To My Future First Wife Part 5: Well, nothing lasts forever even... No, I can't do it. I can't make a November Rain reference, even if there Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone.

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

Dear woman whose heart I will inevitably break and/or will leave me a hollow husk of my former self,

I know that it has been a Tiger's age since I've written to you. I'm sorry that it took me so long to do so. My life has been, well, in a state of mass upheaval. First I had to abandon my home because my fellow band member, Brick, wrote a song called 99 that may have ticked off the Occupy protesters (they also hate our boss, G Mod, because he's an evil, rich bastard). Then I almost became a rug after I misplaced G Mod's sunglasses. I don't even remember doing so, but apparently I'm responsible, go figure.  Lastly, I've recently been hired to work for Tiger International, the number one feline owned cable channel in the world.

I've been so busy that I haven't been able to think my priorities through. You know that I love you with all my heart. I eat, sleep and breathe with the love I have for you, even though we haven't met yet, or at least haven't confirmed our love for one another. When my life recently flashed before my eyes, I had a chance to reevaluate my priorities. Also, I found out that legally I'm only allowed to write five of these entries to my future first wife. I'm not sure if Slate was correct about that but he said that writing five times to the same woman and not getting a response was "hilariously pathetic". Oh well.

I had time to think. Even though I've spent four entries talking about how much I love you, despite the fact that I really don't know anything about you, there has always been a big issue with this whole series of intimate, exquisitely written letters. You are my future FIRST wife. First. As in not the only one. As I'm not a polygamist, that means that, for one reason or another, our romance will end in ruin. This saddens me to no end. Can you imagine me investing all these emotions and hours writing letters only to find out that this is all fleeting. Was it worth anything? What could I have done differently to save our not-yet-announced marriage from sinking into the crimson sea of divorce? I don't think I could have loved your nondescript features and generic personality traits any more than I already do now. I just can't. Loving hurts so bad that I can't handle anymore.

This is all doomed, like a TV show named Cursed and then later renamed after the actor in the lead role but inevitably cancelled by the network anyway. You are, or at least will be, my first wife. There is no avoiding the upcoming failure. Of course, if we never got married, then we would never get divorced and I'd never end up with my second wife and not doing that would have enormous ramifications on the future...one would assume.

Ok, that puts things in a new perspective. So, what you are saying is that if we don't fall in love then we will subsequently create a time paradox where the lack of our doomed love will in fact doom the whole world. Well, that would be a catastrophe. (ha. cat-astrophe) Is it really better to have loved and lost then to never have loved at all? I guess it is if the fate of the world depends on us coming together only to fall apart? Oh, this all so confusing!

I, well, I love you, woman of unknown origin. It tears me up on the inside that we can't work out our personal differences in order to be a couple just a little while longer. Just think of all the love we will miss out on due to all the resentment, jealousy and nigh endless litigation. We really don't have a choice though. We could try prolonging the inevitable but it would be pointless. It couldn't last. The ice holding our love together has to melt and unleash the flood of animosity for the good of everyone else. Linger one more moment and we'll surely drown.

Hello and farewell, my future first wife. You will be too good for me and I will let you down when you need me most. And when you leave, there'll be no more sunshine anymore.

I miss you already.

What else could I be? All Apologies.

Sincerely,

Your future ex-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. With this entry, he has fulfilled his contractual obligation for the "To My future First Wife" series. We couldn't be more thrilled. You wouldn't believe how bad it was that he... What? He is now contractually obligated to do 5 "To My Future Second Wife" entries? **** me!

Meet the New Boss, same as...No, he couldn't be the same, could he? That wouldn't be fair.

Well, look what happened while we were away. Tigerman actually landed a job. Yes. That's right. That six foot tall anthropomorphic creature that plays the bass, writes love letters to women who would never in a million years be interested in him and was almost turned into a rug after he misplaced a pair of cheap sunglasses. That guy. He is now among the employed. I guess the recession is over. It seems like they'll hire anyone these days. You're telling me. I just got named partner at a prestigious law firm. I don't even know any laws. That's crazy, italicized voice. Hey! That's Italicized voice, Esq. Ah jeez...

So anyways, now that the threat of angry protesters, led by a enigmatically charismatic bear in a Che Guevara t-shirt (or was it a charismatically enigmatic Che in a bear t-shirt? The world may never know)  had been directed towards some direction opposite that of our heroes (Heroes? Isn't that a strong term for a bunch of misfits? Well, 'misfit's is already taken), it's amazing that Tigerman managed to gain lawful employment at the elusive Tiger International Channel, home to great programming like "This Old Tiger" & "The Adventures of Tiger & Tiger". The world's most respected journalists all watch "Eye of the Tiger News" and weep at its brilliance.

Having taken a long walk from MFUJ HQ Mark II until he reached the nearest city (over a hundred miles away),  Tigerman finally arrived at that place where magic happened, the building featuring the Tiger International channel studio. After spending a good thirty seconds pushing a door that was clearly labeled pull, he entered the lobby and asked the well mannered security chief how to reach the studio....  Seriously? where are we in Canada? People aren't polite. Just keep going.

Tigerman took the elevator to the office floor. Upon exiting the steel box, he found himself bewildered by the almost warehouse starkness of it all.

"Am I in the right place?" the dazed cat mused.

All along the walls there were posters for shows and movies like "Tiger Royale", "No Country for Old Tigers" and "The Tiger That Came in From the Cold". Windowless doors, desolate brick walls and a stack of garbage cans were all that Tigerman could find as he wandered the circular hallway. Eventually he bumped into a scrawny leopard who was lingering in the hallway.

"Excuse me," Tigerman said in an almost embarassed tone.

"Yeah?" asked the leopard.

"I'm looking for the head of Tiger International."

"The office is down the hall, that way."

"Thanks."

"Oh and don't be so nervous."

"Huh?"

"You look like you're about to have a heart attack. Don't worry. He's just a cat. They're all just cats."

"Ok..."

The leopard, with a wry grin, walked away.

Tigerman knocked on the wooden door of the locked office. After about 30 seconds of knocking, a balding cheetah let him in and through the secondary glass door that hid the nicely decorated office with hardwood floors. As he was admiring the decor, Tigerman was approached by a pantsuit wearing cougar with long brown hair (seriously? A cougar? Could the writing get any lazier?).

"Tigerman?"

"Yes."

"You made it after all."

"Yeah, I suppose I did."

"The boss is waiting for you."

"Ok."

She started walking further into the office area, leading him with her tail ( C'mon! You did not just write that! That is so wrong... yet oddly right. Dammit! Now you have me talking about it.)   As they turned the corner and pass a supportt beam, Tigerman comes face to face with the head honcho of Tiger International, a towering , imposing Tiger with a claw the size of a softball.

"Tigerman?"

"Yes sir?"

"I'm the head of Tiger International. Follow me."

Not wanting to anger the fearsome leader of the world's most successful feline owned TV channel in history, Tigerman followed the big boss to a small office area. The head honcho gestured for him to sit down and our favorite bass player sat.

"I understand that you were in a band?"

"Yes, sir."

"Uhuh. Do you have any experience working at TV studio?"

"No, but I am a quick learner. When I joined the band, I only knew one note but now I can play like a real beast...um, sorry. Didn't mean to brag."

"No, no. bragging can be good."

"Ok."

"Do you see a future with yourself at this company?"

"Yes?"

"Well, that's good enough for me. I'll contact you soon. I'm currently in the middle of a tough negotiation. I'm trying to acquire the Lion Network as well as Panther... well, you know. Business is business."

"Yes it is."

"I like you. You don't waste any words. Very concise and agreeable."

"mmm-hmm.

"I'll escort you out."

The next minute was an awkward stroll through the building, opening doors for one another and near silence. They finally arrived at the elevator and the head of Tiger International shook Tigerman's paw and wished him a safe trip home. The leopard was also standing by the elevator, still smug.

"That was fast," he said to Tigerman.

"Yeah...." replied the usually unlucky feline as he stepped onto the steel elevator and went back downstairs.

Everything seemed to be going well for the big cat until... Oh man, an 'until'!

The head of Tiger International received a call on his cell phone as he was walking back to his office.

"Hello...yes, yes. Tigerman showed up as you said he would....he was an insufferable nitwit, but I will honor our agreement and find him some sort of job here....no, I haven't forgotten what you've done for me. But this is the last time I do you a favor. After this, we're even. Ok. Goodbye...G Mod."

dun...Dun...DUN!!!!!!!!

The Long and Winding Road to Adulthood Part 3: The Interview. What a Soul Sacrifice! Eh, we'll do better next time.

With Shadow's return to the fold, it seems like things would return to normal. Brick was on his own trying to reinvent the wheel on the guitar (don't ask), Slate was amusing himself with that voice modifying device / singing off-key, rhythmically disjointed covers of Sisters of Mercy songs, G Mod was alternating between being an embattled one-percenter and a cold-hearted bastard and Shadow was repressing his hatred for G Mod as well as his guilt for helping him keep Brick in the band against his will. "Oh, what a tangled web we weave," said the spiders who write the plots for these things.

But what about Tigerman, the ridiculously out of place, happy-go-lucky and amorous Tiger creature that seemed to have disappeared during the previous webisode? Well, after surviving a hostile encounter with an irate G Mod, Tigerman had been leading a quiet life. He got his morning bowl of oatmeal, ran a few laps around the MFUJ HQ Mark II. and then pretended to work on that upcoming blog entry of his.

Everything seemed to be going this way until, surprise surprise, something happened to change everything. One day, Tigerman received an email from one of his fellow tigers back home (wherever Tigers come from. What? Do we look like the Discovery Channel? I don't know where Siberian Tigers come from. I'm just a narrator. I'm not supposed to have all the answers). That Tiger told him that he had a potential job offer for Tigerman. A friend of Tigerman's friend (we're being awfully vague now, aren't we?) worked at the Tiger International Channel (Call your local cable or satellite company and request Tiger International today!) and that he would be interested in meeting with Tigerman for a job interview. Why? We don't know, but the universe works in mysterious ways. At least it does when we want to push the plot forward.

Tigerman eagerly accepted the offer. It then dawned on him that he knew nothing of television or working or how to interview. It seemed like Tigerman had gotten himself into a Three's Company-type jam (except without the lovely 1981-era Priscilla Barnes to provide the much-needed sexual tension to this farce). However, as this happens to be one of those Job related Blog posts we used to do, Shadow was there to solve Tigerman's problem of not knowing anything, his own personal issues be damned. The blog always came first. Well, first the ladies, then the blog. Feeling better, Mr. Macho? Huh? Don't you mean Pizza flavored Combos came first, then the blog. Shut up! You're only arguing with yourself. Don't get philosophical with me, italicized voice. Now where were we? Tigerman lost, Job offer, Terri Alden from Three' Company.....Oh I lost my trail of thought again. The Interview strategies, numbskull. And, by the way, everyone knows that Suzanne Somers was the best. Whatever, man. Terri  > Chrissy.

"Shadow?" asked the puzzled Tiger beast. "What do I do? I just scheduled an interview and I don't know what to do!"

"Never mind the worries, Tigerman. I will help you!" declared Shadow. "Who cares about my struggles or the plot developments left over from the previous live action installment. This is the blog and anything can happen...well, besides you actually finding a wife."

"What's going on here?" asked Brick as he entered the room.

"I'm helping Tigerman with his interview skills," replied Shadow, instructing Brick to sit on the couch in the living room. (Wait, did we wait until just now to say where we are? Bad writer!)

"Oh, we're doing one of those? I thought we gave up on looking for work."

"No and we're contractually obligated to do several of these job related blogs."

"Dammit G Mod! Always getting us with 'contractual obligations'!"

Slate enters, throat exhausted from hours of bad singing and drinking too many ice cold bottles of Deer Park (blatant product placement). "What's all the ruckus?" he asked in the faux southern accent he seemed to have developed out of nowhere.

"It's another one of those 'Long and Winding Road' blogs," mumbled Brick.

"Another entry named after a lesser Beatles song from Let It Be? Oh well."

"Are we all settled now?" Shadow asked. Ok. Let's get started. Here is Shadow's Guaranteed Method of Succeeding at Job Interviews! (Editor's Note: for legal reasons we have to say that " Shadow's Guaranteed Method of Succeeding at Job Interviews!" is not necessarily a foolproof way of landing a job. It may actually prevent you from ever working again. Tread cautiously. Please.)

Step 1: Don't Freak out! For Banana's sake, Don't lose your head! You'll need it for the next few steps and possibly after that as well, maybe.

Ok, so you got the interview. Don't stress out. Relax. Breathe. The Interviewer is Human too. Unless they are some sort of fire-breathing lizard creature or a robot, but I digress. This is no time to start stressing out or letting negative thoughts creep into your head. Sure you're not qualified for the job. Sure there are plenty of people better suited for the job. And, yes, they are better looking and the ladies like them better than you. But dwelling on any of that, no matter how true it may be, is not going to help you now. Focus!

Step 2: Dress For Success! Be the Alpha Male of wardrobe...if that's possible. Let's just assume that it is.

Clothes make the man, Fur makes the beast, etc. If you're going to tackle this seemingly impossible task of interviewing for a job, you might as well look your best. Don't wait until the last minute to finalize your interview outfit. Otherwise you might discover that all those snacks you've been sneaking out of the kitchen have made your best pants sit on top of you as tightly as a drum skin thingy. Showing the interviewer that you can dress yourself is half the battle. The other half is arm wrestling them into submission. Hmmm? It isn't? Oh, well, don't rule it out as a possibility just yet.

Step 3: Know Where You Are Going! Google map the hell out of that interview location.

I can't tell you how many interviews were ruined by the interviewee showing up late or, even worse, not showing up at all. Don't be a limp banana peel! Look up the interview location and go there! Be the Alpha Male and declare your mastery over navigation by .... *The rest was redacted for implying that certain acts of marking one's territory are appropriate in modern day society. They are not.*

 Step 4: Greet Them With a Strong, Firm Handshake! No time to show Weakness. Be the Alpha Male, even if you are a fe-male. No time for political correctness when you are trying to get a job. It's every man, woman and beast for themselves.

So you didn't lose your mind, you managed to put on some pants and possibly a shirt and you made it to the interview intact and on time. Good for you. Are you going to waste all of this early success by giving a stale, limp handshake when you meet your tormenter... I mean future employer? No way! Man up and give them a handshake that says "yeah, try this on for size!" It's basically a contest to see who can apply the most pressure without shattering all of the bones in the other person's hands. Trust me. Show them that you can push it to the limit.

Step 5: ???

This is the actual interview part of the interview. Listen, talk, try hard not to emit any foul bodily functions/noises, and, for Banana's sake, don't stare at anything that you're not supposed to stare at. You're trying to get a job, not pick-up a recent divorcee with a jealous ex-husband and three kids, nor are you trying to play "spot the toupee". Take this seriously, but don't forget to smile and be grateful, but don't relax too much or they'll think you aren't taking them seriously, but....*takes a breath* You can figure out the rest of this step on your own. Good Luck. We believe in you. And if you mess up, it isn't the end of the world. Unless, of course, for some strange reason it is. I don't know why your ability to be hired for a certain job would dictate the fate of an entire world but if it ever did and you didn't get the job, then we're all screwed. Thanks a lot, jerkface! You ruined everything by being an unemployable loser!

Step 6: The Long, Slow Goodbye. Don't do it. Be the Alpha Male and cut and run. What am I trying to say? Uh...?

Now that the interview is over, you better be grateful and thank your interviewer for their time. They, the almighty job offering deity that they are, chose to spend a few minutes/hours with a mere mortal like you. You better show them some appreciation. A thank you note/email would definitely be a nice touch.

"Well," concluded Shadow. I think that's about all I had to say. I guess."

"Wow, that was painful," said Brick.

"Way worse than having to sit through Tigerman's love letters to his future first wife," replied Slate.

"Thanks, Shadow," Tigerman said deferentially.

"Did that help?" asked Shadow.

"Maybe. I don't know. I fell asleep after the intro."

"I hate you guys," Shadow mumbled as the end credits music began to play.     

Webisode IV: The Quest for Peace. No. Webisode IV: A New Hope. No. I'll find a more fitting movie allusion. Don't tell me to let it go. If you think I'll let it go, you're mad. You got another thing coming! *repeat a bunch of times and then fade out*

Perhaps it was an attempt to end a longstanding malaise or perhaps it was just an exercise in rapid filmmaking. It doesn't matter. The crew at MFUJSF have decided to continue the Webisode series with a fourth entry. Is it a prequel like we may have suggested it might be? No, sir. Excuse me, madam. Is it a clever allegory for the unachievable nature of the American Dream? No, or maybe...no, probably not. Is it like some weird dream? Perhaps, but without the unexpected nudity and cryptic imagery and dialogue.

In fact, no one knows why we even did a fourth entry. It's not like the first three were particularly lauded or successful. Could it be that, like Shadow in the episode, we were trying to find meaning in a thankless and self-destructive world only to find that, at that the end of the day, we all just fade away into the abyss from which we cannot escape? Perhaps that's too deep a description for what is essentially a disjointed farce with a bit of melodrama stuck in there for some sort of storytelling purposes.

Whenever a series starts to expand beyond the comfy confines of a trilogy, you have to wonder if they still have quality stories to tell? Did Rocky need to get political by fighting a gargantuan Swede posing as a Soviet brute? Did Indiana Jones really need to add Shia LaBeouf to the cast and fight the Soviets (Really? Again with the Soviets?) Did John McClane really need to pair up with the Mac guy to fight a bunch of dangerous nerds? Probably not.

So then why, why did we make this 4th episode and have it star the only band member to not appear on camera since 2009?

We just felt like it.

'Nuff said. Watch the video. WATCH IT!

Enjoy.

If you think we get tired of coming up with songs to end these blogs with, you've got another thing coming!

This video.

Evil Music Insects (EMI) to MFUJ: "We have dominion over your cover of Dominion." MFUJ: "EMI? EMI?"

                 Since the last time we saw of our band of misguided musicians in exile, the situation has changed. After a long drought of new music, the band got to work recording their solo albums. G Mod is temporarily out of the picture due to his growing paranoia of persecution by an anthropomorphic bear wearing a Che Guevarra T-shirt (see picture here.... NO PICTURE ABVAILABLE? What? I could have sworn we had an image on flickr or photobucket. You generally have to have an account with one of those sites in order to have photos there, genius. Well, why don't we? It's not in the budget. But aren't those sites free? We can't afford free. Dang...)

                Brick, in his rejuvenated state (short hair, not to be confused with the whiny webisode version with long hair) has managed to record an original song/lead single for his solo band, The Falcons, 99 (too many commas?)... No that last part is not part of the song. He also recorded several covers, including Masters of War, Meet Me in the Bottom and Tiger Man (featuring Tigerman on vocals).

                Not to be outdone, Slate, in a moment of total brilliance (which is rare for him), contacted his old singer songwriter friend, the lovely and talented Eyeway (link...UNAVAILABLE? What the hell? Oh yeah, research is also too expensive for us. We couldn't find a link? We couldn't find a link. Oh fudge! Language! Oh, sorry.) With her awesome singing and Slate's average musicianship and mediocre production skills, they released the first single of his solo album, a cover of Sisters of Mercy's Dominion / Mother Russia, as Slate & the Revolution:

                Of course everything was all well and good at first. Aside from the minor mixing problems and totally inept placement of drum samples, the cover was received well by those who heard it. All but one group. Out of the darkest void of copyright protection hell came a swarm of Evil Music Insects (EMI), hell-bent on quashing Slate and Eyeway's tour de force performance (Slate's words, not ours) and, ironically, claiming dominion over the song, even though everything was sung and performed from scratch by Slate and Eyeway. Could it be that Slate and Eyeway did such a good job in covering the song that the Evil Music Insects (EMI) mistook the song for the original? Or could it be that, in a moment of true stupidity (something all too common for the MGUJ singer), Slate used the original song to help him organize his cover version and, despite his best efforts to mute any sign of the original song, somehow the Evil Music Insects could sense the heart of the original song beating within this newer version?

The world may never know.

Stay tuned for further updates on MFUJ's newest faux nemesis as well as an unlikely turn of events for the band of misfits known as MFUJ. Lets' just say, they might not have to be MFU+ any longer. (Will Shadow ever appear on camera outside of stock footage from old music videos?)

And now the Sex Pistols with their ode to Evil Music Insects, EMI

Thinking that the Occupy protesters had finally caught up with him, G Mod almost had a heart attack. It turns out that it was just a family of deer. Slate, you Wild Child!

Well, just chalk this one up as miscommunication at its funniest. Embattled manager of MFUJ and former member of the 1%, G Mod, had a rough day recently. After getting all of his paperwork done early in order to relax with a jar of macadamias and whatever was on the tube, something went horribly askew.

The band's leather lunged singer, Slate, came into the house and locked the door, thoroughly out of breath. Brick, the normally detached guitarist and founding member of the band, was the first to notice the singer's nervous countenance.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"We're surrounded!" he yelped with an exasperated voice.

"What?!" screamed the perturbed record producer/manager as he stood up, spilling all of the half eaten macadamias from his shirt.

"No...it can't be! This was a secure location. Oh Judas Priest! Say it ain't so. SAY IT AIN'T SO!"

G Mod proceeded to clutch his chest as he fell to the floor. Brick ran to his side, reluctantly, and immediately began to put his limited medical knowledge to work. Whether or not he actually helped or in fact worsened the blow of the chest pains is still up to debate.

"How did the Occupy Protesters find us?" Brick asked Slate.

"Occupy whatnow?" replied a confused Slate. "There's a family of deer out there! Grazing the grass and stuff."

"What?" G Mod asked, still clutching his chest.

"Deer! There's like six  of them."

"You mean to say...that you barged in here, out of breath, shouted that we were surrounded...and YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT A BUNCH OF ****ING DEER?!?"

"Um, well yeah..." replied the now frightened Slate.

"One of these days...he's gonna be the death of me..." lamented the weakened G Mod, lying in a pile of cracked macadamias and broken dreams.

  

A new year and a new misadventure begins. The Third Webisode premiere is here. *clears throat* Well, the rain exploded with a mighty crash as we fell into the sun. And the first one said to the second one there I hope you're having fun...

Despite technical difficulties caused by a burnt out computer, the transition to new video-making hardware/software and an angry mob led by an ursine rebel-rouser sporting a Che Guevarra t-shirt, MFUJSF would proudly like to present our third webisode. Well, perhaps proudly is too strong a word. We don't want to build up to much hype for a single episode.

What can we say? Well...the episode was filmed around Thanksgiving time but is only now being released. Yeah, that wasn't exactly scintillating behind-the-scenes commentary. I apologize. Also, despite previous posts saying otherwise, neither Shadow nor Tigerman appear in episode 3. Sorry for the disappointing news. We did record an epic Bass and drum jam with the two of them doing an epic cover of inna gadda-da vida. Unfortunately, the footage was snatched out of the camera by  a particularly aggressive protester and used as a jump rope. As of the writing of this blog, both Tigerman and Shadow have refused to play the song again so the performance will be lost forever.

Alas...

What do you need to know in order to watch this video? Hmmm. Let's see...
- Following financial difficulties (Downgrade from MFUJ to MFU+) and the appearance of an irate group of protesters who detest the extravagance of individuals like G Mod, the band was forced to flee their precious HQ and seek refuge in a distant hideaway.
-Shadow was left behind to take care of the HQ while the rest of the abnd went with G Mod. Though his story was not explored in this episode, perhaps a flashback sequence episode will reveal what Shadow is up to.
- Tigerman, who travelled with Brick, Slate and G Mod has not been seen in days. Where could he be? Future episode? Maybe.
- Brick is pretty mad at G Mod for soooo many reasons.
- Slate is pretty happy. Remember, whereas Brick accumulates angst into an ever growing wall, Slate wipes all his feelings clean all the time.
 -Despite his gruff public persona, G Mod's armor is imploding from within as his past mistakes are slowly coming back to haunt him. More on this in future episodes.


And now....the feature presentation.

And to thank you for watching, here is Band on the Run!