The Introduction
My actual name is Jim Williams. My childhood friends and my Mom called me Jimmy, and some still do. When I was in college, one of my pals rented a semi-soft-porn flick called Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers, strictly on the grounds that one of the players, listed in the credits, was named Jimmy Williams.
Jimmy Williams played a bit part as a trucker in a bar who gets set up by one of the chainsaw hookers, whose idea of a come on is to try to humiliate him by making fun of his name. ("What's your name?" "Beau." "Beau as in 'Bo-Bo?" "No," the character insisted, quite insulted, "Beau as in BO.") So, naturally, after that evening Bobo became one of my less wieldy, and thus rarely used, nicknames.
When I was in Grad school, I wrote a poem called "The Saga of Bobo, the Wandering Pallbearer." The title was a goof on a book my Ishmael Reed, The Free-Lance Pallbearers, the central gag being that a wander pallbearer isn't of very much use. (There's only one of him, you see.) In the poem, my alter ego Bobo is stumbled upon in the desert by a young Jewess. When she finds him, he is buried to his waist in the sand. Taking her presence as encouragement, Our Hero starts struggling to free himself. (There is no indication of how he got in this predicament; the poem is painfully short on exposition.) He eventually manages to free one leg, but in doing so he puts himself in an awkward position as is unabel to continue to struggle free. He looks to the girl for help, and she signals that she cannot be of help to him by showing him her knish. It might not make any sense now, but at the time seemed to be a quite apt metaphor for a failed relationship I had just had while ensconced in a grad school program I didn't feel comfortable with.
The poem never saw the light of day. The girl I wrote it (partly) about read it and failed to identify herself in it. I mailed a copy to Dog Nagel, and he quite liked it. He uses it as a nickname for me to this day, usually as a mark of derision. I think I might have sent a copy off to one of the Illiteratti, the writers' group workshopping folks I hung out with while at college, but I could be wrong about that.
So there you have it: The Saga of Bobo, the Wandering Pallbearer. I know. But why does anyone do anything?
Jimmy Williams played a bit part as a trucker in a bar who gets set up by one of the chainsaw hookers, whose idea of a come on is to try to humiliate him by making fun of his name. ("What's your name?" "Beau." "Beau as in 'Bo-Bo?" "No," the character insisted, quite insulted, "Beau as in BO.") So, naturally, after that evening Bobo became one of my less wieldy, and thus rarely used, nicknames.
When I was in Grad school, I wrote a poem called "The Saga of Bobo, the Wandering Pallbearer." The title was a goof on a book my Ishmael Reed, The Free-Lance Pallbearers, the central gag being that a wander pallbearer isn't of very much use. (There's only one of him, you see.) In the poem, my alter ego Bobo is stumbled upon in the desert by a young Jewess. When she finds him, he is buried to his waist in the sand. Taking her presence as encouragement, Our Hero starts struggling to free himself. (There is no indication of how he got in this predicament; the poem is painfully short on exposition.) He eventually manages to free one leg, but in doing so he puts himself in an awkward position as is unabel to continue to struggle free. He looks to the girl for help, and she signals that she cannot be of help to him by showing him her knish. It might not make any sense now, but at the time seemed to be a quite apt metaphor for a failed relationship I had just had while ensconced in a grad school program I didn't feel comfortable with.
The poem never saw the light of day. The girl I wrote it (partly) about read it and failed to identify herself in it. I mailed a copy to Dog Nagel, and he quite liked it. He uses it as a nickname for me to this day, usually as a mark of derision. I think I might have sent a copy off to one of the Illiteratti, the writers' group workshopping folks I hung out with while at college, but I could be wrong about that.
So there you have it: The Saga of Bobo, the Wandering Pallbearer. I know. But why does anyone do anything?
posted by Bobo the Wandering Pallbearer at 1:51 PM
3 Comments:
Hi. I'm Doc Nagel. I teach philosophy. Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Alternate gag, courtesy of Lauren:
hi. im doc nagel. a/s/l?
Bobo. Hee Hee.
Terrific. My first blog, my first spam. What's that thing called, a beta blocker . . . ?
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