Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Token Self-Deprecation on Sale 3-$1

I love journalists. Nobody gripes quite like journalists. It used to annoy me, but now I roundly enjoy it.

If you'd like, they offer a readymade attitude when you start J school _ that of crossed arms and smacking bubblegum. You can use this for the rest of your life, and when you die you'll say, "Well, I've spent my entire life behaving this way and now I'm dead and where did it get me?" Ridicule, disbelief, cynicism, sarcasm, suspicion...

And me? There's nothing worse than the person who constantly tries separating himself from everyone else. But we all must eat lunch. And so... lunchtime.

Monday, February 27, 2006

Hold My Calls, Violet

It appears I can no longer post from home. We'll have to get tech support on this very quickly.

There was a statcounter explosion (for this site, anyway) over the weekend. I hope people weren't coming here to read more about Blister and Kraputnik. Sorry, folks, but it ain't gonna happen.

We had an all right time in Green Bay. It started out fine, but went south when I threw my 95-page (unnumbered) script against a door in my parents' house. I don't know why I show my mother my writing. It was a lapse in good sense, and she took advantage. Such is the cobra/mongoose relationship of Donahue Mater and son.

Erika and I heard Al read last night at the Skylark. It was a lot of fun. I enjoy any story from the perspective of the late Mayor Anton Cermak. Made me think that I _ maybe, maybe _ could be up on the silver stage reading someday... reading from this very WeBLoG... about my WoRKDaY. My base fee is quite reasonable: 3 Hoegardens and 1 bag of Vitners Original Louisiana BBQ Sauce chips.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Time to Go Home, WoundUp

It's been a long day at the cracker factory, largely becuz I didn't catch a good sleep last night.

I turned over the Trib sports section and thought, for a split second, that the pic of Paul Konerko and Jim Thome was the famous photo of the Saigon police chief shooting a Viet Cong in the head. If you have it, take another look.

Time to go home, WoundUp. This weekend we travel to Green Bay _ the home of my parents and youngest brother. See you soon!

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Frick'n Ridiculous

The Ford Frick award winner _ the major league baseball hall of fame's honor for outstanding/important/valuable broadcaster _ was announced today: former Houston Astros broadcaster Gene Elston.

The award began in 1978 and pretty much every baseball broadcasting heavyweight is in: Scully, Brickhouse, Caray, Allen, Barber, Harwell, etc. etc.

My question is _ with a new winner picked every year _ when will we run out of "important" broadcasters to honor. It seems we have to wait a bit before any of the younger TV and radio guys can reach "legend" status. And does having a long career in baseball broadcasting necessarily mean you are "important?"

I think you know where this is leading... the shining visage of Joe Buck in the baseball hall of fame's broadcasters wing _ for having hung on for 30 years at Fox. Say it ain't so, Bud. Say it ain't so.

Our Long National Nightmare is Over

Enough. ENOUGH. ...

I'm not going to write three different characters on a near-daily basis for FREE. No way. We now return you to your regularly scheduled WoundUp.com content.

In other news... CEO Tom Blister was arrested by Italian police last night in Turin. He had ingested 50 shots of grappa and was attempting to sodomize a statue of Garibaldi. He won't be coming home for a long, long time.

Friday, February 17, 2006

Special Announcement

Hello valued Woundup.com readers...

My name is Patricia Hanratty _ you can call me Patty. I'm with Woundup Corp. Corporate Communications. I am the liaison between Woundup staff and our board of directors _ to whom CEO Tom Blister reports.

You are undoubtebly excited about the changes going on here at Woundup.com. I am, too. You've come to expect nothing less than pristine, crystalline content from our site. We will continue to provide you with more of the same.

I am please to announce that Woundup.com is sending CEO Tom Blister to Turin, Italy, to compete in the Winter Olympics. As many of you know, Mr. Blister is an amateur ski jumper. We are flying Mr. Blister out tonight, and he will begin reporting his experience over the weekend.

Woundup Corp. continues to put itself ahead of the pack: Convergence, Content, Conciseness, Clarity... Join us, won't you?


It looks like I have a new sign-on, too. I suppose we could call this a... new era...
HA! I got my own sign-on. This pizza is exquisite, Kraputnik. Put that in your little pipe and smoke it. You can't have any, by the way...


You little fairy. I know you have to read this. This is why I fucking hired you. You little NYU fruitcake. Purple and white _ no basketball team. No decent team. Where the hell are you??? I'm fucking hungry, Kraputnik. You have the number. I don't know where the hell... where the hell do you hide... YOU have to call Kraputnik. They don't like me very much. Heh. Remember when I went over there... I broke the display case _ I put my foot through the fucking little display case... with the biscotti and all that little shit. I broke it. They remembered my voice...

I took the trouble of going through your little fucking desk. You have Advil. Do you get headaches? Am I working you too hard? I think you're fucking around on the internet Kraputnik. All of you fairies in here. I'll take you downstate and put you on a chain gang. That's work, my friend. We'll see your little NYU goldbrickin' ass on the highway duty. 110 degrees.

Christ my head hurts. Heh. I had a few last night. A few too many. Heh heh... Don't tell me you haven't been there before... where's that little fruitKRAPUTNIK ORDER ME A FUCKING PIZZA YOU LITTLE... He's left the office. Probably getting breath mints. Fruit.

Quiet Moments with Ethan

I feel I can write now with a little more confidence. Ethan Kraputnik here. I'm the editor... well, I already told you that. We're working with technical to get individual sign'on's... if, in fact, this multiple posting idea will continue. I have my... well, opinions, on that, I guess... I don't know.

You know, he didn't always come to the office. He used to come in once a year. Now he's here all the time. I think it's because his... his wife left him. A few months ago. This is... like a little game to him. It's his little toy. He already has a lot of... investments. He used to make guns for the Israeli military. Over in the Middle East in the 80's. Now he bought this site _ he thought this kind of thing would make, uh, more money.

He's in here all the time. He wants to post all the time. He wants to post and he wants me to show him around _ show him how things work. And he's harassing the female content team members.

Maybe... you're wondering what he is. What is he? Maybe you think he's a, uh, a fictional construction. This is a dangerous thing, maybe? That he is an outlet for the author to... dress up... as a chauvanistic pig _ without endorsing that kind of behavior, uh, directly? Having your cake and eating it. You get to be a, uh, macho asshole AND a sensitive, uh, liberated man.

Is that right? I don't know. I don't make the rules around here. Maybe we can sublimate him. There are other types of humor. Maybe he's going to... he's going to win. He's going to beat me, in particular. Maybe literally. He might have a heart attack. I think he still smokes... He's passed out... in the employee lounge. Sometimes he comes here at night _ he lets himself in and, uh, he drinks in the office. By himself. I don't want to be here when he... wakes up. He's going to make me order a pizza. I've got a lot of work to do here.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

The Day of Debuts

Hello, everyone. My name is... my name is Ethan Kraputnik. I'm editor and head of the 7-person content team here at Woundup.com. If you're wondering why I'm speaking to you... well, Mr. Blister _ our CEO _ wants the, uh... he wants some of us on the editorial side to get out in the, uh... we have to put our faces out there, heh, this is what we call "convergence" in the world of media. So Woundup.com is now converging... I hope you enjoy it...

Well... uh, this... This is... If you could keep this between you and me... Mr. Blister left his Wendy's wrappers on my desk _ on the keyboard. I really wish he wouldn't do that... it's not consid... Maybe you work with someone like this... and this is not... uh... he put a smudge. What is this? Ketchup. He drew a pair of ketchup breasts on my girlfr... this is my girlfriend's picture. Francine. He drew breasts in ketchup... with nip...

... ... ...

We hope you'll continue to read Woundup.com. You're going to hear a bit more from some of the staff here at... it will be gradual, but... uh, noticeable... and there's an empty beer... this is Fosters? He left an empty Fosters ontop of the hard drive. This is the head of the co... unbelievable. I hate Fosters.

Acute Mametitis

Tom Blister, Woundup Corp. CEO, here, folks...

Thought I'd take a minute to check in again. Forgot a few things by the ol' computer terminal here. Who's computer is this anyway? There's a picture _ some broad with glasses. HEY KRAPUTNIK. YOU WOULD GO OUT WITH A BROAD WITH GLASSES. Must be a real minx _ in the boo-dwar. Hey, who am I to judge? My last wife had a prosthetic nose. She used to take it off at night...

Okay, I found what I was lookin' for. My roach clip. You don't think I stopped getting high, do you? Once in awhile. It calms me down. Louis Armstrong used to smoke it everyday. He also made tapes of conversations he had with people in his home _ now is that a pothead or what? Sounds like Nixon.

While I'm here, I just want you to know, that as readers of this site you will not... never... be subjected to spam e-mail. I just had my own address _ my G-mail address, which had previously been untouched by those bastards... I started getting spam on it. And you wanna know who's responsible? The New Yorker. That's right: the NEWFUCKYORKER. Bunch of little fairies. I only bought that thing cuz my ex-wife wanted it. Put it on the coffee table. I read Barron's _ Forbes... Fortune. C'mon. Fuck. I sent them a, uh, customer service question, and the bastards sold my bloody address to INCREASE YOUR WANG SIZE. Listen to me, folks, if I wanted my wang to be bigger _ and I DON'T have to worry about that shit_ if I wanted it to be bigger, I WOULD BUY A BIGGER WANG. I'm loaded.

All right. That's enough. HEY KRAPUTNIK, YOU CAN HAVE YOUR COMPUTER BACK. Fucking fairy. Broad with glasses. Fuck. See you at the library, jagoff. Heh.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

The Variegated Styles of the 1990's

All right Woundup fans. It's time to open the audio archives. Thanks to good friends, there are now musical records involving the author online. I played guitar in both groups.

Listen first to Zaxxon (1996-98)...


the Young Americans (1998-99).


Friday, February 10, 2006

I Have Earned the Right to Be a Lazy Slob

Two hours left. Sometimes Fridays are a fight to the bloody end at the ol' cracker factory. But I feel I will prevail today using a combination of guile, misdirection and cunning w/a little elbow grease mixed in.

Erika and I have a full plate of family related events tomorrow _ the highlight is a meeting of three generations at our favorite Italian hideaway. If you're nice, I might tell you its name.

Does anyone else miss Mike "Murph" Murphy in the 6-10 slot on WSCR? Man, I could listen to Murph all night. If this was last year _ Feb. 2005 _ that would be the plan for Friday evening: a couple brews and four hours of Murph-filled, mirthful radio, falling in-and-out of sleep on the couch.

But how to fill the void now... Read a book? I think we both know the answer to that one.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

DJ Deemed Unfit

Nobody gets exiled anymore, do they? It's an old practice _ I always heard about the Greeks doing it. Napoleon was exiled _ twice.

Is there an exilable offense in American law? Should there be? I think it could be a good idea.

Lately, I wouldn't mind it myself. They could exile Erika and me to some small island in the Mediterranean. We could work on an olive oil farm, weave rattan chairs and generally get away from this ugly town.

In other news, Woundup will throw its hat into the artisanal olive oil game in March. You'll never cook the same way again.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Rural America Ltd.

Aha! The ol' statcounter tells me we received our first hit from ELYRIA, OHIO. Elyria is the offical Donahue-Eckart stopping point on all East Coast roadtrips. Just outside of Cleveland, this small town features our favorite (northern) Ohio bar _ the Joyful Mug.

I believe the last commenter was from Elyria. Can you answer me this? Why do people in northern Ohio fly, display or have tatoos of the Confedrate flag _ the symbol of an organization that took the lives of many sons of Ohio? You can't get more Union than the shores of Lake Erie _ except maybe J.P. O'Connells: Cambridge's HOTTEST place for singles!

Monday, February 06, 2006

Green Bay _ Cue

Just got back from Green Bay. Revelatory notes? Well, to whet your whistle, I let my mother read the latest draft of my play. She criticized it so unabashedly that I threw the thing against the front door, scattering the many, unnumbered pages in every direction. A true story.

That's adequately shocking. Getting a little attention for myself. Before those histrionics, we had a lovely Thai meal and, prior to that, a drink a local brewpub. My brother, Terry, seems to be holding up OK without any pals and finds solace in 9/11 conspiracy theories. I honestly hadn't thought of any till we talked.

I feel like I'm throwing my family under the bus _ using some select peculiarities as grist for my merciless WeBLoG mill... for laffs. I'd rather see them everyday _ more material! Ha! Seriously... I love my family.

Erika found some DFW book on tape. DFW sounds like he has OCD. Cue. I can tell because I have it myself. Cue. It does make me feel like a big shot to talk like this. Cue. This interview is over...

LH Putgrass signing off and heading for the tub.

Enough is Enough

Well, folks... CEO Tom Blister was arrested in Turin, Italy. He had drunk a combo of 50 grappa shots and 50 espressos over a 12 hour period and was apprehended by local police early this morning while trying to fornicate with a statue of Garibaldi's horse.

In other company news, editor Ethan Kraputnik and corp comm rep Patty Hanratty were fired for their part in the Blister fiasco.

Woundup.com will now return to previously scheduled programming. Please enjoy.

Permanent Hiatus

ENOUGH! I can't take it anymore!

There's no fargging way I'm going to write three different characters on a semi-daily basis for FREE. No way. It's back to the good old Woundup, which may or may not be written by a 7-person content team.

And CEO Tom Blister? Well... he'll be back... some day. Until then, let's return to the kind of quality content you've come to expect from Woundup.com. Like how I trimmed my nosehair today. In the great genetic sweepstakes, it looks like ol' Mark got the hirsute Muhr nostrils, late of southern Germany/northern Austria.

I love living!!!

We Like to Have a Few Testers Around In Case Something Goes Wrong.

I had another wonderful revelation upon exiting my therapist's office. I'm going to donate my brain to science... after I'm dead, of course.

But, as with many things in life, the straight line from idea to realization runs through some heavy undergrowth...

(At the Mayo Clinic. A reception area. Mark is filling out a form. A doctor walks by.)

Mark: Hey there...
Doctor: Yes?
M: Can you--can you tell me a little bit about the program? The brain donation... program?
D: Are you thinking about donating your brain?
M: Yeah. I've got the paperwork here...
D: Well that's wonderful. Congratulations.
M: Will they--you guys--do tests on it.
D: Probably not.
M: No? What kind of thing--
D: They're mostly used for animal feed.
M: Animal--
D: Yes. We sell them to a pig farm in Iowa.
M: Huh. Do you ever... do research on them?
D: Not really. We've found just about everything we need to know about the human brain.
M: Wow.
What about all those, uh, articles--"The future of the mind?"
D: We've generally found those encourage people to donate their brains.
M: Yeah, like it would be part of some--
D: Important study. Yes.
M: Right.
D: Which works fine for us.
More feed for the pigs!
(Pause. Mark looks at the questionnaire.)
M: What do I put down under "Availability?"

A Wistful, Post-Super Bowl Post

All right. I've got to give you something better than that. I don't condone bulleted lists as legitimate WeBLoG content. I was just excited about reading Norman Chad's column.

The cold has returned to Chicago, and I am glad. That long string of 40-degree days scared me. We live in this town and endure its psychotic winter so, sometime in April, when the tree buds are budding and the state bird (the robin) is singing, we feel like we've accomplished something. Any old fool gets to feel that here in Chicago.

People are odd creatures. As a person, I feel I can speak with authority on this. Last night, as I was walking to the bar, I thought how it'd be wonderful for me if I remembered that all of us are part of the same family _ in the same boat. That despite all the slights and backbiting and resentment and secrets, all people can come together and recognize this. Some might see this as being part of "god's family." I am not a christian, but I have no problem with that description _ if the feeling is there.

As a human being I fail, but I was thinking if there was some personal (or national?) moment or day where I could pause to reflect on my behavior, that might help me and my brothers and sisters. It's one thing to say you love everyone and another matter to feel it. And the foundation of love, I believe, is an interest in the other person _ not just in the self. It's something I'll always need to remember.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

The Woundup Year-in-Review _ by CEO Tom Blister

My StatTek TrakkerTek 5.0 WebCounter tells me Woundup.com received its first page view from Barrington this past Monday. You know what that means...


Once in a great while a WeBLoG comes along that revolutionizes the way we look at--SHIT... all right... Sorry, folks. Woundup Corp. CEO Tom Blister here. I've been beating my head against the wall trying to write this goddam Year-in-Review. My 7-person content team is out with botullism. GODDAMMIT. I hearby forbid Costa Rican vacations for all employees. Christ...

I've never claimed to be a great writer. That's why I have a 7-person content team... But those little fruitcakes quit on me. I'm fucking finished with this... Here's what happend. If you don't like it, well, call customer service...


Quarter 1

_ Woundup posted solid earnings following an expansion in the handheld market. The signature "electric-shock-thru-your-keyboard e-greeting" was offered to blackberry subscribers. To demonstrate this new feature, I allowed members of our 7-person content team to shock me thru my own blackberry at a press conference in Buenos Aires. That was a great idea... I crapped my pants in front of the leaders of 18 South American countries.

_ I divorced my second wife, Lydia. Well, she divorced me, if you really want to get down to brass tacks. I was sitting in the China Room at Five Oaks Country Club in Barrington _ I maintain a residence in Barrington, by the way _ and, needless to say, she broke my jaw with a 3 Wood. Lydia, she was more than my secretary, she was my friend. If you can't understand that, well, you need to join the human race. Lucky for me the pre-nup contained a line in .0000015 size type absolving me in the instance of adultery. Cheers, Lydia, this '65 Dom Estes is for you.

Quarter 2

_ A spin-off blog failed. Tom Blister a failure? Not likely, my friend. This brilliant idea was spearheaded by former CFO Marty Brentano _ emphasis on FORMER. Wonk-Up _ a political site that pledged to get neck-deep in the Beltway dirt was staffed by a bunch of Brown rejects who couldn't find their ass from Barbara Boxer's Macy's receipts. I fired those clowns so quick, my head was spinning...

_ But then again that could've been my Vicodin addiction. Maybe you heard about it. Big story. Blister hooked on meds, doped up. Well, I beat it. I beat the little white pills that stopped the constant pounding in my head. I got that fixed, too. Turns out it was my alcoholism... But I found a shrink who said it was okay for me to keep drinking as long as I didn't kick little kids or dogs. Hey, sometimes you have to give up some things. It's called life, folks.

Quarter 3

_ Fuck. Do I have to keep writing this goddam thing? Quarter 3. What a disaster. My companies traditionally do bad in the third quarter _ kind of like the Magic Lakers. Oh man, I used to party with those guys. Magic, one time he held AC Green by the ankles off the Waldorf Astoria balcony _ this must've been '86 _ these Costa Rican hookers just showed up... and the next day he dropped 35 on the Knicks with 12 assists. Class act, Magic Johnson.

_ Business... okay... business. Lessee... Woundup did debut some client-based software in Quarter 3. Uh... I think you could only get it if you were on the West Coast. I'm not supposed to know this shit. I have people that tell me things every damn day and I don't listen. That's what separates the great ones from the also-ran's _ the ability NOT to listen.

Quarter 4

_ Well, we came roaring back to finish up FY2005. And Lydia, my ex, came roaring back when she set my H3 on fire. I just bought the goddamn thing out in Lake in the Hills. I was trying to have a nice conversation and she flipped. I had it re-detailed last week. Looks fan-fuckin-tastic. Read it and weep, baby.

_ We sold licensing rights to the Wound I. satellite _ you might remember that nice little piece of hardware. Well, now its part of President Bush's domestic spying plan. Don't worry. They can't see everything. Uh... new products... Woundup soda, Woundup clothing line with Tommy, bag line with Manhattan Portage, eyewear with Oliver Peoples, parties for the Oscars, Grammys, Superbowl.

And that's where I am right now. I'm in my little hotel room in downtown Detroit. Gametime T-minus 96 hours and I'm staring down the barrel of a '77 Rioja from the Pampas. You can catch me in this month's Wine Spectator _ yeah, they're doing a spotlight on my cellar.

All right. Enough of this bullshit. Those little content team fairies are getting double shifts till July. Well... that's it. Cheers.