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…

THE PUF REPORT: Part 2 of 5

You know, this whole being an author gig is kind of interesting, in a psychological mindf*ck sort of way, if you get my meaning.

Now, if you don’t get my meaning, I hope you will by the end of this blog entry. But – and this is a big but (stop snickering) – before I go any further, I want to point out an important bit of info: I write because I enjoy writing. I sought publication because I enjoy sharing stories, and I’ll admit that it’s nice to get paid to do something you enjoy. (Not that the paycheck is all that big, mind you.) So, writing was pretty much my only choice in the  “professions I truly enjoy” category because I don’t have the necessary endowments to make it big in the adult film industry.

But, be that as it may, what I’m driving at here is the fact that I did NOT go into this profession seeking fame. Really and truly, I didn’t. With fame comes all sorts of responsibility that I really don’t want. Unfortunately, by definition, the whole “branding” and “marketing” thing does tend to make your name known to readers of a particular genre and that sort of thing.  Ergo, while not necessarily what you would call “fame”, there is a certain level of “recognition” that is achieved. It’s actually even somewhat necessary – as I said, “marketing” – in order to have any kind of success in this field.  Yeah, it just sorta comes with the territory, like it or not.

Fortunately for me, I’m a ham and I don’t mind a little bit of attention every now and then. Unfortunately, however, I am afraid I might have become a bit used to it.

Okay, before anyone says anything about that statement above, no, the author thing hasn’t gone to my head. Dorothy Morrison would probably tell you otherwise and that I have to use a pair of scissors to get out of a pullover shirt, but that’s simply not true. (I’ve had all of them altered to include a Velcro quick release a the shoulder seams.) That, and she lies on me all the time. It’s how she is.

Still, with all that said, I have become somewhat used to arriving at an event and having people recognize who I am and be happy to see me.

This is where we segue to Lasagna.

Okay, I’ll sit back for a second and wait for everyone to slip into their neck braces, what with that sudden case of whiplash coming out of nowhere… Everybody ready? Good… Here we go…

At PUF (Pagan Unity Festival) there is a community feast on Saturday night. Everyone brings a dish to share and the event usually preps a major entree like ham and chicken or something of that sort. There’s food for miles, but we are actually going to get to that in a later blog, so I won’t give you all the food details right now. The point behind me telling you this is that some years back everyone donated frozen lasagna. Yeah…everyone… Their dish to share was the old standby, family-sized pan of frozen, layered, Italian-American pasta. PUF literally received something like 40 pans of it. In the wake of this glut of pasta the fest has requested that no one donate lasagna ever again under pain of horrible and terrible, prolonged, agonizing death. Thank you, and go about enjoying yourselves now. Etc.

Well… you know me… I take that as a challenge… Yeah, you guessed it. Every year it is a moral imperative that I and my crew donate a frozen lasagna, if for no other reason than to get a decent laugh. Now, since we do this primarily as a joke, we buy cheap lasagna. And, since it is frozen, we tend to buy it when we get close to the event – as in just a few miles away. The past few years it has been obtained from the Kroger in Dickson, TN since that is right near the park where PUF is held.

So, by now I am sure you are all wondering just exactly what Kroger Frozen Lasagna has to do with this whole authoring thing, fame, and even more so, why this post is titled “Where’s Kat?”. Well, believe it or not, it all fits together.

Seriously. Would I lie about that? (Okay, don’t answer that.)

Ahem… Koff… Koff… Well, let me see if I can tie it all together for you. Obviously, “Kat” is none other than E K. If that wasn’t obvious, it should be now that I have told you (wink wink, nudge nudge). At any rate, after she was through torturing Johnathan… Well… Actually she’s never truly finished torturing anyone… But, moving on… After she was finished torturing Johnathan for the time being, we finally rolled into Montgomery Bell State Park where PUF is held each year. We checked in at the gate, did our annual “Royal Wave” as Johnathan and I rode down to the cabin on the back of the van, and then started to unload. (Note: The only reason E K doesn’t make us ride on the outside of the van during the rest of the trip is because it is illegal on the highway. Although, on numerous occasions she has been known to tie someone up and put them in the car top luggage carrier, but that’s another story.)

As we were unloading the van, I noticed that the Frozen Lasagna was  well on its way to getting melty, so I grabbed it up and headed down the hill to the main hall where the kitchen and fridges are located. It was nice to finally be off the road after a long drive, and I was excited to see all the folks I call my friends, but who I only get to visit with about once per year.

When I reached the bottom of the hill I walked into the dining hall, then through the doors and into the kitchen. There was bustling activity among the crew as they prepared the evening meal. I grinned and tossed the lasagna on the counter as I always do. It felt like I was coming home again. For a brief few seconds, anyway…

You see, usually I am greeted with something along the line of, “Murv’s here!” being shouted with much excitement. This year, however, instead of anything involving my name and happiness over my arrival, what met my ears was, “Where’s Kat?”

Initially I figured this was just an odd anomaly. A one-time occurrence. Nothing that should raise any sort of concern. But then someone came out of the back, rounded the corner, saw me, then smiled and asked, “Where’s Kat?” Then, someone came in through the doors behind me, noticed I was standing there and said, “Oh hi, Murv. Where’s Kat?”

I answered the question two dozen times before I made it out of the dining hall, only to be bombarded with it all the way back up the hill to our cabin. I  finally lost count of how many more times it was asked of me over the weekend. Suffice it to say, it became painfully clear that I had been unceremoniously and completely usurped by the Evil Redhead.  Murv was nobody. All hail E K.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, she’s far prettier than I’ll ever be, and then there’s that whole “hot, sexy, evil without boundaries” thing she has going for her. I suppose it was only a matter of time…

But, you know, that’s not the most troublesome development out of all this… As always, the planning for the following year’s PUF begins approximately 24 hours after the end of the current year’s PUF, so all of that is already in full swing. Not unusual, except that I’ve already been hearing rumors that we author types are being completely cut from the program.

Apparently E K is going to be the 2010 Guest of Honor.

More to come…

Murv

The next installment in THE PUF REPORT: Part 3 of 5 – Dingle? What’s A Dingle?