Stream of MY Consciousness?

by Joe Buonfiglio

The God’s-honest truth is, “I got nothin’.”

Not a damn thing.

I’ve been farting around with this freaking blog-post all day long.

ALL. DAY. LONG.

Nothing is working. Every idea runs me down a creative blind alley. Nothing makes me laugh enough. Nothing seems absurd enough. Nothing is dramatic enough, poignant enough, endearing enough, satirical enough… anything enough. It’s all just so much trivial drivel that isn’t clicking with my little grey cells on any level.

In short, it’s total bullshit! I’ve reached the point where I am utterly unable to string one coherent sentence together with another. And so, I’ve decided to not even try. I’m going gonzo; literarily “going commando,” if you will.

STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS.

Now, don’t get too excited. If you’re expecting Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, you’ve come to the wrong place. This is Potpourri of the Damned, not The New York Times Best-Sellers list.

So, here we go:

Joe Buonfiglio’s
Stream of MY Consciousness

Have you ever wondered what happened to Milk Duds. You know, the candy: Milk Duds. I used to love Milk Duds. They were my favorite candy to buy at a movie theater concession stand. During a film, you could pop one in your mouth and suck on it until its core started dissolving on your tongue as if your saliva consisted of pure acid.

Wait.

Those were Whoppers, not Milk Duds.

My bad.

The only material thing I have left on my bucket list of material things is a ’56 Buick Century. Now, you may be wondering why — out of ALL the classic cars I could choose from to place on my list of “before I die” possessions — I would choose an off-year Buick. Well, it’s a matter of personal history. See, my first car was a three-tone blue (The previous owner had tried to hand-paint it with spray cans of various “touch-up” shades.) 1956 Buick Century. God, I loved that car. A hideous sight to the casual motorist, it was an absolute beauty in my eyes; perfect in every way. Its only fault: varnish in the gas tank. It had sat in a rat-infested old barn for years before I bought it for $400. Well, my $100 and the $300 I owed my father for it. Even after spending most of my summer-job money on boiling out the fuel lines instead of paying my dad back, it was still the best thing that had EVER happened to me. Then, one fall afternoon, I came home and my beautiful Buick wasn’t in the driveway. “Where’s my car,” I apprehensively questioned my old man. “That thing was a piece of shit,” he burbled. “My friend needed parts for his tractor, so I gave it to him.”

Gave it to him? My car? MY car! For… … … TRACTOR-FUCKING-PARTS?!

I never forgave him. Even now, so long after my dad’s death, there’s still a part of me that wants to find an old, rusted-out ’56 Century, sneak it into the cemetery and park it on his grave… leaking oil into the sanctified soil… … … drip… … … drip-drip-drip.

You ever wonder what the world would be like if we all communicated through flatulence? Two poots and an extended squeaker would mean, “Hey, Joe, how was your weekend?” A response of a bombastic blast and a wet tuba would say, “Great. We went to the Catskills. Thanks for asking.” Would that make “silent but deadlies” a form of telepathy? Perhaps successfully lighting one’s farts would make you a god. Jesus, how much money could you make as an interpreter then, huh? Working at the United Nations would be more a matter of survival, than diplomacy.

Isn’t it weird that social media is the least social place to interact with humans in the world… you know… besides Walmart at three o’clock Christmas morning.

Why is it that if I fornicate in public, people throw things at me and I go to jail, but rich folks will pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to watch a racehorse do it?

If I shit in a box and mail it to the president of the United States, will I go to jail? For what crime? Shit isn’t a threat, right? It’s not as if I’d be mailing him a dead fish wrapped in one of his vests a la Luca Brasi; that would be threatening. No, this is just a box of shit; that’s satiric commentary, no? I could see the Secret Service getting really bent out of shape if you go all The Godfather on the president’s ass, but shit in a box? That’s damn near a Christmas present in my family!

“Putz” is a word I simply don’t use enough. I’ll have to do something about that.

Parting is such sweet sorrow? Seriously? Will Shakespeare must have been sparking up the old Elizabethan narcotics when he penned that one. Sweet sorrow? Try kiss my ass, I am outta here. Stream THAT consciousness, Muth-a-fucker!

Now where did I put those WHOPPERS?

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

THIS IS A TEST!

This is Only a Test

by Joe Buonfiglio

This is a test of the EMERGENCY BLOGCAST SYSTEM. This is only a test. Had this been an actual literary-absurdist emergency, you would have been directed to your nearest alternative-reality fallout shelter for cosmetic surgery to enable advanced melatonin levels in your genitalia.

Reality? Reality adjacent?

Not even close.

Look at this as sort of an experiment in the philosophical realm driven by the author’s punishing insecurity. Given this…

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

Likewise, as a variation on a theme for this philosophic conundrum…

If a blog is written and no one is around to read it, was it ever posted?

Sure, Friedrich Nietzsche declared, “God is dead,” as did the cover of Time magazine query about the matter in 1966. But as philosophy and theology bang heads over the state of God’s health, the same dispute must be applied to the epicenter of the digital literati:

Is the blog… DEAD?

And if not the collective “blog” and those toiling away in the blogosphere, then what about that which you now read… or don’t (as the fallen tree might observe)? Has this blog, my child so aptly named Potpourri of the Damned, simply run its course? Have I gotten too weird for some of you, perhaps too political for others?

Am I only doing this for myself at this point? That possibility is a rather chilling prospect, I must admit.

I have a decent number of subscribers, but there are rarely any comments submitted by them. Is that natural? After all, I’m not a celebrity and you’re all busy people. I do sometimes wonder if you all follow me and this strange little blogtastic machine out of not sincere interest, but some warped sense of politeness? Although, in the modern age of social media, even the casual observer can see that doesn’t make much sense. Hell, do you even read the thing?

Is there anybody out there?

Perhaps that is an answer I’d rather not know, eh?

So, until next week’s post, PLEASE STAND BY….

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

 

Potpourri of the Damned STILL on Hiatus?

THAT’S ABSURD!

by Joe Buonfiglio

Why are you looking here?  Don’t you realize Potpourri of the Damned is STILL on hiatus while I heal up? (Believe me, you don’t want to know.)

Okay, granted, it’s only for another week, so it’s not THAT big of a deal.

What do you mean, “not that big of a deal”?  YOU BASTARD!

Anyway, as Dr. Frank N. Furter would say, “Babies, don’t you panic.”  While I and my “creation” are on this short break, why not enjoy seeing me LIVE and in person!  Here’s how:

If you’re in the Chapel Hill, NC area on Friday, 5/12, I’ll be a guest storyteller onstage at 10 p.m. with the improv geniuses of MISTER DIPLOMAT at DSI (Dirty South Comedy Theater).

Read more about it here:

http://www.dsicomedy.com/calendar/2017/5/12/mister-diplomat

So that’s Chapel Hill, NC, Friday, 5/12, 10pm at @DSIcomedy

 SEE YOU THERE!

NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG

Top Ten Absurdist Reasons Why Nobody Cares About Your Blog
(or Mine)
(Which You are Currently Reading)
(So, That’s Kind of Absurd in and of Itself Right There)

by Joe Buonfiglio

Nobody cares about your blog … or mine. Unless you’re already a celebrity or at least celebrity adjacent, it’s absurd to continue to pound away on your wireless keyboard pretending that anyone other than close friends and family gives a shit about your most recent blog piece.

And BREAKING NEWS: They really don’t give a shit either. They just don’t want to hurt your feelings.

Even though it is SO painfully absurd to continue our vainglorious attempt to make a mark in the blogosphere, I’m okay with that because … well … I’M AN ABSURDIST!

I actually revel in the chaotically futile. Mindlessly blogging is simply a natural extension of all that. So with a loose hold on anything resembling reality, here are my…

Top Ten ABSURDIST Reasons Why Nobody Cares About Your Blog (or Mine)

#10: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE pepper-spraying camels is not an indication of evolutionary superiority.

#9: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE melted cheddar has not and will never cure male-pattern baldness.

#8: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE even though Ford’s Model T did come in red, the color black was preferred by viper trainers throughout Canada.

#7: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE Ponce de León couldn’t find Mrs. de León’s G-spot if his life depended on it.

#6: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE free trade shouldn’t be a matter of cucumber girth.

#5: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE the literary arts no longer take into account that pillaging is a forgotten craft.

#4: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE the Center for Disease Control is completely ambivalent in all matters concerning buttered-popcorn flavored jellybeans.

#3: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE the zipper is down on society’s collective pants.

#2: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG, BECAUSE springtime Frappuccinos should flow freely from a Panda’s ass, not be imprisoned until transactional payment is rendered unto the Starbucks Corporation. (refer to Starbucks vs. a Panda’s Ass, Third Circuit Court of Appeals circa 1864 following Brown vs. the Zookeeper’s Fantasy)

AND THE #1 REASON NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR BLOG: The ghost of Richard Nixon tickles President Trump’s balls from the moment he falls asleep in the Lincoln bedroom!

So blog away, my fellow Absurdists; blog away as if no one is watching … because no one is.

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.
All photos are © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.

JOE’S BAR (blog)

by Joe Buonfiglio

My Potpourri of the Damned blog started off as a simple idea. It was to be a weird forum for releasing upon an unsuspecting world the Absurdist tidbits of darkly humorous mayhem theretofore buried in the deeper recesses of my warped little brain; somewhere between a lark and a malady.

AND THEN ALONG COMES DONALD TRUMP.

This con-man simpleton overtakes my soul generating a combination of bemusement, fear and intense anger driven to the point of seditious hatred. Watching this orange-tinged putz and his idiot-convention entourage systematically clog America’s collective toilet by shoving all that’s good about this country down it with the plunger of his narcissistic Trumpian ego sends my fingers tap-tap-tapping furiously upon my computer’s keyboard to the point of rendering the action on the typewriter-esque buttons nearly unresponsive.

TRANSLATION: Our dumbass POTUS makes me more than a little crazy.

Next thing I know, I’ve endangered the absurdist-humor brand of my Potpourri of the Damned blog with numerous anti-45 rants.

In my last blog-post, I teased that this — my JoeBuonfiglio.com (AKA LiteraryAbsurdist.com) site — would be evolving into “Something absurdly wonderful. Something wonderfully absurd,” and Potpourri of the Damned will MOST DEFINITELY be a part of that. However, if my head is not to blow clean off my shoulders in a blood-pressure rush that could launch a ballistic missile armed with the most nuclear of warheads, I will still need to find a home, some suitable outlet, for all my anti-Trump, anti-societal-injustice, anti-anything-that-really-pisses-me-off-to-the-point-of-vigilantism rants. And so, welcome to…

When introduced into the new website coming within the next month or two, Joe’s Bar Blog will be the new home for me to … well … get things off my chest.

Joe’s Bar Blog will be written while I’m sitting at my bar (Yes, at the time of this writing, I own a bar.), and will feature whatever beverage I am imbibing at the time of the given literary endeavor.  For example, at this moment, I am sipping upon the cool libation that is a 12-year-old special reserve Jameson Irish whiskey on the rocks. Additionally, while Potpourri of the Damned comes out (for the most part) every Wednesday, Joe’s Bar Blog is written “as the spirit … and spirits … move me.” This creative process will most likely lead to such commentary as:

Hey, Alt-Right. Looks like your boy Trump is kicking you and Bannon to the back of the bus.

How’s it feel?

Ironic?

And…

You can’t even organize an Easter egg event? How the hell are you going to organize foreign policy … or a war?

And…

What are Trump’s plans for America? Follow the money. Slash the State Department’s budget; raise the military’s by billions.

Any questions?

As well as…

Listening to Donald Trump speak, I now realize that George W. Bush was relatively an outright intellectual.

And…

It’s 12:24 a.m.

… and Trump just dropped in to see what condition my sedition was in.

Not to mention…

The Right is devolving into Theatre of the Absurd. They believe in the Rapture, so get on with it; God can have them all ASAP.

Or…

Donald Trump criticizing Chuck Todd’s appearance is like the Alien calling the Predator ugly.

And…

“Remnants of treasonous criminality” refers to:
A) Trump
B) His administration
C) Me on the toilet the morning after 20-alarm chili night

Or perhaps even…

AGENT: “You’re ruining your writer’s brand with all this Trump shit!”

PEER: “Wait. You have an agent?”

WIFE: “Wait. You’re a writer?”

So keep your eye out for Joe’s Bar Blog in the new JoeBuonfiglio.com that is on its way to this space. As Potpourri of the Damned again reverts back to content designed to engulf your grey cells in that which is madly absurd, Joe’s Bar Blog will delve into that which will make you absurdly mad.

What’s your pleasure?

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

All photos, art and logos are © 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.

SOMETHING (DELIGHTFULLY STRANGE) THIS WAY COMES….

SOMETHING ABSURDLY WONDERFUL.

SOMETHING WONDERFULLY ABSURD.

 

In the coming months, JoeBuonfiglio.com (AKA LiteraryAbsurdist.com) will undergo an absurdly wonderful and wonderfully absurd transformation.  Keep checking back to get in on all the preposterous amusement … and probably more than a little bemusement.

PLEASE STAND BY….

— Joe Buonfiglio

A Day Without Absurdist Humor

One Man’s (Lame?) Attempt to Support Women
YOU GO, SISTERS!

by Joe Buonfiglio

At the time of this writing, it is International Women’s Day 2017. And in recognition of the coinciding strikes, walkouts, closings and Anti-Trump demonstrations labelled “A Day Without a Woman,” in solidarity with the sisters-in-womanhood protests here in America, I will be shutting down my Absurdist-humor literary efforts normally scheduled for release on Wednesdays. Thus, there will be no Potpourri of the Damned blog-post being released today or this week in an effort to show my support.

You know.

Other than this Potpourri of the Damned blog-post announcing that there will be no Potpourri of the Damned blog-post being … well … posted.

Wait.

Did I just inadvertently release an Absurdist-humor blog-post by announcing I would not be releasing an Absurdist-humor blog-post?

Damn.

Anyway, no more writing today.

Now, am I truly being socially conscious or just a lazy sack of shit? I guess that depends on which “fact vs. alternative fact” side of the political spectrum you call home. Either way, you go, sisters! Give ’em hell!

 

© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

THANK YOU!

TO EVERYONE WHO SUPPORTED THE
“Free Anti-Trump ‘DONNY!’ Song”
THUNDERCLAP Campaign!

f4d5c806_profile

by Joe Buonfiglio

I want to sincerely thank all my social-media friends who are in the anti-Trump camp who joined my Thunderclap campaign.  Thanks to your support, over 68,000 people were offered a fun-n-FREE download of the song DONNY, DONNY, DONNY! by the Unintentional Martyrs™ in support of the Never Trump movement.

And if you supported that THUNDERCLAP effort and have not yet gotten your free download of the song, you can do it here now: FREE DOWNLOAD OF “DONNY, DONNY, DONNY!” BY UNINTENTIONAL MARTYRS™

But hurry, because the deadline for the free download is midnight EST November 15, 2016.

And don’t forget, you can get more Unintentional Martyrs™ songs — Science Denier, Porn Pin Blues, Unintentional Martyrs and Bad Words — for ONLY 99¢ a download! It’s all found at the UNINTENTIONALLY MARTYRED MUSIC™ site. Follow the link below….

UNINTENTIONALLY MARTYRED MUSIC™

Thanks again … AND VOTE!

Donny Revisited Art

UNINTENTIONALLY MARTYRED MUSIC™

*******

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© 2016 Joseph P. Buonfiglio All Rights Reserved.

All videos, music, lyrics and graphics are © 2016 Unintentional Martyrs™ with All Rights Reserved.

Something Absurd This Way Comes…

Something wonderfully absurd is coming….
… Something absurdly wonderful!

copyright-2016-joseph-p-buonfiglio-t1

from the mind of Joe Buonfiglio

In the coming months, JoeBuonfiglio.com (AKA LiteraryAbsurdist.com) will undergo a bizarre transformation from its currently simplistic little pupa of a website into the darkly humorous absurd butterfly it deserves to be. So don’t miss any of the delightfully weird splendor to come…

SUBSCRIBE NOW!

Go to the subscription-sidebar on this page or click on the “Follow Joe” button down in the corner and you won’t miss a second of my Bizarro Blast that’s inching its way toward this website’s reality as you read this.

See you soon!

No, really. I’m outside your bedroom window with a cellphone camera, a box of wine and some Twinkies right now.

THE END IS NEAR!
(But the beginning is nearer.)

 

© 2016 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.
All photos are © 2016 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.

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AM I PUCK?

The Chaotic Evil Alignment in Me
(or Why I Should Never Mix Beer and Lemon Squares)

DnD

by Joe Buonfiglio

Good God, what have I done … AGAIN?!        

This week’s post is not going to be my normal blogosphere tribute to giggly absurdity, but a rather eccentric, ill-fated journey down a divergent path to a neurotic mea culpa that launches with a simple question: What is it about me that I cannot resist the lure of chaos? To me, the romantic perfume of the chaotic evil dancing across the fringes of existence is as if a marshmallow slowly melting on the sidewalk in the noonday sun to a starving sugar ant. It’s as if I’m a cross between Batman‘s Joker and Puck from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

I’m … well … Puckish.

However, lately, I sense that I am doubling down on my involuntary commitment to this impishly evil path. I’ve been feeling less like Oberon’s mischievous servant and jester, and more as if the sprite of Satan himself.

Case in point…

Last night, I made a guest appearance on a local radio show thematically blessed with exploring both traditional and more experimental creative and artistic outlets. As they have in the past, the producer and hosts will invite me into their broadcast realm when they feel my “literary absurdist” branded persona might lend itself to the show’s subject matter. Of course, they should know better by now, but be that on their heads.

As is my practice, I came bearing a gift: a prodigious quantity of lemon squares from a local bakery. (For some reason, radio types are always hungry.) The sweet sustenance was a welcome complement of fare; for the show’s “fare” for the night was less confection and more confusion. While I usually find myself playing the joker in the deck under such circumstances, this night was graced by a court full of nothing but jesters each armed with a microphone and a growler of beer … and lemon squares.

That’s right. Beer and lemon squares.

Oh boy.

It all actually started out as an interesting premise for an arts-based radio show: explore the tenets of storytelling through the long-popular fantasy tabletop RPG (role-playing game) “D&D,” “DnD,” “D2,” Dungeons & Dragons! This may seem a bit bizarre, but when you think about it, it makes perfect sense. It’s as if a room full of writers got together to create a fantasy book, but spoke it out load and let the broadcast airwaves record it for history as if it were dictation software taking it all down. Brilliant!

Of course, I fucked it up for them.

Now, in my defense, I’ve warned them before; you don’t invite evil to Christmas dinner and then get upset when he takes a piss in the cranberry sauce. If you invite a self-proclaimed “Absurdist” to the table, don’t expect him to play by your rules. Thus my demand that I play as “BoBo the Dwarf Bard WITH ‘DM Overruler’ powers.” This meant I could change the edicts and directives of the Dungeon Master at any time; unheard of in the history of the game since it was first published in 1974. Naturally, my character had a Chaotic Evil “alignment” (the categories of ethical and moral perspective).

To my surprise and delight, they agreed to my terms.

Fools. FOOLS ALL! AAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—cough cough, er, sorry.

Anyway, astonishingly, that was not what caused all the intense mayhem to erupt. The on-air fantasy realm worked fine, if coming off a tad silly. However, off the air, behind the scenes, a storm was brewing of my own making.

See, I love radio. I loved guesting on local radio shows when I was the marketing director for one of Florida’s “official” state theaters. I’ve applied my writing and voice talent to a number of radio and TV commercials, and even had a “Theatre of the Absurd” radio show I co-created air nationally. There is just something about that audio Theater of the Mind’s Ear I find fascinating and irresistible. And the guys running this little arts program I find to be terribly talented, each and every one of them; creative and funny with that unique ability to play off one another with a chemistry that bordered on perfection. So, of course, I thought they would absolutely LOVE the benefit of my experience in the industry as I brought them enlightenment as to how they could up their game to the next level and bring this fabulous show the creative prominence it deserves.

Ho-ly shit. One of the worst misreads in my creative career.

All the warning signs that I should back off were politely afforded me. Unfortunately, I’ve never been good at reading signs if I think my creative input can do some good — and, of course, I ALWAYS think my creative input can do some good.

So when a co-host and show’s engineer grew visibly upset, I should have known I was crossing the line from “beloved guest” to “Bar this asshole from my studio!”

Did I back off?

Fuck no! I have creative brilliance to impart, so full steam ahead, my Muse!

See, I made a terrible mistake. I saw this delightful little show as an incubator for the brilliant creatives at its helm, a stepping-stone for bigger things to come.

That’s not what this is. This is not an imagination nursery for burgeoning artists, but an island of lost souls. What they created was much more than just an interesting radio show; it’s their safe place. It’s salvation.

It’s not to be improved upon and grown. It’s not to be tinkered with, tampered with, toyed with; it’s to be enjoyed, but left alone. It serves a purpose as is. It is a holy place.

It is sanctuary.

No trespassing. Do not abuse your invitation.

My mistake.

And yet, I just — kept — pushing.

So, understandably enough, one of the co-hosts absolutely loses it with me. The others awkwardly try to calm the waters, but the damage I had obviously inflicted was done.

Oh, interesting note: in the middle of reading me the riot act, in mid-yell while jumping my shit, he asks if he can take home the leftover lemon squares I brought into the studio as a treat. Dumbfounded, stunned, dazed, I agree. He carefully packs them up and storms by me out of the studio.

God, I love Creatives.

Puck rides again!

By the way, I’ve been invited back into the studio next week to continue the game.

Perhaps I shall bring brownies.

 

© 2016 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

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