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Crying on the inside...
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"Hello. I am J'mel. I;m teaching myself to like cats so that I'll have someone to leave my things to."
More about J'Mel
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College/University:
Savannah College of Art & Design, Attended - , Class of , Other
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Occupation:
Sin Eater
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Affiliations:
Heinous Clown Communications, Feminist Debutante Guild
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Hobbies and Interests:
Film, Animation, Irony, Causing temperal paradoxes
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Favorite Books:
Wiseguy, Acme Novelty library, The Ultimates, Cruel Shoes, Rip Offs, Who Censord Roger rabbit, Kingdom Come, The Dark Knight Returns, Batman: Year One
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Favorite Movies:
Goodfellas, Blues Brothers, Punch-drunk love, Dawn of the dead, Being There, Wild at Heart, Happiness of the Katakuris, Street trash, The Avenging Disco Godfather, anything by Takashi Miike, All Wes Anderson except Royal Tennenbaums, Blue Velvet
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Favorite Music:
Soft rock hits of the seventies, beastie boys, pre-'93 hip hop, sam prekop, sea and cake, MF Doom, Satie, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Shaved Orientals
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Favorite TV Shows:
The Office, SCTV, Gilmore girls, Futurama(gone too soon...), Aqua teen hunger force, Mr. Show, Arrested Development, The Venture Brothers!
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About Me:
Hello. I am J'mel. I;m teaching myself to like cats so that I'll have someone to leave my things to.
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Who I Want to Meet:
I want to meet Nicholas cage and John Waters...At the same time! I want to meet the bastard that stole my cell phone. I want to meet cute girls with pigtails and overbites. Normal girls with no secret hate for their fathers. Cool girls who dance and giggle and smile when they sleep.
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but I realized that by posing this as a question, it
would be completely moot.
Tonight I was watching a movie about a
paraplegic who gets a helper monkey only to find
out that that monkey is psychotic and has been
murdering those close to him in some weird
pseudo-sexual fixation kinda way. Like Talented
Mr. Ripley, only with a monkey instead of Matt
Damon.
And I was going to write J'mel and ask: Uncle
J'mel, you ever seen it?
What's the point. A killer monkey? Of course
he's seen it. Like there was ever any doubt.
even attempt to give a "testimonial"
regarding our man J'mel. Testimonials
are given on infomercials, and last I
heard, J'mel is neither an acne
treatment endorsed by Vanessa Williams
and Judith Light, or a delightfully
handy gadget for the home mass produced
by Ronco (Although J'mel is without question
delightful...and all of the ladies are
with me on this one, if J'mel were mass
produced and available for sale without
the social stigma associated with
Gigolo/Jane relationships, there would
be an overworked J'mel in every modern
girl's home).
That being said, I am writing instead to
TESTIFY, my brothers and sisters. J'mel
is so good at bowling he doesn't even
have to bowl.
He's got the force on his side, bitches!
He ain't got to explain nothin' to you!
He knows much more about NWA than any
of your "enlightened" liberal boyfriends
do, AND he's funnier. Much funnier..So
in the meantime, you better
practice..your bowling and your jokes, fool.
mistake. When he finally buys his
ticket outta this hick town there will be
a giant sucking sound to the north;
the sound of hard-hitting comedy
stylings disappearing from
Birmingham, leaving only sepia-toned
memories.
But J'mel also has a softer side. Or
so I'm told. I mean, it's not like he's
held me in his arms or anything. I
didn't mean he was a man's man that
way. Although I know plenty of guys
who wish he was! Plenty of guys.
Not me, though. I mean, I'm
indifferent to that. It wouldn't bother
me if he were into that, but I wouldn't
be all like "I gotta get in on this
action!" But when he does comedy,
then I am all like "I gotta get in on this
action!" And so do you. You gotta.
God bless you, and God bless
America.
gettcha' fuckin' shinebox." He and his
goons proceeded to beat me soundly
about the head and shoulders, throw me
in the trunk, shoot me and when I didn't
die right away, he up and stabbed me
repeatedly with a big knife he borrowed
from his Ma. ALL THIS, after I lay
bleeding in the back of his trunk while
he and his cronies eat a nice Italian
meal PREPARED by his Ma. Is that
irony or just kind of a cruel commentary
on our society? I never can tell. Ah, Mrs.
Davidson. Sweet as the day is long.
And, Italian?? Heh, don't get me
started!! "That's one spicey 'a
meatball!!" Heh-heh!! Ahh.
Waitaminute. That was Joe Pesci!! Boy,
do I feel like a Silly Willy!! Getting
beaten, stabbed AND buried, and all
the while I was cool with it as long as I
thought it was Pesci.
Aw, J'Mel, ya' fuckin' mutt, ya'!!!!
Seriously, if I ever see J'Mel again, I
may have to put a bomb in his car (if he
has one by then [AND if I happen to
mistake him for D
always understood why I had to talk, why I was on
the ropes with the womenfolk, why I was fed up
with Hoover horseshit, and on top of all, you make
an amazing breve. The dames will usually suck, but
you've taught me that, just like Doughboy, I'll
always have one brother left (Two if you count
Joliet, and I do). Thanks, Uncle.
No? J'Mel does. Ever seen something
that you can't quite explain? J'Mel
put that thing up to it. Mr. Davidson
has been there and done that. Or has
he? There are no fingerprints, no hand-
walking marks for Encyclopedia Brown
to trace back to the man. The evidence
has all melted away, and you've got no
proof. Maybe the folks of this old
town were right to think you crazy.
Better have J'Mel on your side. Beats
will be provided in the event that you
are unable to bring one yourself.