Unloosen

Dear Intelli-head:

Paul K. Eisen, Westbury, CT

Dear Paul,

Sadly, the Irishman you speak of no longer performs. In fact, he shuns the very Irishness that made him a star. But pop culture has made many Irishmen or "MC's" hot. Try to win your nephew over with my favorite Irishman: MCguyver.

That Pen takes the idea of borrowing/stealing a pen at the office to an extreme. I wrote this story for the sixth issue of Pork Pony under the pen name Eli Lindy. I didn't want people to think the site was just a bunch of crap by me, so I hid behind this and a few other psuedonyms until we recruited a few more writers. A bunch of people seemed to like this story, told from the point of view of a good ol' boy. (CL)

Everyone has something to hide. A past trouble or a current involvement, it doesn't matter. The illegal or criminal mysteries don't interest me. Save that for your TV movie of the week. Speaking of movies, I'd better return my rented copy of "They Still Call Me Bruce". What intrigues me are the small things, harmless and for the most part accepted and tolerated by the law of the pack. The fact that these secrets are never to be found out and kept hidden by their performers is what strikes my fancy like no other.

Why is playing a SPED the key to winning an Oscar? How hard can it be? I talk to myself all the time. Also, will somebody please tell Opie to stop spinning the damn camera! When you rotate the camera in back to back scenes, it's not dramatic, it's annoying.

Ultimately, A Beautiful Mind is a good movie that pissed me off. It has great acting, beautiful music, and a really interesting subject. But instead of taking risks, it relies on standard story conventions to tug at your heartstrings. As a result, it gets sappy, repetitive, and it oversimplifies what must be a horrible affliction.

Russell Crowe was much better in The Insider, but because he twitches and stutters in A Beautiful Mind, he'll win the Oscar. That's retarded. If you really want to take a journey into the mind of the mentally ill, watch Mulholland Drive. That movie had the balls to be crazy. On a scale from 1 to Club11, A Beautiful Mind gets a 7 1/2.

David Kendall's tale of man mistaken for another man continues. In this episode, the guy who is not William finds out more about the guy who is William. (CL)

Dear Intelli-head,

Sockless in St. Louis

Dear Francis Todd,

Your yen for anonymity bothers the Intell-head. Remember, my Intelli allows me to know all, including your name.

Your lack of responsibility regarding your precious socks is atrocious, but to hide yourself behind a false name is a crime. And you are aware that sock neglect is a federal crime, are you not? Clean up your act or end up in the big house.

By the way, I have seen your sock. I rescued her from the alley next to the Laundromat you so carelessly wash your clothing at. I have named her Gladys. Gladys has told me about your years of elastic abuse as well, Fran. Stay away from the poor child.

Dear Intelli-head,

Waylon Nipple, Ox Lick, TN

Dear Waylon,

I was once confused about the Mc5 issue as well. This should clear it up:

Remember that terrific movie in the 1980's entitled Short Circuit? The main character was a robot named Johnny 5. After I laughed my Intelli off watching Johnny's antics, I did a little research and found out that he was the descendant of an Irish robot, the very MC5 that you speak of. MC5 was developed by a team of Irishmen (the men on the cover of MC5's classic album) and quickly became quite the crooner, although his recorded material is a bit too raucous for Intell-head. The American flag and it's use on the cover of the album you speak of still eludes me. Intelli-head does not enjoy or interpret symbolism.

Neeeeerrrrrrrrrdddddddssssss! Will somebody just throw the friggin' ring into the volcano and end this damn thing! I hated this movie with a passion that I rarely feel for movies. I even hated the people in the theater who didn't hate it. I felt like I was being forced to watch that Marines commercial for about three hours, and I was actually praying for a game of Magic to break out so that I'd have something else to watch.

I know that 2001 sucked in every way imaginable, but I honestly can't believe that this film is being recognized as one of the best films of the year. How hard was it to tell this story? Didn't anyone see a pattern? A) Computer generated landscape of Dorkville B) Discussion about how we are torn between loving and hating the ring C) Fight scene Repeat for 3 damn hours.

Since I hadn't read any of the books prior to seeing the film, Lord of the Rings offered me nothing for the first 2 1/2 hours. I never cared about the characters because I never got a chance to know them. All conflict seemed to be predetermined by the evil of the ring. It wasn't until the final half hour that characters made choices of their own free will, finally allowing us a glimpse at their true nature.

This film, however, did have several laughs. The fact that the wizard's only power seemed to be to tell everyone to "run" was very amusing. (Honestly, he gets his ass kicked by another old wizard, runs away whenever there's danger, and when he finally did do some magic, his cane turned into a sparkler. Big freakin' deal.) Also, because this movie had more glory shots than your average porno film, I found the redundancy of these sweeping shots to be very amusing by hour three. But the funniest moment in Lord of the Rings had to be when Frito Bag got stabbed for the second time and they show his reaction in slo-mo. I swear, it looked like the dwarf was taking a dump. On a scale of 1 to Club11, Lord of the Rings gets a 3.

I'm not sure, but I think that this movie has something to do with Dawson. On a scale from 1 to Club11, my sister gives A Walk To Remember a 6.

Part 3 of MNINW finds the man who bears not the name William on the phone and then on the toilet. Comedy and soul-searching ensue. (CL)

In February of 2002, I ran into Stuart Gimble while he was working the register at a local supermarket. Shock and awe ripped through me; how could a fantastic writer of Gimble's ilk be relegated to such a simple job? We scraped together what little money trickled into the Pork Pony coffers and hired Gimble to write a weekly article for our nascent journal. This was Gimble's first foray into the world of the now-defunct Pork Pony. (CL)

Dear Intelli-head,

Harv Appleton, Norfolk, VA

Dear Harv,

It is obvious to me (due to my Intelli) that time travel has warped that warrior mind of yours. You never got to the Prime Orc because his minions attacked you using a special concoction simply known as Time Juice.

I'm not sure what the exact year you were transported from was, but I can tell you a little about the era you've wound up in. It is the year 2002. Many things have changed. Fire, for instance, has revolutionized human existence. A man named Tony Little has helped other men and women dodge obesity's pudgy hand by giving them an inexpensive yet powerful contraption called the Gazelle. And in a major cultural and technological advance, computers and the Internet were created with the sole purpose of showcasing the very publication your eyes and brain feast upon at this moment: Pork Pony.

With that in mind, here are a few pointers to help you survive the current era:

Buy some clothes. 21st century people don't take too well to those cavorting about in chain mail.

Get hip to the new slang, man. It's so flash to know the neat-o way the kids talk.

Look into obtaining what is called a "video game system". These contraptions can play host to your follies and adventures in endless imaginary worlds. Who knows, maybe someday soon they'll even create a game that reminds you of those Orc hunting days of old.

Good luck!

Attention you primitive fools: be nervous; I have come to make human beings of you. After my initial diatribe for this media wasteland known as Pork Pony, I was shocked to find out just how many of the dullards who read my work were put off by it. Many of you sent me duncical letters filled with misspellings, erroneous grammar, and worst of all, lack of capitalization. Mountain of idiocy: save yourselves now. Purchase a copy of The Gods of Grammar in the Punctuation Palace, the only children's book I've ever written. It shall act like an elevator, lifting your IQ out of the basement. Who knows, maybe you'll even be able to handle the complexities held within a third grade social studies book after you're done.

The Gods of Grammar in the Punctuation Palace follows the adventures of a dear lad named Art. Art goes to school with children who ignore academics in favor of things like baseball, dolls, and poo-poo jokes. Our ostracized hero spends his time in isolation, reading and studying grammar. Atop the clouds, the gods Subjectus and Predicatus watch poor Art and, feeling sympathy for the lonely boy, they magically transport him to their ethereal estate, Punctuation Palace. Art is instantly mesmerized as he ambles to and fro, learning all the true and good rules of grammar and punctuation. The adventure gets a tad hairy, however, when the evil Misspell-O appears and attempts to sully the laws of the land. Watch out for sting of Misspell-O's end-preposition whip, dear Art!

Alas dear reader, shun all poo-poo jokes. Come to Punctuation Palace where all is good and two spaces follow every period. Ah, but I dream, for during your next visit to the bookstore you'll go straight to the periodicals and start perusing the awful garbage printed on the pages of magazines like Esquire and Maxim. You sicken me.

Dear Intelli-head,

Bill Stockton, Branson, MO

Dear Bill,

On the very Internet you now browse exists a special tool called the "E-Bay". The "E-Bay" sells many items in an auction style to the people who use the Internet. One item of particular interest to you is something called "Speak and Spell". "Speak and Spell", powered by an Intelli very similar to mine, will read for you.

As for the writing part of things, there is a new employee here at Pork Pony who would happily write for you. His name is Stuart Gimble. I asked him if he'd be kind enough to help an illiterate man, and he said, "you are a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world." I computed these words and my Intelli tells me they mean "yes".

I know that everyone will be disappointed, but I don't have anything bad to say about Moulin Rouge. I have a massive film ego, so I'm always impressed when I see a film that I'm not talented enough to make. Baz Luhrmann did an amazing job, and I feel very strongly that he should have been nominated for a "Best Director" Oscar.

I'm not even gay and I loved this musical. The explosion of color, music, & Shakespearean tragedy was enough to leave me awestruck. I think that my friends said it best when they described the experience as being hit over the head by a loud velvet hammer. That may sound odd, but anyone who has seen the film knows exactly what they mean. Hopefully, for the sequel, they will throw in a little P. Diddy and possibly the "Hey Mickey" song. On a scale of 1 to Club11, Moulin Rouge gets a CLUB11.