Talk about amazing coincidences! I took my family to Myrtle Beach for vacation and asked Black Hockey Jesus to write a guest post for me. But get this! It's so crazy. It's like we're all part of some Cosmic Plan orchestrated by the Unfathomable Wisdom of the Universe. Black Hockey Jesus actually LIVES in Myrtle Beach and here we are, together, doing a live blog interview.
CHAG: What's up, BHJ?
BLACK HOCKEY JESUS (nervous): I am very happy to be here, Chag. It is very nice to meet you in person and to be featured on your very popular blog, Cynical Dad. I should stop saying "very" so much. I am honored to be here and excited. However, I am nonetheless very relaxed and unnervous? Wait. Is unnervous even a word?
CHAG: No. I don't think so.
BHJ: Damn! Shit! Damn shit! Can we edit that? Can we just scratch that part where I say I'm unnervous?
CHAG: Don't worry about it, BHJ. Let's just move along. First question. You've only been blogging for a month, but you seem to be doing well for yourself. How have you managed to make such a big splash in such a short amount of time?
BHJ: I have no idea. It's been totally crazy. But I'll tell you exactly what I did, Chag. No secrets. First, I read a million books in my early 20s in search of Truth & Beauty and other Important Junk until I had a philosophical crisis and peered into this totally rad infinite abyss filled with chaos & fire. Then I wandered around minding my own business for 10 years just doing all kinds of different stuff and thinking. When I started the blog, I approached it like 2 jobs. The first and most important job was to write the best posts I possibly could. The second was to figure out who was who in the blog world and to try and make an impact. I visited 500,000 blogs and found the people who were on every single blog roll. Then I read all those popular blogs and tried to make funny or intelligent comments on their posts, hoping they would check me out and like what they found. My first big break was when Baby On Bored liked my post about the Fat Bald Retarded Kid and mentioned me in her blog. Then Jenny The Bloggess mentioned me on Twitter and put me in The Houston Chronicle 3 times. The only reason anybody reads me is because of Baby On Bored and Jenny The Bloggess. They completely rule the universe. I have this totally sweet fantasy where my wife has a perverse midlife sexual awakening and decides she's down with a threesome. I look her in the eyes and tell her that I love her like ancient waters love the blue mountains. Coincidentally, at the same time, Baby On Bored's husband has an affair with Rachel Bilson and leaves her and Jenny The Bloggess's husband ditches her because she's a total nut job. So anyway they both find out about this threesome (because I boast about it heartily on my blog) and they plan a fight to the death at Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas for the right to be in the mix with me & my wife. It's called the Wrangle For The Triangle and it stirs up this whole media frenzy. But right before the fight begins, I leap in the ring, declare that there's enough of me to go around, and we all move to Utah. Isn't that one of the dopest fantasies you've ever heard, Chag?
CHAG: Well… that's actually a nice lead into the next question. Your blog seems to revolve around fantasy and imagination and the way they intermingle with reality. Could you say a little bit about that?
BHJ: Sure. In fact, I don't even make a very big distinction between fantasy and "reality" because fantasies are such a big part of my reality. Fantasies are reality. Imagination is real. Sure, things happen in the concrete world. Then all of a sudden you're imagining a bunch of stuff. These experiences occur seamlessly. All day long. I talk to my daughter. I think of my dead friend. A guy cuts me in line. I imagine busting his mouth open all bloody & toothless. This back and forth movement is what my entire life is made of, like waves coming and going on the ocean shore. I also frequently use a postmodern device where I reveal my posts to be self-conscious artifacts rather than transparent representations of "real" life. The posts aren't really real and I like to have them announce this and expose themselves.
CHAG: What do you mean exactly, BHJ? I'm not following.
BHJ: Well, for instance, you're not really interviewing me, are you Chag? You're actually just a device I'm using to create a guest post for your blog in the form of an interview to introduce myself to your audience.
CHAG: That's pretty trippy, BHJ. Because I feel like I'm really interviewing you but you're just inventing the whole thing. It begs the question: What if we're all just fictions in the mind of some trippy dude named Black Hockey Jesus?
BHJ: [shrugs shoulders—looks mysterious]
CHAG: OK you're kinda freaking me out. Next question. What's your sense of being welcomed (or not) into the blogging community? It can be kind of cliquish.
BHJ: O for the most part it's been very warm and hospitable. I already mentioned Baby On Bored & The Bloggess. Metrodad's offered me some awesome support. i am Bossy stopped by and commented. You put me on your page as your Current Infatuation. Tons and tons of people, too many to mention, have been super nice to me. Sadly though, I think it's the nature of the writer's frail ego to dwell on the negative. And no matter how many cartwheels or triple lutzes I pull off, I simply can't get Girl's Gone Child or Dad Gone Mad to acknowledge my existence. I have come to imagine them as my neglectful blogger parents. They're always too busy to pay attention to me and as a result I'm developing a handful of addictions to hard drugs and auditioning for porn. Eventually, I'm going to join one of those 12 Step programs and write a 4th Step and discover that I am truly lovable in spite of being ignored by Girl's Gone Child and Dad Gone Mad. Everyone in the whole world will hug me. So I hope your readers don't think I'm all about the sour grapes because I'm actually crushing my sour grapes and turning them into sweet, sweet wine. This is of course a poor metaphor to use in relation to a 12 Step program but it'll have to do. Girl's Gone Child and Dad Gone Mad's spiteful neglect is ultimately propelling me toward an awesome path of self discovery and spiritual growth. Soon, all my blog posts will be peppered with simplistic clichés about letting go and accepting everything or the courage to know the difference between wisdom and alcohol or stuff like that.
CHAG: You didn't mention Dooce. Any word or support from Dooce?
BHJ: O I'll never hear from Dooce because of our rocky past. I knew her back when she was plain old Heather in high school. We even dated when we were sophomores. I actually lost my virginity to Dooce when we were listening to "It Takes Two" by Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock. It was like we heard "It takes two to make a thing go right / It takes two to make it outta sight" at the perfect moment in time and we devoured each other in a fit of unpracticed lust. Then, get this, she left me for some college dude. What kind of wack college loser dates high school sophomores? Anyway, Dooce never even gave me back my class ring. Hey Dooce! Are you reading this? How about returning my frickin class ring?
CHAG: Is this for real? Are you serious?
BHJ: Totally. I mean it's not like the ring had a real ruby or anything. It was just a cheap garnet. But it's not about the price anyway. It's about the memories. The memories, DOOCE!
CHAG: Well we're out of time, BHJ. But you promised me a song of the day, so what'cha got for us?
BHJ: Well Chag, I read on your blog that you never understood Neil Young and I almost swallowed my tongue, so I thought I'd have to go with Neil. But it seems obvious to me now that the song of the day needs to be: "It Takes Two" by Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock. I want my ring back, Dooce!
CHAG: Thanks for doing this, BHJ.
BHJ: Namaste.
Song of the day: It Takes Two by Rob Base
Hope you all enjoyed the interview with Black Hockey Jesus. But I've got a small confession to make:
I am Black Hockey Jesus.
God it feels good to get that off my chest.
I'm sorry if I hurt anyone's feelings, but I just wanted to try something a little different. But then everything spiraled out of control.
Ok. I'm not fooling anyone. If you've ever read The Wind In Your Vagina, you know I'm nowhere near as funny as Black Hockey Jesus. Or creative.
But I am far sexier.
And if you're one of the few people on the planet still not reading The Wind In Your Vagina: what the hell are you still doing here? He is one of the funniest writers out there. Every single post makes me laugh out loud (how many sites can you say that about?). So drop what you're doing and check him out. Now.
And don't give me this "I don't have time to read another blog" crap. If that's the case, drop me and read him instead. You'll be much better off.
What If We’re All Just Fictions In The Mind Of Some Trippy Dude Named Black Hockey Jesus?
