Through The Past, Darkly When you were eighteen months old, you stabbed yourself
near the right temple with a blue pencil. This predated Iggy PopÕs
self-destructive antics by a few years. Meaning, perhaps, that you invented punk
rock É except that Richard Berry recorded ÒLouie LouieÓ back in 1956.
Regardless, there is still a blue mark on your right temple. >
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> During the energy crisis of the mid-seventies and
unaware that you were being racist, you trick-or-treated while wearing a
homemade ÒArabÓ costume Ð complete with bathrobe, towel on head, and a pail
marked ÒoilÓ within to collect candy. Your buddy Phil dressed as a terrorist,
sporting a rifle and ski mask. > >
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> Your senior year at Grand Forks Red River High School,
you were awarded the $200 Lars Haugen Scholarship to the University of North
Dakota for your kinda-good score on the PSAT exam. (ÒThe Lars Haugen
Scholarship was established in 1965 to provide financial assistance to
students with integrity, dependability, academic promise and citizenship.Ó) At Senior Day in the school
theater, UNDÕs representative repeatedly stumbled over the pronunciation of
your name while senior wiseacre guys in a wing of the theater helpfully
yelled: ÒTuomala! Tuomala! Tuomala!Ó When brought onstage to accept the
scholarship, the rep asked you how your name was pronounced. ÒWilliam,Ó you
said. >
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> After months of relentless Lutheran-bashing from
Catholic friends, you finally gave in and attended a Mass in 1984. Two days
later, the bishop in Fargo died. You were blamed for this by your buddies, to
which you responded: ÒI want the bishopÕs head in a jar!Ó >
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> You went to a fraternity rush party your junior year at
the University of North Dakota. You were instructed by your dorm buddies to
Ògive a fake name to the frat guys so they canÕt look you up later and call
you to bug you to join their stupid frat Ð weÕre just going for the free
beer.Ó You decided to test the houseÕs rush chairman by introducing yourself
as ÒJeff. Jeff Beck.Ó He vigorously shook your hand and said ÒNice to meet
you, Jeff. Do you have any questions about our house?Ó >
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> When asked your senior year at UND why you were taking a
class called ÒThe Historical JesusÓ, you said: ÒHey Ð I worship that guy!Ó >
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> Once while wearing Chuck Taylor hi-tops, jeans, and a
teeshirt outside of WhiteyÕs bar in East Grand Forks, an attractive blonde
told you that Ògirls would like you more if you dressed better.Ó Seventeen
years later, while wearing Chuck Taylor hi-tops, shorts, and a teeshirt in
WhiteyÕs bar in Northeast Minneapolis, an attractive blonde told you that
ÒyouÕre probably too hip for me.Ó >
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> > One time while dining at Lord FletcherÕs on Lake
Minnetonka with your parents and other adult relatives, you asked the waiter:
ÒDo you got Schmidt?Ó The answer was no, and you instead drank Michelob. >
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> > When you moved to the Twin Cities, the first cool record
store you spent time at was the old east-side-of-Winnetka Down in the Valley.
It was a Saturday night a half-hour before close, and the dude behind the
counter was drinking a Molson. You knew the Cities was now your home, because
back in Grand Forks the cool record store only smelled like stale beer. >
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> > At the age of 22, you were the Boy Genius payroll
coordinator for the Minneapolis district of a large North American general contractor.
You were scared of a guy named Chris Clark, who would weekly send stern faxes
from the head office in Denver asking for things like: ÒFICA withheld for all
union employees for the current quarter, broken out by trade by month. Fax to
Chris Clark by 3:00 p.m. today Mountain Time.Ó When in Denver, you toured the
head office and met Chris Clark; who turned out to be a drop-dead, gorgeous,
raven-haired gal. You said: ÒI thought you were a man.Ó >
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> > In the spring of 1989, you declared yourself ÒThe
Superstar of Love.Ó You got dumped a few weeks later. You then entered a
prolonged slump that was only briefly interrupted by a date that involved
attending Richard Gere/Julia Roberts product Pretty Woman at the Suburban World theater.
You claim that while leaving the movie you heard someone out on the sidewalk
say: ÒWelcome to the Nineties.Ó >
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> In 1990 when ÒdryÓ beer was the latest marketing scam,
one brewery advertised their dry beer as having Òno aftertaste.Ó You
continued to drink Schmidt, declaring that: ÒI enjoy aftertaste.Ó >
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> You once shared a one-floor elevator ride with Prince in
downtown Minneapolis. You were dressed in a blazer and tie and said: ÒHowÕs
it goinÕ?Ó To which PrinceÕs bodyguard replied: ÒWeÕre doing fine, thank
you.Ó Prince stared at the ceiling the whole time. You were miffed, because
just months earlier you and your good friend Joel had chatted with Slash and
Duff from Guns Ôn Roses at the Uptown Bar and you thought rock stars were
nice guys. >
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> Once on a wind-blown, below-zero night outside of
Mariucci Arena, you declared to the shivering, miserable mass around you
that: ÒItÕs not so much the heat, itÕs the humidity.Ó >
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> > Once at a party, you proclaimed that you were able to
name the participants and winners of every Super Bowl in chronological order.
You proceeded to do so, impressing the partygoers. You did not consider your
feat a big deal. >
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> You were once introduced to a fiftysomething man from
Kentucky. You had been informed that this guy was a little obnoxious and
likely a bigot. You chatted with him, at some point innocently saying:
ÒKentucky, huh? You must be a basketball fan.Ó You talked a little about
hoops, but at some point the man said: ÒI liked it better back in the days
when we only had white boys on the team.Ó To which you said: ÒYou must have
really liked that game against Texas Western.Ó >
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> At your old building, you introduced yourself to your
shapely and cheerful new neighbor. After she complimented you on your taste
in music, she told you that not only was she a musician Ð she was also a
masseuse É Òin case youÕre ever interested.Ó To which you replied, ÒOh, no
thanks. I already have a massage therapist.Ó >
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> After you had your hair dyed blonde, a naked,
seventy-something man in the YMCA locker room asked you out to lunch. You replied:
ÒNah Ð I usually stay home and read the paper during lunch.Ó >
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> You were once introduced to an ultra-cute,
ultra-talented rock writer in the Turf ClubÕs Clown Lounge. After dropping
cuss words, blowing smoke in your face, and generally being a hottttt chick,
she asked you: ÒWhat is your zine about?Ó You replied: ÒItÕs about stuff I
like.Ó >
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> > Last summer, your foxy neighbor Beth knocked on your
door, looking for ice for her drink. That night, you sat down and wrote a
song: Beth I hear you callin' But I got no ice right now The trays have been in the freezer But they're completely empty somehow Just a few more hours And I'll have some cubes for you I think the corner store's open Oh Beth what can I do? Beth what can I do? You say your glass is empty That lemonade tastes bad when warm And I'm sippin' on a cold Schlitz And have truly lost my charm Just a few more hours And
I'll have some cubes for you
I think the corner store's open Oh Beth what can I do? Beth what can I do? Beth I know you're thirsty And I hope you'll be alright 'Cause my freezer's magic could take All night Info
Everything written by me, except where noted. Thanks to: Vinnie and the Stardusters. Accessorize: Print
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note to the email address below. Correspondence: Bill Tuomala 3400 Harriet Ave.
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