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A Mind Numbing Work of Crippling Banality

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Joined: 19 May 2004
Posts: 297
A Mind Numbing Work of Crippling Banality  Reply with quote  

Fellow Moore-ons,

After unearthing the lost transcript and my brief stay here in this little backwards, inbred community, I realized that there’s more to be learned about the PineCove saga and its author to whom we’ve pledged our allegiance and (test results allowing) a kidney.

I retraced my steps down the path that first led me to the lost transcript. It seems, however, that passwords have been changed and a firewall installed. (I’m not certain if this is due to a recent security breach or if CM is experiencing dead-line induced paranoia. His personal diary makes no mention of it.) The study deepens. Always it deepens.

So, undeterred by these permutations, I cast about for the shortest path with no security measures and decided to contact some of the people mentioned on the back cover of his books.

A gentleman named Carl Hiaasen was the first to return my call. Unfortunately, the man’s considerate gesture yielded nothing helpful to my search. Hiaasen, apparently, has never heard of Christopher Moore or his books. I explained the connection several times but nothing seemed to ring a bell for the man. He thanked me for bringing it to his attention and hung up to call his lawyer.

Eventually, I managed to track down and meet with a philosophy major who attended school with Chris and knew him well. A good natured fellow with a noble sense of loyalty regarding his friends, illustrated by his refusal to supply me with any contact information on Chris. I liked him immediately. He stood firm with passionate resolve. He even threatened me with physical violence if I didn’t unhand his wrist and stop bothering him.

So that was funny.

Luckily for us, I was dealing with a philosophy graduate (educated in Tennessee, no less) and was therefore able to Jedi mind-trick the info out of him in a little less than a half hour.
Energized by a little success, I took my leave of the dear fellow having procured Chris’ home address, extensive driving directions to Chris’ front door, and the guy’s car.
(Wanting to reward kindness with kindness, I gave the guy a scribbled drawing I’d done on a Denny’s napkin. Just a rudimentary depiction of one hand clapping inside a box containing a cat that may or may not be dead. He was overwhelmed! Ran off like the wind, waving it about screaming for someone to come over for a look.)

*note to future and fellow researchers: Remember when dealing with philosophy students; they’re more afraid of you than you are of them. Gentle, firm tones, use slow non-faith based movements and gestures. Generosity is usually the shortest path. Agreeing to pay for the pizza gets you nearly all need.*

Uneventful trip to Mr. Moore’s house.

Arrived to find Chris and his lovely lady friend not in, much to my disappointment, and no sign that suggested they’d return soon. Feeling a bit foolish, I had to remind myself that meeting Chris in person wasn’t the point of my trip. Uncovering insights into the man behind the story was. To truly know the Moore that came before so that we can all fully appreciate the Moore that came after, that was my mecca. So I shook off my frustration, ignored the meth-hangover and got refocused. Soon the legion within was stilled... the Logos was apprehended...I inhabited the center, occupied the place between the before and the after.
I was Witness.
I was Awake.
I Let myself in through the patio door with a brick.

I won’t go into describing their home except to say that it’s lovely. (I’ll upload the pictures to my website once all six rolls of film are developed.)

Even though I knew it was rude to do so, I simply had to help myself to a change of clothes from their bedroom closet. Forgive me. It was a three day drive with and ocean to cross and no bathroom stops. What a relief to put on clean, dry clothes that smelled fresh and fit comfortably! It looked like Chris had some nice stuff, too.

But I wasn’t there to sample the rich, buttery flavored life of a well to-do novelist, garnished with hazelnut-infused suburban motifs and encrusted with a subdued wealth and stature. No. My objective was fact finding and research, so as to pay homage to the talent that had erected this iconic suburban nest. To do so unobtrusively and with reverence.

Immediately after a quick nap, a shower, a snack, two cocktails, another wardrobe switch, and catching the last episode of Deadwood, I began my research.

I hunted for anything that would give insight to the man behind the books, any understanding of the Moore that came before so that we could more fully appreciate the Moore that came after, with no hint of redundancy. The hall closets yielded nothing. Got the same result searching the fridge, the laundry hamper, the mailbox, kitchen cabinets, medicine chests, the neighbor’s mailbox, the liquor cabinet, dresser drawers, the liquor cabinet, and the liquor cabinet.

No luck.

I was hopeful when I located the computer in, what I assume is Chris’s office, but again nothing. The desk was fairly sparse except for a stack of Xeroxed posts from Lunkwil next to a bottle of TUMS. The computer had a few random emails and one HUGE word document called ‘BSuck F Sequel’ that was too long to scan but sounded like porn or worse; pro wrestling. I figured Chris’s lovely wife would disapprove of either so I deleted it. (found several backed-up copies, btw. Deleting each one took waaay too long so I went ahead and wiped the hard drive.) It’s for the good of his marri-----

what the-……….hang on, guys….

some kinda commotion going on outside….


There’s a lot of cars pulling up with blue flashing lights and guys running around all crouched over…wearing some kinda blue armor and helmets….

Is DragonCon this week?

I wonder if--FUCK! That bullhorn's LOUD!!!

This is distracting.

Terribly sorry, guys. If you will, let me go find out what the story is outside and see if the gentleman with the bullhorn will dial it back a notch.

Hold tight. BRB to tell you the good news of what I found at Casa Moore!
Angels, Devils, and Men:
The first forgets,
The third regrets,
and the second has all of the fun.

--Analytics of Five

Post Sun Dec 25, 2005 12:08 pm   View user's profile Send private message Visit poster's website
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