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Posted by Spiny Norman But I'll submit for your kind spicely perusal an interim report on my progress thus far. All of us at Normco (r) are fully confident that we'll have Dinsdale located absolutely no later than June, 2076. THE SEARCH FOR DINSDALE 1996 - Concentrating my search around the greater Luton area, I scoured all the places I thought it likely to find Dinsy - boys homes, rest stop bathrooms, drag revues, etc. Did nor find Dinsdale. Contracted several interesting diseases. 1997 - Acting on a tip given to me by a diminutive wombat named Charley, I chartered a junk to Malaysia. The one-eyed captain and I get into fisticuffs when I misunderstand the Malaysian phrase "Ma Suk Lot Kok"* to be an insult to Mrs. Norman. Am forced to blow up the junk, and spend the rest of the year swimming. 1998 - Visited Shanghai after hearing the Chinese were celebrating the "Year of the Hedgehog." Am thrice set upon by cleaver-clasping Chinamen hoping to cook up that rarest of delicacies, “General Tso’s Hedgehog.” Briefly consider blowing up China, but have neither the heart, nor the available ammunition, to finish the job properly. Blow up Korea instead. Frankly, they all look the same to me. 1999 - My return trip to Luton is delayed another year in a Orient, as a mysterious operative and a young Harrison Ford task me to venture deep into the jungle primeval to "terminate...with extreme prejudice" a mad Colonel gone native. Confronting my own demons as the journey progresses, I soon find myself trapped in an allegory for the conflict between civilization and human nature, and loathing metaphorical and allegorical diversions of all kind, am forced to blow up the boat. More swimming. 2000 – Returning to Luton via the States, I stop off in San Francisco to do a thorough search for Dinsdale in many of the interestingly-named bars in the Castro district. Hear a rumor from Lance and Bryce in the “party room” at Club Manhole that Dinsdale was spotted in Canada. Journey to Canada, though sheer boredom after two days there forces me to call off the search and decide “if Dinsdale is here, he can have it.” 2001 – Gin, mostly. 2002 – Hearing reports of men dressed as ladies, I travel to Rio in time for Carnival. I dance with a bare-chested Brazilian boy from the favela. He compliments me on my dancefloor prowess, telling me “You’re the bomb!”, and asks where I learned my moves. No sooner are the words “Oh, Samba’ed in Luton” out of my mouth than several CIA officers in black suits appear and whisk me away. Spend six months in Cuba being asked by highly persuasive men about who I know. Once a more thorough background check reveals that the only organization I’ve ever been a part of is a 1990-1997 stint in the Right Said Fred fan club, am released. 2003 – When an overly-vigorous masturbation session accidentally tears the space/time continuum, I take advantage of this rare rip in the fabric of the universe to travel to the Astral Plane of Lost Souls. Do nor find Dinsy, but find Elvis, Jim Morrison, Tupac, and the guy from the Manic Street Preachers, who explain that the Plane is really a hide-out for music stars who wanted to fake their own deaths, and that until I’d moved at least 100k units, I needed to “piss off, and get [my] poor, grubby ass off the imported leather couch.” More fisticuffs. Tupac? All talk. Punked like a b###h. Morrison, unsurprisingly, cries like a girl upon the first simple sledgehammer-to-the-gut. Elvis puts up a surprisingly good fight for a guy in a sequined jumpsuit, but not good enough to counter my flamethrower. Return to Earth. Finish up. 2004 – Climb a treacherous peak in the Hindu Kush to seek the advice of Arulanasanaranathanadanagranathanastanastan, the purported “all-seeing swami” (at least according to his website). Ask if he’s seen Dinsdale. Gives me a lot a crap about “seeing inside myself” and “the meaning of the journey is the journey itself,” so I blow him up. For the record, I don’t think he saw that coming. 2005 – Back in Luton once again, I reconsider the direction of my life, and decide to quit the search for Dinsdale and take back up my old life as a journeyman competitor on the professional canasta circuit. Find, to my dismay, that I no longer fit into my “canasta pants,” and am forced to call off my plans. Find Dinsdale’s Myspace page. Does not reveal his current location, but reveals membership in fan groups for most of the leading boy bands. 2006 - The search continues...and I promise you, my friends, that my burning passion to bring Dinsdale to justice - much like the burning sensation in my crotch - shall never waver, shall never abate, and shall never relent. Well, maybe just a little.
on 3/17/2006, 11:41 am
66.155.148.14
Any of you blokes seen Dinsdale? I've been on the trail for ten years now, with precious little to show for it, apart from maybe syphilis and a tall stack of unpaid traffic tickets.
The first ten years
*(actual meaning: “I found Malcolm Gladwell’s latest piece in the New Yorker highly provocative, if a bit over-wrought. How about you?”)
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