Tonight on Biography...

The search is on, and so far we appear to have some mixed results. I decided to start by searching out the celebrity who piqued my curiosity most. At first I was looking at obscure German actor Udo Kier who fit the bill on being relatively unknown and downright strange, along with having a freaky eye thing. I was interested to see he had worked with German director Ranier Werner Fassbinder, and well he had the freaky eye thing. Then I learned how “close” he worked with Fassbinder and things just started getting a little too odd for my taste. He was in Madonna’s SEX book for heavens sake! Sorry Udo, you did have potential as a celebrity obsession.

After that weird touch with Euro-obsession I decided to stay a little closer to home and pick someone a little safer, cleaner, masculine, and had less of the freaky eye thing. I needed someone who was comfortable, seasoned, and batty as a loon. Like a well-worn baseball mitt, your favorite cap, or Pia Zadora the answer was right in front of me, Mr. Peter Graves. I did some checking and Peter excels in one category that even the Five Times Better Mark Northover did not, he’s alive. Sure in Peter’s existence in the realm of the living, I have taken him as my idol of obsession and balm of my writer's block.

In order to commemorate the moment and to spread the legend of this man far and wide, I have prepared a syntax challenged poem which I feel encapsulates the young Peter and his hypnotic effect on the audience.

The Natatorium at the University of Minnesota (An Ode)
by Stew Miller

O darkest of brow and rosiest of cheek,
You walk on an ethereal plain we cannot touch.
Your intentions are humble and your manner meek.
Villains and scoundrels soon to fear your manly clutch.
They will scatter like water on a red hot skillet,
And flee when the heat of the fire is too much.
Worked your way through night school on a billet,
Stationed with the Navy when you were still a teen.
If that was only true, I needed a rhyme for skillet.
The manner of a puma, with the reflexes of a lean
Cat whose name escapes me, perhaps if it helps
I could look it up in some feline magazine.
But Peter fears not the great cats paw, or the whelps
It brings to his translucent skin, “Good morning Mr. Phelps.”

I will find you, my Precious!!!!!!

I was sitting in my office enjoying a tray of MayonnaICE when I was struck by an enlightenment of such power and magnitude it caused me to drop the salty confection on the already stained berber. What was the illumination that caused my faux paux? I don’t have a strange obsession with either an obscure celebrity or a sport where the players cannot generally use their hands to touch the ball. My comrades here at the Dictionary have made a cottage industry of posts on the eccentric goings-on and exploits of deceased actors and the self –dubbed “beautiful game”. Where is my beautiful game?

As some of you may be aware I have been faced with a bout of writer’s block in the last few months that will not seem to be broken. It’s not due to a shortage of material as Tom Cruise, William Shatner, crazed Japanese scientists, dwarven KISS impersonators, and Puffy AmiYumi groupies still all exist as they draw their plans for world domination. No, my problems stem from a much noted condition suffered by millions: life. I have been told by qualified individuals that there is nothing I can do about the condition so I will strive to make the best of it. But, do not cry for me Argentina; or Equador, French Guiana, Chile, and Suriname for that matter. I have decided to go out and search for my Mark Northover, my Football (soccer), my “BEAUTIFUL GAME”.

Now comes the problem, or as we say in the business… conflict. Where will I find the person or game of my obsession, and will anyone care? The last part will certainly take care of itself so I set out on this day to discover new horizons. I will scour the landscape, not to mention IMDB.com and sports related websites, as a Puffy AmiYumi groupie chases a pair of vinyl slacks worn by the J-pop group at ROCK ROCK KON-NICHIWA! Not that I would know anything about that sort of thing.

You will be the first to know of the results my children.

(No, not about the pants!!!)

Mark Northover, One Last Beautiful Page

Wikipedia has come to its senses at last and posted the full gorgeous truth about our former friend and recently glory-ascending hero Burglekutt, aka Mark Northover. Please check out what I call the Burglekutt Truest Wikipedia Entry of All Time. It's the least you can do for all the joy, for all those special moments of you sitting down to a nice meal at a fancy restaurant, sipping the bubbly, gnawing on a hunk of charred elk muscle mass, while at the same time watching the movie Willow on your pocket television, and, yes, for all those lovely times in your life of you lounging on a leathern recliner, Orangette soda in hand, listening to the latest Mark Northover CD of trance music. For all of these times, the beautiful moments of enjoyablest life, you owe Mark Northover, our friend Burglekutt, a final couple of links to weg pages about him.

Then, and only then, can we at last move on to bigger but not better things. So please, go here as well. And when you have been there and looked and seen all that you owe it to the former Mark Northover to have seen, then let us return to discussions of the goat meat snack industry, Paris Hilton's mysterious odors, the remake of Star Trek starring Soughton Lampington and, of course, as always, the Leonard Nimoy's rise to power.

When the Cat's Away, the Nuffy Will Play

Well, my former goat-meat snack industry business partner, Earl "Li'l Lord Fauntleroy" Fando, is still missing. Not "missing" in the sense of being in a secret location, but in the secondary sense of not reading this blog or being in the immediate vicinity. And you know what that means? Yes, it means everything you ever hoped it meant. Specifically, it means that I, Nuffy Noe, can post pretty much whatever I want. I can go nuts in this Dictionary of Unfortunate Ideas.

I could talk for seventeen paragraphs about the different exciting things you can do with mayonnaise. Here are five examples: 1) smear it on Grandpa's bald head with a paint brush, 2) fill your shoes with it for extra comfortable walking, 3) paint your house with it, using an old gasoline-soaked rag and the freshest Kraft Real Mayonnaise, 4) cover your yard with it so you no longer have to mow but have a lovely mayonnaise lawn instead, 5) freeze it in ice cube trays and enjoy it as a delicious frozen treat called MayonnaICE.

And now, for your everlasting entertainment, a tone poem.

Waiting for You

by Nuffy Noe

Sandwich. Melting Tuna Butter on old crusty elderberry horse toast.

I put it oh so tenderly, oh so gently, beneath your pillow,

while you were on vacation for a month in the Bahamas.

It is waiting for you, like a dog waiting for the newspaper,

Or a Rhinoceros waiting for his daily bowl of rancid fried carrot rinds.

It sits there, so softly beneath your pillow, with the delicate odors,

The tender smells, the soft and gently best scents intensifying,

Like a sound board cranked up to eleven, or a hippopatamus eating yams,

Like a cat thrashing angrily around in a vat of mildewed potatoes,

Or Shoeless Joe Jackson taking a baseball bat to his rabid shrieking cattle,

It is waiting for you right where it needs to be, beneath your pillow,

until you get back next month. A sandwich. A melting tuna butter sandwich.

end

A Fitting Tribute

Yes, a third post on the same night. I will, YES, I will overcompensate for the lack of Earl "Spandau Ballet" Fandau's presence. But also, I wanted you all to know, all of you who are sad and disappointed to the extremest degree possible in all of human existence, a fitting tribute has been made.

Yes, a fitting tribute to Mark. Our Mark. Everybody's Mark Northover. See it here and float in a sea of goldenish remembrance.

And One More Thing...

And by the way, let me please request that my dearest and oldest Army comrade and former business partner in the goat-meat snack industry, none other than Earl "Excremando" Fando, please refrain from making dog food puns at a time like this. I mean, we're talking about tragedy, we're talking about ascensions to glory, we're talking about Star Trek, and none of those topics warrant dog food puns, least of all British dog food puns. I know you're still sore at me for running the goat-meat snack company into the ground, but please don't use that as an excuse to violate this time of sacred disappointment. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Nuffy Noe, Esq.

The Torso Must Go On

Well, the good news is that the horrific and irreparably unfortunate ascension to glory of Mark Northover has not brought the new Star Trek movie's production to a permanent halt. Those of you who aspire to be Five Times Better by keeping track of entertainment news will remember that Mark Northover was cast in the role of Spock's torso in the movie. According to my top secret source, Mark's replacement is none other than Soughton Lampington, an actor with a few minor credits in such films as Walter--Awake and Asleep and Bag Ladies in the Heart of Hell, as well as a starring role in the indie hit Seven Eyeballs in Peanut's Food Pail.

While it's more than true that Soughton Lampington can never hope to play the role of Spock's torso with even a tenth of the gravitas or veritas of our cherished Mark, one hopes he will not embarrass his family in the process. Recently, Soughton Lampington was interviewed by his hometown newspaper, The Aughttown Republicrat-News Intention. An excerpt of the interview follows.

ARNI: Well, Soughton, you've come a long way since your days as the horse clothier of Aughttown. Tell us, how did you get this part?

Soughton: Well, it's really quite amazing, to tell you the truth. I just wore Saran Wrap pants for a few days while wandering around Los Angeles, and suddenly my agent told me I had the part.

ARNI: Will you wear adult diapers during the filming of Star Trek, as you did throughout high school and on into your five unfortunate years as Trough Scrubber in the Souse Meat Plant?

Soughton: You know what happens when I and excitement mingle! So....yes...

ARNI: What new ideas will you bring to the part of Mister Spock?

Soughton: I intend to portray him less as a green-blooded logical alien and more as a sort of wandering dwarf-shaped torso with robotic arms. Kind of a shrieking, you know, weird janitor type of person rather than just an emotionless slob of a loser.

ARNI: That's great. We can't wait to see your performance. How was it, working with director Hectorforce Uilhox?

Soughton: Other than the mouth kisses, it wasn't too bad. He likes to sit in a barrel of fresh sweet corn while directing, with, you know, short shorts on and a big fake velcro moustache glued to his upper lip. It was inspiring, sort of like the olden days when William Shatner would love us through song.

ARNI: It sounds like this will be the best Star Trek movie in the history of time.

Soughton: Yes. Either that or I'll set my backyard on fire.

ARNI: Exciting.

Soughton: ...

ARNI: Yes.