Hedonistic Derivative

Hi. We have a lot to cover. What's up. How are you. Okay -- introduction over. Now let's get to a deeply significant moment in Fictional Account history. Only about half my readers saw it coming. Obviously the introduction isn't over; don't lie, narrator. You wonder why your readership is still exorbitantly low. No I don't.

After the Delorean concert, Jen took a liking to Christian P. He made her laugh. Sometimes, she'd tear her comrades down with her piercing shrieks. Believe Christian P when he says, "Those aren't contagious sounds. In fact -- well, in question -- did you sign the Devil's book?" Jen always used to answer in the negative. But, before her voice turned over a response, her ever-knowing cheerleader eyes would become brilliant scarlet hells.

The Saturday was marked by brilliant sunshine and little wind. Oh, and it was deliriously cold! Jennifer, Christian, and Sarah ironically headed to an Owl City show at Wellmont. They didn't feel like comprehending what Adam Young would do live -- the three cohorts wanted to be surprised! Thus, they were. The electro-emo trailblazer stood, getting ready, only accompanied by two fellows. His Apple laptop was the focus of attention. The one dude was on the drums, and supposedly the cat with the mic was Matt Thiessen . . . yeah, but who cares? Young and his fucking synthboard and craptop.

"Literally, I want to kill this man," a psyched Sarah said to her pals.

"Oh, if you touched him I think he would collapse," responded Jen.

"You're too cruel, and that's precisely why I love you." said Sarah.

"Want to boo him off?" asked Chris.

"Sure!" the two conniving dames exclaimed, in unison.

Then the twentysomething Adam Young began his set. Seconds after the opening "chord," Christian P collapsed. (The doctor later told us Cuteness Overload is the primary reason he fainted. And, don't worry, Mr. Christian is in tip-top shape right now.)

But . . . well, this is hard to say. Microseconds after Chris collapsed, an agonizing whine from the wretch named Young unhinged the speakers from their ceiling wiring -- all four chief ones came down at once. And, the third speaker to fall, well . . . it . . . hit Jen. She died instantly.

Sarah stood in awe of her two faded companions. She let out a howl. Paramedics had been called prior, but everything single concertgoer was in shock and yelling. It was clear that the young female had no chance. She was carried away quickly. Christian was on his back, and was lifted onto the same ambulance in the succeeding moment. Upon sight of Sarah, psychological help was ordered. The chaos was almost comical. Owl City lost all integrity and, within that night, all fans.

It's difficult for me to continue writing. Oh, wait, your emotionless leader gets a cool $500 per post. I'm content with everything, all the time! Dave once said, "Why be sad. Why commit suicide. Look, if you're depressed actually, then just kill yourself. See if I care." I smiled throughout the monotonous declaration. I'll post the audio clip if you want to laugh your capillaries to oxidation. So, uh, about Jen's death . . . well, it was a few nights ago and for your infotainment, Jill took over her blog. Maybe that isn't crucial. I really need to move on.

There remains two entries in the video game canon which touch me deeply. Rockstar's Bully, and 2K's BioShock. BioShock 2's existence has been obvious for a while. But, due to this post, I'm considering validating Bully 2. Such wonderful news!

"Nick, I'm still crying. Look, I love Jimmy Hopkins. I love Bully. I'm psyched for Bully 2. But come the fuck on, Jen's no longer with us? It's not only inappropriate to continue this entry, it's downright amoral. Do you know what a feeling is Nick? Hello?"

Adem has a terrific point. (Ignore this: who's your favorite Bully character, bro?) But, come on folks! I'm weathering the storm and trying to inflict lighthearted entertainment into readers' souls. Sure I miss Miss Jen. Of course I do. (Plus: from a corporate perspective, she was my most marketable character.) She was loved by all! No one saw her death coming. One last time: rest in peace, Jennifer.

Cartoon Network picked up Regular Show, whose initial short is both funny and intelligent. So, uh, enjoy?

My thoughts are clouded with uninvited noise. I can picture myself at the concert . . . though, I surely didn't attend. Sarah called me up well after Jen got mauled by one of Bose's beautiful new environmental speakers. In fact, I feel bad for the speakers! (Too early?)

The last paragraph certified that my mind isn't exactly working properly. I'm not sure outsiders can comprehend what a humorist feels after someone . . . after anyone . . . look, I don't even want to blog about it. It's too sacred. It's almost like the censorship of a very important, socially-aware film. You need folks to know this. Now that Jen's not with us, now that my act is sliced, now that my flick is chipped -- look, bonding between the town is stronger than ever. I haven't heard of a funeral, but many memorial services are set! This is just abominable. We're not going to allude to anymore of this for the remainder of the post. Guest-blogger Jill C will talk about the . . . look, we'll belatedly proceed.

Let's get to equally-huge but happy and fun and lovely news. Dave C became a fan of The Aquabats, on Facebook, recently. Most have taken this move as both drastic and drastically delicious. "I'm so happy he became an official fan of us. In fact, I'm elated!" commented Aquabats frontman Christian Jacobs. The Positive Downside keyboardist named Evan Waaramaa called the click "appropriate. Download our new album now!" I took the mic away from the convicted drummer. I handed it over to Anthony C: "Although [groan] I [moan] like [brief excitement] Trophy Scars [sigh] more, I [while falling asleep] guess I'm [bitterly] happy for [searching for the name] Dave C." Bowler Nick L stole the attention and claimed, "Aquabats ARE easily ONE of the GREATEST ska BANDS ever." Very enthusiastic, sir. Sarah B told me, "I don't know that band. But if you're putting this in your blog I'll continue talking. La la dee da dee da blue. . . so, I like Blink-182 and am a ginger, thank you very much, and am going to be a famous actress like Mark Hoppus -- whoops, I mean Kanye West. Ew. What an asshole!" I slowly began to take the mic away from her hands. Then I found comedian Angelo L. "I find Dave's serious commitment to a band which is almost dead to be kind of a mistake. Yah mon. I'd instead recommend him electronica stuff and reggae stuff. Postal Service, bro, for electronica and for reggae . . . hmmm, I guess Sublime. Dude needs to check them out." I got Amar Bose, founder of Bose, to give his two pence. "I like the band The Aquabats. The Fury of the Aquabats! is almost as good and polished as Bose's new lineup of Acoustimass home theatre systems. Honestly, fuck Aquabats. They've done for pop punk what Houston Calls did for . . . what No Doubt've done for reggae. Buy Bose audio products or else I'll come to your house and slowly rape and murder you. By the way, Nick Rapper, Bose manufactures way way way better microphones than this piece of fucking shit I'm speaking into. I hate your guts, fucker. You'll be dead by tomorrow. Sorry." Probably surprisingly, I'm not afraid. Have you seen me in action? Goddamn it -- Sarah seized the mic! "I wasn't done! Did you know that this Aquabats you speak of was on Yo Gabba Gabba! -- I just looked it up on my iPhone I swear it's true. Degrassi season four trillion debuts tomorrow on Noggin and you all should watch it. Sorry, I'll let Julian speak." Smooth transition. Thank you, Lord. "So, I don't like The Aquabats' style of music, but I'm happy that Dave is going for the gold by joining their Facebook group. Follow your heart in life." Poll-winner Christian P snatched the mic and began: "Julian, maybe not everyone wants to follow their dreams, you racist guido. Anyway, without Aquabats, Avril Lavigne wouldn't be living. I mean, doing the music she does. Dave, I love you bro, and simply a solid move to join their Facebook page or whatever. Just one question: actually, Nick, I just wanna say you gotta write a story about me. Dave is in way too many stories. He's like the star." Guys, we're getting off-track! Oh, Miss Jill C has a few words: "I hate the Aquabats! Someone has to say it! They suck . . . their songs are just silly. Just because you know your songs are stupid, doesn't make them not stupid. Music has to lie, to some degree, in the accuracy and professionalism in its participants! You know? Dave -- he made a huge mistake by joining their Facebook page. Fury was an okay album but seriously, there's way better ska and pop-punk for Mr. C. He's a cute kid, by the way." Wow -- I think she actually . . . stayed on topic. Sweet. I'd like to thank all interviewees! Oh, and Dave, for initiating positive public discourse.

Oh -- townies, there's also been a lot of talk about Jersey Shore. A big portion of us: "That show's a disgrace to New Jersey!" Pretty notable sector: "That show's funny as hell! No one takes MTV reality shows seriously brothers just chill out hey I have a bong at my house if you want me to go get it just put down ten." A few of us: "Boring. Might as well be Real World: Seaside Heights. Why is everyone talking about it?" Some people: "You're probably jealous of guidos because they're in shape, they get girls, and they respect their Italian heritage. You live in your parent's basement." A lot of females: "For some reason I actually like that show! It's so addicting! I'm random!" Vinny: "We're fist pumpin' like champs" I think that's pretty funny. New topic? Yes or [I'm not sure this answer matters; who runs this town?]

Snow . . . has made a huge, almost untouchable impact on our community. The gender that Jen was a member of . . . oh, sorry. Go ahead -- punch me in my mouth. I deserve it. Ouch. Thank you. Um, females have been more vocal about snow and its flakes. According to Alison, "Snow is so beautiful. Christmas is here! I hate the cold though. I love snow, though. It's my favorite. Did I answer good enough?" Sure. Marina, the bitter gremlin, delivered a long, convoluted, and oft-unrelated explanation of why snow sucks. This deserves its own paragraph!

"Nick, what kind of fucking question is that? Idiot. Snow is 'teh cuteness,' as my friend Sarah once said. Thing is: I hate cute. Rain, my favorite form of precipitation, is enormously satisfactory. It makes people depressed. When it comes along I jump out of my house onto the cement and laugh in the face of God. You might not be understanding. I know God hates his creations. He wants them to suffer. Snow though -- it's pure perfection. 'Snowflake' -- that word is cuter than a dancing mouse. It's ridiculous! Stupid fucking formulaic Christmas movies. Repetitive Christmas carols. When it snows, it's like each time it hits me -- it's like God saying, 'no.' It's like God invalidating my existence. I used to enjoy it because I would say back, 'I don't care.' But now, it's simply bothersome."

I can't really post the other, rather apathetic, opinions of snow I received in my sociological quest. If you would like some more snow talk, e-mail me . . . or just comment! Now, though, it's time to declare war on comedy! Or just indifference. You'll see.

Come on -- you must know how lucky you are, elated and energetic and erosive readers. My prior post was to be Fictional Account waving goodbye to 2009. But then I'm like, "Although everyone is aware of Jen's death, it has to be given proper treatment." The facts were extracted from Sarah, by your narrator, with rare unease. My discussion with her was me, the unlicensed and excitable dentist, pulling out each of her teeth, slowly and interestedly -- then trying to put back some. Alas, the full story may never be public. The outline, though -- let's just say it feels like a big joke. Still! Was it two days ago? Was it two weeks ago? I really, really should know but I'm almost certain time is on vacation in Nutley. If someone dropped me in Belleville right now I swear I'd remember the date, the approximate time . . . oh, I must speak to Christian. Um, I have many humans to converse with about this. Haven't seen Dave in . . . has to be a lengthy period of time. Some joke, some pun -- approach me! Okay, okay, I have one. Where is Jen right now? Bose knows! We weren't supposed to continue speaking of her. Proceed! Forthwith! Thereafter! Life's pretty delicate. So, what everyone in the town feels right now is an exaggerated sense of well-being and self-awareness. Why should should elder folks say, "Ah, I'm dying. Now I realize how precious life is." Supposedly, before we die, our life flashes before our eyes. But now memories are bouncing throughout our craniums, telling us to never forget that moment and this time at the Delorean concert -- blah, blah. Anthony C proclaimed, "I don't read your blog, Nick." It felt good. He knows me, not as text, but as a human being. That's comforting. He doesn't say it, but he, and Dave, and possibly Anthony M, even Shvet (㊛?), think about me. Humans! How are you? Need to check up on our fellow men! Me? A little disillusioned -- no, I'm calmly faded and imprinted on a cheap t-shirt, that, like, the whole cast of Jersey Shore sold to you; maybe you didn't about that camera crew; you were being filmed, you signed the wager, but you brush your teeth with a bottle of Jack. In short, all are marks on society are permanent! Shorter: choose your actions wisely. In Spanish? I'll consider it. I will. Fun show. Love! Dave attacked the subject with a rake: "I'll know my girl when I see her. She'll be some vicious alt chick with a petite frame. Look at her, you'll cry. Approach her, you'll get clawed!" Meta-whores agree: Dave is fun and friendly, creative and chivalrous. Love! Enjoy the rest of 2009. I'll see you in the third decade we'll collectively take part in. Okay? Love ya to deaf.