wordological wordism: fyootch

to fyootch:

to time travel backwards, locate friends and contemporaries of one's ancestors (and/or the ancestors themselves), and intervene somehow in reaction to things they are going to do later in life.

various usage examples:

In my dream, Shawn Penn fyootched his great-great-great-grandfather a mean one.

Shawn Penn is a bastard fyootcher.

Cyberdyne Systems sent a Terminator to 1984 to pull a major fyootch on Sarah Connor.

In a textbook sci-fi-counter-fyootch, John Connor sent Kyle Reese back to 1984 as well.

Biff Tannen committs negligent-self-fyootch in Back to the Future II, followed by a Marty-Mcfly-counter-fyootch whose murder is averted only by a classic Doc-Brown authoritative-rescue-fyootch.

the following dreamt on 23 feb. 2009 -

Shawn Penn, great great great grandson of Sean Penn, was visiting me from the year 2165 and had brought me a trans-conciousness device with which I was supposed to swap consciousnesses with Sean Penn and attempt to control his violent urges so as to avert some sort of cultural apocolypse that he is going to bring about in 2012.

a wordological wordism: "schumacher" (v.)

schumacher (auf Deutsch: schumacher)
usage: (to) schumacher (something)

to embellish, alter, or manipulate something for ANY or ALL of the following reasons:

1. a 3-picture deal
2. $16.4 million
3. widespread appeal
4. putting asses in seats.

Origin: In the mid-90´s, as a kind of modern-day (and high-profile) version of Ed Wood, film director Joel Schumacher took the reins of an otherwise respectable filmmaking tradition (Batman) and turned it into a tour-de-FARCE. With nothing even remotely harkening to the creativity and zaniness of the old TV show nor the darkness and slick stylized storytelling of the two Tim Burton Batman projects, the (count 'em) two Schumacher Batman films took the series (and superhero films in general) to an all-time low. Appearing as though Schumacher called all the A-list celebrities he knew and asked them to run around in costume on a Hollywood sound stage, Batman Forever (1995), and Batman & Robin (1997) have come to represent a period of complacency, over-indulgence, and what-the-fuck-is-this-itude in Hollywood cinema. Recently, Christopher Nolan has resurrected the legend yet again, more so in the Burtonesque tradition (minus a kick-ass musical theme from danny elfman), and going perhaps more extreme into gritty realism (which apparently everyone has to do now because of, I dont know, terrorism and Computer Animation?) It was as though, following 9/11, everyone was like, "Shit! violence IS real! I had no idea...from now on, we better stick to representing reality!"...but I digress. Anyway, while the new films have been well received, The Ad Hoc Project is concerned that Batman has become a bit of the village bicycle and would like to encourage the general superhero discourse to move on (read: lots of pressure on The Watchmen).

*NOTE: While normally we attempt to champion fair and balanced reporting, the staff here at the The Ad Hoc Project must confess that we unanimously feel that the first Batman film, Batman (1990), is really the first and best post-modern attempt on the story. Tim Burton´s storytelling skills, his collaboration with danny elfman and prince, and his signature balance of realism and style, combined with some awesome casting decisions and performances make the film the only one necessary. The next 5, we find irrelevant. Also when lined up next to each other, we feel that the Batmoblie from the first film is 47% more "menancing", and 62% "cooler-looking" than the Batmobile from any of the other films.

T.A.O.T.G. Episode 3: Of Agnes Borchardt: Dentist, Reliable Bar Patron, and Sometime Giver of Assistance and Equipment.

"Dr. Borchardt is not in on Tuesdays. Would you like to make an appointment with her associate Dr. Marvin?" No, I would not.

"No, I would not, thank you," I say semi-politely and hang up the phone. Agnes Borchardt, D.D.S. works 3 days a week. I guess in dentistry if you can find a few others who share your passion for working as little as possible, you can open a partnership office and work only on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. This also seems to mean that dentists earn enough to live on from 3 days of work (and when you break it down, the appointments on those days seem to only happen between 9 and 3). Yeah...dentistry really starts to seem like a sham...but I digress.

Anyway, our healthcare provider is an HMO and Borchardt was the first name on the list when I, at the behest of my mother, decided to go in for a cleaning last year. I can never recall exactly how it went down but during that initial visit, she was somehow able to use her dental powers to not only extract from my mouth a loose filling, but also that I was an on-comission P.I. and would handsomely reward a client referral. It was barely a week later that I was working the Friday night shift downstairs and first learned about my dentist's love of the sauce. (Note: She has absolutely never, as far as I can tell, performed any dentistical procedures under the influence of alcohol or drugs.) (I think she merely likes to throw down a few on her off-days, which number 4 for those playing at home.)(I hope thats it.)

Now, when you work as a bartender, even as little as I do, you'll come to find that a lot of your friends are alcoholics or a bunch of alcoholics have become your friends, or something; you don't even remember which way it goes. Agnes is a textbook one-of-these.

Come to think of it, I've given 12 client-referral drink coupons in the last year and all but one were from Agnes. I really don't know how she does it. She's really just some kind of social "gap-filler", uniting the collective unconscious, bringing souls closer together. And she throws down Appletinis like water.

Other important facts:

I guess to keep her office environment loose and friendly, she insists that patients and everyone call her by her first name. When she comes in the bar, however, I like to make everyone call her "Doctor". I think it makes her nervous. I just find it funny to hear "Another Drink, Doctor?" And then sometimes when talking about her in the 3rd person, I call her the Shard. It sounds sinister. As in: "You dont wanna tell us about Carlito??? Maybe we should see if the Shard has a better idea..."

In all seriousness, her socio-commuicational skills have come in handy and she has assisted several times in "smoothly & efficiently" extracting desired information from people. (See Case #258: The Taco-shop Polygamists and the Wedding-Gift-Registry Scam)

Also, Deeb Mueller and I once borrowed her X-Ray machine to survey the contents of a briefcase. Yes, we did. And it worked.

T.A.O.T.G. Supplemental Materials 1

Dear loyal reader,

because i have time in between incoming calls, i've decided to periodically post documents related to our story.  the following materials are pdfs.  let me know if this is a problem, and i'll have one of our interns make jpegs or something and then bring me a goddamn cappuccino.

1. and now to pull the rug out from under the acronym, or: if our story had a "cover"

2. the first comp beverage ticket (ref. episode 2)

3. the fax I received from the Admiral (ref. episode 2).  the man can talk and fax at the same time.  it's mindblowing.

4. a t-shirt idea that is now officially public domain.  if you use it, at least send me a picture.  (ref. episode 2)

see you soon in episode 3

sincerely,

t. green

T.A.O.T.G. Episode 2: Of The Admiral, how he characterizes himself, and how I came into his employment.

An impatient and clearly accented voice is on the other end of the line. It`s some form of Euro-English but I can´t tell initially whether its of the UK or Australian variety.

"Hellau?...Yes-Yes, well, Bainbridge here. S. Bainbridge...Admiral Bainbridge, see? Is this Green, extension 7, Acme P.I.?

This sounds like a referral. I open the first drawer of my desk, pull out a comp beverage ticket, and place it next to the phone. This reminds me to ask at some point during the conversation for the caller to identify the referring party. It´s kind of a dirty trick though because I´ll just score a tip on the "free" drink later. It´s dirty pool but then we are kind of a 2-bit operation. I write the letter ´a` in the corner of this ticket because my skills of detection tell me Agnes sent this one my way. She´d be most likely to know someone like this and she´s an alcoholic.

"Yes, Mr. Bainbridge, this is Gr-"
"Oustanding-outstanding...Actually it´s about bloody time; I rang earlier and your line was occupied. What kind of 2-bit operation are you running over there without an answering service? Nevermind, then. Let´s get down to brass tacks here Green.
"Ok."
"Let me tell you a little bit about myself. I am a small, small man, Mr. Green. A mere crumpet under 5 feet. But I have large, illustrious, IN-dustrious ideas!! I´m an idea man, see? A big picture man. I see the whole bloody picture, loud and clear. Show me 3 eggs, sugar, and a pound of Irish butter, and I see shortbread. There are big picture men and there are detail men; do you follow me, Mr. Green?"
"I...think so-"
"Good-good. I like you Green. I like you a lot. Let me explain."

Talking to this guy is like riding on a Ferris Wheel with the Wizard of Oz. I dont´t know what that means. He goes on:

"You see, I´m starting a new project, well, a buisness, well, let´s call it simply a venture. Or an exploit. And I´m assembling a team of individuals. Skilled individuals, see? Detail people...follow me? I´ll delve into the exploit and the nature of the individuals later. Anyhow, my personality unfortunately prohibits me from trusting anyone. This is where you come in, Mr. Green. I would like to hire you as a member of my team but secretly only as a kind of ´mole´. You will be given tasks in the presence of the other team members but outside of team meetings, your only job will be to watch the others like a hungry, lonely, meat-vulture and report to me explicitly at another time and date about their behaviors. I must know, can you handle this, Mr. Green?"
"Well, I think-"
"Smashing! I knew I could count on you! We´ll meet twice a week, once for team meetings and once for your report. I will pay whatever you want. Fax me a contract. Our first meeting is Wednesday at 8pm. Come round to my flat for a late supper."  

A fax rolls off my machine with the Admiral's address.  He's out of control.

"This will be the first team meeting. See you in 2 days Mr. Green."
"Wait a minute, sir, I-"
"My dentist, Mr. Green: Agnes Borchardt. She spoke highly of you. Fancy that, we have the same dentist...Good day, Mr. Green."
-click-

And thus, the all-knowing, all-powerful Admiral had spoken. Upon de-board of this wacky carnival ride of a conversation, I exhale and flip to ´B` in my Rollodex.

You must be at least this tall to communicate with me.

T.A.O.T.G. Episode 1: Of why and when the phone is answered.

The phone rang.

No seriously, it really did ring but when it does I always think about how 78% of all detective stories start with this sentence and the irony being that 100% of my cases start this way not because this is, in a way, a detective story, but rather because that’s how my job works. I am, to put it simply, an on-call associate for Acme Private Investigation & Fine Italian Dining, Inc. I’m a P.I. like Magnum minus the whole swanky Hawaii gig. And the moustache. Like many industries, the P.I. industry was appropriated in the late 90s by corporations and now I work at a desk in a cubicle taking calls from our hotline. I don’t drive a Ferrari but when the phone rings, I know for a fact that something at least slightly mysterious awaits me at the other end. I live for these morsels of irony.

The phone rang again.

Ah, the sound of an actual bell. Last year the boss bought all of us these olive-green Mountain-Bell rotary phones from 1972 because he said it would create a more “Sam Spade-like” office environment. I must admit, in this day of cell phone ring tone madness, the mechanical bell sound is music to my ears.

But wait, you say. Whats up with “Private Investiagation & Fine Italian Dining”? Interesting story. In 2001, we hired our 40th Associate and basically got too big for our britches. Three months later the boss purchased a two-story building downtown with more than enough office space upstairs. What was on the ground floor? Carter’s Seafood. This old bastard Carter had basically run his restaurant into the ground and was about to liquidate.  The boss decided to buy everything in a lump and reopen it as an Italian joint. I guess he figured he could save us a little money on lunch while making a little money on the outside world. The kicker is that 2 days out of the month we all have to rotate through the service team in the restaurant. I tend bar.

Yet again, the phone rang.

By the third ring, I’m usually starting to feel a little guilty for not picking up as we are supposed to be a pseudo-emergency hotline. But then if you’re having a heart attack, I can’t help you anyway, other than transferring you to 9-11, which I have done, twice.
“Acme Investigations & Italian, Green Speaking. Personal, professional, or take-out?”
“…(gurgling)…I’ve….been…shot…I think…I…”
“Please hold while I transfer you to emergency dispatch.”

I guess the point, if there really is one, is that I usually answer my phone about halfway between the 3rd and 4th rings. That gives me an answering rhythm, or “A.R.”, as the Bobs like to call it, of 3.5. And I do it not to be an asshole, but merely to take the few moments mechanically allotted to me by the telephone to reflect on how point A led to point B, which led to C, and so on...

And so this is when I pick up.