Utter Wonder's Hall of Fame

GENE MORGAN: Inducted May 20, 2004

Well, the Utter Wonder Hall of Fame train just keeps on a rollin' along: for the second time in three days we shall enshrine yet another brave and courageous and intestinal fortitudinal soul into its corinthian leather seated and complimentary snack barred cabin way.

The UWHOF train is actually quite a ride. I think all its members would attest to that. Trains in general are just plain fun. Subways are less fun, but that's only because of mean homeless people and aggressive missionaries. But as for passenger trains go, there's something terribly romantic about traveling by them, almost as if it returns you to an earlier and simpler time. These days the world is terribly complicated, full of stress and bad television, and now more than ever we need an escape from it. I mean, yes, Colonial House has been a breath of fresh air, but only so much pretend colonialism can bring one stress relief.

So what I'm saying is that the Utter Wonder Hall of Fame is a big guiding beacon of stress-relieving light and I thank God for it. God had nothing to do with it, of course, as the Hall was entirely my own idea, but I'll throw Him/Her a thanks nonetheless. Sure He/She gets thanked all the time for every little thing, but what's a mortal going to do, not thank God? Hmm. Suppose I could, I guess. Where does God get off trying to take credit for my Hall of Fame anyway? Jeepers. Did He/She put in all the man hours in front of the computer in his sweatpants and t-shirt? I think not! Yet He/She wants some recognition for it? No, I thinketh that's a little ballsyeth on His/Her's behalfeth. I've worked god damn gosh darn hard to make the UWHOF what it is today. I'm not gonna just stand there and let some omnipotent being take all the glory for the thing!

So with that said, I thank me: thank you, me, for making the UWHOF the big guiding beacon of stress-relieving light that it is.

You're welcome, me.

And while I have you, me, I've been meaning to talk with you about your recent purchase of that homemade soft-serve ice cream maker.

Oh yeah, what about it?

Well, me, you think it was really necessary?

Necessary? I don't follow you, me.

I mean, just how many soft-serve ice cream cones can one person eat?

Nineteen, so far.

That's what I'm saying, me. I think you should ease up a bit.

Ease up? You saying I'm getting fat or something?

No.

Good. 'Cause if you were I'd have to pop a cap in your ass.

You mean in "our ass".

Huh?

Forget it. Just go eat your ice cream cones.

Okay. I will.

Good.

Fine.

Okay.

Whatever.

Bye.

Goodbye!

A any rate, it's time to induct the 22nd person into the hall. Today's brave and courageous and intestinal fortitudinal soul is Gene Morgan. Gene Morgan hails from Houston, Texas. I've never been there, but I've seen Reality Bites like nine times so I feel like I have. Houston strikes me as hott and happening. Kind of like Ethan Hawke and Winona Ryder, but with the will-power to keep it in its pants. Not that Houston has anything in its pants, of course: it's a city, silly. Still, if it did have something in its pants, I'm sure Houston would be a gentleman/lady about it.

I wonder what kind of pants Houston wears anyway?

So let's do like we always do for every inductee and stare at Gene Morgan's photograph for a duration no shorter than five seconds. Begin!

One-one thousand

Two-one thousand

Three-one thousand

Four-one thousand

Five-one thousand

Okay. Wow. Yikes. So what do you think of Gene Morgan's pic? I think it may be the loveliest and most disturbing photo ever to be featured in the UWHOF. It reminds me of like every bad Appalachian-themed nightmare I've ever had. Man, those are freaky dreams. Hillbillies everywhere chasing after me with critters on their heads and whatnot. Tarnation!

I also can't help but admire Gene's endorsement of both regular and diet tonic water. It's always good to mix things up. You know it's funny, sometimes I can tell the difference between diet and regular tonic in my G and T, and other times I cant. Not sure what it is. Makes me think I should stick with the diet tonic though, especially if I'm South Beaching it. Not that I'm fat or anything. No, I'm far from it. That's why I can afford to eat four homemade soft serve vanilla ice cream cones a night.

No, you can't.

Who said that?

Nobody.

Okay then. Well, let's get on with the induction: I hereby officially induct Gene Morgan into Utter Wonder's Hall of Fame. For his efforts he not only has received a signed copy of a fan letter I wrote Star Jones, but he also is now primed and ready to incite some serious regret in all of his former lovers who happen upon this induction. Look at what you missed out on, former lovers of Gene. Go ahead and have a good cry: you could have had this varmint wearing/tonic water drinking superstar, but you blew it. Boo-hoo for you.

Perhaps you have former lovers of your own you'd like to fill with regret. Or maybe you just want in on a collector's signed copy of a letter I wrote Star Jones (more than suitable for framing). Either way, send me a real photograph of yourself and you too can be apart of the UWHOF. I need three more inductees by the first week of June to reach my goal of 25 by the one-year anniversary of the Hall. So help a brotha out and send, send, send. Thanks!

This post is dedicated to the potholders.

Posted by cmonks at May 20, 2004 07:52 AM | TrackBack