Barenaked Ladies

Here begins the newest, most amazing musing from The Loudest Fan. Bow appropriately:

Confused about the title? Don't be, because, "It's been... One week since" I've posted. Also, I've outsourced to that starving poet, Damon, once more, and he's got a batch of sexiness for your eyes' balls. Really. Am I just being lazy? Probably.

Let's get on with the sharing of the poems, then:"Here's an older work to get y'all acclimated to all the sexy. It's an exercise in flarf." A decent one, at that. Curious how dated FML is already.

"In keeping with the vaguely incestuous elements..." O Ed, I pus.

Great. I ask for sexy, you give me this. This makes me need a drink for all the wrong reasons. "Drink away, buddy. DRINK IT UP."

"There, is that better? Scintillating enough?" Still kind of a downer, though. But I do like it. "There's no pleasing you then. I'll wrap this up with my latest, sexless work."

"I challenge your commenters to analyze and critique the shit out of this one." Sexy. And watch your language, buddy.

Enjoy, folks. I know I did.

Damon Talks with a Mysterious Man(?) on Omegle

Here begins the newest, most amazing musing from The Loudest Fan. Bow appropriately:

As I've mentioned before, I'm fairly close with a certain poet named Damon. We've known each other really well for quite some time. So, it's not so unusual for him to have called me at 7 AM (way too freaking early for me to put up with just about anybody else), stammering about something that I absolutely MUST see/hear. This morning, that went a little something like this:

The Loudest Fan: Nnnnn. . . Ullo?

Damon: DUDE.

TLF: . . . Damon? Why now? I should murder you for interrupting yet another amazingly intricate dream I won't ever remember.

D: Sorry, but dude. You. Have. To. See. This.

TLF: See what?

D: I'm e-mailing it to you now. It's pretty self-explanatory.

TLF: What's pretty self-

-CLICK-

TLF: Goddamnit, Damon.


So he sends me this Word document, and it's a transcript of an Omegle conversation he had apparently just had after not sleeping all night. For those not in the know, Omegle.com is a chat site that connects you anonymously with Strangers from anywhere in the world. Much like Chatroulette, if you're on the video portion of the site, or much like Chatroulette in text form if you're on the other half of it (same amount of penises looking for sex either way). I've used it once or twice to cure boredom, and Damon has managed to make a lasting friendship once or twice with how frequently he used to use it. Apparently, he has since gotten back in the habit of visiting it during some of his bouts of insomnia, and the following transcript (which, by the way, was totally worth the 7 AM call, as you'll soon see) documents one such episode during this past sleepless night, completely uncut and unfiltered. Be aware, the time taken between individual lines could be anywhere from nearly immediate to a couple of minutes, so try not to read it too quickly and straight through, as I incorrectly did the first time I looked through it. Enjoy:

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

Official messages from Omegle will not be sent with the label 'Stranger:' Strangers claiming to represent Omegle are lying.

You: howdy

Stranger: hi

Stranger: m or f?

You: how are you, Stranger?

You: ah

You: do you mind if we let that arise more naturally in conversation?

You: if you're looking for sex, press onward and skip me

You: or be silent

You: I guess that works too

You: it's as if I'm writing a blog now, with how one-sided this is

You: I feel like I should be starting a rant of some kind. "what's the deal with... ?" type stuff

You: what do you think?

You: should I continue to tolerate your choice to ignore me completely?

You: or should I press that mighty-fine Disconnect button about now?

You: or will you do that for me?

You: I never was much good at finishing anything

You: I did need an extra quarter or two of school to finish my degree

You: now this is starting to feel like a Confessional

You: taking me back to my more Catholic days

You: I am sorry, Father, for I have sinned

You: it has been over 4 years since my last confession

You: actually, I'm not much sorry

You: my attitude towards the Church and towards the idea of 'sin' have both changed dramatically

You: so... yeah...

You: not sure where you wanna go from here, seeing as you won't find much penitence in this ol' heart

You: Father?

You: were you even listening!?

You: what kind of priest are you!?!?!?

You: do you not care for this prodigal sheep, intent on never returning to the fold???

You: apparently not

You: I failed the Church, and now the Church fails me

You: such is this dreary existence

You: "So it goes," as good Mr. V would say

You: (that was the sound of Faith dying)

You: not some person by the name of Faith, mind you

You: that would be tragic

You: especially since that's the name of my baby cousin

You: she's fine, I hope

You: I really do

You: I'm not so pessimistic and brooding and morbid

You: I do have that lighter side to me

You: I swears it

You: please believe me

You: PLEASE

You: that was your chance to Save me, Father

You: long gone and historical, by now

You: that was redundant

You: long gone vs historical

You: they're the same thing

You: silly me

You: just end it already

You: say something, anything, or disconnect

You: you can't be enjoying this spectacle of mine

You: if you are, you're genuinely quite sick, Father

You: I hate that you know I'm too neurotic to let things pass by silently

You: you win in this verbal staring-contest

You: you're judging me, aren't you?

You: getting ready to cast that first stone

You: cast away, then!

You: Mr. Hanks

You: with your bloody volleyball, Wilson

You: and your gross self-extracted tooth

You: that scene gets me every goddamn time

You: blasphemy intended

You: FATHER

You: is it time I start hitting below the proverbial belt?

You: did that talk of blood and pain get you riled up?

You: thinking about them boys you've 'touched'?

You: never me, though

You: was i not... bad enough?

You: but then I'd think the prudishness would have been a draw for you

You: even more innocence for you to corrupt under the guise of Salvation

You: you just thought I was an ugly child, didn't you?

You: too short

You: with a silly-big head

You: goofy ears

You: and an overbite to rival the most racist of anti-japanese propaganda films of the 40s

You: have the japanese not suffered enough?

You: they bomb one naval base and pillage and rape a few Asian countries

You: and we intern innocent Japanese-Americans

You: drop not one, but two atomic bombs

You: only after months of devastating fire bombing

You: just to have you get hit by a devastating tsunami and for us to label it "payback for Pearl Harbor"?

You: disgusting

You: i dunno why i all-of-a-sudden cast you in the role of Japan at the end of that

You: kind of a weird shift

You: that literally changed from 'them' to 'you'

You: Freudian slip of some sort?

You: do I see you as having something in common with the plight of the Japanese?

You: are you really just a victim too, Father?

You: is that how you get me to champion the cause of allowing priests to marry?

You: what an incredibly roundabout way of doing so, man

You: the levels of implausibility involved are completely absurd

You: you'd have to be, well, God for that to have worked out

You: wait a minute...

You: is it You?

You: I guess it must be

You: kind of characteristic of You, after all

You: what with the lack of verbal reciprocation

You: spare me a moment whilst I pee, please

You: I'm sure you've got plenty of time, being omnicient and present throughout all eternity and all

You: back again

You: but you already know that, don't you?

You: so what happens if I disconnect, knowing what I know now?

You: do I perish?

You: even if this isn't You who I'm literally talking to on omegle

You: theoretically (and I'm sure You hate that qualifier), You see this anyway

You: and will understand the implications of my actions

You: will Thou smiteth me?

You: I mean, I was blasphemous just a short time ago, so I didn't really start on too good a foot

Your conversational partner has disconnected.
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DAMON'S NOTE: I cannot stress enough that this all really happened and appears exactly as it was typed. Whoever I was talking to definitely saw all of this and consciously disconnected when they did.


Great stuff, Damon. The timing of the disconnect couldn't have been more perfect. As I've said before, I actually do talk regularly with the Big Man, and He confirms that it was indeed Him that you were talking to (talking at, really). I guess He entertains himself on Omegle every once in a while, too, just to mess with people. He said that in your case, eventually, He just got bored. Go figure. Now let me get back to sleep, jerk.

Supporting local artists since 2011

Here begins the newest, most amazing musing from The Loudest Fan. Bow appropriately:

I'm back. No more intrusions from my Swiftian alter-alter ego (for now...).

In this post, your Loudest Fan gets altruistic. Hard. That's right, folks. This post is all about supporting the local arts, and I have managed to find one worthy artist to promote on this beast of a blog.

His name: Damon Sellers. He considers himself some kind of poet. In fact, he once helped your humbly-awesome author to write a poem of his own for this very blog. He is devoted to form, sometimes shows a flash of misogyny (think about our collaboration), and he often demonstrates a certain playfulness that I've always admired. He makes it onto my list of "People Allowed to Continue Living" (also populated by the likes of myself, Rob Huebel, and, paradoxically, Bon Scott). In my desperation to fill this blog with more and more content, I will take the time in certain posts here and there from now until the bitter end to highlight certain works of his, in the hopes of increasing his artistic exposure, and in the hopes of making this awesometastic rag all the more worthwhile.

So, get yourself some good, old-fashioned culture, and bask in its glory:"That one," Damon says, "is probably the best I'll ever do."

"Dunno if I'll ever try my hand at concrete stuff again, but I like how this one turned out." So do I.
"My tribute to one of my favorites, Robert Browning.""My newest work. I'd love to hear what your readers think." Well, I dig it.

Good stuff, Damon, and best of luck to you.