As you all celebrate the end of 2011 with drunken debauchery, remember that MFUJ is in exile. Doesn't mean they've stopped recording music. Weeeell, meet me in the bottom! Bring me my running shoes.

Well, this is it. Honestly, we didn't think we'd make it to the end of the year. This blog sort of started as a joke. Really, genius? Sarcastic, italicized voice! Hey, i missed you dude! Really? Yeah man. How's it been? Oh, well. Ok I guess. My sciatica acts up once in a while but no it's no big deal. How are the kids? Well, you know the older one is always bullying the other one and the girl is headed for the ivy leagues. Wow. That's fantastic. Yeah, I guess. Wait, weren't you in the middle of something? Huh? Yeah, you know, the whole we-can't-believe-we're-still-around-writing-this-blog speech. Ohhh.... that. Well? What? Aren't you going to continue? Yeah, sure. Thanks, sarcastic, italicized voice! Whatever, you can go **** yourself. You're the best.

Now where were we... ah yes. We didn't even think this blog would last past April 2011...but somehow it did and you all helped us make that happen. It's your fault. What did I tell you about blaming our readers? Not to do it? Yes. Whatever. *sigh* This blog entry seems to be a man at war against himself. How appropriate since MFUJ is essentially a story about an artist at war with himself. The Id versus the super ego, earthly desires versus one's conscience, art versus commerce, denim and leather versus spandex and hairspray... it's all there., we think. It's a much deeper more interesting story than we cna convey with our words here. But if we can't convey that the story is good by writing it, does that mean the story has been awful this whole time?

   Let's go down memory lane as we celebrate blog # 55:

1) Our first entry started off by insulting the audience (hmm sounds familiar), then reintroduced Brick as a blog hero. we then had an awkward passage comparing our blog to achieving multiple orgasms, or something like that. Hmm? were we not supposed to say orgasms? Was that too edgy? Too late now.

2) Our next blog talked about endings, beginnings and had some fake movie trailer in it. I also mentioned my novel (which I'm currently editing) but no one cared so we only mentioned it a few more times later.

3) For our third entry we did a short story based on true-ish events about the soul draining nature of working as a salesman. it had something to do with pyramid schemes, Radiohead and the Soft Parade.

4) This was a hypocritical jab at the NY Times for having a typo on there website. See what I did their? Haha. We crack ourselves up.

5) A generic Shadow haiku, back when he still did those. Oh and Metallica Live in Moscow '91. \m/

6) Tigerman's first "To My Future First Wife". Who knew it would have three sequels? Maybe we did.

7) A story entry that had the band members begin there job hunt by working on their resumes. Hilarity  and hijinks ensued.

8) Tigerman's Resume. Is anybody hiring? He really needs a job. Just take a look at his skill set... never mind. Just give him the job!

9) A Placeholder blog that had a conversation between Brick and Slate. Bonus Points for Personal Jesus being used as the end of blog song. Last blog of March, our first month blogging as MFUJSF.

10) Part two of the Long and winding road to adulthood... I wonder why we stopped that subplot? More advice on finding a job by someone who has never had one and building tensions between the band members that would lead up to the midseason finale.

11) Another short story, based on a dream. it stank. We made up for it with Bowie's (arguably best) song, Moonage Daydream.

12) Slate attempt at writing an op-ed  that took on mandatory school lunches. Welcome to my nightmare indeed.

13) Shadow wrote a haiku about a world leader who stole a pen while being filmed for television. Jane's Addiction performed an appropriately titled song. Good Times.

14) MFUJ still made music? Apparently they did. I should have known... Also something about a stolen Poland Spring (product placement).

15) A plot based entry between Brick and Shadow about the guitarist's growing dissatisfaction/depression. Cue Soundgarden.

16) Brick's past is revealed. or re-revealed, depending on how much you knew. Awesome 70's Scorpions song was featured

17) The Second "To My Future First Wife". Two more of these. Sweet song.

18) Slate's flashback episode. More Soundgarden? Why not?

19) MFUJ record without instruments and Leadbelly kicked ass.

20) The first of a two-parter leading up to the reintroduction of G Mod, series Villain/Manager. Classical music used to maximize pretentiousness.

22) The Midseason finale: Enter G Mod. Questions were answered. Answers were questioned. We took a month off to finish the novel.

23) We return with a whimper and a joke about cheesy songs. We begged for ratings and our readership swelled like a...cigar, which is just a cigar.

24) A melodramatic entry about Brick being depressed about his book. Awesome Killing Joke song.

25) The Third "To My Future First Wife". We were just as surprised as you that he chose a Dio0-era Sabbath song.

26) Packagegate. A joke about a congressman who got in trouble for posting pictures of his, amazon delivery... And the thinly veiled  metaphors of KISS.

27) A lengthy entry about g Mod changing things up and stirring up trouble. The future of the band is in jeopardy as Brick contemplates leaving.  Faith No More save the day.

28) Making Music is easy as the band releases un released songs. One of our most popular entries.

29) A very Slate entry. Yeah, it was all about Young Lust. The last entry for June.

30) Plot driven episode about how the cover of Hey Hey, My My was recorded. brick was all :( and Slate was all :P. We were all o_0 when Brick had a heart attack in the shower. Take that, Showtime!

31) A journey through Brick's melancholy prison of the mind. Would he survive? Well, keep reading. see that's drama.

32) We apologized for the dark turn of events but didn't change the plot. And there was an epic Neil Young Jam.

33) MFUJ turns 4 years old and no one cared. Surprise, surprise.

34) We announced our plans to return to the internet video game. Not a game, just a video. A webisode. "Don't think about all those things you feel, just be glad to be here". Wish we could have followed that advice, FC Kahuna. Cute lady singer, btw. Our last July entry. Not a particularly productive month or moth.

35) The Webisode debuts and continues to gain views to this day. The Boys are back, indeed.

36) A letter from G Mod about MUJ being downgraded to MFU+. A smart political joke that fell on deaf eyes. Blind ears. Whatever.

37) More about Brick's depression and a depressing Smiths song (redundant?) T_T

38) Shadow's history is taken out of the shadows. Ughh... Play some Bonzo already.

39) G Mod gets arrested at a supermarket. The band is defiant in it's desire to release a second webisode. By band, we mean G Mod.

40) Our first of two "Serious" blog entries. We tried to write about depression and creativity. it ended up being trite. Oh well. Good John Lennon Song.

41) A light hearted short story about brick and a lady-thief. Only three people read it. Take it away, Chicago.

42) Brick finally confronts the source of his emo-ness and wakes up a rejuvenated badass. Would it last though?

43) Brick goes all super saiyan in his newfound confidence. No more DBZ references, I'm begging you! But his power level was over 9000! *Facepalm*

44) Our longest original short story to date (a Twilight Zone tribute) about a scary ice cream truck? Or was it all about a fear of success? Who knows?

45) State of the blog report. It was strong. Ironically no one read it.

46) We were serious about that second webisode. It just took a long time to get serious and film it. Oh, and I ain't no ******* son of a *****!

47) Our second serious entry tried to be sincere about our memories of 9/11. It wasn't a good entry.

48) The only way we could follow up such a sad entry was with our most ridiculous recurring entry, the fourth "To My Future First Wife". It was surprisingly popular.

49) An episode that summarized the growing power struggles within the band now that Brick had regained his mojo. Placeholder.

50) What was supposed to be the big season finale and premiere was hijacked by Brick when he released a cover medley by himself and stole his own band's thunder. Although it's questionable that he stole their thunder since no one read this entry.

51) Brick taunts G Mod and Slate as tensions grow and no second webisode has aired yet. There was trouble in the air but no one knew what was going to happen. Would the band implode or would someone else ruin it?

52) Our most popular entry thus far. The premiere of the epic second webisode.

53) Our second most popular entry. The times they were a changing as Brick released a song about Occupy Wall Street and the band's HQ became occupied by a group of protesters lead by a bear in a Che Guevara t shirt. This was effectively a season finale even though we've released a few entries after this.

54) Our Christmas entry. We did a bob Dylan cover song. Huh? We missed an entry by Shadow about the third webisode? Oh. Well whatever. We're up to the present already, who cares.

55) New Year's Eve Entry. We do an awkward argument at the beginning before trying to justify our blog as art until inevtiably doing an netry-by-entry commentary track. Hey wait a minute... This was this last entry.

Well thanks for indulging us. We now want to share our end of the year cover song(s). Last year we covered "I Woke Up in Love this Morning" by the Partridge family (another avian based band). This year we covered Tiger Man by Elvis (where has this song been all our lives?) and Meet Me in the Bottom by Howlin' Wolf.

Happy New Year everybody! We'll see you in 2012 with the third MFUJSF webisode, an epic duet with an awesome female singer/songwriter and the coming apocalypse (I'm kidding, I think).

Really optimistic, huh? Peace and love to you all.

Merry Christmas, you Masters of War! X's and O's to everyone else. You're stone cold. I thought I knew you so well.

Happy Holidays from your favorite/least favorite band of all time. While you all celebrate with your loved ones, remember one thing: MFUJ lives! Well, right now only Brick is publishing music with his solo band, the Falcons.

Enjoy his attempt at covering Dylan (Bob, to be specific). Try not to laugh too loudly.

Enjoyed it? You didn't? oh well. How about we leave the music to the pros. Take it away, Rainbow! No Dio? Fine... Whatever.

666 is the number of the beast? How about 7, as in Windows 7? A friendly rant from MFUJ's long suffering drummer and video uploading expert, Shadow.

Hey folks. This is Shadow. You may know me as the drummer for the seminal progressive grunge punk metal blues band , Mike's F'd Up Journey. Or you may be familiar with one of my books, such as WTF?: Shadow's Guide to Internet Speak, Memes and Other Things Your Grandpa Doesn't Know About (Unless He Does). I want to explain something to you guys.

As you may well know, a group of protesters, led by a charismatic bear in a Che Guevara t-shirt have Occupied the space outside of the MFUJ office. That forced G Mod, Slate, Brick and Tigerman to go into exile in the mountains. I remained behind to keep our stuff safe. I'm not going to write about those guys here, though.

We had a third webisode filmed and ready to be edited and uploaded to a youtube near you. The problem was that after I received the footage from the other band members, our computer crashed and we were forced to get a new one. Unfortunately the camera we have been using has not been able to function properly because apparently Windows 7 is funny that way. Who knows when we will be able to show you the next webisode.

Well, that was about it. A short rant. I'm not going to waste my time by being vitriolic.

Watch this video and go away. I have a cover song to work on.

Angry protestors Occupy the vacant lawn outside MFUJ’s main (and only) office, forcing the band to lock the building down, flee and take refuge in the mountains. G Mod: “Hey, what’s that over there? 99 red balloons?”*Exit, pursued by a bear*

Yes, the countrywide Occupy protesters have turned their sights on your beloved band, MFUJ. Well, they were really after G Mod since he’s part of the dreaded 1%. We’ll get to them eventually. Let’s start with the events that led up to this…this…ugh… Cluster****?  Yeah, I guess.

Obviously the band was dealing with the fallout from the completion of the second Webisode. With no acting segment keeping him busy, Brick focused all his energy on producing a solo project, the Falcons. He began with the song 99

Did you hear the difference between this and MFUJ? Neither did we.

Ah, the rest of the fallout from the video:

- Slate was suspended following his mind fart of an appearance in the recent video. No one knows what the bearded one would do with all his free time. We have one guess: Turducken. The devil’s poultry.

-Tigerman, after finally being given some airtime was promised to have an instrumental segment to bridge the show’s opening and closing acts. He started sharpening his claws and practicing his bass scales only to realize he didn’t actually know nay scales and that he actually just grabbed a sea bass and began clawing away at it. His fur smelled for days.

-Shadow, who has been almost completely ignored has been given the go ahead for the first act of the episode. What can we expect? How about him drumming on a plastic kit, some bad haikus and plenty of guilty monologues about deceiving Brick? Plus cameos from other MFUJ members. Fun stuff, really.

 So as G Mod was trying to plan the third episode, he heard some angry shouts coming from outside the window. He looked outside and saw a large group of protesters occupying his front lawn declaring that G Mod was the enemy  along with the rest of the 1%.

Flustered and confused, G Mod shouted “What’s wrong with being #1?”

They replied by telling him that he and his ‘kind’ controlled the majority of the wealth in the country.

“But,” he replied, “I don’t actually have any money. The band hasn’t exactly made any profit and thanks to some unwise investments on my part, like buying swampland and betting that music would get better this decade, we’re actually in the bottom 1%.”

The protestors would hear none of it and began drumming incessantly outside of his window. He quickly called an emergency meeting of the band in a voice so shrill that it forced every single member to show up just to get him to stop yelling.

“Men! We have been surrounded by an angry mob.”

“What are they angry about?”asked Tigerman as he finished his gazelle burger.

“They think we’re 1%ers.” G Mod said with a downward inflection.

“Say what now?” Brick asked in disbelief.

Shadow followed up with “Did youexpalin to them how poorly our fifth album has done?”

“Yeah, gorilla brain, I did. But they would have none of it. They’re out for blood. Or they just want to get high and camp. I can’t keep track of what these protesters are like.”

“What do we do?” asked Slate.

 “We retreat.” Gmod said as he began gathering his essential belongings together. “I have a safe house in the mountains that’ll keep us…safe.”

“Do we have to?” Brick whined.

“Well, if ya want to take your chances with the 99% you seem to love so much… Be my guest.”

With all discussion coming to a halt, the band members gather their most precious possessions and follow G Mod’s lead. Only Shadow remained behind to watch hold the fort. The other band members emerged out of the building and came face to face with the protesters. Among them was an irate bear in a Che Guevarra T-Shirt offering absolution to all who could offer him a few minutes of paradise.

In a moment of stupendous desperation, G Mod shouted: “Hey, what’s that over there? 99 red balloons?” and surprisingly it worked, giving the band time to run to the old SUV as the angered bear pursued them.

Stay tuned...

MFUJ made the impossible possible: The second MFUJSF Webisode is ready for your viewing pleasure. Bet you didn’t think we’d actually do it, did you? Well we did. So there. Oh and Scary is on his way…

Breaking news from MFUJ’s manager, G Mod:

“The second webisode has finally been filmed, edited and uploaded on the tube for you. Go and watch. Now, you fools! Before it’s too late!”

Reactions from the other band members:

Tigerman was elated at finally getting a speaking role in a MFUJ production since he missed out on the original 2007 web series that starred Brick, Slate, Shadow and G Mod. “This Webisode is fantastic, but as not as fantastic and lovely as you, dear lady that is reading this blog entry. Are you single?”

Shadow was not available for comments since, like in the first webisode, he was not featured in the video. G Mod has confirmed however that Shadow will be featured prominently as will Brick, whether they want to or not.

Brick was very casual about the release of the video. He was more excited about the remastered release of MFUJ’s 2008 concert Live at Gamespot Studio:

“Although some individual tracks were released as individual videos, I’m glad that the whole setlist has finally been compiled and released as a unit. Had we known about our newfound ability of posting clips over 15 minutes long, we would have done a single video. Oh well. A trilogy works fine. Oh, and we’re glad to finally release Intergeddon in its entirety, as it was meant to be heard. We might do a remastered version with instrumentals added to the tracks besides the three that were already songs. I’m busy, busy, busy. Oh and look out for a new song soon now that the second webisode is done.”

Slate was the only one who was unenthusiastic about the new webisode’s release.. “Damn cat got all of my airtime. Now I hear that I won’t even get a part in the next webisode. What the ****?”

 The following is rated TV-MA, the way all real shows should be. **** all that non adult content **** that they try to shove down your ****ing throat. Content moderated by the unimaginative censors who take out their own unhappiness by restricting the fun for the rest of us.

Enjoyed the episode? Of course you did…unless you didn’t. And now let’s end with a ba great band playing an ironically appropriate song at the beginning of their career. I give you Alice in Chains.

Brick (to the other members of MFUJ): “If you’ve got webisode problems, I feel bad for you son. I’ve got 99 problems but a blog ain’t one… HIT ME!” The other members of MFUJ: could we play something Alternative/metal/classic rocky? Maybe by someone named after a city? Brick: Fine. I understand about indecision but all I want is to have my Peace of Mind…

And so the 50^th blog entry came and went and there was no second MFUJ webisode to be found. Oh noes! Oh noes indeed. The MFUJ offices were full of tension and dismay as Brick, the band’s leader, had cut his hair, released a solo cover medley and just totally began making up for time lost on self-pity and pining away for a love he could never find.

The floor plan to the office began to resemble a map of warring states. The main office area was held by the faction of G Mod, the sinister though sometimes obtuse manager of MFUJ, and Slate, the libidinous front man and occasional singer (when he wasn’t busy showing off his package to unsuspecting members of the fairer sex http://mfujsansfrontieres.blogspot.com/2011/06/slate-tweets-blurry-photos-of-his.html). The basement is home camp to Shadow, the intelligent but greedy drummer with a strong guilt trip that was just waiting to burst (http://mfujsansfrontieres.blogspot.com/2011/08/shadow-saw-description-for-rock-video.html). The kitchen was the domain of Tigerman, the band’s lovesick bassist with a childlike naiveté when it comes to love i.e. he believed that a woman could actual love a 6 foot tall tiger creature whose only skills in life were playing bass and writing love letters http://mfujsansfrontieres.blogspot.com/2011/08/shadow-saw-description-for-rock-video.html).  The upstairs suite was where Brick spent most of his days.

It was there, behind closed doors, that he was not only working on his guitar chops by finally learning some damn scales but also working on actual music. He had unearthed a lost treasure(?) recorded way back in 2008 during the sessions for the original MFUJ album based on lyrics that Slate had scribbled into a notebook during his long exile: Choking on Insanity (G Mod Says to listen to this song now! http://www.reverbnation.com/play_now/song_10661993 ) He was also working on a brand new song called “We are the 99!” which might possibly have been the single for his solo album if he could somehow escape the shackles of the MFUJ machine.

While Brick was busy with old punk songs and mixed metaphors, G Mod was busy plotting the band’s second webisode with Slate downstairs.

“We’ll start off with the G Mod credit sequence” the repulsive megalomaniac began.

“What about starting with a skit?” asked the tattooed singer, “You know, like last time?”  http://mfujsansfrontieres.blogspot.com/2011/08/boys-are-back-in-towner-on-screen-debut.html

“And put up with your limitations as an actor? No thanks, dragon boy.”

“I don’t think it was that bad…”

“Really?”, replied the wry manager as he lowered his sunglasses.

“It was all Brick’s fault. He kept pining after…”

“No. Don’t say her name.”

“Why? It’s not like she’ll even read this.”

“It’s for legal reasons.”

“But he showed her name on his iPod during the episode. The song is named after her.”

“Enough. I don’t want any discussion of broads on my time, understand?”

“Broads? Sheesh. And Brick thinks my lingo is outdated. That was some gnarly anachronism there, chief.”

“Now after the opening credits and my little speech, I think we’ll have the tiger do some little skit to build on his ‘to my first wife’ series.”

“What?! That furball gets a segment and I don’t?”

“You blew it, kid. The cat gets his turn this time.”

“Whatever…” replies the deflated Slate.

G Mod makes a few notes on his yellow notepad:

-Open episode with the lovesick pussycat.

- Don’t let Slate hog the camera…again.

-Find the phone number for that sexy waitress from that diner I was at last night. What was her name? Trixie? Daisy? Bessie? Why am I listing cow names? Was that a diner or did I pass out in a barn again? Gotta take it easy. This job is killing me.

-Get more milk.

While Slate was being ignored, Shadow was pacing around the basement ,a drumstick in each hand. After doing twenty laps around the rugged old rug, the contemplative drummer stood in the center of the room, facing the wall of mirrors that the band used for low budget music videos.

“I’m standing in a room filled with nothing but the reverberations of my voice. No one but me can hear the sound as it bounces off the walls and back at me. If no one else hears the noise, does that mean there isn’t any? And if there isn’t any, does that mean that I am an illusion, even to myself?”

On a slightly less existential note, Tigerman made himself a pizza using a loaf of garlic bread, some spaghetti sauce and some havarti cheese from the fridge. Yes, it’s good to have the kitchen all to yourself if you’re a 6 foot tall tiger creature-thingy.

Stay tuned for more meandering updates leading up to the big season finale… we hope.

Take it away, Boston. Please…

Oh no he didn’t! Did the MFUJ guitarist steal his own band’s thunder by releasing a cover medley before the debut of the second MFUJ webisode? I guess it's 'Occupy MFUJSF' day or something. Did we just say ‘oh no he didn’t'? Our sincerest apologies. How about a little Faith no More? We good? I mean ‘are we good'?

If you have been paying attention to this blog, you’ll know that we originally planned for this blog entry to be the official MFUJ Webisode #2 screening party extravaganza. We had balloons ordered, a caterer hired and we rented out a big screen and projector to show the webisode to the whole unsuspecting community surrounding the MFUJSF office building. However there was one thing we did not count on: Lead guitarist and MFUJ founding member, Brick, upstaging his own band’s big MFUJSF 49^th blog entry which was supposed to lead up to the big 50^th entry season (series?) finale.

MFUJ tyrant, err… manager, G Mod was shocked at “Brick’s callous and selfish actions to steal away attention from the mirth and profitability of a group webisode.”

The offending clip was posted on the band’s youtube page:

After a rough start covering the Doors and Tom Waits, he totally rips through classics by the Misfits (We Are 138) and Nirvana (Aneurysm).

Some might be wondering why Brick might be doing stuff that would compromise the well being and profit making potential of his own band? For those who have never read our blog before…Hello South America! …Let’s give you a brief chart of Brick’s character arc.

Phase 1) Snarky rebellious teenager

Phase 2) Bleeding heart pacifist

Phase 3) Starving artist

Phase 4) Sellout douchebag

Phase 5) Depressed, hollow husk of a man

Phase 6) Depressed blog protagonist

Phase 7) Rejuvenated badass

Phase 8) TBD

 Well, this certainly means there will be a lot of tension built up for our big season finale in our next entry. Stay tuned for the other band members' reactions to the New Brick, whether it’s true that he’s working on a solo album and what that could mean for the future of the semi-fictional band.

We leave you with Faith No More.

And now here is a brief summary of the events that lead up to the second MFUJSF webisode. Next entry will be the webisode (so if we’re mysteriously MIA, then you know we’re working on that video) and entry 50 will be the big anniversary post/season finale. Yes. It’ll be the last entry for a long time (applause break for My Enemy).

Last time we saw our protagonist, Brick, he had just broken out of his depressing downward spiral and was ready to get back to business, the business of rock! (Too corny? Whatever…) There would be no more holding his tongue every time MFUJ’s manager, G Mod, made ridiculous plans to make money off of the band’s infamy, like releasing a series of fragrances based on the personalities and odors of each individual member of the band. Yes, it seems that all it took for Brick to regain the spark and enthusiasm he had back in his early days (We are referencing the original Brickman series which is now only available on out of print region 4 DVDs) was to cut his ridiculously long and remarkably fast growing hair (kind of like what Metallica did in the 90’s except this has had the opposite effect). But enough about Brick’s past.

Tensions in the band have been swirling around. Slate is obviously G Mod’s favorite sycophant so he has obviously been receiving the most attention and perks from the burnt out 80’s rock singer turned megalomaniac record producer. Tigerman, who just completed the fourth of his five scheduled “To My First Wife” love letters, was instantly ridiculed by the band’s lead singer for spending all his time fantasizing about monogamy and not enough time exploring the “beautiful world of hedonistic debauchery”. Shadow, after having his book deal revoked, has been in an incredibly irate mood. Further complicating his mood is anxiety over Brick’s recent transformation back into a confrontational, edgy guitarist with little to no natural talent of any kind. If the moody, falcon bandana wearing musician were to irritate the upper management, G Mod would be compelled to reveal that Shadow had been acting as his right hand this whole time. Who knows how Brick would react to this betrayal?

Have we spun everything into some sort ofconvoluted soap opera for the interwebs? Perhaps. But we’ve given you other genres as well. Comedy, drama, horror, rambling prose (yes, it is a genre. It is most commonly found in novels about accountants and lion tamers that exceed 500 pages in length. We kid you not. Ever read “Out of the Lion’s Mouth and Into Debt?” 600 pages of pure, FDA approved BS).

The band is on its way to the recording studio to film the second webisode as well as record their third and final (?) cover medley. No one is speaking to anyone else. You can cut the tension with a chainsaw and still break it halfway through the cutting part.

That’s about all we care to sum up for this entry. If you, my enemy, did not enjoy it, well then why the hell did you even read it? Don’t you just hate it when someone has so much free time on their hands that they will go out of their way just to badmouth something they don’t like? I wish there was a word for people like you. Trolls? Yeah. Go live under a bridge you troll! Ha! Play the music, we’re outta here!

To My Future First Wife Part 4: Yes, They’ve finally let me write another one of these blog entry thingies. I guess no one else wanted to write the first new entry after the serious one. Let me just tell you one thing, woman. People will tell you that I’m lying to you about us getting married one day. Don’t believe a word…

And now resident romantic, Tigerman, addresses his bride-to-be, whoever she might be.

Dear Little Ms. Skeptic A.K.A. Future Mrs. Tigerman,

Yes. I know. It’s been a while.

You think I don’t realize that the last time I wrote one of these public love letters to you was three months ago? I do. I may be a Bass player but I’m not an idiot. I don’t care what Slate might say, I’m not.

You may be wondering why it has taken so long for me to write to you. Well, it’s because the barbarians that run this band, G Mod and the abhorrent non-singer Slate, figured that the best thing for this band’s blog was to focus on some melodramatic plot line that mirrors both the economic crisis as well as every single post-Hamlet hackneyed revenge drama ever written. As far as I know, they will continue in this direction whether I’d like them to or not. It is of no consequence.

My dear sweet lady whose name and face I may or may not have burnt into my psyche already… how could you ever doubt that I love you, even for a millisecond? I mean seriously. I have spent three entire blog entries confessing how much I love/will love you and you still have doubts in that beautiful heart of yours that resides in that presumably lovely bosom of yours.

What? Some have claimed that my feelings for you are falsehoods that were manufactured simply just to lure you into my Tiger’s den? Blasphemers! How could you believe such idle gossip so easily after all my professions of potential love? I am besides myself with grief.

Who was the originator of these false words of falseness? Slate? That cur... That venomous serpent has poisoned you against me with his lies and…and…his lies and deception. This is an outrage of egregious proportions. Here I wanted to write a letter that praised your brilliantly blue/green/brown/black/ (insert eye color here) and your famously wavy/curly/straight/shaved hair. But now all of that is ruined because of the villainous slander that Slate has committed by turning you against me, the one and only love of your life. You know that you are the only one for me…until I meet my future second wife.

I’m sorry. I cannot continue to write when that dragon tattooed wannabe singer roams the halls laughing at me. I will…talk to him. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.

Sorry that I couldn’t be more romantic.

Sincerely,

Your first husband

Tigerman

Tigerman is a self-taught bass player as well as a six foot tall anthropomorphic tiger creature. He spends all of the time he isn’t playing music talking about his future wives. We’re not even sure why he even bothers doing this segment anymore, besides the fact that he signed up to do five of these entries. It’d be funny if it weren’t so ****ing tragic. Here’s some great music to get you through the night.

Rest assured, faithful MFUJ fans: The band is making music once more. MFUJ’s enemies: Tough luck. We plan on going where eagles dare. Or falcons. Whatevs.

 We’ll make this short and sweet.

-          MFUJ will be releasing another Webisode soon.

-          MFUJ is currently working on a cover medley featuring songs by the Doors, The Misfits, The Smiths and Nirvana.

That’s it.

Good night, y’all!

Shhhh! It’s time for the State of the Blog Report and one lucky MFUJSF fan will be asked to leave in a cheap attempt to boost ratings. We’re obviously out of ideas and are stalling until the next story centered blog entry. Oh they say that it's over… Look Out!

We now bring you live to the Mike’s F’d Up Journey SF offices in downtown *mumblemumblemumble*. The podium is still empty. Let’s see who we have approaching the makeshift stage. Ah yes, the perpetually egomaniacal manager, G Mod, followed by the recklessly hedonistic lead singer, Slate. No sign of the other three members: intellectual drummer Shadow, pathetically lonely bass player Tigerman, lead guitarist, chief song writer and band leader Brick.

G Mod is testing the mic by coughing obnoxiously into it. Let’s listen to what he has to say.

Is this damn thing turned on? Hello? It is. Oh, ok.

I am G Mod. For those of you who don’t know who I am and are too lazy to read the narration at the top of the page, I am the manager of the band Mike’s F’d Up Journey as well as the last surviving member of the 80’s band Super Mario and the Koopa Troopas.

It has come time for us to address you, the internetz, about the state of our little blog which has replaced music as our number one export to your mind. Why have we chosen this particular blog entry, lucky number forty four to do this and not some nice round number like 50 or 100? Well, that’s a fair question but for legal reasons we’re not allowed to disclose the fact that *content redacted* …So I hope you’ll understand after that lengthy explanation I just gave you.

The state of the blog, I am proud to admit, is comme ci comme ça. Didn’t expect me to know French, did ya? Well, neither did I. It’s almost as if someone were putting words in my mouth. Let me get down to the statistics segment of this speech. I know how much you nerds like those things.

-          As of this moment, the blog has had over 385 page views (and only 300 of those were from Tigerman).  

-          Our precious blog has been read by people on 5 different continents. Countries include: USA, Germany, Denmark, Austria, Russia, India, Australia, Bulgaria, Egypt, Netherlands and Taiwan. Where’s the love South America and Antarctica?

-          Most of our readers prefer Internet Explorer with Chrome, Firefox and Safari being the runners up. Tough luck, Opera & GranParadiso.

-          Almost 80% of you use Windows while only 15% use Mac and a paltry 3% use Linux. Them’s the breaks, Linux.

-          We’d like to give a shout out to Almost Famous Tori (http://www.almostfamoustori.blogspot.com/)for being our #1 source of referrals. You’re awesome. I hope you start writing blogs again.

-          The most viewed blog entry was “Making music is easy! Vocals + Guitar + Bass + Drums + Samples + Megalomaniacal Producer = Win? Next thing you know we’ll end with an Opeth song. Oh wait, will we? That’d be awesome.” I guess you really love your Opeth mixed with megalomaniacal producers. Actually, the majority of the most viewed blog entries feature yours truly. Thanks for all the love, fools.

Well, that’s about all I wanted to talk about right now. See you later, posers.

G Mod drops the microphone and walks off stage. Slate, who was busy flirting with one of the female reporters runs after G Mod, like the faithful dog that he is. We now return you to your previously scheduled Sabbath. Black Sabbath that is, featuring the late great Ronnie James Dio.

You thought we forgot about the whole audience participation/ ratings stunt, didn't you? Well, honestly, we did. Don't worry. We'll figure out some spectactular stunt and write it. You'll read it and laugh and cry the way you do with any piece of literature that's either brilliant or just plain terrible. See you next time.

There is a sixth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as a studio apartment and as timeless as waiting in line at the DMV. It is the middle ground between homage and flagrant copyright infringement, between humor and drivel, and it lies between the pit of man's boredom and the summit of his attention span. This is the dimension of emulation. It is an area which we call The Pastiche Zone.

And now an original horror story.

Enjoy.

Or be frightened.

Or uh, do whatever you want as long as you read, ok?

“The Entertainer”

The end of summer never went over well with Brick. He always enjoyed the crisp northeastern weather in the waning weeks of the season but knew they were merely the last gasps of freedom he had. In the fall he’d have to finally submit a draft of his manuscript to his publisher for approval and despite all his best efforts he knew that he was out of steam and good ideas. He was going to be let go, he could just feel it.

But none of that mattered because Brick’s life was now about to be changed forever by something far worse than his career falling apart at 24. No, he was about to enter a plane of existence that few mortals could dare imagine let alone exist in or be happy about. For legal reasons beyond our control we can only tell you that he was now entering The Pastiche Zone, not any other type of zone, especially not a zone that shares its name with an awful series of books about vampires and werewolves that manages to make both of those creatures seem lame. But we digress…

Brick lived on the outskirts of a major American city in the early decades of the 21^st century. Like many others his age, money and financial security were a big concern for him because of the recession. In fact money and financial security were an issue for anyone during an economic recession so his feelings of desperation were a common condition of man…or woman, but in this case man. He lived in a small, tightly knit block of homes at a crossroads between hills. Brick lived at the bottom of the highest hill but across from the road that led downhill towards the nearby highway.

When he wasn’t busy writing or reading on his terrace which overlooked the neighborhood, Brick would go downhill to pick up his groceries from the store. On the walk back uphill, he’d usually see the same old scene: Mrs. Voorhees would be smoking a cigarette on the front porch as her son Jason would run around scaring the other local kids who seemed to change quite often; Old man Krueger would be walking around with his little Schnauzer in his favorite striped shirt; the little Myers kid was quietly judging everyone from his bedroom window; Mr. Bates would be walking home from work, saving his money to buy a bed and breakfast. Of course Brick assumed that every neighborhood had its quirks.

There was one bright spot to his walk home. His next door neighbor was the lovely, and inexplicably single, Selma. She was about the same age as Brick, beautiful as a rose and sharp as a thorn. When she wasn’t busy working at her father’s store, she would come to see how Brick’s writing was coming along. Their relationship was that oh so familiar and oh so frustrating platonic dynamic where Brick was too dense to see that she was interested in him and Selma was too subtle for him to notice her hints of affection. But enough of such things. They were happy to see one another. If you want romance, wait for the rom-com spoof. Where were we? Oh yes…

“Hey there, mister writer” she said with a half smile, holding a bag with a couple of ice cold lemonades in them.

“Hey Selma,” he said with his usually aloof tone, more focused on his impending poverty than the adoring company awaiting him at his doorstep. “Finished your shift at the store already?”

“Yeah, I got Becky, the new girl, to cover for me. How’s the writing coming along?”

With a heavy sigh as he reached into his jean pocket for his keys Brick replied “If writing were a river, then we’re in the middle of a drought right now.”

He opened the door and the two walked inside the cramped entryway into the writer’s house.  After a quick stop to the kitchen to put away the usual batch of frozen dinners that Brick would feast upon in the late hours of the night, the two adjourned to the terrace that overlooked the whole block. Sitting down on Brick’s sofa swing with its tattered blue cloth spread, they toasted with their glass bottles and basked in the mid afternoon buzz of the neighborhood . The summer’s heat and humidity was beginning to recede and autumn’s deathly breeze began to whisper its return ever so slightly every day.

Selma, flecked by drops of sun peaking in between the swaying leaves of the magnolia tree in front of the house, resumed the conversation “So what exactly are you having problems with?”

“Huh?”

“With your writing.”

“Oh… I don’t know. I guess I’ve just reached the limit of my ability to care enough to write something readable.”

“How depressing that must be for you.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t whine.”

And as the air rippled from the sounds of the passing cars, the sounds of lawns being mowed and tree branches being pruned, a new sound echoed from down the hill. It was a distant but discernable jingle, an excerpt from the old song “The Entertainer” passing by for the better part of thirty seconds before fading out as quickly as it had Doppler-ed into listening distance.

“Creepy…” muttered Selma.

“What?”

“That melody, that song. My grandfather used to play that on vinyl all the time and it never sat well with me.”

“Don’t worry. It’s just the new ice cream truck that started driving around here a couple of weeks ago.”

“I know but still…”

“Then again, I’ve never actually seen the ice cream truck in this neighborhood.”

“It must be there. I’m just being a dork.”

And so the ruby afternoon melted into violet evening. Selma went back home and Brick sat at his computer trying desperately to come up with something he could present to his publisher in early September. Inspiration had long fizzled away and hours passed by with not a single word typed. Defeated, Brick dragged himself to the kitchen to thaw a frozen pizza. After he sated his belly, he retired to his bed.

Sleep came to him as easily as words to the page, meaning not at all. He rolled and turned on his poorly padded futon, thinking of the disgusted look on his publisher’s face when Brick would presented his lifeless manuscript. The insects’ nocturnal screeching in his backyard was oppressive. Trying to get his mind off of his troubles, Brick remembered his afternoon with Selma and her irrational fear of “The Entertainer”. With a chuckle, Brick began humming the melody in a crude and tuneless way, hoping to fall asleep from exhaustion.

The next day was just like the last few weeks had been. Brick woke up in a warm sweat, crawled into the shower, went downstairs to write. After another unproductive morning, he decided to go down the hill to get some sweet forgettable snack from the deli before Selma got off from work. As he walked back uphill, he noticed that the Voorhees boy wasn’t running around like he usually was. When Brick looked to see if the kid’s chain-smoking mom was around, all he saw was cold ashtray laying next to an empty lawn chair.   

“Must have taken him to the pool or something…” Brick thought before scolding himself for caring about the affairs of a family he barely saw except during his daily stroll for high caloric sustenance.

When he finally reached his house, Selma was already there for their afternoon sugary beverage.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, noticing his obviously pensive expression.

“Oh, nothing… This is going to sound weird.”

“Ok. What is it?”

“Did you see the Voorhees’ today?”

“No, can’t say that I have.”

“It’s just they’re usually outside around this time…”

“What do you care? I’m the only one you talk to on this block anyway.”

“Right. I guess it was just weird that’s all.”

“Can we go now?” she inquired, gently swinging the bag of glass bottles by her knees.

“Yeah, sure…” Brick replied as he reached for his keys. Just then he heard “The Entertainer” playing down the hill again.

“Not that song again… I can’t stand it.”

“Yeah…”

With that, Brick and Selma went inside and engaged in their usual late afternoon dialogue. Alone again, Brick tried writing but nothing came to him. After another frozen dinner, he dragged himself off to bed to weather another night of cricket orchestras and torturous humidity. As he lay there, he detected a whiff of freshly picked flowers but for the life of him could not figure out where the scent was coming from. He wondered why he had cared so much about the Voorhees’ not being around. It’s not like he ever spoke to either of them and they were both a bit of a handful to the neighbors. Yet something still bothered him about the whole thing. He stared at the ceiling until he slipped into unconsciousness once more.

The next few days passed by and Brick kept his misgivings to himself as the Voorhees’ remained missing. In addition to that, Old man Krueger and his dog were no longer patrolling the streets nor was the entrepreneurial Mr. Bates and the Myers Kid was gone from his window too. And each day he kept hearing “The Entertainer” ring in the distance as it passed by the hill street that was now growing empty of residents.

About five days after the Voorhees’ first went missing, Brick came home and saw that Selma wasn’t there waiting for him as she usually was. Convincing himself that there was some logical explanation for what was happening, Brick headed on inside. A few hours later he heard the doorbell ring. It was Selma.

“Hey…” he said with relief to see her.

“Hey yourself.”

“Why are you late?” he asked.

“Becky never showed up to work so I had to stay a few hours later. I tried calling her but her phone has been disconnected.”

“Selma…”

“Yeah?”

“A lot of weird stuff has been going on. People seem to be going missing for no good reason. What the hell’s going on?”

“I don’t know.”

The wind’s gust hummed low with the buzz of insects but no more of the neighborhood’s usual  passing cars or lawn mowers or any of that. Soon that old song began playing again from down the hill as it always had.  

“It all started around the time that ice cream truck started riding all over our neighborhood.”

“Brick, I don’t like that song any more than you do, but that’s crazy.”

“What else could it be? I can’t write. I can’t sleep. Our neighbors are vanishing one by one. I can’t get that damn song out of my head. It taunts me.”

Selma rubbed his shoulder and looked him right in the eye. “You have to snap out of this, Brick. You can’t go on much longer like this.”

“You don’t believe me…” he replied with resentment.

“Brick…”

“Leave…Leave! Please.”

Sullen Selma slunk away from her friend and went back home. Brick didn’t even bother writing that night. His mind was focused. He would figure out what was going on even if it killed him.  

The next day, Brick went down the barren street to the deli only to find it closed and locked. As he returned up the empty hill, he felt guilty for snapping at Selma the day before. He desperately wanted to apologize to her. When he saw that she wasn’t waiting for him on his doorstep, he took out his cell phone and tried to reach her. He got an automated message that this number was no longer in service. With fear in his heart, he rushed over to her father’s store only to find that it was locked down with not a soul in sight. He ran back to her house and knocked on her door.

“Selma!” he yelled in vain as he received no acknowledgement.

He looked at his watch and noticed that it was a few minutes before the song that had haunted his psyche for a week was scheduled to play. Already sweating and out of breath, Brick ran down the hill to find out the source of the infernal music. The moment came and so did the melody. It was now louder and more distinct than it was before however no matter where Brick looked, he couldn’t spot the source of the song. Even as the music thundered past his ears, the streets were all completely empty. Soon even the sound was gone. Stupefied, Brick returned home and went straight to bed. Night came and even the insects that had once kept him awake with their nocturnal screeching had been silenced. All Brick could hear was a distant beeping sound. He closed his saline eyes and waited for the morning.

Surprised to have made it to morning unscathed, Brick showered away the night sweats. He put on a clean suit and grabbed his flawed manuscript. It was the day he was scheduled to take his book to his publisher. With no time left to delay, he ran down to his car and drove out of the area that was once a community. He drove for miles and miles without seeing a single soul. As he entered the city, he began to see some cars on the streets and people on the sidewalks. He finally reached the publisher’s building downtown and parked the car in front before running inside.

The receptionist let him through to the elevator and within a minute he had reached the office level. Racing up the grey and red carpet to get to the publisher’s office, Brick knocked anxiously on the oak door.

“Come in” said the publisher in his usual brusque baritone.

Brick, without hesitation, rushed in and shut the door behind him.

“Hey Rod…” Brick said with barely any breath.

The publisher, a forty something year old with dark hair and cool demeanor looked concerned at his writer.

“Are you alright?” he asked as Brick carried his manuscript into the room.

“You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve been having. All that’s missing is Burgess Meredith saying ‘It’s not fair’.”

The publisher laughed. “It couldn’t be all that bad.”

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“That’s fine. Have you brought us something to read, finally?”

“Yes sir. Here you go” he said as he handed over the stack of papers.

As the publisher began reading, a cold shiver ran down Brick’s exhausted spine. Even from the thirtieth floor he could hear that familiar and unholy tune playing outside. “It can’t be…” he moaned as he walked up to the window.

“Brick? What is it, son?”

“Don’t you hear it?” the frustrated writer asked with a screeching in his voice as he walked back to the publisher’s desk.

“Hear what?”

“That song…That damned song. It won’t leave me alone. It took everyone away from me and now…”

The melody was no longer coming from down below but was now just outside the Publisher’s office door.

“What’s the matter? Brick? Brick?!”

No longer able to bear the encroaching noise that had haunted him for so long, Brick rushed towards the window behind the publisher’s desk, ignoring his warning to stop. The glass gave way from Brick’s weight and so man and pane plunged headlong toward the sidewalk below. And for once since this whole ordeal had begun he no longer heard anything except the rushing air as he fast approached the hard top.

                *             *             *

Doctor Serling was making his afternoon rounds through the sterile halls of St. Alfred’s hospital when he stepped into room 201. Inside was a young coma patient that had survived a near fatal car crash a few weeks before but remained unconscious since then. At his side was the patient’s beautiful fiancé holding his motionless hand, despair in her eyes.

“Good afternoon, Selma” said the doctor as he passed by the bouquet of fresh flowers next to the patient’s bed.

“Hello doctor… Has there been any change in his condition?”

“I’ll have to check his chart, but there hasn’t been any change that I’ve seen.”

“I feel so rotten. I wasn’t able to make it here yesterday… I thought maybe he had awoken in my absence.”

“No such luck I’m afraid” replied the doctor with a sympathetic tone.

“It’s so unfair…” declared the heartbroken woman. “We were so excited. We were supposed to get married today. Brick was on his way to drop off the final draft of his book at his publisher when he…when he crashed. I should have driven him. He didn’t sleep at all the night before…”

The doctor, with a concerned look examined the devices hooked up to the young patient, which produced a steady beeping noise. He noticed an abnormality in the readings and with a heavy heart turned to the grieving woman.

“Selma. I’m afraid Brick is brain dead. He’s not coming back.”

“No…” whimpered Selma as an ice cream truck passed by underneath their window, merrily playing “The Entertainer” as it turned the corner and disappeared.