Judas Split

A golden day in the sun

Hurrah! I am finally a PhD! It all started with a question that arrived in my inbox a mere fortnight ago:

"Have you ever thought that the only thing stopping you from a great job and better pay was a few letters behind your name?"

Yes, yes I have thought that. Now that I'm with the Worthies, I do have a great job and better pay, but I figured I should get the letters as well. You know, like a package deal. So, I went for it! It's been a tough two weeks, but Brennan, Henry, and Ogre-man have been totally supportive. I'm so glad to be done with it!

We got off the bus in Toledo (a.k.a. Glass City), so that I could have a proper graduation ceremony. Henry flew a sky writer airplane with pink colored smoke; the portrait he drew of me was so lovely, and astonishingly true-to-life. Brennan poured a forty of high-grade bubbles on the ground and lit his pants on fire while singing an aria he composed - "Marfelina, Bellisima PhD-ina". His baritone is non pareil, and the fire and bubbles could not have been a more appropriate and tender setting. Ogre-man danced a celebratory ancient Irish jig that had been passed down through his family for centuries. Then he proclaimed celibacy. It was all very touching.

With a "Yipee-ki-yi-yaooo!!", I threw my mortarboard into the sky. It floated away on a draft and landed in the Maumee River. I hope it finds a new happy home in the beaver dam down the way. Those animals sure could use some more edification. I don't care what dwell magazine says.

After Henry landed, or rather, crashed near-fatally (don't worry, he's fine), we all went into the river and I got baptized in my graduation gown. I've been wearing it for the past 14 days. I think Brennan was especially happy for us to be in the river, seeing as he's got a sensitive nose, and it's my first shower in the past two weeks (the gown is dry-clean only). Oh, also, he got to put out his pants-fire (don't worry, he's fine). Ogre-man gave up his promise almost immediately at the next truck stop (don't worry, he only caught rickets). Sigh. I love you guys.

Signed,

Marfa Worthy, PhD.

The Perfect Marfa

Back when we were trying to find a new Marfa, we composed and sang this song to our parents. Man, you should have seen it. We were so cute.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Spoken]
Wanted a nanny Marfa for two adorable children accomplished rock musicians

[Sung]
If you want this choice position
Have a cheery disposition Be a kick ass rock musician
Rosy cheeks, no warts! (Actually, we're pretty lenient about warts)
Play games music, all sorts (And games are cool, too)

You must be kind, you must be witty
Very sweet and fairly pretty
Take us on outings, give us treats
Sing songs, bring sweets

Never be cross or cruel
Never give us castor oil or gruel the shaft
Love us as a son and daughter platonic friend
And never smell of barley water feces or garbage

If you won't scold and dominate us
We will never give you cause to hate us
We won't hide your spectacles game controller
So you can't see play video games
Put toads in your bed
Or pepper in your tea video games
Hurry, Nanny Marfa!
Many thanks
Sincerely,

Jane and Michael Banks. Henry and Brennan, The Worthies.

The Lightning Horse Rides Up My Nose

Hey Wortherinos,

Marfa here. Only, I'm the new Marfa. I've been picked out of a casting of various tap-dancing beauties that have trailed their shuffle steps through the taverns of small towns across America. So many dreams crushed, toppled in the sequin-reflecting eyes of the girls next door. Turns out, I'm the only worthy enough to be a Worthy. For, I say, who must endeavor to be Worthier than Marfa of 'Worthy and the Marfiest' Worthy to ever Marfa across this Worthy we call the Marfa? Marfa? Precisely.

I just came off playing Phalanges in Sophocles' "Pass the Night Wing". It was the best play to hit Murfreesboro, Arkansas since "Looks and Brains" by Virgina Woolf.

A pleasure to be on board, sailors.

P.S. I'm really enjoying the Lindt truffles you left on the bus. Also, I've almost finished off all the leapers (haven't slept for 8 days - eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!).

Sobering

Okay, that is seriously weird (referring to Brennan's post below). I had no idea Marfa was missing. Who was that strange masked person that saved me from an oncoming train? I could have totally sworn it was Marfs. And who was it that played Tibula in Shakespeare's "You're Giving Me Hives" that I saw four times at the praying mantis festival in Pittstoppe, Conn.? That wasn't her?!! I know her hair was red and she had no evidence of any legs, but please! Prop masters can do amazing things these days. And who was it that sold me a bottle of Schnapps for $4.50 (a stellar deal by the way) in that grocery store in Omarano, Mainesburgh? Well, it certainly wasn't Fozzie the Bear! I guess I've been living in a drug-induced haze for the last 17 weeks. There really is no other explanation. Marfa, if you're out there, stay where you are. If you move around a lot it's going to make it harder for helicopters or people with binoculars to locate you.

In regard to our monetary problems, I'd just like to say, "No Dinero? No Problemo!" I've got it under control. I just discovered that there is something very valuable hidden in the human body. People will actually BUY it from you for the big bucks. It's called plasma, and I'm thinking that *my* plasma is probably worth way more than other people's. Maybe there's a Worthyhead out there currently employed at a plasma center that is just itching to get the Glue's glue? (Note: For any "Unworthies" out there that don't know, Glue is my nickname.) Any takers? I don't know what they do with plasma once they get it, but probably it is something of a collector's item. We can call the next album "Plasmarama" and have the cover be a photo of me getting it taken out at the center. Plus, a lucky plasma center employee willing to pay big bucks might just get to stand next to me (I don't mean on the cover, I mean in real life). What do you think, Bren & Marf? Let's talk about it at least. Hey, I'm over my Weird Al phase. I see now that I was misguided. See? I can be flexible. I'm willing to sell the hidden juices of my body for the band. I believe with sacrifice and courage I can make the magic happen once again.

Still Alive!

I am alive and well and living! Don't worry about me. I am living off crackers and peanut jack. Wooty wooty woo. GIMME GIMME. Hey, what's a guy gotta do to get some fun around here? I'm a real cowboy. BANG!

Tour Diary, Day 12: Goin' Bananas!

We've reached the twelfth day of The Boar. I have never been so wild. Yesterday, or maybe three days ago, I was a veritable monkey, climbing every tree in Lummox, Kentucky (and they have like 80 trees in the city park alone). This leg of the tour is particularly boring for me (Kentuckians are nice, but a little inhibited), so I have to spice it up with a little shenaniga. By the way, 'shenaniga' is a word of my own invention. I am pushing the band to let Shenaniga be the title of our next record. The album cover can be a photo of me in one of the trees with a banana in my hand. I've got it all mapped out. Weird Al can do a cover of the title track of the album and call it "Bananiga". In the video he can pretend to be me, climbing trees and acting the proper fool, singing about his love for all things banana. I'd be even willing to "bribe" him into it by giving him one of my collections of solid gold bananas. Have I mentioned this? I have over 109 collections of 'Auric Plantains', as they are called by aficionados. A collection, or "bunch" as it is called, is any grouping of at least two A.P's. So by collection standards, I have over 218 separate individual fruits. Why do I collect, or "bunch" as it is called? It's just one of those things that crazy rich rock stars do.

What else has happened? Oh, Marfa threatened to quit the band and form a new one. She said her new band will be called "Marfa and the Ghost Lights". I said, "That's the silliest name of a band I ever heard. It's so fantastical! No one would buy it." But after introducing me to the Internet (another thing I never thought could possibly be true), she showed me that it was actually based on a real thing. Well, I'll be. Will wonders never cease? Anyway, we bought her dinner like fifteen times and finally she agreed to stay with the band.

Here are some things I've learned so far on the Tour:

Kentuckian police are remarkably easygoing about wild, partying rock stars climbing up all their trees, chucking 14-carat bananas around, and singing Weird Al's "Eat It" at the tops of their lungs.

Brennan revealed himself to be the Sasquatch. I figured it out long ago, but I guess it took a while for the press to catch wind.

Baltimore was cancelled due to "inclement weather", whatever that is.

Marfa is now 1/4th Cherokee after some crazy genetic surgeries. Good for her.

Potatoes Au Gratin are remarkably easy to eat. I have never once had to employ a knife.

Our manager Ogre-Man is hands-down the best poker play of us all. I don't really know how to play. I keep bringing my racquet to each game and I just don't see how it can help me.

Ogre-Man is an anagram for Manoger, which sounds a heck of a lot like Manager. That is just trippy.

"Baltimore" was cancelled due to inclement weather, whatever that is.

Do not spit at lions. They will get angry and alert zoo officials.

Detroit still knows how to rock. It must be all that 'transportation industry' in the air.

The weeds in the field out back behind the hotel are not good at curing hang-overs.

That's all the news that's "Worthy"!

Tour Diary, Day 1

Over the course of the next few weeks, I will be maintaining a Tour Diary of my adventures with Marfa & The Other Worthy. It's gon' be a fun freaky ride.

Day 1:
This morning we had pancakes. Not the best way to start a day. Our manager doesn't even know about this blog so I can make fun of him all I want. His name is Frederick Shents, but I came up with a better nickname for him than "Frents" (Brennan's suggestion). I call him Ogre-Man. It's a perfect name. Original. Descriptive. Clever. So anyway, "Ogre-Man" had ordered the pancakes at IHOP thinking we were all ga-ga over them. He seems to think that pancakes are the Rocker's Ambrosia, the best way to start a day. Well, I got news for The Oagie (another nickname I came up with for him - it's a riff on "Ogre"), yours truly does not enjoy a cake of pan in the morning. I always wondered why pancakes, or "flappyjacks", are so terrible. As the band's researcher (I've traced each band member's ancestries back to the Secret Generation (more on this later)), I took it upon myself to find out why. Initial data on the root of their vileness supported the popular idea that they were named after Pan the Greek god of sheep. You probably heard of him. He is a little unlikable womanizing hairy man with goat legs. They say he is the god of "unbridled male sexuality", and I certainly wouldn't want to eat a cake made by that guy. You know? But then I looked around some more, and I figured out it's probably Pan-gu. Yes, Pan-gu is why pancakes are gross. He is the Chinese giant who was born as a dwarf from the cosmic egg. And as he grew and grew, he made the universe with different body parts becoming different things. For example, his eyes became the sun and the moon. His sweat became rain. His fleas, the human race. Yes, according to the legend, we are all the fleas living on the body of Pan-gu. If that's not the most terrifying thing I've ever heard, I am not getting out much. No wonder why the the cake of Pan-"goo" is so disgusting . It's probably like his spleen or something. Well that's my day in a nut-shell. A day in the life of your most humble Rock Musician living on the Road, aka The Tour. Catch ya at a Show, Or Until Next Time, This is "The Glue", a worthy Worthy, signing off....

The Top 10 Things to Bring on a Tour

Any self-respecting rock-and-roll band has to take something on the road with them. I mean, they can't just go naked as the day they were born, can they? These are the top 10 items I personally just can't leave home without. And nakedness just isn't one of them!

10) Sunscreen. God Himself has hired a Hit-man in the guise of the Sun, and he is out to get you. Whether you're in Tuscany, Berlin or Hayes County, Michigan - you can't escape the literal death rays that shoot out like literal lasers at your fragile, and quite literal, skin. Mick Jagger wears at all times a suit made entirely of sunscreen, and I believe Shania Twain has hired a woman to apply it to her skin in perpetuity, even while sleeping. Because the Sun never Sits. Except when sunscreen rocks its socks off. It's what makes rock n' roll music possible, in my humble opinion. Many of us who go touring call sunscreen "the Shieldmaiden of Rock". Why? Because we're poets.

9) Elvis encased in a block of ice. Most people know he disappeared, but what they don't realize is he disappeared into a block of ice, where he remains ever-frozen. In the right light, you can make out the glean of a rhinestone through the glacial surface. It's transcendent to see, and I never leave the King behind on my excursions.

8) My trifocals. This is how I can see into three-dimensions. I have powers of sight AND sound - the latter has something to do with my ears, but the former is all due to my trusty trifocals. Did I mention I can see ghosts with them? Yes, and "other spirits that make me a better musician". That, by the way, was a quote by none other than Theodore Geisel, known the world over as Dr. Seuss.

7) Brennan's zeppelin fleet. This squadron of attack blimps is excellent to have around. I have needed back-up when cornered by street punks on too many occasions to count. I just blow the ancient rune-etched horn and in two days, Brennan's fleet of gas-filled airships descends to wreak havoc on any and all enemies (provided they are wearing red - but since I have two days to influence my enemies' fashion, it's no problem). Also, the zeppelins, or "gas-bags" as Brennan affectionately calls them, have excellent chefs and know how to cook rhubarb in myriad ways. I'm telling you, if they were on Iron Chef and the challenge was "rhubarb", they'd win, hands down. Mr. Kenji Fukui, I hope you're reading this.

6) 100 keys to 99 doors. This is so much fun. The 100 identical unmarked keys are all matched to doors, but there are only 99 doors in total. So one of the keys will not actually work. The idea is to try each key, but you never know whether you are using the 100th non-functioning one! This amuses everyone for hours, even our roadies who are in constant need of a "fix" for fun. Piece of band trivia: Marfa is related to the inventor of this activity. I think it's her cousin.

5) The video game. This is the one and only video game ever made. It's diverting, but a bit of a challenge. I don't know what the little moving things do. And I don't know if I'm supposed to do anything with the thingies. But I do like how it makes the TV shows go away on the TV.

4) A beautiful exotic Bengal Tiger named Szasha. She is such a beautiful creature. Adjectives to describe her: Magnificent, Triumphant, Nature's Way of Saying Thank You To Humans, Stunningly Terrific, Transcendent, The Wildness I Never Knew Could Be So Untamed, Noble, and Divine.

3) I couldn't think of a number 3 - isn't that funny? Sometimes the inability to think of something paired with the ability to laugh at one's faults are handy things to have while on tour. Or at least, I would say that if I'd thought of it. Unfortunately, I didn't. This whole section was plagiarized from a 1989 speech by Ronald Reagan to the Voter's Defense League. But I thought since he said it so well, I'd include it here. Thanks, Ron!

2) A way out of any conversation. I can't say what it is because I consider it a trade secret, but I will divulge this much: If you say the phrase, "Oh Lordy wants a sandwich", you will notice that the person you are talking to is slightly less interested than before. Go with that, experiment, and you may well stumble on a tried-and-true escape route - the Skeleton Key to All Exit Doors, my mother called it. This is a crucial item to possess when meeting all the fans. Just kidding! Ya'll are the Best in the World..

And finally the # 1 item I can't leave on a Tour without:

1) Food.

Burlesqued

Here are some thoughts from THE GLUE on how to improve our band:

What do you guys think about ethnic stereotypes? I was thinking we could do something with those. I don't know what yet. That area is ripe for exploitation.

I think Bren should wear different funny hats on stage... a new one each song! For example, during the song "Harmony of the Sprouts" he can wear a hat that looks like a wedge of cheese! Also: Marfa should always be cradling a cute cat that she sings to, and I should have a 2-ton thermonuclear device strapped to my leg so I can't move and the world blows up when it detonates. Thoughts?

I can't stop jumping! That'll be my schtick. Look at me go! I can adopt it in real life too, not just on stage. I've already started in fact. I am an unstoppable jumping machine. Even if you guys don't like the idea, it will have no effect. I jump for myself. Call me "Jumper Jack"!

We spray the audience with water. Sounds tame, right? Get this: We lace the water with FLAMES.

I get a haircut.

We change the third chord during the chorus of "Hello Magpie" to a G-F trinsic. It just sounds better. More "uppy", like we discussed.

I suggest I wear an outfit made of food.

Same day, after 6pm

And still at work.