The Barstool Journal of Jonco Bugos

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Final Voice Print


This big slob from the wrong side of the space-time continuum bellied up to the bar at Think-A-Holic Lounge the other night. I could tell he was a salesman right off the bat because he wasn't in any hurry to get served. And he fussed and fidgeted with his collar and tie and then jingled the loose change in his pockets until the bartender came running out of sheer annoyance, if nothing else.

The big goof ordered a brewski and then I made the mistake of looking at him. He thought that was his cue to start busting my chops about his wares, "Death Prints". The very idea turned me off but I was also intrigued by his sales approach. He said he had digitally remastered "death rattles" (also called "final voice prints") of all the famous dead Hollywood movie stars since Valentino and about half of the the famous European writers since Kafka. I wasn't biting.

I told him I wasn't interested in that kind of creepy crap and to shove off or at least get the hell out of my face. The dark side of life was never my cup of tea and the dark side of death was even worse. That's when he reached into seemingly thin air and pulled down this disturbing piece of digital art. I recognized the artist's name immediately and laughed so hard I spilled the rest of my bubbly chaser on the salesman, just barely sparing the artwork from a foamy death. Too bad.

"Sorry about that, pal," I lied. "Say, whose death rattle is that supposed to be, anyway?"

"Yours," he said in a surprisingly calm voice. Then he quickly packed it in and left like the devil was chasing him.

Angus McCloud, the big-ass head bartender and the ghost of a 400-year-old Scot poet, was trying to suppress a sarcastic snort and I knew it wasn't because I'd spilled a drink on that damn dark-art salesman. He knew and I knew and I think that the salesman knew, too, that the joke was one me. So it was.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Hit And Run


About seven years ago, Betelgeuse Time, I had a mysterious encounter with a non-human female who'd popped into Think-A-Holic Lounge for a quick think fix. Her name was Made Of Stars and I'll never forget our otherworldly brief encounter. I almost gave up lounge lizardry after that experience but I didn't because I'm one of those sorry saps who still thinks he's going to meet Ms. Right on a barstool somewhere, hopefully at Think-A-Holic Lounge, and on some sunny Wednesday afternoon, no less. Hey, a guy can dream, can't he?

Anyway, I just read her obituary the other day in a local gossip rag and I didn't believe it at first. But Angus McCloud, our big-ass head bartender, said it may or may not be true, given the nature of gossip rags like the Saturn Tattler. Anyway, Made Of Stars had what they call in this part of the space-time continuum a "fatal collision". In her case, she was hit by a runaway Star Eater, the poor thing. Just looking at the newspaper photo of the Star Eater that hit her made me order a double shot of think-a-hol and toss it down right away. I'll always remember the way she glimmered just before she disappeared from the Lounge that day, seven years ago. Man, I wouldn't want to be a star or made of stars for all the solar sawbucks in the world. Here's looking at you, kid...

Friday, March 15, 2013

Boundless

Some people think there's always a story behind something. I used to be like that. A story is nice. I like a story. But a story doesn't necessarily lie behind everything you see. Some things just are. Trust me. 

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Making Mischief


I didn't charge you-know-who a dime for putting up this digital painting. But I had to look at myself in the mirror for a long time before I made the decision to post this work of art here. Michael Casher and I looked back and forth at one another through the looking glass for an eternity before we finally nodded our silent agreement to one another. No words were necessary.

Both of us think most people will find this face to be cute as hell and it may even delight them. But, after a wee dram of think-a-hol, they'll probably think what we're thinking and what aware people are thinking all over the world. If you think this face is cute and not hideous, then you're part of the problem and not part of the solution

Monday, March 04, 2013

The Invisible Pages

 
Let your fingers do the walking. I did.