Thursday, 25 May 2006

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Infamous Liar Kaufman Proven Truthiful! Story at 10. [X-posted] Scott Eric Kaufman boards a flight to Houston, TX. He stumbles into his aisle seat and opens his backpack. He pulls a stack of papers from it. Because he needs new glasses, the name “McCann” is emblazoned in 14 point font across the top of first page. Across the aisle sits a svelte young man clad all in black reading a Vintage International paperback. He glances at Scott, then at the stack, then returns to his book. The plane taxies down the runway and takes off. Svelte Young Man: (leans into the aisle) What are you reading? Scott: An essay a friend of mine sent me. Svelte Young Man: What’s it about? Scott: Getrude Stein, mostly, but it has a bit about evolutionary theory in it. Svelte Young Man: ‘Cause I noticed it said “McCann” on it. Is it by Sean McCann? Scott: Actually, it is. Svelte Young Man: One of my professors told me to check out his work. Smart stuff. Did you know he writes for this online thing? Scott: Actually… Svelte Young Man: It’s called “The Valve.” Smart stuff. I can give you the address. You should really look it up. Scott: Actually, I write for the Valve too. My name’s Scott Kaufman. (offers hand) Svelte Young Man: (stares blankly) Scott: I’ve been writing there a while. Sean and I are friends. Svelte Young Man: (continues to stare blankly) Scott: (feeling like a busted liar) No, really, I do. Did you read the text adventure parody? Svelte Young Man: Uh, no. Scott: Any of the stuff about Darwin? Svelte Young Man: (visibly uncomfortable) Not that I remember. Scott: (feeling increasingly busted) I post there all the time. Svelte Young Man: Well, I don’t read the comments... It’s all downhill from there. Scott slowly withdraws his long outstretched hand. He never manages to get the guy’s name, but he does learn (albeit indirectly) that the recommendation to track Sean down came, in all likelihood, from Mark McGurl. He posts this in the hope that the anonymous guy who thinks Scott a liar will read this. Because really, I mean, most of y’all complain he posts too much, no?
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Why I Didn't Post Anything New on My Blog Last Night I meant to post last night, but by the time I got back from buying cat food at Albertson's I felt run down. Like I'd been hit by a truck. Or an enthusiastically riced Honda Civic. Like this one. Only darker. Its owner revved its engine and backed out at 90. I placed my right hand on its unnecessary spoiler, pushed myself into the air, slammed into the back windshield, then its owner threw it into drive and I rolled off the back windshield and onto the parking lot. I heard it gun its engines and watched it drive away. I was still clutching the bag of cat food. My iRiver was still in my pocket, but I could neither feel nor find my headphones. A kind man dropped his groceries and ran to me and asked if I needed any help. He said, "Do you need any help?" I said, "I don't think so." He said, "I didn't catch the license number." I said, "Me neither." He said, "Are you sure you're alright? Do you need a lift?" I said, "No, I live right up there." Then I walked home. I felt my heart pounding through my shoulder. I climbed three flights of stairs. It was fun. I opened the door and put the bag of cat food in the tin. I poured and drank a stiff drink. I walked into the Little Womedievalist's office and informed her I'd sort of been hit by a car in the parking lot. I said, "I was sort of hit by a car in the parking lot." She said, "Are you alright?" I said, "The man asked that too. I was fine then but I feel sort of strange now." She said, "What do you mean 'sort of strange'?" I said, "Like I don't know." She said, "We should call someone." I called Albertson's and asked if they had cameras pointed in the parking lot. The woman on the phone said they didn't because the parking lot belonged to the Irvine Company. I called the Irvine Company. The message said, "Business hours had ended." I hung up and called back. I listened to the message again. I wrote down the number of the private security company Irvine employees to watch over Albertson's parking lot. I called them. The dispatcher informed me that she was only a dispatcher and didn't know if there were cameras. She said their security guard left at 7 p.m. and wouldn't return until 3 p.m. on Saturday. She recommended I call the police. I called the police station next to my apartment complex. I told the officer what happened. He said I needed to call the Irvine police because Albertson's is across the street. I called the Irvine police. They said they would send someone out. I brushed my teeth and calmed the wife. I began to feel sort of stranger in my lower back. I sat down on the couch with excellent posture and watched Pedro lose...

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