Rochambeau Myself By Maynard James Keenan

Maynard James Keenan: Rochambeau Myself
By Maynard James Keenan
Published Mon., Sep. 24 2012 at 4:00 AM

I love a good comedy. Browsing through mental notes of quotable material, apropos for tedious moments brought on by the petty, the narrow minded, and the desperate, keeps me questionably sane.
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Snippets from films like Talladega Nights, Super Troopers, and The Jerk can have an almost Fountain Of Youth effect on me when applied to said moments. Other films supply the occasionally necessary yet unintentional gut laugh, such as Battlefield Earth, Godfather III, and the entire Twilight series. (Side Note and Fun Fact on the Twilight Series: The scripts WERE NOT randomly generated by an iPhone app or by a team of Emo Eunuchs on LSD. They were, in fact, intentionally written that way. This was not an experiment as I had originally assumed upon viewing.)

Twilight: Not, in fact, “randomly generated by an iPhone app or by a team of Emo Eunuchs on LSD.”
The reason I bring all this up is that I’ve been buried under grapes for seven solid weeks now. It’s been a month and a hefty half of fantastically productive 14-hour days with some very promising juice for the 2012.
I miss my trips down to the 602 to dine and complain poetically with Mr. Wexler at NoCa or to dine and plot some twisted yet simple dinners with Mark Tarbell. I needed a break and I needed to get out of the house/bunker, but there’s no way I can be two hours away from the winery this time of the year.

So I checked in with my local theaters to see if there were any just-above-marginal films to which I could set my brain on cruise control. Doesn’t have to be a zinger. Just has to have fresh-popped corn and sugar stuff. I am fully capable of manufacturing and rationalizing any excuse to watch a crap film as long as I can go face-deep in a popcorn container large enough to require a child safety warning. Double-fisted side of red licorice, please. (Children, be warned. If you kick my chair, interrupt my two-hour vacation, or attempt to stick your grubby booger paws anywhere near my popcorn or licorice, you will become the poster child for that bucket’s safety warning. Please refer to the Robert Downey Jr./Juliette Lewis scene in Due Date. Copy?)

“Painfully Comedic”
So I looked at the local movie listings. Very promising. Four of them involved Sweaty Gladiator types with guns and explosions and lots of running towards or away from situations/things/persons that were either supposedly spooky and/or somewhat dangerous. And although I didn’t bother with the trailers, I was certain they would include some yawningly awesome one-liners. This may call for a civil round of Rochambeau.
Wait! What’s this? An Obama film! Say it isn’t so! Could it possibly be as Painfully Comedic as Fahrenheit 9-11, Fox News, or Al Gore’s film? I can’t remember the name of that one but I believe it was something like WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE, unless you scrap your perfectly good vehicle & ONLY drive your sister’s emasculating hybrid. I may be a little off on that one, but I’m on a roll and too lazy to Google it.

That said, I did watch his film, and because I am the paranoid type, I now have more hoarded SPF 200, ham radio batteries, and MREs (formerly referred to as C-Rations. Don’t make the mistake of picking up a gross of those. Not so tasty anymore. Saltpeter has no shelf life) than I’ll ever know what to do with. I’d love nothing more than to introduce Mr. Gore to Rochambeau the hard way. Note to Secret Service: I’m kidding, so you can remove your twitchy hands from your pistols, please. And don’t worry. I have no intention of turning this column into a bi-partisan mixed vomit bag of political agendas. But I will say this. Politicians are the new Andy Kaufmann. If only he were around to enjoy it all.

Now I must be off to my two-hour vacation. It’s a toss-up between The Bourne Legacy and Expendables 2. Tough call as both are running pell-mell towards Feel Good Comedy of the Year. Suppose I’ll need to Rochambeau myself to decide.

Chicken Little out.

Follow Maynard James Keenan on Twitter: @caduceuscellars, @mjkeenan, @puscifer. Read his column every other week on Up on the Sun.

What is Puscifer? By Maynard James Keenan

What is Puscifer?
By Maynard James Keenan
Published Mon., Oct. 8 2012 at 3:00 AM

What is Puscifer? (Besides being the International Multi-Media Project I’ve been developing since 1995?) Good question. We usually respond with the very dismissive and obviously evasive answer: “What is Puscifer is what Puscifer is.” A less evasive version of the answer is that it is an “uncertain creative space where almost anything goes.” In keeping with that moving target sensibility, I will attempt to go the long way around with yet another one of many possible elusive answers.
Stow away all your baggage and get cozy. Your in flight cocktail for this Air Bus cruise will include ingredients such as sarcasm, grossly unsubstantiated conclusions, assumed facts not in evidence, smoke, mirrors, and a dash of improvisational hogwash. Seat belts on. Electronics off.

See also: Maynard James Keenan: Rochambeau Myself
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See also: Maynard James Keenan (Puscifer, Tool, A Perfect Circle) on The Importance of Keeping It Local
A quick note before we go wheels up. If you happen to be one of the .001% of the worlds traveling humans that was able to arrive at an airport with a valid plane ticket in your name with proper id and all that, but you don’t know how to use a seat belt, do us all a favor. Go back thru the security check point. Place all of your reproductive organs on the screening tray in a manner that will compel the extremely alert, understanding, hospitable TSA agents to run them through the X-Ray several times to get a better look. Once they’ve finished finger banging your personal effects, collect them all up. Go find your gate, and then go ahead & take a seat on the actual wing. Great views. Plenty of leg room.

So begins your in flight entertainment. At some point in human history we became aware of our own mortality. When confronted with the death of a companion, we had the epiphany that this was simply no longer just a pile of inanimate meat and bone. This was our companion and whatever energy made them who they were is no longer present. And then reality sinks in: Someday I will no longer be here. And for the first time we asked the question. Why? Why are they no longer here? What can I do to prevent that from happening to me? Or at the very least, “what can I do to put off the inevitable?”

We were now aware that our very survival was directly connected to and contingent upon how creative we could be. Our instincts to Fight or Run were not enough. We weren’t as fast or strong as our larger and ferocious opponents. Instead, we needed to use every fiber of our imagination, every spark of our creative energy to stay ahead of these daily threats on our lives. Otherwise the ever-present realty was this. Today could very well be our last.

Peanuts? Peanuts? Peanuts? Peanuts? Would you like a beverage?

So here we were, clever little talking monkeys trying desperately to type war and peace before the ink runs out. We began to observe, interpret, and chronicle what we began to recognize as patterns. Through trial and error discovered the appropriate responses to these challenges and threats to our lives. And we rehearsed these responses, these movements, these actions and reactions until they became skills. And in an attempt to keep these new found skills fresh, we would execute them daily. Not only in but also out of context. We rehearsed them in the form ritual and dance and prose. In essence, we would hunt, cultivate and build by day. And by night, around the central fire, we would rehearse, recount, re-live, and perform as well as celebrate another day of our survival. This was a time when the artistic and the utilitarian were in perfect balance. This was a time when we as a culture recognized the importance our creative power. So, what is Puscifer? Clearly Puscifer is a multifaceted structure with multiple cornerstones, 3 of which we’ll admit.

1.An attempt to reconnect with that seemingly lost balance between the Artistic and Utilitarian.

2.An attempt to reawaken our inner storyteller, and our ability to Observe, Interpret, and Report all the fun stuff we’ve witnessed.

3. An attempt to remind us all to dance before the inevitable End of the World. (Make checks and money orders payable to Chicken Little C/O…etc.)

Because we at Puscifer feel that Life is too short not to create something with every breath we draw.

Please return your seat to its upright and locked position. (Unless of course you’re one of those thumb-less hopefully now sterile types seated out on the wing.)

Chicken Little out.

Follow Maynard James Keenan on Twitter: @caduceuscellars, @mjkeenan, @puscifer. Read his column every other week on Up on the Sun.