>I’ve finally decided I need an avatar. That’s right. I am finally embracing my interweb geekyness. For those of you who don’t know what an avatar is: An avatar, placed next to my posts, is a picture that represents me. A lot of thought must to go into this. Choosing an Avatar is a lot like choosing a tattoo. It’s a highly personal expression of one’s self. Like a colorful dragon or a naked woman who’s private parts are covered by your armpit hair and appears to dance when you flex.
Using business lingo: I accept my paradigm-monkeying, synergy-strategising, cross-platform, aspiration statement and have decided to choose an avatar. I have narrowed my choices to:
Batman slugging the shark: (BSTS) Originally from the movie, “Batman” starring Adam West, the greatest actor of his generation, it features Batman beating a shark from his leg while hanging from a helicopter. It touches the jejune nature of our existence, the banality of our every day lives and the need to get this motherf*cking shark off my motherf*cking leg! For those of you who didn’t know, BSTS was the inspiration behind the blockbuster Hollywood mega-movie, Snakes on a Plane. Originally it was Sharks on a Plane. Before that it was Sharks on a Helicopter.
Hammer time: Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Oh, and next time you decide to employ 35 dancers and musicians for each show, you might want to look at how much the gig is paying. But Hammer did it right! I plan on meeting my death bankrupt, in debt, and being chased by Guido the killer pimp. As Dewey Cox said, “I want a whole army of digery-doos” for this track. I’m pretty sure he meant the soundtrack of our lives. Hammer speaks to my need to put on a good show before I leave the stage.
Goth Dance is a favorite. This is a clip from South Park. Goth always makes me laugh. It says, we’re different so we’re all going to act the same. By why choose morose? If you’re going to act the same choose something like, ‘60’s flower children,’ and act unnaturally happy. If the ultimate goal is to freak out your parents, make them think you’re tripping balls all day; that will get a reaction.
As this never ending demented winter consumes my soul, everyday I think of turning Goth. I’m a white, 46yr old fat guy who drives a Volvo. Goth may be my only choice now. I feel the need to dye my hair black, leaving my bangs unusually long so I have to flip the hair from my eyes when I speak. I’ll guess I’ll also need some tattoos, a Prince Albert and some nipple studs. (I can’t wait to go thru Airport screening with a Prince Albert.) But I’m willing to go for it, if, at the end of this journey of transformation, I can find a hot Goth chick who will drone on-and-on about the inequities of life and how horrid our parents are. That turns me on.
Dark Helmet was the first Goth. He knew how to bring it, which leads me to:
In this clip from Spaceballs, Dark Helmet is watching the movie of Spaceballs while the movie is being filmed. That’s the way I feel all the time. Stop looking at my movie. Wait, you’re in my movie. Okay, you can be part of the Tommy Korioth experience, but only while I’m in it. And you can’t watch me go Goth. Okay, you can watch me go Goth, but you have to get a Prince Albert. I’ll be taking Sentanyl and Versed – the time travel drugs, for the procedure. You must get yours cold sober.
This one is called The Flying Hand. I don’t know where its from or what it means, but this avatar speaks to me. It says, we are all television heads, and someday, a flying hand will come out of nowhere to turn us off, and then we’ll explode at the bottom of a quarry into a cheap special effect. What better way to describe life?
It also says that someone wrote this. Someone actually sat down at a typewriter and scripted a giant hand slapping T.V. head and then blowing up. WTF? And they say LSD is dead. I want that job. No, wait, . . . I am that job. Someone get me some LSD.
Horropher is an interweb favorite. It’s been used too much, but it still has its charm. It says, Hey, don’t you dare!
Janet Jackson’s boob is another favorite. If you can’t see the clip I’ve included it’s because photobucket has already censored it. Who would of thought one highly decorated nipple could do so much damage. And don’t they understand it was a wardrobe malfunction?!?!? It was an accident! Why would they think, for one second, that she meant for her adorned nipple to make such a spectacular debut? If the wardrobe malfunction wasn’t a malfunction, that means it was a conspiracy. And that means JFK was shot from the grassy knoll. It means the Flying Hand clip wasn’t scripted and the LSD I took ten minutes ago is taking effect. Long Live the Night Ninjas!
I need your help. I have placed a poll next to this article so we can all vote on my new avatar. Do it for Jesus. Be aware: if you choose Goth, I go Goth. If you choose Batman, I am Batman, and if you choose Janet Jackson’s boob, I’ll wear that nipple jewelry. If you choose Spaceballs I will wear a dark helmet and constantly ask everyone why they are in my movie.
I came across this tiny piece of info in the interweb. If you feel like screwing with someone on the phone, this is the phone number of those religious nuts that protest soldiers funerals by carrying signs that say, “God Hates Fags.” Maybe you should give them a call and just say hi.
Westboro Baptist Church
3701 SW 12th St
Topeka, KS 66604