Internet Zillionaire

Below is a poor-quality scan of an article I wrote for the high school paper in 1994 about the infamous biology field trip death march. Not only is Krusty quoted in the article, discussing the many heatstrokes he endured on the journey, but there is even a photograph of him snapping a stalk of cattail, ostensibly for his last meal…

So, Krusty, here is photographic proof of you attending the Biology field trip. I hope this jogs your memory.

(And if you stumbled onto this post randomly, and it makes no sense whatsoevever, start here.)

In bed, I like to make my lover laugh. In my world, laughing and having sex are a dish best served stuffed within each other like some sort of love-making turducken. So I like to have a line that I think really gets the ball rolling. Something that can relax us both, let the guard down, and start the open flow of communication. Sometimes I’m a bit vulgar, sometimes a bit shy, once in awhile I pretend to be awkward or inexperienced, but usually I’m just dry and sarcastic. The trick here is to be funny, perhaps even edgy, but not cross the line where you take your lover out of the mood. I unveil my line (usually in some spontaneous accent) and wait for a reaction.

“Ok, I’ll be the man and you be the woman this time.”

“Pay no attention to the graham-cracker crust on it. American Pie was on TBS earlier and all we had was no-bake cheesecake.”

“Can you recite all 50 states off the top of your head? I need to know if I have a geography fetish.”

“Be gentle with me tonight. You know how dry it gets in the summer. It’s the height of chaffing season.”

“Do you mind if I call you Anikin?”

“Tonight, everything is fair game. Nothing is off limits. I need some new stories to tell to the guys back at the office.”

“I’m all thumbs down there. In a good way.”

“Have you ever heard the expression, “He dances like he has two left feet?” Well, replace dancing with sex and replace feet with testicles and then you will begin to understand my world.”

“Word on the street is that you like it from your man in the way only your man can give it to you. Yes, word on the street is awfully vague these days.”

“You’ll note my socks are in currently in the rocked on state. Mission control, can we get a status countdown on rocking my socks off?”

“I’m so excited! I’ve already pictured this like a thousand times today.”

“I assure you that no matter what happens I would like to think it can get better. And in this arena, I will practice like a dog to get better. ”

“There will be a 15-minute intermission. Feel free to visit the restroom or buy a snack in the lobby.”

“Bryan Adams should be here right now writing a song about this moment.”

“You are so beautiful that even if we had never met before today I would still be having sex with you right now.”

“I feel like the luckiest man in the world tonight. Except that tonight I’m having sex with just you and he’s probably got a whole harem of you’s.”

There is a lot to like about a zoo. You see animals that you could never see in the wild. You get outside to enjoy the sunshine for an afternoon. You might sample the cotton candy, make sure they are still making it up to par.

But there sure is a lot to dislike as well. For one, you are probably going to have feces thrown at you. That is a real turnoff in my book. In fact, I’d venture to say that I’d probably never return to a place that had that on the menu so it’s a wonder the zoo even survives in the first place. It’s a miracle I actually dig deeper and find another reason to stop going to zoos.

The real reason I don’t go to the zoo as much is slightly more highbrow. Doesn’t it seem like the actual point of the zoo is lost on the audience that its designed for. Bear with me. The point of the zoo, any zoo, is to educate people (mostly children) on the wide diversity and unique qualities of the animals of the world in hopes of creating awareness surrounding the conservation and preservation of said diversity. Hmmmm… there is probably a simpler way I could have written that. The point of the zoo is to ogle all the different freaky animals.

But everytime I’m there, it becomes clear that the altruism in the mission of the zoo is completely lost on the clientele. For instance, say the zoo staff has taken great lengths to rescue, feed, and raise an endangered Mountain Gorilla, of which there are less than 400 still left in the wild. A remarkable specimen to see, with its massive body and hairless face, enjoying a nap in the tree. So how come every single person that walks up to the glass to gaze at its wonder shouts out, as plain as day, “Look at the big monkey!” No one is employed to stand there and correct them. No signs are posted that say “Primate Yes, Monkey No.” The rare and wonderful Mountain Gorilla could very well have been a giant monkey sock puppet or stuffed animal. It would garner the same reaction 82% of the time.

I find its mostly parents who zoom past the information signs, instead imparting their very generic and limited knowledge of animals onto their children. It becomes the tiresome game of “What’s that?” Children must enthusiastically scream, holler, or yell the answer back (Giraffe!!!!) in order to “get it right” in this game. It’s kinda like the stipulation on Jeopardy where you can say the right answer but if its not in the form of the question, you don’t win. Except in this version if the child isn’t red-faced, tears welling up, tearing their baby-fresh vocal cords while call and response-ing, the parent REPEATS THE FRICKIN’ QUESTION! They don’t seem to like it when I, embracing my alter ego Johnny Sarcastic, play along. Suddenly it’s so childish when I try to show a little excitement by yelling “Baboon!!!!” at the top of my lungs.

Don’t even get me started on Aquariums. Although, part one would basically be a search and replace on the word ‘zoo’ in this piece with the word ‘aquarium.’ Of course, I would obligated to throw in the one paragraph at the end about how I wish zoos would adopt the “animal enrichment” program that the aquariums have where you can watch someone pretend to jet ski on the back of two dolphins. I would love to see zoo staffers strap onto the back of two baby panda bears and pretend to 4-wheel.

I will tame a horse.

I will fall in love again.

I will go out of the country, make an ass of myself (aka remind myself what is to be an American! ((Shotgun blast goes off!)), and come back politically renewed. A bit jaded of late.

I will still listen to bad music. But now, I will posses a new zeal in proclaiming its goodness. Before I did a lot less proclaiming and more creating. Ha. Now that’s a thinkpiece for ya.

I will purchase a dwelling. (No, a tent doesn’t count. Already own one.)

No, I will build a dwelling. With my own two hands. Manpower. For a bird. Yes. Or other small creature. Including just not killing spiders when I see them. Under foot. Indeed.

I will tame another horse. This time with my hands tied behind my back. (Yes, that is supposed to be partly an italics joke. Let me know if it bombs.)

I will welcome our troops home from Iraq.

I hope I will continue to be using my talents to better the world. After all, there’s not much else to it. That’s kinda the only goal I can figure out we should all be going for.

Simultaneously, I will be able to oWn you at Halo 3. It’s my personal paradox. My PP.

What are some of yours?

Note. You have to be under 30 to answer. Or at least pretend to be. However, I won’t do a background check.

Have we met? I’m Johnny Paparazzi. Cousin of Earl Snapshot. Ugly step-uncle to Willimena Candidcam. And you’ve just been invited to be a fly on the wall at my all-night pajama-jammie jam! With a name like Johnny Paparazzi, you can expect some serious celebs in the house and this year I didn’t disappoint. Let’s start this party off right!

Don’t worry, I’ll cook the bacon extra Keviny. Just how you like it.

Wash it down with a Gin and Connick! Better yet, make that a Shaved Connick. The Harry ones always make me feel fishy.

Don’t look at me with that Queer Eye!

Ok, it was fun straight chillin’ with the Queer Eye guys. Get it? Got it! Good!

Seth Meyers knows how to pose for Johnny. Here he is doing his famous blurry Sasquatch impression.

His buddy Horatio “Hornblower” Sanz was sans cool and posed for me. Say cheese-y grin!

Tina Fey and I had a heart to heart. I’ve now got the heart of a woman and she’s got the heart of a ladykiller.

Fred Armisen’s glasses aren’t a prop. He wears them all the time. That’s so non-lasiky.

Chris Parnell was all slumber and no party however. He didn’t say a funny thing all night. What’s new? (Oh, snap… just kidding Parnell.)

Andy Samberg partied so hard, he was gonna have a lazy Saturday and Sunday this weekend.

Kenan Thompson came in costume as the late/great Notorious B.I.G. No one told him it wasn’t a costume party.

Robert Smigel stuck his hand up Triumph the Insult Comic Dog’s ass again. Good times ensued.

Alan Cumming was not dressed as Nightcrawler which basically pissed everyone off. Including himself.

Mos Def challenged me to a pillow fight but I would never hit a man with J. Lo glasses. Def was on iTunes duty for the night.

Kevin Spacey was incognito as always. Here he is as an old Irish man.

Martha Plimpton, the girl from Goonies, crashed the party. But it was cool cuz she told me a secret about Sloth. He no longer worships Superman. He’s a George Clooney Batman dude now.

Spike Lee definitely was in the house. But he spent most of the time in the bathroom. Spike, leave some TP for the rest of us!

The richest man in town, Apple CEO Steve Jobs, was there for tech support. Don’t you hate being the only computer nerd at a party, Steve!

But the man of the hour was Dave Chappelle. He came. He saw. He broke out early. As always.

So can anyone guess where I’ve really been all-night?