JUhS Christmas Minutes

Sadly, the Johnny U Founding Dad Dudes were somewhat fragmented for Christmas Eve this year. In place of the Copes' annual Turtleneck extravaganza, a teleconference call was held. This being the first annual JUhS Christmas Eve Teleconference Call, no one was tapped to record the minutes beforehand. As junior Founding Dad Dude and former Eagle Scout, I was determined to have ultimately been responsible for taking down minutes and will thus attempt to do so retroactively in order to fulfil this duty.

The following is a fairly recent account of what transpired. These minutes are incomplete. In fact, this call may very well not have happened.

ROLL CALL:

Andy - Dallas
Michael Thomas - Dallas
PT (note: not a founding dad dude) - Dallas
Derek - Ohio
Andrew - New York
[????? non-understandable muttering, perhaps a Gen] - Dallas
"I don't want to be on this stupid call" - Dallas

TELECONFERENCE MINUTES:

[Dallas signs on]

[Ohio signs on]

[Ohio is booted]

[New York signs on]

Variations of "hello?" and "what's going on?" are uttered. It is determined that a sign in system should take place. Said system determines Ohio is not on the call. Time to flush it out.

[Call is aborted]

[Call is reinstated]

[Dallas signs on]

[Ohio signs on]

[Ohio is booted]

[New York signs on]

Again, after a sign on mishap, Ohio is not on the call. After some Christmas magic from the Dallas teleconference epicenter, all three JUhS outposts are simultaneously on the call.

Andy wishes everyone Merry Christmas and Happy Turtleneck Day.

Derek wishes everyone a Happy Christmas and large erections. This statement is to be taken as a scientific rather than crude one.

Andrew wishes everyone a Happy Jesus Day and very, very, very Happy Turtleneck Christmas.

Michael Thomas has nothing. He then leaves the teleconference room, very likely to inject, snort or otherwise imbibe some sort of banned substance.

Michael Thomas re-enters the room and states he fucked a black woman named Rasheed.

Andy said he woke up this morning with the following written in his mirror:
"I can't go down to the water's edge
I didn't do it, I saw who did it"
It is concluded this was likely written by Santa Claus.

The Founding Dad Dudes state this call may be the stupidest moment of their friendship.

An argument transpires over who will record the minutes for the call.

It is determined Andrew should have taken the minutes and is stripped of his Eagle Scout award.

Confused mumbling ensues.

All parties sign off. The teleconference call is adjourned.

-------

There you have it. I have no idea how to take minutes, but it's about time we had them on this blog. Merry Christmas everyone. Signing off.

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.

Consider Yourselves Haunted - A Canadian Rock Trifecta

Fuck you.



Fuck you.



Fuck you.



Insanity!

aaaand... Fuck all of you.

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.

Why We Haven't Updated: The Loss Of A Brother

Hello Americans.

It's been nearly a month and a half since any of us have updated. In that time, I am sure that the Johnny Utah has fallen off your radar, and is no longer one of your daily web stops used to pass the time at work. Derek, Andrews, and myself greatly apologize for this.

There is a reason for our absentee-ism. Over the past month, we have suffered a loss that has rocked the Johnny Utah Symposium to it's very core.

On 10/31/07, Founding Dad Dude Andrew Salvoni passed away. He is stone fucking dead.

ANDREW JOHN SALVONI: 1983-2007

He was killed in a firefight with London police at Heathrow Airport. Apparently, he was mistaken for a terrorist in a last ditch effort to escape from his shackles of the banking world. He had almost made it passed security when was he asked to take off his shoes. Andrew refused, stating: "I ain't taking off my Chucks for you crooked teeth muthafuckas. I got bitches ta be explodin'."

It escalated from there. He tried to take a suitcase hostage, but was quickly gunned down. Toxicology reports revealed that he was drunk off Ketel One, and on three different forms of PCP.

His mother, Rosemary Salvoni, declined an interview with us. She said that, "I wouldn't even pay to have that idiot shipped back here, I'm not wasting weekend minutes talking to his asshole friends."

Andrew was cremated and his remains scattered around Abbey Road. We're aware he did not want it that way, but no one felt like putting much effort into his memorial.

Anyway, the four are now three, and our hearts go out to the hardworking men and women of airline security.

DEREK 360: Linkz

1. JCPenney.
2. Dragons fucking cars (NSFW).
3. The Dig Dug.
4. Evil.

XOXOXOXO!

Danger Lurks in the Corners of your Mind

DEREK 360: Gummi Wheres

Best. Post. Ever.

DEREK 360: Freak Nasty FAQs

I'm back.

Enough about me though. I want to talk about Freak Nasty. THE Freak Nasty. The dopest, illest, sickest, baddest, rottenest, pestulentest MC since that dude in C&C Music Factory with the pony tail. Freak Nasty, who gave us "Da Dip" and a metric ton of other life lessons along the way.

I present Freak Nasty FAQs

Q: What is Freak Nasty's real name?
A: Freak Nasty's real name is Freak Bill Nasty. He also sometimes goes by the following monikers: Coach B, Stephen Burnett, Brilliant Music Genius, and RenatO.

Q: Is Freak Nasty a Nordic God?
A: Technically no (you're thinking of Odin), but he is highly revered in all of the Scandinavian provinces and actually has a fjord named after him. Freak Nasty Fjord is beautiful in early Winter. He is not exclusively idolized in remote European nations though. He is renowned worldwide for his ability to bring people together in a cohesive and intelligent way. For example, before every G8 conference "Da Dip" is played on a loud speaker. His music is also one of the main reasons babies are being born today.


Q: I heard some busta talking shit about Freak Nasty the other day. What should I do to him?
A: Take away all of the Freak Nasty albums he's hiding (including his second copy of Controversee...That's Life...And That's the Way It Is which is probably hidden in a sealed bag in his toilet tank) and watch him die a miserable Dipless death. Either that or take him to any club in the world (except those where Oakenfold is spinning...Oakenfold and Freak Nasty go together like Maroon 5 and The Hives) and show him the wonders that the FN can bring.

Q: What is Freak Nasty's day job?
A: His day job is creating the music of a generation. He also dabbles in winning awards (The four Tony's he won back in '97 for his work as Raul in The Phantom of The Opera are only one example), inventing stuff, and teaching at Alameda High School in California.

Q: Wow, Freak Nasty is a teacher? Does he ever incorporate his groundbreaking music into the classroom activities?
A: Freak Nasty's music casts a pretty gigantic shadow. It would be impossible for him to dodge it, so naturally he embraces it and utilizes it as a teaching tool. At a pep rally at AHS in '04 he performed "Da Dip" to "pump up" the school before a big game. He was criticized after this performance for some innappropriate gestures with an underage student but because it's Freak Nasty the superintendent threw up his hands and said, "WHATEV!".


Q: Other than "Da Dip", what are some Freak Nasty jams I should be aware of?
A: This list can be long and daunting so I'll scale it back and give you the starter course on Freak Nasty appreciation. Start with "Da Dip". Learn it and love it, because remember, if you're not dippin' you must be trippin'. From there put in a copy of his self titled album and listen to track eleven, "1 4 Da T.H.U.G.S.". From there go back one track and listen to "My Alpha Bitches" before finishing up with track three, "Da End of Mista Big". Those three songs will give you a peek into Freak Nasty's early world. After that pop in his masterpiece, Controversee...That's Life...And That's the Way It Is, and listen to "Da Dip" eight times. After that hit up "Bump That Rump", "I Want 2 Fuck", "Boom Boom Bomb", "Deep Deep South", "Rumors Pt. 2" and "Fuckie Suckie (At Freaknasty Party)" in any order. The you should be ready. For anything.

Q: Was I conceived while my parents listened to "Da Dip"?
A: Yes.

That's all for now.

It's good to be back.

NOT Andy (JUhS)

Hello internet world.

Just wanted to take this time to let you know that this is NOT me.

Thank you.

Awful evil bad bad

Just a couple examples of stuff that's wrong with our world today but still gives me hope for my future as well as the future of the Johnny Dudes. If this crap can make it into the mainstream and be responsible for making dudes rich and famous, just imagine what OUR brand of zaniness and charm could do...

1.) Who's Your Caddy??? (dammit)





2.) Viva Viagra??? (I assume this is what happens to those dudes who bring their accoustic guitar everywhere with them as teenagers/20-somethings....p.s. - does they say "got me a horny?" and "i'm not a guy who's straight?".)





3.) Those piss me off...almost as much as this: Carlos Mencia Budlight.......AHHHHH!






I just don't know what to do.


Sorry to pollute the blog.

Come see my play.

The Johnny YouTube Premiere

Hello readers.

Back, way back, when everyone got tookenover, we here at the JUhS promised a multimedia experience like none other. Since then, you probably thought that promise was bullshit. Well, I'm here today to tell you the promise we made is now being made good.

You may remember Derek coming over to Europe awhile back to see the sights, eat shitty English food, bag some Eastern European hunnies, and "take the piss" out of the French.

We also made a few videos, and this is one of them. We think you'll like it. Scratch that - we know you'll like it, shoddy editing notwithstanding.

Without further ado ... The Great Primrose Hill Roll. Enjoy.

HAPPY FUCKING FOURTH!

Summer revelations:

1.) LIVE FREE OR DIE HARD is the most out-of-its-goddamned-mind action film I have ever seen. 80 boners out of 5.

2.) Billy Corgan has returned to his Rock God status, but with a little less omnipotency than before.

3.) Committing yourself to a long-term relationship is not only incredibly rewarding, but really really really really really hard.

4.) HAPPY FUCKING FOURTH!

The Johnny or Porn?

This is the question I was faced with this evening ... because you know why? I have the internet again, and it's a thing of glory. It almost defies comprehension, but for the past seven months I've been without the internet at home. Seven months. It's like living in the medieval times, or prison. In fact, I'm pretty sure some prisons have a fairly regular internet connection. In my home that hasn't been the case. Until today. And I'm fucking stoked about it, you have no idea.

The Johnny has been deprived as of late. But for my part, given my new internets situation, I can promise you a little something more. I'm so excited, I don't even know what I'm doing here.

Alright, update time I suppose. Still living in London as you may or may not know. I went to Budapest last weekend. Two misconceptions: the Danube, as far as I could tell, was not exceptionally blue. Looked like any other river to me. Secondly, no one made any "I'M SO HUNGARY I COULD EAT A BORSCHT" jokes. Disappointing. Cool place though, I enjoyed it.

This weekend I have a trip to Amsterdam coming up. Just hold it right there ... I know what you're thinking. What I will be doing: biking and visiting the van Gogh museum. What I won't be doing: soliciting prostitutes and eating hash brownies. I promise. Come on people, I wouldn't want to lose my job...

...

More to report later, but believe me, the Johnny U is open for business. You love it.

-Andrew (JUhS)

To Anonymous: Go Fuck Yourself

Alright. So it's been awhile. But then I'm searching through the comments in AWC's last post and I stumble upon this little something:

"anonymous said...

RIP JUHS?"

Uhhhhhhhhh, what the hell is that about? Let's get this straight: I fucking hate anonymous commenters. If you aren't man (or woman) enough to at least put a face to your opinion then you're an unselfconfident douche. I'd turn off anonymous commenting but ... meh. Fuck you.

And then it's "RIP" ... like this blog has somehow died? Why don't you get on here and write something your damn self, anonymous? We're fucking busy. We're not dead; it's called a summer slowdown. It's not our fault there's nothing entertaining going on in the news. Aquatic deaths have been down. Celebrity idiocy is at an all time historical high. Paris is getting the job done right now ... you don't need us. We're supposed to be out there digging up the hot underground shit for you, not feeding you what you can get on the front page of CNN. You lazy cunt. Fuck you.

And another thing, even if the blog did die, there's a really, really high chance it'd come back to life. It's died before and it's been resurrected before. This is a long term investment. And sometimes long term investments don't pay dividends for a while. You know? But do you sell when the market's slow? NO, you fucking buy that shit up before it gets hot again. Otherwise you'll sit there with your fake Gucci wallet wondering why you're not in the game. Listen, just stay in the fucking game. Don't sell now. Just don't. Don't. Don't. Oh... oh, just... Fuck you.

And when we say Takeover, we mean it. If you're gonna go through with this and get tookover, do us a favor and stay tookenover. This can't be a monthly uhh, occurrence, alright? We commence with a takeover once, and that shit sticks. We have all these plans, sure, but it takes a while to put into action. There's lots of planning and organizing and reorganizing and creative-head-juice-squeezing involved. We don't just shit out entertaining posts (present post excluded) ... it takes foresight. OK? Fuck you.

.......

Umm, I forgot where I was going with this. I had grand plans for this post, but that all went to hell somewhere in the last couple of paragraphs. Ehh, I don't mean to let you people in on more than you care to know about me ... but I haven't really been getting any lately (with English girls, that's probably a good thing). Honestly, I'm a little stressed. So if I come off strong ... that's why. Anyway, the blog is not dead. The Johnny is not dead. Wilbur Burris is not dead. Quit your fucking complaining, anonymous, and create something with your life. Completely seriously, fuck you.

Flipping Out With the Johnny U.

We here at the JUhS love many things. Two of those things are baseball and flipping out. Seriously. Love baseball and flipping out. So, of course, we love it when the two combine. About a year ago Joe Mikulik gave us this. In what I believe to be an homage, Phil Wellman of the Atlanta Braves’ AA affiliate, the Mississippi Braves, gave us this amazing bit of flipping out:





Johnny Flipping Out Rating: 8 out of 10 Eggs Fried on Foreheads (tied for lead with Mikulik)

Now, after his amazing performance, Joe Mikulik was given the Johnny as an arena in which to come on and explain himself and let the public know a bit about him. So, in fairness, the Johnny caught up with Mr. Coach Phil Wellman after the game:

JUhS: Welcome Mr. Coach.
Phil Wellman: You can call me Philbo.
JUhS: Not doing that. Anyway, we truly appreciate your performance the other night. I believe it tied the Flipping Out Fried Egg record. What do you have to say?
PW: Well, personally, I believe that to be an unstable rating system, but I’m glad. I wish I could've done more to set a new record. Next time, maybe I'll whip out my package or something....take a dump on the bat boy...something special. I’ve been studying under Bobby Cox, who is about to become the most ejected man in baseball history. As well, I consider Lou Piniella a mentor and hero and I have his poster above my bed.
JUhS: Hm. We certainly appreciate your creativity you put into your performance, meaning the army crawl and grenade attack with the resin bag. What was your inspiration?
PW: Well, few know this, but I’m actually a Soldier of Fortune. I’m well connected and very dangerous and that was just a warning to the umpire that his family’s house will probably be firebombed. Did you notice my thoroughness in covering the ENTIRE plate with dirt? Too many dudes just kick some dirt on there. But I wanted to make sure that it was done right.
JUhS: We’re kind of scared right now. So, what’s on your iPod?
PW: I have a huge mix of stuff. Charlie Daniels, Europe, Daughtry, Triumph, Da' Brat, and my all time favorite, Al Green. That was actually my iPod getting blazed over the PA during my performance. I called up to the booth and told Teddy the PA man to cycle over to my "Smooth Jams" playlist and crank up the good Reverend. I figured it established a good dichotomy for my performance. I like to sometimes call up and tell Teddy the PA man to cycle to my "Booty Jamz" playlist and get some JT Money in the air. Get them bitches in the crowd to "shake dey fat azzes".
JUhS: Wow. You’re quite the enigma...and crazy. Well, thanks for your time Coach. And best of luck.
PW: Thanks, man. But seriously, we’re the revolution.

After he said that, some horses crashed through the walls of the clubhouse and Coach jumped into the sidecar of a motorcycle driven by a leather-clad dude with a spiked-helmet (I THINK it was Dan Aykroyd). Then, they all stormed off and all that was left was the resonating sound of Lloyd Banks being bumped from the boom box being carried by one of the horsemen. Truly a weird night.

The Johnny Gets Jealous

With the Texas Rangers' season already over (tease: FUTURE RANT TO COME!), the Johnny Dads need a new pastime.

Oh. Found it...

Darkon



We're already heroes.

"Wailing, teeth gnashing ... wait, where am I?"

Wow. If you liked Jerry at all ... um ... don't scroll down to the previous post.

Then again, if you liked Jerry you probably weren't reading this blog.

First of all, the Johnny and its affiliates can not and will not take responsibility for what happened today. Personally, I think he just took it hard when Newt broke things off. It was inevitable. Tragic really.

Now, this may be a tad more severe than, say ... a 45-day jail sentence. And I don't (necessarily) care to promote senseless death. But like they always say, it's not like he didn't have it coming.

Inasmuch, here's to one less idiot on the planet. Let's hope he's not reincarnated (it's un-Christian, anyway). And if he is, let's hope it's as something farther down the food chain.


In parting, some items Jerry may learn on his way straight to ... well, wherever it is he's headed now:

• The Earth is round



• The Earth orbits the Sun (the Revolution Machine theory)



• The Earth is more than 12,000 years old



• We sort of look a little like monkeys for a reason



• Michael Thomas (JUhS) once directed a one-act version of "Inherit the Wind"



• The movie was way better



• Religions other than Christianity exist



• Christian denominations other than Southern Baptist-ism (Baptism?) exist



• Countries other than America exist



• People other than Americans exist



• Those people most likely hated him



• Turns out the gays didn't cause the war in Iraq



• It was the Jews



• Not really, it was just Cheney



• Tinky Winky was the only straight Teletubby



• People who think things other than the things he thinks exist (or something)



• Church is boring

Jerry Falwell
RIP
1933-2007

P.S. - You're pointing the wrong way.

Johnny U Preview: The 2008 Presidential Election - Newt Gingrich

Bear in mind this is an apolitical blog. The Johnny Utah Symposium neither supports nor opposes any of the following candidates. We make no contributions, monetary or otherwise, to any of their campaigns. Wilbur Burris is not a registered voter. We just call it like we see it.

--A Day in the Life: Newt Decides to Run for President--

[Alarm sounds - digitized rendition of "God Bless America"]

[Newt hits the snooze button]

[5 minutes pass - repeat]

[5 more minutes pass - repeat]

[Another 5 minutes pass - Newt, in a fit of rage, throws alarm clock into wall - causes dent]

Newt: Fuuuuuck. I am tired. What the fuck am I gonna do today?

[Newt pulls flask from under pillow - takes swig]

Newt: Yes... *burp* ... hell yes.

[Newt takes Time magazine from night stand]


Newt: I am so ... awesome. Honey, look at this. Look at how awesome I am. Honey ... honey look.

Callista: [half asleep] I know baby ... I ...

[Newt dead-legs his wife]

Newt: Bitch, get up! Time to check for lumps! Shirt off, arms up!

Callista: [fully awake] Baby, we did this yesterday ...

Newt: Do I need to remind you about our little contract?

[Newt consults Contract with Wife, Third Edition displayed on night stand]

Newt: Honey, you know I can't be president if you've got the cancer. Come on, get 'em out.

[Newt checks his wife for breast cancer - finds nothing]

Newt: Clean. Good. You're good.

[Newt begins singing "My Humps"]

Callista: Baby, you know I get upset when you do that. Please, that joke is so played out.

Newt: [singing] ... my lovely lady lumps ... check it out!

Callista: New-new...

Newt: Honey, shut up, you know it's all in the contract. [taps on contract] You know what? It's time. Today I'm going to announce my candidacy.

Callista: Newton...

Newt: It's for the good of America. I'm running for president.

Callista: Are you sure that's such a great idea? Maybe you should stick to writing for a while.

Newt: I'll be running against a fake Republican who lives with the gays, Cancer McCancer-face, and some Mormon named Mitt.
I. Can't. Lose.

Callista: [pause] I want a divorce.

Newt: Fine. I was cheating on you anyway. Come on, Jerry. Let's go.

[Jerry Falwell jumps out of bedroom closet - completely nude except for throw pillow]

Jerry: Newt! Jerry! 2008!

Newt: Hells yeah!

Jerry: Hallelujah!

[They high-five - Kiss - Freeze frame]


SCENE.

Happy FYA Day

Today is May 1st. May Day to some. Labo(u)r Day to others. "Fuck You America" Day to all. As if this differs from any other day on the calendar.

What once was a festival for pagans to prance around phallic totem poles has eventually devolved into a celebration of the working man, socialists, and anarchists. How something can sink below jumping around a giant, leafy wooden dick is beyond me, but there you have it.

I don't know what it's gonna take, but sooner or later the socialists need to realize it isn't fucking working out. You can whine and moan all you want about how America is the reason for all your problems. Or, you can take it a step further like Hugo Chavez and nationalize what little remains of your country's privately run oil companies. It's May! Fuck You America! How symbolic.

Not that I'm waxing apologetic for Big Oil (the fuckers). It's a topic that has been covered in this space before. However, I prefer my evil, faceless, autonomous corporations to fuck me via the free market system. ExxonMobil is like having the discomfort of an extra large dildo in your ass. But at least they have the courtesy to lube up first. Hugo is dry-fucking his country. And the dildo's red. With Che's famous logo emblazoned across the base.


You know what? Fuck all those know-nothing Che idolizers too. Dude's been dead for 40 years. You think all the fourteen year olds wearing his merch have any idea who he is? And I still have to see his righteous, revolutionary mug all over t-shirts, messenger bags, belt buckles, wallets. Wallets?! If that isn't irony at its base level, I don't know what is.

Here. Put this on a fucking t-shirt.


He's dead. Move on. I know he was a hero in Latin America. I'm all for rising up against oppressors when all other options fail. Our constitution was drafted to protect that very freedom (a freedom of which the NRA very frequently reminds us). But honestly, if you think dudes like Chavez and Castro aren't fucking you just as badly, then I don't know what to tell you.

Most of all - more than all this political bullshit - I hate May Day because everyone else in Europe gets the day off while I have to sit here at work. Fine. The pinkos win. For once, I'm jealous.

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

Coolin' (1 day)

The Existential Us is back from Paris, checking in on the Johnny once again. We/I/Us are/am/is busy getting situated for tomorrow's Takeover (note the handy countdown up above), so this will be brief.

Paris was everything we/us thought it would be. Pictures were snapped (Crazy Action Jumping and Faux Homelessness galore), museums were visited (except that pesky d'Orsay - closed on Monday), fake French accents were utilized, ridiculously hot French women were leered at, Quick Burgers were consumed, wine was smuggled, modern art videos were filmed, Le Catacomb was NOT visited, and French porn was NOT purchased (due mostly to lack of funds).

Rest assured that most of this wildly hilarious action will be hitting the JUhS screens in the not-too-distant future.

Until then, we leave you with this shot, which we/us feel sums up the trip quite nicely:


-Andrek Runvoni (JUhS)

One Sentence Movie Reviews with Michael Thomas (5 days)

HOT FUZZ is better than getting a blow job in the back of a 30-Year-Old Mormon's car during the LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE after party, and is the best film of the year so far.

5 out of 5 boners.

Derek Arrives, Finds Intrigue (6 days)

This post is a Johnny first, being written, that is, by two Founding Dad Dudes simultaneously. Now enjoy Derek and Andrew's musings, as they fuse together to become one existential voice, whatever the fuck that means.

Day one in foggy London town has been awesome. Everything was going so well, from the traveling to the sight seeing, that I was not prepared for the tragic and totally crazy headline I saw on one of the completely reliable street tabloids I was handed on The Underground this afternoon.

It speaks for itself.


Needless to say, I (we, Andrew & I, the royal we, the existential us) am/are/is on the case. We/I/Us need to find the head and the arms so we can ID this chick and solve this mutilation mystery.

Over and out.
-Andrek Runvoni (JUhS)

HOO-WEE!!! (7 days)

Hello hello hello there, peoples of the JUhS! It's everyone's favorite Whipmaster, back from a sabbatical of sorts.

I can't fully disclose all the details, but I will say this ... you didn't think our pal Derek was going on a Euro trip blind, now did ya? I may be a Whipmaster by day, but by night I'm a reconnaissance-mission performing bastard (and Whipmaster). And let me tell you, night vision goggles have ... alternate uses. Just ask the Whipmistress.

But I digress.

I won't take up too much of your time there, but I did want to let you in on a little secret. Not too long ago, I gave my journal a good kick in the ass. And wouldn't you know it, today's your lucky day! I've got a new post up, and it's a doozy.

I highly recommend you go HERE and give it a gander. You won't soon regret it.

Alright, that's enough of ol' Charlie for now. But don't fret - I'll be back to whip your asses up in no time!

¡Viva La Johnny!

-Whipmaster Charlie (JUhS)

An Open Letter to Edward Norton (8 days)

Earlier this week, the British media* ran a story claiming Edward Norton will portray Bruce Banner in next year's Hulk follow-up, The Incredible Hulk.

Almost immediately, I felt a snap somewhere in the back of my head. It hurt a little. I was vexed.


Umm ... Ed. Buddy. Brah.

What the fuck?

Seriously, what are you thinking? Did you not catch the first one? Don't expend the effort; it was a Piece Of Shit. Just walk away! Now, while you still can. You have a great career. We'll even forgive you for Death to Smoochy. Please, don't do this.

Sure, they got rid of Ang Lee, so we know it won't be another wearisome, overbearing atrocity. But hey, the same guys are running the show. And guess who they're bringing in to direct? A fucking Frenchman. You know how I feel about the French. I know this guy's got a career to look after (Transporter 3!), but believe me - he would love nothing more than to destroy yours.

You, Edward, one of the greatest American actors working right now. Then he'll fly back home, drink delicious wine, eat a baguette, and fuck some beautiful women. In other words, he'll be OK. And you'll be left there, dick in hand, wondering why Scarlett won't call you back.


Ehh ... who the hell cares anymore? Go ahead, make the fucking film. You'll be fine. We all know the real reason you're doing it, anyway:


Have fun getting stuck in a job you detest just for the payout ... like someone ... else ... I know. Wait, what?

[* Dark Horizons also ran this.]

Derek's European Adventure (11 days)

-CHEERIO!!
-BLOODY HELL!!
-LET'S RIDE THE MERRY LIFT TO THE TOPSY PARTS OF THE SHOPPE!!!
-G'DAY MATES!!

That's right! I'm going to Europe. On Thursday.

Right now it is time for a European fact attack. I've done an absolute shit ton of research to get ready for this adventure and I want to share some of what I've learned with you guys.

FACT ATTACK! TAKE COVER OR LEARN!

1. In England they use money called a POUND!
2. Europe is OLD!
3. England has a Monarchy. This has nothing to do with BUTTERFLIES!
4. Feudalism is the SHIT!
5. The buses in England have two LEVELS!

More fax to come!

Dannielynn Paternity Watch: LARRY'S THE DADDY (15 days)

Dannielynn here.

It's been a hectic few weeks since I last checked in with my JUhS friends. I'm trying to relax, but it hasn't been easy. Baby stuff, you know? It's a hard life. Teething, shitting myself, sucking down capirinhas in the Bahamas, washing up unconscious on the beach every morning with sandy diaper rash (Desitin motherfuckers!), snorting heroin mixed with my dead mom's and brother's ashes. Some heavy shit.

And things just got worse.


A hell of a lot worse. Turns out Larry Birkhead, after the requisite DNA tests and likely payoffs, is the daddy. And not the "Johnny Founding Dad Dude" sort of daddy. He's the "Steal All My Money And Leave Me In A Texas Trailer With My Ogre Grandma" sort of daddy. Just look at this guy.


You think he's that happy because he has a new infant in tow? Is that what you would do if you suddenly found out you had a kid? Fuck no. That's a "I'm fucking rich, you cocksuckers!!!" pose. What a douche.

But I'm not here for your pity. Oh no. I need some help again. I pledged in my previous letter that if Larry Dickhead was my dad, I would "find any means possible to end my suffering." That wasn't a joke. I'm gonna off myself quick, and I need your help.

I'm not growing up to be a nappy-headed ho. I'm just not. I know I've got options. What's it gonna be?

1) Hanging
Too cliché, and I can't tie ropes yet.

2) Gun to Head
Again, sort of trite. Not very exciting. Messy. Loud. Gotta be something better.

3) Pills
One thing I'm not is a copycat. Worked for Momma and Bro-bro ... but I won't touch the stuff.

4) Kamikaze
Not with today's airport security.

5) Self-immolation
Now we're talking.

6) Self-defenestration
Another ritzy choice, but I may have trouble reaching the window sill.

7) Seppuku (hara-kiri)
If I can't be a princess in life, I may as well have a samurai's death.

8) Dynamite in the Mouth
Messy. Loud. Kind of awesome.

I need to get this over with soon people. I'm open to suggestions.

Smooches,
Dannielynn

PS - HAPPY BELATED EASTER!
XOXOOOXOXOXOXXXOXOXOXOOOXOXOXO

DEREK 360: NICKELBACK EXPOSED! (16 days)

Hello friends,

I'm not going to waste any time on this one. Let's get to the point.


Let me present you all with an excerpt from the lyrical excellence that is Nickelback's new single, "If Everyone Cared":

If everyone cared and nobody cried
If everyone loved and nobody lied
If everyone shared and swallowed their pride
We'd see the day when nobody died

Seems harmless right? Yeah I thought so too. Then, as it repeated for the 57th time inside the song's overlong three minute run time I realized that it is not harmless. It's a message. A statement on the way of life these Canadian imports are trying to impose on their pork rind loving fan base.

The first two lines are completely innocuous. They are solidly written on a 2nd grade reading level and are dominated by a stout rhyme scheme in the same style as a classic "star-car" or "bean-mean" rhyme. They represent Nickelback opening the doors to their awesome Maple Leaf mansion and saying "C'mon in! We've got all these pork rinds! Who will eat them?". You're drawn in by those lines (and rinds), and if you're not careful the next two lines will just slide on by your common sense filters and make a nest in your subconscious.

Stay sharp, because here comes the third line, "If everyone shared and swallowed their pride". Once again, seems harmless. However, it is obviously a statement dripping with a communist agenda. "Share everything you have and everything will be rad". In theory communism is a great idea...in theory.

So Nickelback are a bunch of beer drinking communists. We can get over that right? For these rockers? YEAH! Pass the pork rinds! Oh wait, there's one more line.

"We'd see the day when nobody died"

Huh?

So what they're saying is that if we adopt communism as our way of doing things no one will die? Like ever? What? I can only assume that not only is their some seriously RED blood flowing through their veins but that it also has traces of Satan. "Share your moneys and no one will die because we, Nickelback, have got a pact with the big guy downstairs and he'll just reach into the dirt and bring back your dead uncle". Millions of people are probably already trying to share everything they have in an attempt to make themselves undeadable. This is bad. Beware Nickelback.

Nickelback = Communist Satanists.

Johnny U Preview: Paris (17 days)

Hello everyone. I'm gonna keep this quick-like in a preview version because 1) I'm paying tourist rates out the ass for this internet connection, 2) there's about 700 museums to visit today and, 3) (and most importantly) Derek and I will be here in a few weeks anyway, after which we can give a much more awesomer and in depth sort of analysis you've come to expect from the Johnny.

Suffice it to say, Paris is pretty sweet. A little dirty, kind of smelly, and the residents are sort of punks -- but still, it's pretty sweet.

I'm here with my parents, so I feel like I'm not getting the full experience, so to speak. And they're getting on in age, so the pace isn't exactly up where I'd like it to be. They also get drunk after about two glasses of wine, after which it's like trying to walk down a busy street with two stumbling toddlers to look after. Loud, obnoxious toddlers. Not cool.

Anyway, like I said, a much more detailed report is on its way. Derek and I will have astonishing tales to tell, mixed with a pinch of disdain for the Europeans and a dash of debauchery for good measure. I know you're wet with anticipation.

-Andrew (JUhS)

P.S. - We here at the Johnny owe an apology to Mr. Mitt Romney. We looked down upon him for doing his Mormon mission in France instead of the Congo (or wherever). In retrospect, we were flat wrong. It seems Mitt had the right idea, that sly bastard. Paris is full of some tasty, tasty ass. After being stuck in London for the past six months, it's a welcome new perspective. More on this in the next report, as well.

A Couple of Propositions... (21 days)

1.) Sad Farewell

It's with a heavy heart that the Johnny is forced to say "good-bye" to Coach Mr. Coach Eddie Robinson. He overcame his middle name of "Gay" and became the first college coach to reach 400 wins and was the winningnest football coach of college football history (past and present...fyi - he's 2nd now...confusing, right? kisses). "Coach" (as he was often referred to, by worldly people of the earth and the Johnny Dads) was a great man coaching the Grambling State Tigers in the ways of football and life. He was so much the man that the Football Writers of America decided to name their award for the most balls hard and awesome football coach of the year the "Eddie Robinson Award". DAMN! The Grambling State football stadium is named Eddie Robinson Stadium. DAMN! Plus, he overcame his uncomfortable and unstable middle name (as stated before). DAMN!

So, it is here that I propose that the Johnny set-up some kind of award in honor of coach. Perhaps, a scholarship in his name for young kiddos who show promise but lack the moneys necessary to attend the Johnny U. University (Johnny U. U.), where kids learn to learn about the world and then report about it. What do you guys think?

In any instance, we'll miss you coach.












Eddie Gay Robinson (1919-2007)


2.) What Do You Say?

So, the news recently came out that Keith Richards, after being questioned about the weirdest thing he's snorted, claimed that he once cut some cocaine with the ashes of his dead father and partied. A spokesman for Mr. Richards later came out and said he was just joshing. Either way, this jumpstarted the gears in my head and ideas started to squirt out onto a plate where I sifted through them with my Johnny U. brand of directing wand (don't ask questions) and arrived at this one genius idea:

I propose, that heretoafter, the still alive and kicking Johnny Dads snort the ashes of each dead and cremated Johnny Dad. I mean we already share the same blood and needles, why not a little ashed body? Huh? Huh? Derek (JUhS) already said as long as he doesn't have to include cocaine in the ash, then, he's down. I told him I'm cutting mine with Comet.

Johnny Dads, let me know. World...let us know. Happy Living.

Johnny U Preview: The 2008 Presidential Election - Joe Biden (26 days)

Bear in mind this is an apolitical blog. The Johnny Utah Symposium neither supports nor opposes any of the following candidates. We make no contributions, monetary or otherwise, to any of their campaigns. Wilbur Burris is not a registered voter. We just call it like we see it.


Meet Joseph Robinette (!!) Biden, Jr.

Joe is a six-term Senator (D) from the state of Delaware and 2008 presidential hopeful. Frankly, we here at the Johnny have more important things to do (The Takeover is nigh) than delve into the political history of a fringe candidate, so forgive us if our facts are ... fuzzy. But we do know this: Joe, highly respected as a senior legislator, is widely regarded as one who speaks his mind. "Great," you might say, "I'm looking for that sort of candor in my candidate." No. You're really not. This guy will literally say the first thing that bubbles to the surface. There's not a filter with Joe. No QC, to put it in JUhS terms.

Case in point, this widely publicized quote, uttered at the birth of Joe's candidacy. He had this to say regarding his highly-touted opponent, Barack Obama:

“I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy ... I mean, that’s a storybook, man. Barack is my NEGRO, negro! Do you feel what it is that I am saying to you?"

Hold on there, buddy. We appreciate the use of colloquial banter. But Obama's Kanshawaikenyillindonesian posse will fuck you up Joe. We'd be careful. The multicultural gangstas are the ones you want to watch out for. Globalization. A president's got to know about these things.

Look ... the US had (and in all likelihood, still has) loads of racist lawmakers. But unless you were actually alive when slavery was around, you can't let voters know about it. Come on, you worked in the same Senate as Strom Thurmond. He got a pass for being 100. You don't.

Another example, this time on Indian-Americans:

"I've had a great relationship. In Delaware, the largest growth in population is Indian-Americans moving from India. You cannot go to a 7-Eleven or a Dunkin' Donuts unless you have a slight Indian accent. I'm not joking ... They talk funny. And seriously, what's the deal with that dot on the forehead? Am I right? No joke, people."

You blew a great exit strategy here. Never actually tell anyone that you're "not joking." Even the most egregious verbal gaffes can be fixed with a simple "I was joking."

Upon further inspection, it appears Joseph needs a little more help with the whole Think-Consider-Speak deal.

Take this, just last week, to John Edwards:

“Cancer? Are you kidding me? And then he bumps up ten points in the polls. I mean, I love Johnny, he's my boy. But ... cancer? Screw it, I'll give my wife cancer. Where ... come here. Someone blow some smoke in her face. Strap a cell phone to her neck. I don't know. Line her sheets with asbestos. Shave that bitch's head! I'll give my wife cancer too, John. Don't fuck with me."

The lesson here is clear. Joe may be a pleasant, hard working, plain speaking guy. For good or for ill, he unabashedly speaks what he feels. Admirable? Yes. Noble? Maybe. Smart? Absolutely not. Get in the fucking game JB. You have to lie your ass off on the political battlefield.

Joe, what you need is a Head of QC. The Johnny Dads, perfect candidates though we may be, aren't available. But we can set you up with some interviews.

"Holla" at us.