Another Year, Another JUhS Reunion

I'm still dead, but if you're in the area this holiday season my spirit will be roaming the streets of New York City.

Why New York? Because that's where the three surviving Dad Dudes (and their lady friends) will gather, finally together after a year and likely not at all lamenting my death. Not in the slightest.

But I'll be there in spirit, meant in a very real sense. If I can harness this Spectrix of Awesome I've been talking about and somehow inject said spirit into the body of a sentient being, have no doubt shit will go down. They say revenge is a dish best served cold, but whoever said that was a pussy.

Despite my current state of non-livingness, it will almost certainly be a kick ass few days.

Since I'm dead and writing is a significant burden, I'd like to convey my prediction of how the New Year gathering will unfold through a series of images. Via stream of consciousness, if you will, since that's the only natural conduit left available to me. Oh, and fuck all of you.

NEW YEARS EVE, THE JOHNNY WAY

You know, more or less like that.

Death® Revealed

I am dead.

Yes, you read it correctly. This is not a joke. This is not made up. I have died. Michael's story is completely true.

I've drawn in my last breath. I've fucked with my last airport security employee. I've made fun of my last French person.


As a result, obviously, there are now three where once there were four. In which case you may be thinking to yourself, how is this guy still posting on the Johnny if indeed he is as dead as he claims to be?

My answer to that is simple. Because everything you thought you knew about Death® before today is wrong. The Johnny Utah Symposium, due to the passing of one of its founding dad dudes, is able to uncover what no physicist, chemist, major religion, minor religion, astrologer, catholic, biologist, crazy homeless man, geneticist or philosopher has ever, in the history of mankind, been able to explain: what happens to us when we die?

I, Andrew John Salvoni, once stuck in the colon that is Planet Earth, have now passed through the anus of Death® and emerged, turd-like, into afterlife.

Before rewarding our most loyal readers with an explanation of what Death® is, I'll start by telling you what it isn't.

First, there is no god, or heaven, or even hell. Jesus doesn't walk up to you with a lamb in one hand and the keys to paradise in the other. There aren't 60 big-breasted virgins waiting to satisfy your every whim. There isn't a 8-armed hindu goddess or a fat dude riding an elephant. It's not pitch black or blinding white. There's no tunnel. There's no pearly gate. Your life doesn't flash before your eyes. There's no purgatory, no nirvana and no reincarnation. You don't fly through the stars and immediately know all the secrets of the universe. You don't get to meet John F. Kennedy, Babe Ruth or Adolf Hitler. You don't wake up in a pool of goo and realize you were stuck in a matrix created by the machines feeding off human energy. It's not a Linklater film, or a Dali painting. In short, Death® is not even close to anything you could conceivably expect.

Before I tell you what it is, I have one more thing to say...

In fact, I'm not actually going to give away the secret. Instead, I'm going to haunt this blog incessantly until I feel like stopping, or until the cure for death is found. Fuck all of you.

The JUhS Takeover Is Now (None days)

And so it begins.

The Takeover.

Let the goodness wash over you for just a few moments. We have a shiny new masthead now. All professional-like. Please continue to bask in it's orangey-red, mildly carcinogenic glow.

And there will be more. Oh balls yes. There will be more to come.

Don't think we've been building this shit up all month just to slap on a new header and call it a Takeover. More is, most assuredly, on its way.

There will be proclamations.

Proclamation One: The Johnny is metamorphosing before your very eyes. JUhS has always been the fucking awesome. You already knew that. But it's about to get the awesome in so many more ways. Which brings us to ...

Proclamation Two: The Johnny is now a multimedia empire. There will be videos. There will be musics. There will be arts. There will be reviews. There will be lore and myths. There will be poorly pieced-together jpegs. The written word is no longer enough to adequately deliver all we seek to convey. But we will not eschew it completely. For it is what brought us to this point, it is goodness, and will therefore continue.

Proclamation Three: We are the symposium. A collection of minds wielding powers previously unknown to the human species, given to us by an anonymous space-faring benefactor in the form of four objects. What began on an undersized basketball court in McKinney, Texas has spread across the globe. But the original binding purpose, the electrons weaving between neurons in our brains, transporting the thoughts which you see here now on this blog - this original electromagnetic spectrum/matrix (spectrix) of awesome - is no longer of merely physical proportions. Those thoughts now reside on the internets, an unfettered microcosm unhindered by time or distance, culminating in a crux that is the Johnny Utah Symposium.

If that didn't blow you the fuck away then just leave immediately.

Proclamation Four: There will be introductions. The Symposium consists of Four. The Founding Dad Dudes. One is for lonelies and crazies. Two is for pussies. Three is the magic number, but lacks philosophical magnitude. Four is for those who enjoy creating gifts of wonder and amazement, then coolin' out really, really hard afterwards. There are four Founding Dad Dudes. There are four Proclamations. Four is the new three. Four is the tits. These are the Four FDDs:

Andrew (JUhS)
Currently resides in London. Banker. Penned some sick pieces on Dannielllyyynnnnnn, among others. Runs the presidential election previews. Would never, ever think of posting on the Johnny from work. Once woke up next to a feather duster. Despises the French.

Andy (JUhS)
Currently resides in Dallas. Actor. Frequently compared to Russell Crowe. Our comparison: Gary Oldman with an axe to grind. Penned a classic on Fidel Castro. Up keeps the JUhS All-Stars. Once teabagged Andrew (JUhS) for falling asleep during Lebowski. FDD most likely to pose nude for cash.

Derek (JUhS)
Currently resides in Dallas. Ad Exec/Rock Drummer. Author of the seminal Derek 360 publication. Specializes in leaping in fronts internationally significant monuments. Dig Day founder. Member of hard rock super group Hardin Sweaty and the Ready To Go. Capable of growing the most balls hard beard you've ever seen.

Michael Thomas (JUhS)
Currently resides in L.A. Post-Prod/Writer/Miscellaneous Badass Hollywood Shit. Once morphed into a slimy three-foot pig. Will literally do anything, including taking a dump on stage in full audience view. After party blow job recipient. Rates movies with his boners. Pipe shimmier.

All of the Dad Dudes have swum in creamed corn. All of them have worn orange jumpsuits. All of them appreciate the musical stylings of Boston. All of them have fled coyotes in certain parts of the McKinney wilderness. All of them are master freestyle walkers. All of them have participated in the distinguished Movies of the Week. All of them post here, on the Johnny.

And please, let us not forget Wilbur Burris, from whence all of this came, and who, in his benevolence, guides us.

You have now been Tookover. Enjoy the ride. Hhhhot yyyyeah.

-The Johnny Utah Symposium