The story of my birth in Morristown. Also: Ballet.

Hey dance lovers!

First thing's first: I know a particular beyond-cool Asian girl who's going to flip out when she reads this blog. Mika, seriously, don't flip out too hard core. Hold it together.

A lot of you guys probably don't realize this, but I was born in Morristown, Tennessee. It was in the inside of a beaver dam near Mossy Creek where I took my first breath. My mom was a trap hunter back in those days, and my dad herded sheep just to make the ends meet. They were burning the rope at both ends, fighting the man (and Indians, and also rival Laotian gangs) every step of the way. About the time that I came along, a meteor the size of a dry-cleaning bag crushed in & burned down the roof of our small dwelling house place.

It was a cold night in mid-August when mom's water broke over the sound of a fox hunter's horn and some guy's car alarm from across the street. In a desperate move now made famous by a full-length novel (Paramount Pictures is in negotiations to buy the rights for the film), mom did the only thing she could do in such a traumatic situation: jog down the hill and dive face-first into a beaver dam.

The warmth helped the birthing process, and so did the doctor who lived in there. His name was Carl, if I recall correctly. He had an awesome mustache. I don't remember too much about being born that day... except Carl's mustache. I kept thinking to myself: "Man. Someday I'm going to have a mustache like that."

(Editor's note: it happened in 2003)

After I was born, she didn't have much time for all that paperwork or whatever happens with newborns. I'm not sure about all that legal garbage, but you can ask my friend Tommy Forrester if you want. He just had an awesome new son, and I'm pretty sure there was some paperwork somewhere in there. Also: he cut the imbecile cord, which is pretty much horrifying to me in so many, many ways. Look, here's a photo of his new gorgeous son:





Just kidding readers, that was actually from this weird dream I had last night after I ate a shit-ton of extra-buttered popcorn and had sex with a prostitute who's face had recently been burned by acid. It's also no surprise that she stole all my towels to cut them up and make shorts for her kids. Here's the real Alex:







Man, I love that kid!!!!!

Anyway, because she loved me and knew that only the wild would toughen me up to become a man, mom sent me down the river in a half-eaten bag of Cheetos. The creek current carried me along for miles, just like that Ten Commandments guy, and along the way I wrestled a few snakes and learned how the waters of Mossy Creek can kill you in a thousan' ways. This was actually really challenging, since Mossy Creek is really shallow in parts, and from time to time I'd have to crawl out of the bag and physically push myself on down the water way using my feet and small twigs and tree limbs that I could reach. Other times I'd have to actually get out and drag the bag along, pulling it behind me.

I became strong there in the wilds of Morristown's forests, teaching myself how to weave clothes from leaves, dig holes when I take craps and bury it, so the smell won't give away my position... and kill things for food and also sustenance.

One day, after killing some delicious fat dude who was mowing his yard, I stumbled up on a newspaper. The headline said, "O.J. Simpson Accused of Murder." I was completely blown away.

(Another Editor's Note: I'd trained myself to read from being a badass and just inherently knowing how to read at birth. Also, the Cheetos bag had this awesome cat guy with sunglasses on the front, and I deciphered the English language by comparing his giant head with the mysterious figures and symbols on the bag. I began to sound it out: "Trrraaannzzz Fattss" and "SOOOO-DI-UM.")

After the O.J. news settled in my brain, I decided to become a powerful attorney: doing my part to stop people like the family of Nicole Simpson from ever trying to pin murder on innocent men again. People like this need to be stopped!!!! Luckily, though, he was proven innocent and everybody was happy. (I baked a cake in the shape of boobs.)

Years later, here I am, a graphic designer and blog guy.

Basically, readers... whenever I hear about a kid getting into trouble with drugs, I like to tell them this story. It really hits close to home for a lot of these troubled teens.

Finally, my point: There's seriously a new movie that's out now called "MORRISTOWN."

Not only is it called "MORRISTOWN," but it's called "MORRISTOWN: A BALLERINA LOVE STORY."

Okay, the genius of this probably hasn't really sunk in yet. Let's give it some time to really sink in here.

Let it sink.

A little more.

Sink away.

Sink for just a little longer.

Sink it in.

Sink it deep.

Sink it hard.

Okay, so now that that's all sunk in, let's throw that title out there one more time, just for kicks: "MORRISTOWN: A BALLERINA LOVE STORY."

After waiting my entire beaver-dammed life for a great film about the place of my birth, we get a heartwarming tale of a ballet dancer named Chris, who ventures into a small town (sort of like the outlaw Josie Wales, I imagine) to teach ballet and finds his ex-girlfriend somehow teaching at the same school.

This is pretty weird stuff. In my head, a movie about my home town would have been called, "MORRISTOWN: THE REVENGE OF BRENDA'S LOUNGE" or possibly "MORRISTOWN: THE POST-APOCALYPTIC BATTLE FOR PANTHER CREEK." Or, if the marketing guys were REALLY on their game: "MORRISTOWN: RAZORFIST VS. BLOOD VENOM" with the tag line: "Passing the liquor-by-the-drink amendment was only the beginning."

I'm sure you can think of many more interesting movie titles. If so, please feel free to comment below. The winner of the best one will receive a free custom-made Burt Reynolds computer desktop from me! Let's get right on it, readers!!!!

Hey man, I'm not cracking on ballet here. It's a pretty amazing art, and I have nothing but respect for the super hot chicks in those awesome tights who leap around like Spider-man and bend themselves around like a twist tie from a loaf of bread. Let's face it, bud, those ballerinas could seriously kick my ass if they wanted.

If I'm not mistaken, there was this awesome episode of Alvin and the Chipmunks... or Mr. T and the T-Force... or something... where the star of the show befriends this ballerina kid who everybody makes fun of. (Let's pretend it actually WAS Alvin and the Chipmunks.)

Alvin was thinking that this ballet kid was a total fag, right? Well, it turns out that in the end when bullies attack, the ballerina kid like kung-fu kicks this wardrobe metal bar off the clothes stand with his powerful, mighty legs... bends it with his hands into a makeshift club, and beats the shit out of the bullies with it.

If I'm not mistaken, he also bent the metal pole around the bullies, tied them up and left them there helpless for the police. (This happened all the time in 80's cartoons.)

Anyway, back to the point: ballet is pretty awesome. So do I endorse this film about Morristown ballerinas who fall in love and reach for their dreams?

You bet your ass. This movie looks GGEEEENNNIIIUUSS!!!!!!

Check out the trailer below and let me know what you think about this.



( Facebook readers, follow this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ki9FSZWke4o )

Dancing the night away and loving it,

-McClane