The Secret Army

Cady's army

1. Cady Haas, who claimed that she was putting a secret army together and that her ultimate plan was to merge with the evil genius Lars Fargo’s tiki army. She promised me a bloody defeat because, as Ms. Haas puts it, “I’m pretty confident that my minions will win for I’ve trained them all personally.” That statement put me at ease, because I happen to know that Cady has no military schooling, and the “training” that her minions can expect to receive is how to flash the most leg while slinking across the room in “fuck me” pumps with stiletto heels and how to apply lipstick so that it looks like you’re going to perform fellatio after you’re finished. I’m confident that such forces won’t pose a serious military threat, but I must confess that I won’t complain much if I’m taken captive. I’ll have plenty to look at and if they torture me to try and get information out of me, I’ll have lots of material for my next letter to Penthouse Forum.

Am I afraid of being attacked by a Rovner mouse? Not really.

2. The deeply troubled Ben Rovner, who posted the philosophical comment “A tree is not standing tall because it needs to… a tree is standing tall because one little spFargo of life can sprout from the ground and exclaim… YES TREE YES!!” When I pointed out that since Young Ben stood only about 4’3” that might not apply to him, to which he responded “Ahhh, Jon you have hit a perfect point and let me into my next bit of wisdom: ‘A small mouse is not small… a small mouse is a giant beacon of joy fighting for the belief in bigger things to come and smaller things to exist.’” I thought that Ben comparing himself a rodent was a far more apt analogy and let the matter drop, but then I pondered a rat like Mickey Mouse, who towers over Ben like an NBA center and who could easily take him out of the picture with one swipe of Mickey’s gloved claw. I have never known Mickey to be anything but the gentlest of creatures, but I much admit that the image of him devouring Ben like a piece of cheese did strike me as a beacon of joy in an otherwise annoying morning. But then again, perhaps I’m not taking Ben seriously enough. Even a Rovner-sized mouse would come up to around my knees, and while it could easily enough be kicked aside or stepped on, it would be slightly more annoying than a normal-sized rodent, much like young Ben himself. Later that day, Ben admitted to suffering an injury when he was attempting to kiss a young lady of his acquaintance whereupon he slipped and she head-butted him, dislocating his nose. That doesn’t have anything to do with the story, but it does suggest that we don’t need to worry about any future generations of Rovners taking up our time with pretentious rodent metaphors.

The profile picture that Facebook rejected.

3. Felipe Galvez, who was my Facebook-assigned Best Friend for the Day (BFD) yesterday. In this instance, I am referring not to my physician, attorney, gardener, or gang-member neighbor Felipe Galvez; I am referring to an actor of my acquaintance who has supported me in several theatre productions I have starred in: Servant of Two Masters, Measure for Measure, and Just Desserts to name a few. One of the few unhappy experiences I had with Felipe was the Feydeau farce A Cat Among Pigeons in which he gave a marvelous performance as a passionate Spanish general in an otherwise plodding production of what should have been a lively frolic (it clocked in at almost three hours long). When Felipe was named my BFD, I attempted (as is my custom) to make the photograph from the show on the left my profile picture for the day, but the Facebook Oracle (in an unprecedented move) refused to allow me to make the change, steadfastly leaving the previous day’s profile photo from Hamlet (a far more worthy artistic endeavor) as my signature image, regardless of what I did to change it to the photo of A Cat Among Pigeons. This forced me to conclude that the Oracle is theatre fan who refuses to allow me to sully my name with such rubbish, and I only wish it had been around when I was stinking up the stage in the title role of Sherlock Holmes. In the future, I will upload a picture of myself in character to get the Oracle’s impression before I accept a part.

Nathan Kuntz and Pickle the Kid.

4. Nathan Katz, who celebrates a birthday today. Nathan is a former co-worker of mine at Washington Mutual who I have written about in the past in reference to his imaginary friend Mr. Pickle. Nathan chose to move San Antonio, Texas when WaMu transferred their operations base there (screwing over most of their other employees in California, including the beloved author of this listing). While Katz prospered in his new environment, rumors have surfaced that the idea to relocate to the Shitkicker State was not his, but Mr. Pickle’s. Nathan wanted to maintain his Hollywood jet setting life in Los Angeles, but the giant cured cucumber he has visions of insisted on breaking away from its birthright as a side dish to a corned beef sandwich in a kosher deli and instead don a ten gallon hat and sleep under a starry sky in a land that has no qualms about sentencing the mentally retarded to the death penalty. Since Mr. Pickle calls the shots in the relationship, the pair was San Antonio-bound and Pickle lives out its dream of being a rodeo clown while Nathan pays the bills working for whichever bank bailed out WaMu’s ass after their stock collapsed following the move. Happy birthday, Nathan; you may not be a perfect fit in the land of giant belt buckles, but your salted hallucination is having the time of its imaginary life.

Tiffy and her grand prize.

5. Tiffany Caccoyannis, who won yesterday’s Cheer Up Jonny contest. I was a little stressed out after lunchtime and announced an impromptu competition with a prize going to whoever could warm my heart the most. At first, my despair only sank with entries from Melissa Chester (who only wanted to talk about herself, like that does me any good) and Marlita Reddy-Hjelmfelt (who somehow thought that a magazine article about dealing with stress was what I wanted to hear). Later, I got a depressed entry from John Beck who told me that death was the only way out (Beck had just filed his tax return and owed a hefty chunk to Uncle Sam), and Kiki Wistone promised to get me a massage from a transexual friend and asked me if she was still “in the running” with the offer (a strangely-phrased question from my one-legged friend). A real entry from Robin Fogelson praising the Enemies List as the highlight of her morning was the front-runner for a while before my sweet little shiny Tiffy came through with a series of genuinely toadying comments calling me “brilliant,” “funny”, “witty” and even ended it all by referring to me as “my Lord” and offering to kiss my ring. Many of you will remember that Tiffy was named my top Valentine of 2010 by the Facebook Oracle and was supposed to receive a night of passion from me as a result. But that was before a strange rash appeared on my legendary manhood and I (always the gentleman) didn’t want to risk infecting her. My physician Dr. Felipe Galvez (not to be confused with anyone in listing #3) has assured me that the rash will disappear if I simply apply a homemade ointment to the affected area and discontinue my practice of having unprotected sex with prostitutes. But since I didn’t want Tiffy to feel completely neglected after Valentine’s Day, her prize is a Deluxe model Jonny® Love Doll, fully anatomically correct (not including the rash) and coming complete with a gallon jug of Jonny® lifelike fluids to fill the doll’s various reservoirs for an ultra-realistic intimate experience. That a retail value of $6,999.99, so the next time I say that there’s a prize to be won in one of my online contests, put a little effort into your entry.