Wednesday, September 06, 2006

more fun with george

You know how your significant other will usually have one friend who is an utter waste of skin? Someone you cannot imagine anyone associating with, much less the wonderful person you love?

For ten years now my husband has had a friend named George.

George, according to George, knows Tom Robbins, the author of 'Still Life With Woodpecker', 'Another Roadside Attraction', etc. Grew up with him. Blood brothers.
Whenever Tom's in town he visits George secretly, at night, and is gone with the dawns first light, because he doesn't want to cause a lot of media hoopla.
According to him, Tom Robbins weighs 500 lbs and is probably going to die of a heart attack.

According to George, he grew up with the Kneivels...Evel and son Robbie.
Rode motorcycles with them. Blood brothers, in fact.
When Robbie came to jump some cars here in Deming a couple of years ago, ol' George says he went up there and tried to (play the 'known him all my life' card) get in to see him, but Robbie Kneivel said 'Never heard of the guy' right to his face.
George says this is proof that Robbie Kneivel has gone Hollywood.

His daughter has recurring spells of hysterical blindness caused by his ex-wife's infidelity. According to George.

And yet, illogically, and according to George, he (profoundly and continuously stoned every waking moment ever since I've known him and unable to lift a finger, let alone Mr. Happy) and his ex-wife (300 lbs, full time job, depressed and raising two teenage girls alone) were swingers (unable to pay rent or buy groceries, had their Christmas turned in to a charity media event by a local radio station, yet paying dues to all these private clubs) screwing celebrities and government officials and people you wouldn't even believe, man.
This means that if you swing, and you live in the Seattle-Everett-Bellingham area, you probably have fucked either George or his ex-wife, according to George.
I hope you were wearing a condom.

George is incapable of paying a bill or keeping a running car.
But according to George, he came into a huge inheritance two years ago. In the middle of a raging statewide housing market, George claims he lost it all investing in real estate.

George has several original M. C. Escher lithographs and several Aubrey Beardsley prints in a safe deposit box. And a rare match edition ( Wurlitzer-Bullshitpalooza, signed by all twelve apostles with engraved meteoric silver and unicorn horn inlay something or other) rifle.

Seven years ago, George claimed that doctors had given him less than year to live.
He begged my husband to kill him. My husband refused. George said he understood.

George then had a premonition.
He would die that coming April 24th.
In June, after everyone (including George) had forgotten this dire prediction, I pointed out that he was 1. Well past his expiration date and 2. Still miraculously undeceased.
This was widely regarded as having been in poor taste on my part.

George has been dying of a mysterious ailment for the past sixteen years, according to George. As proof, occasionally George will suddenly remember he's supposed to be dying, freeze, contort his face, gak a couple of times and keel over.
He has run up several hundred thousand dollars trying to get this mystery ailment diagnosed.
He cannot pay these bills. Not even Bill Gates could pay these bills.
Not even Tom Robbins.

George, as you might have guessed, is captain of the good ship Munchausen.

His latest pile landed in my ear about an hour ago. (I wrote this yesterday. Now it's today.)
"Uhhh...I have a question...You probably know what I'm talking about when I mention... Aleister Crowley...? Maria Blavatsky....?" is how the conversation started.

"Ah", I thought, "George found some Vicodin. "

According to George, he had come into the possession of a hand written, original manuscript of the book of Dzyan. He alluded to its having been found in mysterious circumstances, and that some poor guy died right on the spot, probably suicide, man, where it had been found, and that there were lots of other really sick, weird stuff with it. That it was probably worth a lot of fuckin' money to someone.

"Ah", I thought, "George needs money for Vicodin. "

Now, George has been in jail for the past couple of months.
According to George, he has been in Venezuela.
Despite his outstanding warrants.
According to George, one of his 'big dope growing buddies from Wenatchee' took him.
Out of the country.
To Venezuela.
Where he found this hand written manuscript of the book of Dzyan.
In a cave.
Along with an infants' skull.
"...And you know what that means..." Said George knowingly.

"Sure", I said. "Why don't you bring it on over with you?"

When George arrived he produced an old, mimeographed transcript of a Theosophy lecture.
No skull.

See, that ruined my entire fucking day.
I was really looking forward to the skull. I wanted to hold it in my hand and gaze into it's hollow eyes. Maybe lick it.

I wonder how much money he borrowed?

...And yes. I AM a pitiless bitch. But that's aside the point. George can't afford child support, he can't afford rent, but he can ALWAYS afford to cram every illegal narcotic known to pharmacy science into his head.

He knows. Oh fuck yeah, he knows.


  1. I demand that George has his own blog!

  2. me too. perhaps you can ghost it, fn?

  3. I (stupidly) dated a guy who told me that he hated a certain rock star because the rock star stole his girlfriend. Once. When he lived in Hollywood. After he dated Danny Elfman's daughter, Lola. While he was with me, his "contract ended" with his company, where in reality he had quit because he didn't want to go to work anymore.

    Sadly, there was never a skull involved.

  4. i think we've all been there though. i used to know a girl who alleged that she'd lived in a squat in manchester with the levellers (they lived in brighton), and that she'd had a baby whilst od'ing on speed (she didn't) that lived with it's father in said manchester squat (it didn't, because she had never had a baby. ever).

    it got to the stage where she would recount stories featuring me (which never happened) while i was there. i saw her recently at a friend's funeral and it was exactly the same.

    what i'd like to know is, what goes through these people's heads? do they even know they're lying? i mean, really?

  5. maybe you're just looking at him the wrong way - it;s not that he's a pathologically lying, hypochondriac, junkie...oh no...he's a performer and you get command performances of his very own every time he visits. There, doesn't that make more sense?

    No?...well it was worth a try.

  6. studly rat: george has repeatedly claimed he could write several books about what he's been through, but since nearly everything is illegal, or supposed to be secret, he is honor bound not to publish it anyplace where THE WRONG PEOPLE like THE CIA might get ahold of it.
    *shakes head*
    surly: the world can only accomodate one George.
    claire: jeesh; sorry! was there ever a speck of truth to any of it, or was it all fantasy?
    surly II: this guy knows he's making it up. thing is, he's so stoned all the time that he thinks everyone is buying it, and he gets lost trying to face it up. his core problem is lack of character and drug addiction.
    hendrix: i really think thats how he sees himself, hendrix; as a performance artist. that's damned astute. you want a command performance? i'll send him your way if you'd like.

  7. I've met George. And every one of his clones/dopplegangers/imitators. My home town is teeming with them. I recently had a conversation with a woman in a grocery store who was telling me about the career as an opera star she gave up to become a baby-mill. That was just in THIS life. The stores of all her PREVIOUS lives were even MORE interesting.

  8. He does have an incurable disease. Unfortunately it's not directly fatal, only mildly unpleasant for any who come into contact with him.

    It's called stupidity...

  9. So you're saying that Tim Robbins doesn't actually stay with George?

  10. cb: omg. reincarnation on top of everything else? why? why do people insist on doing this???? (hows the trip going?XO)
    noshit: right in one! and the man is utterly convinced that nobody's smart enough to be able to figure HIM out...
    G: not Tim, not Tom, not no Robbinses. maybe the bird kind. the robot bird kind sent by the CIA to monitor his movements. like in 'The Incredibles'. yeah.

  11. I've always fancied Tom Robbins.
    I'll pay George to take me to Tom. I don't care if Tom is 500 pounds, he's welcome to sit on my face. After that, I'll ask Tom to sit on George and squish him to death. End of your problem.

  12. It’s so funny cos it’s true. We all know a George. Unfortunately in my case it is my older brother. One of his best would have been the time he actually found the lost recordings of Elvis in a suitcase at his mates bed sit in the seaside resort of Weymouth (UK). He actually called the press to arrange an unveiling of the sacred tape reels. The local papers arrived (can’t remember if any nationals did although I suspect not) only to find these two clowns were trying to make money from a recording of an Elvis movie. I managed to steer clear of the whole embarrassing episode (on this occasion).

  13. ****who is that sun bronzed beach god lurking in the corner ****

    Its beasty live from Leftkas


  14. Oh my! Real life... annoying to say the least... but for the blogosphere? You got your hands on blogging gold my friend, GOLD! Who'd a thunk George would be golden? Go figure!

  15. He sounds well.
    Sorry you didnæt get to lick the skull :(
    Now there is a sentence I never though I´d say :)

  16. Anonymous6:51 PM

    Every man needs a friend like that. It keep their spouse/partner/girlfriend/hooker from ever realizing that they are dating/fucking/living with/sharing secrets/taking money from anyone who could possibly be the most annoying person on earth.

  17. That was the funniest thing that I have read in ages. You need to write and produce a YouTube short about him and Forrest Gump it to the 9s...edit in all of his famous friends.
    Fantastic character assassination!

  18. mj: ok. put down the chunky peanut butter and step back. tom robbins?
    hardhouse: oh geeze. so whats your thoughts as to why? drugs? mental illness? just plain liking to lie?
    beast: wow! they have computers in greece? how long does the donkey have to walk around the track to make it run? and WHERES MY POSTCARD??? (SEE YOUR EMAIL)
    MizB: not so much gold as brown with lots of corn stuck in. and lying out in the yard.
    minka pengie: anyone who can put down the sentence 'sorry you didn't get to lick the skull' and mean it is a TRUE FLATBUTT. rock on.
    anon: welcome! i was already married to the lamest etc. some years back. this is a different guy. see, i think it's more like when you go walking through the woods and a leech jumps out of the palm trees and attaches itself to your eye...just one of those things, man.
    HE: welcome! i done seed you at mj's place!
    character assassination? the man would have had to have had some character; any character at all in order to assassinate it in the first place, yo.

  19. You doubt George?! But the man has a fucking PHILOSOPHY DEGREE! He is all edumacated and therefore above suspiscion or contempt!
    Dude be crazy.
    He reminds me of Baby Daddy in some ways. Drugs do not do pretty things to one's brain, eh? Eh.

  20. I have thought about this plenty FN, had to really.

    You could easily blame drugs (everyone does for most things) but I know my brother found drugs in his teens and he had always been a liar before that.

    Mental illness? I don’t think so although my brother has had depression, schizophrenia and ADHD when it suits him, usually when he’s in court and trying to avoid another sentence.

    I personally think it’s a learned behaviour, a conditioned trait. Perhaps these people have been ignored as children or not given any stimulus and telling lies gets a little attention, even if no one believes them, any attention is good right? It’s how they explain badly behaved children; being told off and punished gives them some attention if that’s all the attention they are likely to receive. The behaviour is reinforced when people challenge them or talk about them or the liar sees that the stories they are telling are affecting other people. It’s kind of a twisted praise. With this in mind when my brother talks bollox to me I will ignore it and change the subject and then show genuine interest in the mundane or true things he manages to utter. He doesn’t lie to me so much anymore.

  21. Viva George!

    And beautifully written!

  22. neur: george has a lot of things. yes, he does. most of them imaginary.
    muchas smooches missy!
    hardhouse: beautifully thought out. you know, we try the same strategy with george and find taht we also get lied to statistically less than other people. you get a hug. that has to be difficult to live with. yer a good guy.
    *keels over in a dead faint*
    *revives briefly* and thank you. coming from you thats enough to make me a little misty.
    beast: we're ALL sad. AND WHERES MY POSTCARD???????

  23. First, tell him it's Helena Blavatski, not Maria.

    Second, tell him you remember every single fascinating true story from his life he's ever told you. Including the ones he told you in strictest confidence when he was totally drunk.

    Especially the one about how a man who looked exactly like Elvis Presley hit on him in KFC. And how George took pity on poor Elvis, and they had a night of kinky passion, interrupted when the CIA burst in and took Elvis back to his special room the Pentagon.

    But you'll never, ever, tell anyone about it. Because you wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea about George.

  24. Is your friend George Bush ?????

  25. welcome, kapitano!
    Thats' actually a pretty good plan. I have no qualms whatsoever about messing with this dickweeds' head either. come back any time!
    beast: no, but they play on the same bowling league.

  26. I agree with hardhouse - it's a form of massive insecurity and I'm sure is something to do with being ignored or insecure/anxious in childhood. When I was 8 I told everyone at school I had a twin brother called Peter! I didn't - I was an only child of a single mother who had gone through 2 divorces in 4 years and was in fear of leaving school everyday because my stupid stepdad had threatened to kidnap me and take me back to Greece (where he was from). No wonder I started making up stories! Luckily he went to prison and I moved school! After that everything settled down. Looks like George is stuck there big time!