Here is my summer plan.
It goes like this: leave a series of small circular patches on my face unshaved. These flocculent circles will grow into long, resplendent whiskers, like those of a catfish. That’s my plan. Look like a catfish. I drafted this list of names to adopt once I look more like a catfish:
Bottom-Feeding Man Fish
Land-Walking Fish Man
Of course, the plan ran into some resistance from Cassandra Morningfart, which is the real name of the real girl I’m dating.
Here is how that was resolved.
Cassandra Morningfart: “That would look stupid. And I will not call you Catfish Jackson.”
I then grabbed her mouth and moved it around so she appeared to be talking, and said in a replica of her voice, “Yeah! Try to look like a catfish! I’m on board!”
So after that speed bump, if it can even be called that after the speed and efficiency with which it was overcome, everything is in motion. I will soon look like a catfish. I will think like a catfish. I will eat like a catfish. I will worship catfish deities. I will ‘like’ statuses that my catfish friends post on Facebook. I will attend funerals and weddings for catfish. I will read catfish literature. This blog may start to lean towards the sympathies of catfish politics and catfish-lifestyle issues (can you believe catfish have a similar Bruce Jenner type controversy going on ‘down here?’ (‘down here’ is what we in the catfish world refer to what humans know as ‘underwater’)). I have already begun lining my apartment floors with mud and decomposed plant matter. I can now hold my breath for almost 20 seconds.
The transition is in full effect, as it were.
Catfish Jackson, signing off.
P.S. I’m not officially ‘signing off,’ for I cannot officially live ‘down here,’ (underwater) because that would kill me, so I will still have full access to human internet and many other amenities while I’m ‘up there,’ until the government (rightly) begins funding human-gill growing research programs.
Hey everyone, I started a Kickstarter campaign!!
Ideally, I would love to create a website called Punchbeginner that allows users to donate money to me in order to fund my creative projects. Musicians, writers, artists, filmmakers, and entrepreneurs would also be allowed to use the website for the same purpose, but they would not get as much money as me. I would get the most money.
Once my website is up and running, and that sweet green comes rolling in, I could begin my inaugural project. It’s a performance piece, one of those ‘art-imitating-life’ things that people with glasses talk about. The asking price is about three million dollars, and the plot would center around what would happen if a 31-year-old man created a website for crowdfunding and was then able to retire from the profits. The best part is that this would be my only project, because the storyline goes on in real-time until my death, whether it comes during the wild celebration that would ensue after squeezing three million dollars out of suckers on the internet, or 100 years from now, when my third implanted monkey heart fails and I can’t find another one because humans caused monkeys to become extinct.
If this sounds like something you would like to see come to life, please donate liberally and often. No refunds, and thank you in advance for your generosity.
Topical humor time: I compiled a list of indie band names and monikers of horses that have participated in the Kentucky Derby over its 141 year run. It is up to you to guess whether each following group of words identifies a band, a horse, or a Band of Horses (that one is a band). Now, I present to you the list:
I Don’t Know If I Should Cry Or Fart
I Would Have No Problem Shooting A Kitten In The Face
Slovakian Bubble Bath
I Am A Horse That Has Raced In The Kentucky Derby
This One Is A Band Name
The Annexation Of Puerto Rico
The Courtroom Doll That Is Used As A Device For People To Point Out Where The Bad Man Touched Them
Why Is A Midget Slapping Me With A Stick
There you have it. Think you did well? Read on, and award yourself one point for each correct answer.
I Don’t Know If I Should Cry Or Fart—This one is neither a horse nor a band. My friend Ryan said it one time.
I Would Have No Problem Shooting A Kitten In The Face—Another trick question. My other friend Jeremy once said this.
Slovakian Bubble Bath—This also is not an animal or a group of humans. It is a despicable act my pal Brad made up, involving fellatio and flatulence in a tub filled with water!
I Am A Horse That Has Raced In The Kentucky Derby—The name implies this is a horse that has raced in the Kentucky Derby. In reality, it is just something I typed.
This One Is A Band Name—This one is NOT a band name. How many have you gotten right so far? I’m shooting 100 percent.
The Annexation Of Puerto Rico—This was a trick play used by football-playing children in the 1994 film Little Giants.
Sentient Toilet—Can you imagine if toilets became self-aware? Wouldn’t that be terrible? And getting back on track, also not equine or musical in nature.
The Courtroom Doll That Is Used As A Device For People To Point Out Where The Bad Man Touched Them—This is a doll that lawyers hold up to people and ask “Where did the bad man touch you? Point to the corresponding area on this doll,” not a horse or a band.
Cassandra Morningfart—This is what shows up on my cellular telephone when my girlfriend, Cassandra Morningfart, calls me.
Why Is A Midget Slapping Me With A Stick—This is something that horses in the Kentucky Derby wonder. There are also people in indie bands that ask themselves this question. Sometimes people in indie bands get slapped with sticks by midgets.
Now give yourself one point for each correct answer.
0-4 points: You don’t know shit about indie bands or the Kentucky Derby!
5-9 points: Impressive, but you are still not very good at knowing things about horses and bands.
10 points: You are me.
I didn’t use a bathroom today. Just held it all in. That’s a lot of unflushed water and unused toilet paper. At midnight, I will rush down to the creek behind my apartment and blast the built-up toxins from my body into the water. The fish will filter my waste through their gills, converting it into drinkable water, and I will clean my buttocks with a local rabbit. That rabbit will hop through the forest, pollinating flowers and trees as he or she goes along.
Soon, a small child will smell a flower that bloomed because of me, and deer miles downstream will drink from the creek and be refreshed by my body’s recycled garbage.
That’s how I contributed to The Solution.
What did you do for Mother Earth today?
Ten Things Only People Who Had A Wart On The Side Of Their Left Foot In The Early ’00s Will Understand
1. Mac’n’cheese is the best. Because of what you have lived through, no one will ever understand this quite the way you do!
2. Bacon. Right? LOL!
3. You like the word ‘awesomesauce,’ you call anything without gluten ‘G-free,’ and you greet people by saying ‘Wasabi, kemosabe?’ If you agree with any of the previous sentence, you did not really have a wart on the side of your left foot in the early ’00s. You fell into a trap laid by the superior intellect only a person that had a wart on the left side of their foot in the early ’00s could possess.
4. You have a friend that tried to get a wart just like yours, but during his quest, he ended up getting his foot chomped off by an alligator. And then his entire leg. Followed by his midsection, heart, and head. You watched the entire thing happen, but didn’t do anything, because, well, wart.
5. You enjoy reading lists about warts and wart-related issues.
6. You have taken an online quiz about what city you should really live in, but still live in the city you’ve always lived in.
7. You become irritated when people post lists about having a wart on the bottom of their right foot in the ’90s. Or worse yet, the army of aged husks from the ’60s that yap on and on about how great sac warts were back then. You won’t hear it. These people all suck, because they have not experienced what you have. Having a wart on the side of your left foot in the early ’00s was the quintessential wart-having experience, and anyone that says otherwise has warts that are dumb, and also very, very stupid.
8. You have purchased anti-wart cream.
9. You have shamed, belittled, and badgered anyone who doesn’t believe warts are beautiful, because, after having a wart on your left foot, YOUR opinion is the correct one, and if someone doesn’t share your perception of beauty, they are a body-shaming bully.
10. Overweight people with warts are disgusting.
Sometimes, when you haven’t bought groceries for a long period of time, you are forced to make do with what you have on hand in your pantry. I’ve created many exotic dishes this way—there was one time I only had four pounds of fresh mangoes, a cup of brown sugar, two sticks of celery, a pile of cranberries, a tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil, two yellow onions, a few ounces of apple cider vinegar, a half cup of minced ginger, three garlic cloves, a pinch of salt, and some love. From this, I was somehow able to craft a batch of what I named Third World Cranberry Mango Chutney, for that is how I imagine suffering people cook. They make what they can, and then create folk music on garbage can lids. After that I pan-seared a twelve ounce steak in some butter and poured the chutney over it. I took one bite and threw everything away, because I realized that I do not like chutney, and the taste had ruined the steak.
So, the other day, I found myself with literally nothing but some very old grape jelly, and half a can of black beans. I put those beans in a pan, then added the jelly and let it simmer for five minutes.
I named the dish Jelly Beans. They did not taste good.
American ‘cheese’ is to the coagulated milk world as hot dogs are to the meat world. But what the hell do I know, I’m just a guy that wipes too hard.