I had to address this.

Farrah was tragic, but I am glad she isn't in pain anymore. I am glad she is finally at rest. She was an icon for a generation.

But she was not as big of a part of my life, especially my childhood development, as Michael Jackson.



Yeah, he was batshit insane. But that doesn't change the fact that I knew the "Thriller" album from start to finish by the time I was 2, or that I had the "Bad" album the same way by the time I was 5. The tapes in the car would go from "There's a Hole in the Bucket" to "Man in the Mirror" regularly.

I watched "The Making of Captain EO," on betamax until I wore it out. My mom and dad taped it off TV for me and I watched it religiously. I never got to get to Epcot to see it. It was something that always made me sad. When Jacko went Wacko, it was truly a sad moment for me. A childhood icon, hell, a childhood friend to a strange, only child was gone, destroyed. But he was always singing in the back of my head.

You will be missed, Michael. So sorry you went crazy, that you became the pariah that you became. I think alot of people forgot about that today, at least for a moment. They remembered you at your best, the unrivaled King of Pop, at the moment you touched their lives the most.

Rest In Peace, Mr. Jackson. I'll always remember you at your best. I thank you for being part of my life.

A link to "Thriller" in its entirety, embedding disabled by request


I found "The Making of Captain EO," on Youtube. Part 1 above the cut, 2&3 below, along with "Captain EO," in its entirety and a collection of MJ pics I gathered up today. I hope you enjoy.















The actual Full Length "Captain EO"


































You will be missed.

The Holy Gopher Pilgrimage: Day Four.

I apologize for the lateness of this post. I know it has been a long while since the gospel has touched you, dear burrowers. But now, after a weekend filled with sunburns and naked men (A story which I will empart another day,) I give you the final leg of The Holy Gopher's journey.

For those of you who are interested, yes, there are more of THG adventures that will be told to you all. For no, THG cannot leave you now, now that he has touched you all in oh so many ways. No, he has so much more to teach you, he cannot leave you in your hour of need.

But onto our tale.



I woke with makeup and hair camera-ready of course, courtesy of The Gopher, and we headed out onto the road. He Who Lives For The Earth was quite a crankypants - I think he was just getting cabin fever from four days in the car, which is understandable. No being was meant to be jammed in a car for days on end. Not even the Italian Mafia.




Still, he was a brilliant navigator and we were well on the way to California. It wasn't long into our journey that we reached Arizona, otherwise known as "The Gorgeous State that Casey won't let us move to because it's too hot." Yes, I called my girlfriend out. It's alright, she still won't move there.




It was truly a majestic land, a world of craggy rock and rich green hills, fierce winds and highways you could go 75 miles per hour on. The Gopher felt at home here, as if he was always meant to watch over these lands. He looked out over the mountains and valleys of this great state with a strong solemnity, as if he would never see a more fitting place to reign.

Truly, Arizona became a land of wonder for us. We were awestruck at the sheer magnitude of what lay before us, eyes wide with all its brilliance. And it was then, and only then, that the Gopher spoke that day.

"I want to see dinosaurs."

I blinked, unsure of how to proceed. One does not correct The Gopher. But did he not know that the dinosaur had long since perished?

Suddenly, my car revved its engine and picked up speed. I could not believe it, but as I glanced down I was set into shock at what I saw.

The Gopher was driving.




We careened down an abandoned road the likes of which I have never seen. I stifled my screams of horror, trying to find my trust in The Gopher, but to say I was not scared would be an outright lie. What we came upon, though, was truly nothing short of amazing.




The Meteor Crater.

It is said this is the first meteor crater to be found in the United States and that it has not changed all that much since it was made. We touched a piece of the meteor that made the hole:




Yes, that means what you think it means. The above would be read as such: WE TOUCHED SOMETHING FROM OUTER FUCKING SPACE.

The magnitude of that still makes me reel.

The Crater is off the beaten path of I-40 by a good ten minutes but the trip was beyond worth it. The Meteor Crater not only had a museum filled with interesting facts and wonderful hands-on exhibits, but to see something that exists on the planet solely because of it hurtling through our atmosphere was quite humbling to say the absolute least.

When you are on the observation decks, they have many telescopes set up to get a better idea of how huge this crater was. One of the telescopes was focused on an example of what a six foot tall astronaut and a 3x5 flag would look like in comparison to the crater. They were planted in the very center of the crater, from what I could tell of the telescope's placement. When you looked through the telescope, it was plain to see. When you looked away, though, it was so tiny that you literally couldn't see it.

That was how big this hole was. I believe this is how The Gopher made his way to our planet. Sure, He could have simply appeared, as many gods do. But I believe that being the entirely unique being He is, that He rode a blazing hot meteor over a century ago to blast a hole into our earth's crust. Believe what you will.

We also got a look at the kind of pod that the practiced re-entering Earth's atmosphere with (aka, this is the test dummy they dropped from a great height into an ocean to make sure people wouldn't die when they dropped onto Earth from space.) That was quite exciting, to say the least, even if it was a prototype that never made it to space.






We got our pictures at the crater, said our goodbyes and went on our merry way.






As we continued on our journey, we both had an intense thirst come upon us. It was jarring, to be sure. Luckily, we came across something that we felt would quench our thirsts. After all, if it was named after polygamists, it must be strong in quantity.




"HOW DARE YOU DISRUPT OUR SLUMBERRRRRR RAWWWWWWWWWWR!!!!!!" Whirling around, The Holy Gopher and his illustrious consort were brought face to face with just what He has wished to come upon us.

Yes, we came across the dinosaurs. A myth brought to life only in your wildest nightmares.




I trembled. He Who Is The Dirt was a match for them, this was sure. But there were so many of them, their teeth vicious, their eyes devoid of any emotion but pure, unerring bloodlust. I dropped to my knees in prayer, giving my all, my everything to my Bic Prophet.




They crowded in and at any moment I was sure that THG would be overtaken. I had a sheer crisis of faith, my friends. How can one gopher vanquish such an army? They would gobble him up in one bite before any of his peace and majesty could be shared with them.




"Silence, vicious monsters." A figure emerged from the shadows. It too towered over the Blessed Rodent and we all watched in baited breath, Human and Reptilian alike. I was shaken, my mouth dry as they weighed each other's gazes.




They embrace! A stricken silence filled the air. I believe I heard the tiniest intake of breath, followed by an awed sob. It was as the gospel said.

"And so it shall be, according to the prophecy, that The Holy Gopher may come across the most powerful of beasts, and the beasts too shall look upon him. They shall look upon him and tremble at his small stature.

And it is then that a King of Beasts shall appear. The Gopher shall offer peace upon his people and the beast shall accept it, their embrace bringing together the strength of nations, the understanding of hope."

A tear rolled down my cheek. And so it was that He Who Digs came upon the pack of dinosaurs and brought them to His Paw, to which they celebrated by performing "A Chorus Line."




They brought us to meet the oldest of dinosaurs, an ancient who they solely knew as Cyril. He had diminshed to nothing but a skull, his teeth powerful and frightening in his skull as he and THG made their introductions. As was the custom, The Gopher took his rightful place above Cyril's head.




Our journey ended not long after that, Arizona giving way to the wild gas prices of California, where highways only exist in the minds of Mapquest and people wonder why you are appalled that they only where their bikini to the grocery store. It was a trip to be remembered, to be admired, watched over by the patron saints Michael and Jason, guided by none other than Him Himself.




For those who are concerned, there will be more Holy Gopher. Never fear. He also has a Twitter you may follow, which you can find here: http://twitter.com/theholygopher

Good evening, gentle readers. May His Paws be upon you.

Furred Blessings,
Steph

The Holy Gopher Pilgrimage: Day Three, PART TWO.

When we continued on our journey, we came upon someone who claimed to be housing Billy The Kid.



The Gopher wanted a picture, for it was He Himself who orchestrated Billy's downfall. I was amazed and oh so humbled to hear of such feats of courage and might. I became so overcome, that I made the Bill Cosby Pudding Cup Face.




I am truly blessed to have been chosen by such a benevolent and yet just god.

It was a long trek yesterday. A day that both me and He Himself will soon forget, I am sure. The vast nothingness spread out in front of us like a plague, further feeding my beliefs that Texas is indeed purgatory. No beginning, no end, just a long, straight path of asphalt and shrubbery. It never wants you to leave. Much like Hotel California, but with out the whores and fine alcohol.

Soon, we came across a native of the lands. He was red of skin, a feather in his thick, black hair. He knew of THG, of his majesty and wished for us to follow him. The native explained to us he knew of somewhere we could roam free, a place free of blank voids.

His name...was Running Indian.




We both apologized for the poos man's oversimplified existence and horror-inducing name. It seemed that although both I, the emissary, and He, The One Who Watches From The Ground, were happy for a distraction and change of scenery, that we must tread lightly in order to leave this place alive.




We wove in and other of the labyrinthine displays of shot glasses and turquoise, our minds sharpening to alert ourselves to any imminent danger. It was clear that this place was no normal shop.




It seemed that those found to be enemies of this land was turned to bronze, much like the dozen Jesuses from Cross Land. But the difference here was that instead of a story, there was no rhyme or reason to the statues. A young boy frozen looking into a fountain with his dog as a ball is for some reason plopped in the middle. A gigantic dolphin cresting through a wave, 8 ft tall and designed for indoor or outdoor use.




Even a poor cowboy pulling a mime's rope. Where was the other end? Only the Gopher knows.




Where they chilis? Were they cowboy boots? For this one, the Gopher needed a moment of contemplation.

Finally we came upon a strange sight, even among this amalgum of horrors.




It was clear our time at the Store That Time Forgot. The Gopher paid his respects to the majestic animal...




And we ventured off.




That concluded our day in New Mexico, the sun setting over the foothills of Arizona. A day filled with dying Jesi, crosses made of aluminum siding, and dizzying Native American stereotypes.




It was a day that will live in on in our hearts, in our minds, in our spirits. A day of accomplishment. A day of peace.

May you all sleep well, dear followers.

Feeder Bottles and Foraging,
Steph

P.S. I will leave you with this thought to ponder though, beloved readers.

What is a Hay Fart?

The Holy Gopher Pilgrimage: Day Three, PART ONE.

I apologize for the lack of service last night. I know many of you have been touched by His Holeliness, ready to dedicate your days to Him. But it seems the disruptive forces that came upon us in St. Louis was one step ahead of us in arriving to Gallup last night and cut the phone lines. This effectively halted all communication to the outside world, including internet.

Needless to say, THG comforted me in my terror, his soft chitterings sending me off to sleep as the monsters howled outside. It was truly a harrowing experience. And now, without any further ado...

When I woke and found the strength to venture into the bright, morning sun, I found my will weak. What would come of us today? Will we survive to hibernate in our small hotel rooms once more?




When I arrived at Denny's, I was still quite shaken by the lack of internet the evening before. I was having a crisis of faith - should I abandon this journey, I thought to myself? Is this cross-country pilgrimage to the City of Angels really risk gambling one's life on?

"Drink, my child." The Gopher was calm, serene, offering me a cup of what could only be descrived as liquid strength. A shining bowl of Splenda sat at the ready beside him, his gaze unfaltering as tears welled in my eyes.

"But oh Great One," I choked past my tight throat, "I am so scared. We have so far yet to go."

"And yet, you have come farther than you imagined." Still, he motioned to my arms. "But I have adorned you with the proper sigils in which to protect yourself."

I looked down at my arms and in amazement saw what had appeared there.






I gasped. There in bright technicolor were Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers engraved on my skin, their teddy bear visages bringing forth a renewed confidence within me. With these two pillars of unerring fanatacism I knew that I would get through this day, my will just as strong if not stronger now that I had the two masked teddies upon my flesh.




The coffee was ambrosia, an elixir the likes of which none but Denny's can prepare. I quietly gave thanks as it's magic worked its way through me, preparing me for the task at hand.

We began our ride again, the vastness of Texas laid out before us. I noted a sign as we rode along, boasting that at the next exit "The Largest Cross In The Western Hemisphere" was housed. It was impossible not to stop, to pay our respects to a religion much younger but no less as humbling as Christianity.




The sheer height of it awed me, next straining to see the top. Oh yes, this was a mighty symbol...




The Gopher and I paid our respects, His Burrowing Grace parting from me only once to enter the replica of Jesus' Tomb. All Fourteen Stations of the Cross were present, including a marble stairbase that led to a life-size bronze statue of Jesus dead upon the cross. Needless to say, we quickly departed. This was clearly a place of deep meditation, and there was still work to be done.

Finally, after hours of harrowing winds and vast nothingness, I became addled. I discovered this day that in Oklahoma, Texas and New Mexico that there is an astounding amount of nothing.







Do you see anything different? Neither do I.

The trip wasn't all for naught, though. Word of The Gopher through my blog has begun to spread, my friend Stefanie calling me to help break the monotony that was my existence upon this day.




The Gopher listened to The Great Stefanie's adventures, her stories colorful. This pleased He Who Forages Below. He blessed the humble bi-ped, my heart leaping at the idea of out little flock growing already.




Still, the road madness had settled in. My world became a blur of flat lands, of blank landscapes that only the strongest amongst the human race would be able to endure.






I begged THG for a sign, for anything that may save my sanity. I felt the concepts of reality slipping away from me, the ethics of right and wrong becoming a muddled chaos that only the most unstable of madmen experience. "Please," I murmured to the Small Savior," "Give me a sign."




Behold! I opened my eyes to a staggering sight - a replica of a Brontosaurus Bone. I gazed at it in shock, my madness quickly losing its grip as I dropped to one knee before the tiny god that had gifted me with such a brilliant piece of interesting history.

We approached the inside of the rest stop, His Gopherness taking in his surroundings as one might survey their prized accomplishments. I turned my head to thank He Who Must Dig, only to be caught by a brilliant sight.




A SHAKESPEARE GHOST TOWN!!!




I was beside myself with joy. I would jump at the chance to experience such a place, its promises of Old West Gunfights and Shakespearean Reenactments nearly bringing me to my knees. To think such a paradise exists! Truly, The Gopher had touched his tiny claws upon me this day. I would be unable to visit such an invention, but I had no fear. To know that out there, somewhere, someone was uttering the Saint Crispin's Day speech and firing a Colt was enough to keep me weeping myself to sleep that night.