

***When you have a giant hole in your head, you’ll take any compliment you can get.

****Our mothers were both potatoes.

Somewhat recently, I had the pleasure of riding with my son by horse and carriage (the only form of transportation at the time, kids.  Riding on top of a horse wasn’t invented until 1937 and the invention of walking wasn’t even until 1958!) to Comic-Con 2009 in San Diego. Although I knew riding by horse and carriage all the way from our humble Illinois home would be a bit arduous, Tad had been nagging me to take him so he could see the new Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day trailer for quite some time, and luckily for him I knew nothing of Boondock Saints I: Many, But Not Quite All of the Saints Day.

Maximilian Kolbe is one of the many saints left out of the first movie

Many troubles befell our humble group of travellers, as we made our way through river and spontaneous frost storm, all in the hopes that some day we would reach Oregon alive (where San Diego is located). We started our trek with a group of five; Tad, myself, and a small tourist group from Slovakia (a man, a woman, and one that really could have gone either way). Unfortunately, the Slovakians were not cut out for the trail and did not make it through the trip. Granted they did end up making it to Legoland, but the loss still weighed heavily on my heart for many days to come.

In any case, we eventually made it to San Diego, Oregon for Comic-Con 2009 without too many scars (I did have a giant hole in my head, but that was from an unrelated matter). After going through the extensive security process (no actual super villains allowed. Such as Glenn Beck) we horse and carriaged around a bit and eventually Tad found and pointed out the theater where they were showing the new trailer. I suggested we go inside as it was starting soon, and so we did.

Tad- “I have found the theatre where they are showing the new trailer, and now I am pointing it out to you.”

Myself- “The trailer is starting soon, so I suggest we go inside.”

And so we did.

At first I figured our featured presentation would be led into by trailers of other movies coming out soon, but then I realized that was an uneducated guess. There weren’t going to be trailers leading into a trailer! Sometimes I really am a laugh and a half/two laughs!

So the trailer began (with no pre-feature trailers) and at some point it was over and I was a bit more depressed than I was before I had seen this lowpoint in human culture. The rest of the crowd, however, did not seem to share in my sentiments. I could tell they were not as depressed as me by the way they were all slappin’ some hand with their fellow bros and telling each other, often four to five times each, how killer that trailer was. These two signs, when put together, usually mean the crowd enjoyed itself.

Tad was no exception to the hysteria that had swept the room. In fact, he may have loved the trailer most of all.

Tad- “Hey everybody! Let’s go out into the hall and laugh at the kids who decided to go see the New Moon trailer that clearly was inferior to what we just saw!”

Although his announcement to the room was rather long, and the crowd’s attention span was presumably pretty short, Tad still managed to incite a ra ra riot.

When we arrived in the outside hall, we realized that the New Moon kids had had a similar idea. They were all waiting, dressed in vampire attire, and ready to argue.

New Moon kids- “The trailer we just saw was good!”

Boondock Saints kids- “The trailer we just saw was better!”

New Moon kids- “False.”

Boondock Saints kids- “Double false.”

As this re-creation of the dialogue makes apparent, the situation was escalating fast. Unfortunately, so fast that even Andrew Jackson, who was an Olympic runner back in high school, couldn’t have kept up.

Faster than many things

Tad was the first victim to be victimized. A mother of a New Moon kid felt the need to impress her daughter and therefore finally win acceptance into her twelve year old’s life, so, in desperation, she pretended to be a vampire and bit my son.

Twilight Mom (to her daugther)- “Can I find out if you like boys yet now since we relate on so many levels.”

New Moon kid- “Mom, you can’t even name all three Jonas Brothers!”

Twilight Mom- “But I can learn!”

New Moon kid- “Whatever…”

For leading to a series of events that ended with my son being bitten by a Twilight Mom…

Boondocks Saints II: All Saints Day Trailer is so uncool.