Thursday, December 24, 2015

A Kellerman Karol - Blog Post Christmas Eve 2015

A Kellerman Karol


Hiya, folks!

I haven’t blogged in a while, and I thought to myself, what better time to start again than on that jolliest of holiday times, Christmas Eve?

Wow, it’s hard to believe it, but I’ve been on the internet for five whole years as of this month! Yowza! My, how time flies!

In the time I’ve been on the internet and re-starting my brilliant and beautiful career as a creative genius and advice guru, I have accomplished so many wonderful things. I have made so many wonderful Youtube videos, continuing the career path I started in the 1980s when I launched my original series THE JEREMY KELLERMAN ADVICE HOUR. I have posted countless (I mean you could count them if you wanted and you should because it’s so inspiring to know how prolific I am) blog posts here on THE JEREMY KELLERMAN BLOG! I’ve even created a few audio masterpieces, visual art, and I even released my first videogame, BUTT, which was even a featured game on the game console OUYA [defunct]! My honor could not soar any higher without bursting into flames in the upper atmosphere.

There is seriously no limit to the amount of inspirational glory that I can create when I set my mind to it. I am such an amazing person and I’m so grateful to be me. And I hope my greatness inspires you to be grateful for yourself, too, even if you aren’t the kind of person who is constantly producing high quality creative content that inspires and provokes profundity in all who experience it.

The internet has also been a great way to make friends that I wouldn’t have met within the confines of my native Michigan, majestic though this great state is. I’ve met musical angels like Vasamotion, of the Alaskan tundras, and Hussalonia, of the New York tundras. I’ve met a writer friend, Leonard Kirke, of the Ohio tundras, who has been really helpful in producing my literary masterpieces and editing stuff for me. From the Vermont tundras there are my game developer friends known collectively as “Not a Hipster Coffee Shop,” including such luminaries as Ryan Leslie, Jak Tiano, Matt Struble, Zach “Dumpster Tree,” Chas Elterman, and so many other wonderful people. Who could forget folks like Brendon Bigley and rap master Trey Cole? I even met Jim Crawford, the creator of something called “Frog Fractions.” I was published in the online journal The Seattle Star, founded by fellow starman Omar Wiley and co. I was absorbed into the world of Shaye Saint John, that gorgeous Hollywood starlet, and discovered her documentarian chronicler, Larry Wessel. Last but most definitely not least, I met Sven Hegedus, a spirit so ethereally beautiful that I can scarcely believe his glow.

These have been five really fantastic years, and they’ve only convinced me ever more how much light I bring into the world and how great it will be to keep shining with my high beams on full-on throttle, yes.

To conclude this meditation of gratitude and positive attitude, I’ll tell you sweet sprites in the universe a tale of a dream I just had during a Christmas Eve nap.

In the dream, I was woken up from my sleep at midnight by the ghost of Reginald P. Quest, one of my great mentors here at WXVH, Channel 23, Ann Arbor local access.

Reggie Reg told me that I would be visited by three spirits (he used a different word at first but I told him he was being racist again so then he clarified and it was fine) who would impart to me some important truths. As Reggie well knows, I am always up and/or down for that. Truths being imparted by spiritual beings is pretty much what I’m all about. I channel that stuff for the masses, because my job is deeply important to the psycho-emotional-spirituo-health of many a soul.

So he said to go back to sleep and the spirits would visit me at 1 AM, 2 AM, and 3 AM. I asked if they could come sooner because I need my beauty snooze, but he said everything was pre-arranged and couldn’t be rescheduled and he was sorry and I said that’s okay Reggie I know you do your best.

As he told me to, I went back to sleep and sure enough, when my genuine Rubendo Digi-Watch tingled at 1 AM, I was woken up again. The spirit turned out to be my nephew Scott, waking me up to ask me if I bought him that video game thing he wanted for Christmas. I told him no, the video game store said they don’t sell any electronic “wands” and didn’t know what I was talking about, and I told they guy I don’t know what the kids today like either. Then Scott went on this big rampage about how when he was a kid I never bought him the 4 Non Blondes cassette and I told him I was sorry but I just didn’t think it was appropriate for a kid his age. Then he said some bad words and cried a little and I knew he was missing Vickie like I do every Christmas and so I hugged it out with him and then he went into the living room to eat pie and I went back to sleep.

Some spirit! I guess that one was absent or something.

At 2 AM, once again that tingle sound woke me up. I didn’t see a spirit this time either. I went into the kitchen for some water and found Scott choking. That silly billy dropped one of his action figure accessories into his pie and was choking. I drove him to the ER and it took forever because I couldn’t find my dang keys. When we got there the staff was really happy to see him. They gave him the “Heimlich Manure” and popped that little plastic toy thing out of him and then they hung out for a while. Scott is friends with the ER staff because things like this happen to him a lot. They were glad he visited on Christmas. He better not have done this on purpose!

In the waiting room I met my old pal, Daily Flyleaf reporter extraordinaire, Rupert Pinstripe. I asked him why he was there and he just mumbled “John Lithgow flashbacks.” We talked about Christmas traditions and he said every year on Christmas he plays his favorite holiday album, “Solstice Rectitude 29.” I told him that Scott and I carry on the tradition that Victoria and I started back in the 1980s, our annual Christmas visit to the Hergunglarg in downtown Ann Arbor. I told him about how it makes me miss Vickie so much, but that Scott and I grow closer every year when we share in that experience and in our memories of her. The Hergunglarg is such an awe-inspiring sight to see, and it’s never quite the same experience twice.

Rupert asked me what my Christmas wish for the year is, and if I thought the Hergunglarg would make it come true. I told him my wish was for world peace, for a movie to be made of my glorious life, and also to finish my wisdom book, the Kellermonicon, very soon. I asked Rupert what he wished for and he said his Christmas wish is for people to stop making commercials and greeting cards with imagery of animals with human teeth.

Eventually Scott was released, I bid Rupert a fond farewell and a merry Christmas and/or solstice, and then Scott and I went home and I got back to bed. Finally, at 3 AM, my watch tingle-dingled for the final time that morn. I wasn’t expecting much, since I hadn’t seen any of the predicted spirits. But this time, something did happen.

Standing in front of me as I sprawled out on my bed, there was a man. At least I think it was a man. I don’t remember much about the body…I just can’t remember it. But the face was weird. It was like someone wearing a paper plate as a mask, with a face drawn on the bottom of the plate. The face was smiling at me, in a weird smile. It was kind of like a cartoon face. It beckoned me forward with an outstretched hand, motioning downwards and towards it, the Japanese way. Something about this thing was very, very familiar. Whenever I blinked or looked away and back, its face changed. Sometimes it smiled, sometimes it cried, sometimes it looked angry. Sometimes it smiled in a way that didn’t seem really happy.

I followed it and the room shimmered and shivered and wiggled and woggled. Soon I was no longer in my room, but a graveyard. I saw Victoria’s grave, but of course it was empty. The strange thing is that someone had dug out all the dirt, and deep down at the bottom was like a portal or vision. I saw streets, sacred cows, monkeys, elephants, and the Taj Mahal. Then the strange figure motioned to me again, and I followed him to another grave. It was MINE. But there was no date of birth or death listed. Instead, there was only an infinity symbol, a dash, and another infinity symbol where the dates should be.

My grave was dug out, too, and there was a vision at the bottom of mine as well. This vision showed me back on the set of my classic television series, THE JEREMY KELLERMAN ADVICE HOUR. I looked as great as ever, so beautiful. Perfect moustache, perfect. I was smiling really big at the camera and I could just tell I was about to say something, when a door opened. Behind me, at the back of the set, the plate-faced guy/person/thing who had brought me to this vision burst through the door from the set to the outside parking lot and held a gun at me. I stared at it in utter fear.

Everything rewound, like someone was rewinding an old VHS tape, and I was about to speak all over again. This time the smile on my face froze in the moment, my eyes large, expectant, like I knew the words already but was still trying to find them anyway. The audience was waiting for me. I was the audience, and I was waiting for me. I was about to say something.

Suddenly everything shifted. I was shooting through space and time. I saw brains hooked up to a computer thing somewhere in space. I saw a man-sized teddy bear wandering the streets. There was a dark, ornate office building. Then there was an audience on a sunny afternoon, and then they were replaced by balloons that floated away. An old woman sat on a bench in a park. A young man sipped a drink at a bar. Deborah’s face rose up from the abyss, angry-looking. Victoria screamed. Victoria was smiling. Victoria was far away. Scott was crying. Lance collapsed against my host chair on the set. Victoria was gone, but she was still there. I could hear the theme song of The Jeremy Kellerman Advice Hour echoing through the corridors of space.

Then the vision ended. I was back in my room. The plate-faced person danced in a mildly provocative way in front of me. I stared transfixed at the slow, sensuous movements. The drawn look on its face was a simple, cheerful smile. I blinked, and the face became mischievous, and it held up a finger to its face as if to whisper “Shh…” It pointed to its wrist, to indicate my watched. I looked, and it was 6 AM. When I looked back up, its face was a grin. I blinked, it was gone.

Suddenly I woke up, and checked my watch. It was only half past 3 AM.

Scott was in the bathroom throwing up. He had too many peppermint drinks, silly goosey. It happens every year!

I wondered about my strange dream. What did it mean? I thought a lot about it and I decided that it was some sort of disorganized allegory for my life, maybe mixed with a premonition and lots of complex metaphors.

The more I thought about it, though, I remembered that it started with the ghost of my mentor Reginald P. Quest and he’s not dead. So it was probably just a weirdo dream or hallucination brought on by that Ramune-drinking contest I had with Scott earlier. Those Japanese sodas pack a wallop! Plus I took a giant gulp of what I thought was egg nog, but it turned out to be that brown liquid that Deb sometimes stores in the fridge. I keep telling her to put labels on drink containers if she’d re-using him! That goofus. She’s off on one of her “jaunts” again, gone for two weeks now. Oh well, more Christmas cheer for me and Scotters!

I hope you enjoyed this joyous blog update for the holiday season, and that whatever holiday and/or rituals you celebrate this time of year, they are merry.

I hope, too, that in the future I will bring you more exciting goodness, Kellermaniacs. There are lots of projects I hope to accomplish and/or delegate to others to accomplish. Of course the Kellermonicon is still in progress, it marches on. I’m in talks with a trusted collaborator to make a biopic/documentary of my life a reality. I’m in further talks with a certain eccentric baloney-based fast food magnate to create yet another video game, in addition to another video game project or two I’ve been considering. And someday I might get the Kellerman Family Band back together, as well as producing an album for my good friend Marty Stevens. There might even be a fresh re-release of the classic 1989 era theme song of THE JEREMY KELLERMAN ADVICE HOUR on the way! Not to mention the  possible first-ever LIVE READING OF KELLERMAN WRITINGS! Who knows? Plus there are hopefully more stories, videos, and other fun just waiting to be born anew.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, glad tidings, comfort and joy, creative wonder, and infinite love to all of you,


Is There a Jeremy Kellerman? (A Christmas Eve Special Report from the Daily Flyleaf)

Is There a Jeremy Kellerman?

from The Daily Flyleaf


We take pleasure in answering at once and thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Daily Flyleaf.

"Dear Editor:

I am [redacted] years old.

Some of my little friends say there is no Jeremy Kellerman.

Some say that Jeremy Kellerman is just a dream, or a mirage, or a hallucination, or a delusion, the kind of thing you see when you stare at The Sun too long. They say that there are no solid facts to prove that Jeremy Kellerman exists.

I see things written about Jeremy Kellerman but I have never seen him in person. The information I’ve found about him seems inconsistent and confusing.

My friends say that without proof, Jeremy Kellerman is just a fake. They say that I’d better move on, and accept reality, and get with the program, and live in the real world. They say that Jeremy Kellerman is nothing more than an imaginary friend, and that imaginary friends aren’t real, and that grown-ups are too old for imaginary friends. They say that grown-ups with imaginary friends are just crazy.

Please tell me the truth: is there a Jeremy Kellerman?

Chas “West Virginia” Eldergod

Ann Arbor, Michigan.”

West Virginia, your little friends are wrong. DEAD WRONG. WRONG!!!

They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They have been affected by the indifference of an indifferent age. They live in a world so focused on the means of connection that it has forgotten the value of connection. They live in a world of surveillance and they live in fear of appearing foolish. Worst of all, they are swept up in cynicism, which always reinforces itself.

They do not believe except they see. They do not feel except they touch. And even then, so many nerves have gone numb without notice.

They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds, which does not neatly fit into their established order. All minds, West Virginia, whether they be grown-ups’ or children's, are little. And all systems, like most butts, have cracks.

In this great universe of ours humans are mere insects, ants, in intellect, as compared with the boundless world about us, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge, and by the vast uncertainty surrounding our every revelation and discovery. We are but beautiful, fragile butterflies and/or moths next to the countless paradoxes that loom up behind every promise of certainty.

Yes, West Virginia, there is a Jeremy Kellerman. He exists as certainly as mystery and absurdity and possibility and paradox and love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. And you know that they are always there, within yourself, even when you can find them nowhere else.

Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Jeremy Kellerman! It would be as dreary as if there were no West Virginia. Or no Chas. Or no Jak. Or no Zach, no Brendon, no Matt, no Matthew, no Ryan, no Leo, no Scott, no Victoria, no John, no Chriddof, no Franklin, no Craig, no Cassandra, no Lauren, no Laurie, no Leonard, no Tom, no Bob, no Wesley, no Paul, no Alisha, no Irina, no Misao, no Jim, no Ahmed, no Patrick, no Shawn, no Keith, no Andy, no Tony, no Jesse, no Dane, no Chris, no Jim, no Omar, no Sven Hegedus.

There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no stimulating yet incomprehensible visions, no dreams, no blessed discomfort, no joyful confusion, no hilarious absurdity, no hope, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight, facts and figures, in bland vices and in dull distractions to pass the time. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Jeremy Kellerman! You might as well not believe in yourself! You might as well not believe in The Gumber!

You might hire men to watch every street corner in Ann Arbor to catch Jeremy Kellerman, but even if they did not find him, what would that prove? Jeremy Kellerman might not look the way you expect, or the way your neighbor expects, or the way your best friend expects. Jeremy Kellerman may appear differently to everyone who sees him, and maybe to some, he is invisible. Or maybe you just hired really unreliable men who took all your money and spent it on gambling or decorative nick-nacks.

But that does not mean that he isn’t there. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Finding them is a matter of slowing down, being in the moment, and searching within yourself. Jeremy Kellerman will be there.

He is everything about you that is foolish and flawed and arrogant and self-assured and deluded and self-conscious and uncertain and terrified and selfish and caring and hopeful and beautiful and creative and unafraid to keep trying despite every failure and always ready to celebrate success. He is everything about you that is paradoxical and complicated and simple and concerned for his fellow human beings and truly wonderful and alive and loving.

He is all the worst and the best parts of yourself, in all your shame and incredible glory. Every moment you’ve ever felt like a fool, and every moment when you felt like a fool but raised yourself above your self-doubt, you were Jeremy Kellerman. Every moment when you are frozen in terror or despair, and every moment when you push aside your anxiety and decide that no matter how foolish you are, you’re going to embrace yourself and be beautiful, you are Jeremy Kellerman. And every moment when, however rare it may seem, childhood’s strength returns to you, and you have no self-consciousness, and you create without any question that you are wondrous and capable of creating beautiful things, you are Jeremy Kellerman.

Did you ever see “The Jeremy Kellerman Advice Hour” on WXVH, Channel 23? Maybe not, but that's no proof that it isn’t there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world. And we can’t test a hypothesis until somebody’s crazy enough to create a hypothesis. And we can’t even be totally sure of, like, the scientific method, because, like, maybe there’s some weird thing happening where we’re all sharing the same delusions. And what if what I think of as “blue” is totally different than what everyone else perceives to be “blue” and we don’t even realize that we’re using the same word for two totally different things?

And who knows, there might be like, alternate dimensions overlapping or something! It’s really crazy. Maybe we can never really know ANYTHING. Holy crap, thinking about this is really weird. I’m kind of freaking myself out right now.

So maybe we should try to be patient with each other and proceed with caution and be kind and hope for the best.

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Also tearing apart babies’ toys is really horrible and mean and don’t do that, otherwise you suck.

Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Is Jeremy Kellerman, and his uplifting kindness, just a fake? Ah, West Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Jeremy Kellerman! Thank God! He lives, and he lives forever. It’s only a matter of finding him. A thousand years from now, West Virginia, nay, ten times ten times ten times ten times ten times ten times ten times ten thousand years from now, without having aged a day, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Saturday, July 4, 2015

The KELLERMONICON Marches Onward!

Hey friends!

Gee, it's been a whiley-while since ol' J-Kels has posted on the ol' Blogger, hasn't it?

Sorry for the lack of posts, but being the host of the ever-popular THE JEREMY KELLERMAN ADVICE HOUR on the local access Michigan television station WXVH Channel 23 alone eats up SO much of my time! Not to mention tweeting on TWITTER (follow me! and trying to deal with Scott's regular tantrums and crises. That kid is full of so much beans.

But that's not all I'm doing! Thanks to the encouragement of my friends, especially my great new Twitter friends (shout-out to star diamons like Chas Elterman, Jak Tiano, and all the fine people of Not a Hipster Coffee Shop, the wonderful people of THE SEATTLE STAR who have featured some of my writings, and of course to Sven Hegedus, another wisdom farmer), I've been plotting one of my long-time PASSION PROJECTS!

What is this fabled project you ask? What could possibly top my classic TV series THE JEREMY KELLERMAN ADVICE HOUR, or my classic Youtube videos, or my legendary video game BUTT?

There can be only one possible answer, if there even is a true answer: THE KELLERMONICON!

That's right, THE KELLERMONICON! What's this fabled project, you ask? Why, it's the sum total (to date) of my collected wit and wisdom! I plan to include every piece of my very best wisdom and spiritual star-truth in it. Everything from EDIFYING ESSAYS, to POEMS, to SONGS, to SHORT STORIES, to excerpts from my longer works, and maybe more!

Plus, if things go well, it may even feature some awesome collaborations! I know I've got some friends on board for this one: Zak Pat Shak, my Beat poet friend whose genius is nearly like mine, will almost definitely add a poem or two, Marty Stevens, the trucker with the golden voice, Rupert Pinstripe, the plucky reporter from my favorite newspaper, The Daily Flyleaf (plus perhaps other contributions from that fine institution) , archival writings from my beloved late wife Victoria Kellerman, crafty craftswoman Mariana Cummings, fellow self-help guru Arthur Schopenhauer and many more! If things go really well, I might even seek some contributions from outside Michigan! Maybe one of the contributors will be YOU! If someone has some of my wisdom in their heart, how can I not include it?

Now you might ask yourself: Jeremy, how the heck long will it take you to make this book? And that would be wrong because you're not Jeremy, I am! But irregardless, the answer is: time is just the mind's way of feeling like the stream flows straight when really it's full of pools and fish. I hope to have the book in some kind of  mostly finished form by late 2015. But it's tough to tell about these things! Once my friend, animal expert NEIL HUGGINS promised to meet me for a nature retreat but the address he gave me was a vacant lot and he never showed up. So you never know what the heck sometimes! Still, I plan to keep working hard on THE KELLERMONICON because I know, as I've always known, that the truth-spirit living inside of me has wanted to spread and touch all the other hearts for a lot of many years now.

So that's where ol' Jeremy K stands these days. Progress is slow, but it's still progress. And what about the mean-time? Of course, I prefer the NICE-TIME, right? Meanness is bad! So what about the nice-time? Well, in the nice-time, I'd like to try and gain some support for the Kellermonicon, and you can do that right now by cheering really loud. Trust me, my ears might not hear it, but my spirit will, and probably anyone near you. Frankly people don't realize enough how much spirits love to hear screams. After that, maybe just tell people about it, if you know any people who love wisdom, joy, laughter, fun, magic, truth, and wisdom, and hopefully that means EVERYBODY YOU KNOW.

I have some other ideas to gain support for the Kellermonicon, too. But I need your opinions before I pursue any of them. Here's a list, please comment on this post, or email,or tweet at me with your opinions on if you'd like to participate in any way with any of these ideas.

Crowdfunding - My nephew Scott says that crowdfunding is the "way of tomorrow," and for me, tomorrow is always today, and today is always yesterday, and yesterday is always ready for action. Would YOU be willing to pledge money to help THE KELLERMONICON be written and self-published, either digitally, in print, or both? Digital is my basic goal but I'd LOVE a full-on print edition. I'd especially love to make some special limited edition ones, maybe made by hands (someone's hands at least) and maybe customized with individual wisdom for individual people, if enough individual people would pay for this to happen, and I can't imagine anyone not.

Fund-raising by selling REAL PHYSICAL KELLERMAN OBJECTS D'ART - As you know from my DeviantArt account and my videos, I am an ACCOMPLISHED ARTIST of SOME RENOWN. (To see my work, look here: Would YOU be willing to pay AMERICAN US DOLLARS of varying amounts for special Kellerman art pieces? You could commission one or buy a pre-made piece. I might be able to work this out with a friend who could act as my art dealer. Art pieces could also be used as incentives for a crowd-funding.

CUSTOM KELLERMAN VIDEOS - As anyone who knows Kellerman Genius and Creativity, I shine REALLY bright in the world of video, stage, and screen, and my Youtube channel has VIEWS. (See here for examples of my works: Maybe for a fee, or as a crowd-find reward, I could do some custom videos.

Real Actual KELLERMAN PROPS from Real Actual KELLERMAN YOUTUBE VIDEOS - If you watch videos on my Youtube videos, you'll see that sometimes my videos use props, like my famous "Beautiful Faces" as seen in this video: Maybe you'd like one of the special, one-of-a-kind hand-made props, which double as WORKS OF TRUE ART? I might consider selling any of them, either for the right price or as a crowd-find reward.

What do you think of these ideas? Would you participate? Do you have any ideas of your own?

Any money made would benefit the project by helping me to pay for expenses, including paying team members/family members/employees for their services, and for fun things I like to do like buy things I enjoy and can maybe use for entertainment, which is ALWAYS good for creativity, almost every single time.

Please leave comments, and send emails and/or tweets. Take your time and think about it; time limits are just abstract, you know, it might take you ten years and I don't care because I don't get older I just get more and more myself.

I just want you all to know that whatever happens I'll keep working on the Kellermonicon because I love you and even if you have to read it on an old Rubendo computer it will still be full of my wisdom-love and spirit-truth and even if it takes me a long time I'll keep working on it because I know how much the world needs the genius that I have the privilege of birthing into this universe, and the sweet milk of my mind will sustain so many baby souls.

Think well, live well, and be well!
Jeremy Kellerman

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

"New Local Eatery Astounds Critic" - from THE DAILY FLYLEAF 9/5/13

"New Local Eatery Astounds Critic"

"A Little Taste of Michigan" Column by L. B. J. Cool Dawg

The Daily Flyleaf, September 5th, 2013 [From the Files of the Jeremy Kellerman Advice Hour Archive]

So I been writin this colum for a long-a-- time, and most of the foods I eat taste all plain and sh--. So when I first heard about "Laverne's Discount Oatmeal" in Ann Arbor, I was all like "HE-- NAW! Not another bullsh-- place run by some dumba-- who don't even know how to flip a flapjack." But I couldn't have been more wrong.

When I sat down in Laverne's restaurant, the first thing I noticed was how f---ing cool the menus were. They had this big-a-- picture on the cover of a old barn, you know like red with white stripes and sh--, reminded me of like a White Stripes album cover except the music didn't sound shi--y, and instead of music there was food inside, like music for eating, he-- yes.

Inside the menu, like the average food consumerist is gonna be freaked the f--- out by just HOW DA-- MUCH FU--ING OATMEAL IS IN THERE. When I saw it I was all like "WHAT THE HE--, ALL YOU SERVE IS DA-- OATMEAL? WHO THE FU-- DOES THAT SH--?"

Now at that point I might'a just walked right the fu-- out and flipped Laverne's Discount Oatmeal the big old finger-di--, but I was hungry as sh-- and luckily Laverne herself stepped out of the kitchen at that point. She was all like "Hello there, sonny! In the mood for some oatmeal?" And I'm like "Well I guess I'm hungry enough, I'd prolly eat dogsh-- right now," and she laughed and said "Oh, you youngins'!" you know like a old-a-- grandma says. Then she starts tellin' me about the daily specials (which included free orange juice) and how the deluxe bowl of oatmeal (64 fluid oz., hot fu--ing da--) is on sale for like $4.99 or some sh--. So I says "Hurry yo a-- up, grandma, and pour me a big steamin' pile!"

About 3 minutes and 27.42 seconds later, Laverne comes walkin' through the kitchen door carrying the most BIG-A-- FU--IN' BOWL OF FU--ING OATMEAL I HAVE EVER FU--IN' SEEN. She slams that bad boy down on the table, using all her elderly arm strength, and then she smiles at me like the sweetest old grandma that ever gave her grandkids ice-cold popsicles on a hot-a-- day in the summer, and she says "Now, you tell me if it's too much for you, and I'll get you a to-go bowl."

And I'm all like "FU-- THAT, LAVERNE, FOR ALL I KNOW THIS MIGHT SUCK SERIOUS A--!!!" but she politely assures me that it does not.

So then I hesitantly dip my spoon into this beige mess and, lifting up a heaping spoonful of what very well might've been the most bland, disgusting, shi--y crap I ever ate, I felt like a daddy tryin' to get his dumb-a-- little brat to eat some disgusting Baloney Hut monstrosity by doing that stupid "here comes the choo-choo airplane" bullsh--. But I ain't a stupid kid so I forced myself to shove that drippy pile of melted goblin a-- right in my mouth.






Serious, there ain't absolutely no FU--IN' WAY I can accurately convey to you the sheer level of mind-fu--ing deliciousness that was Laverne's oatmeal. That sh-- was like eatin' a 3-course meal prepared by a team of celebrity chefs, consisting of Emeril Lagasse, Mario Batalli, Anthony Bourdaine, every single Iron Chef, and the immortal soul of Julia Child. It tasted like every good meal I've ever eaten, multiplied by a thousand taste points and somehow blended in a way that actually tastes better than the individual meals that it consists of. It was like being a baby bird and being fed by yo momma when she pukes up worms, except the worms were delicious oatmeal, the baby bird is yourself transfigured into Tom Selleck, and yo momma is God. I mean how in the everloving FU-- do you even give oatmeal that much flavor...he--, how do you give oatmeal ANY flavor?! Laverne is like some crazy-a-- wizard-god that took the form of this old grandma lady to throw us all off, fu--ing sh--. 

I loved that oatmeal so da-- much I didn't even need a to-go bowl. I ate the whole fu--ing thing. I cried with every bite. I mean just wailed, like I just got told I won the lottery and my giant check would be personally hand-delivered by the Pope. Laverne was crying too, happy to see me enjoying her food so much, and we both were just screaming while I gobbled that godly elixir. About halfway through she told me to hang on a minute, then she ran into the kitchen and came back with a little container of cinnamon.

HOLLLLYYYYYY SHHHHH-------------------!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just when I thought the oatmeal couldn't get any better, she sprinkled on some of that cinnamon and it felt like getting into Heaven only to find out you got upgraded to the Honeymoon Suite and you'd get a personal massage from a bunch of enslaved demons that God didn't know what else to do with. I wanted to kiss Laverne's wrinkly old-a-- lady face but I didn't want to give her heart the boom-booms. After all she was born in the Year of Our Lord 18 hundred and 93 and my motto is, everything goes but never get stanky with a bi--h who shared time on this earth with Guy de Maupassant, even if she makes the fu--in' best oatmeal you ever ate.

Whenever I got done slurpin' down the last of that sh-- like it was the final cup of Folger's before they file for Chapter 11 during the Apocalypse, I told Laverne "You are one stone-cold, humongous mega bi--h!"" and that she made the best fu--in' meal I had ever had and that I had BETTER get some more for the road or I was gonna go absolutely super monkey balls ape sh--palooza on her fu--in' quaint establishment.
So after a lot of excited yelling back and forth eventually I got outta there with three industrial-size oil drums (had to go to the factory next door to get them, long story) full of the sweetest nectar this side of Greek mythology.

Then I motored my way over to the nearest medical supply store and started demanding their most accommodating oxygen tank available. I told them I was gonna use it as a never-ending oatmeal funnel, and they said "But sir, it doesn't work that way" and I said HEY, FU-- YOU, YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FU--IN' IDEA WHAT SH-- I'M TALKIN' ABOUT.

So as I sit here writing this review I am slurping down my second a---load of oatmeal this afternoon and dreaming of when I can go back to Laverne's, re-stock, and get ever closer to infinity beyond the stars. I touch the full spectrum when I eat this sh-- and you just have no idea if you've never done it. Get your dumb unenlightened a-- to Laverne's Discount Oatmeal as soon as your sh---y little legs will carry you and imbibe a fu---ton of oatmeal before I clean out that old bi--h's pantry for real next time. Serious.

Summary: Laverne's Discount Oatmeal is an excellent, small, family-style restaurant with an emphasis on traditional American breakfast fare. The limited seating may be off-putting to those looking for the accommodations offered by larger chain restaurants, but for those willing to put in a little patience, the reward of having breakfast in an authentic country-style diner will be worth the wait. Though the menu is very limited, patrons will find the level of creativity and flavors offered in the different oatmeal dishes to be more than a match for any other bistro in the area. As the name implies, the prices are better than fair as well, making this particular restaurant a perfect place for family breakfast on a budget.


- Friendly service

-Delicious cuisine

- Cozy, intimate atmosphere

- Affordable prices


- Limited hours of operation

- Limited menu

- Limited seating

- The orange juice kinda tasted like rat piss

Kellerman Releases His First Video Game!

Hello, Kellermaniacs!

So I've got some real BIG NEWS for all you Kellerman Buffs out there in Blog Land!

Yes, I know, it's been quite some time since old J-Kels has graced the world with a blog post, but I've been really busy behind the scenes on various projects, and this is one of the biggest!



What is BUTT? Butt is my new, old video-game! What do I mean by "new, old," you ask?

I first designed the game in good old 1983 when I was finishing my B.A. in Communications at Wanetshaw Community College in Dearborn, MI. This was in the pre-"Advice Hour" era, of course. It was just a fun project to exercise my creativity muscles. Like a real muscle, you have to exercise creativity to get this, and some day you can become a creativity heavyweight like me! I wanted to create a video game that reflected my emerging interest in self-empowerment and positive thinking.

The original game was somewhat different than the game you can play today. It was titled "The Angelic Struggle" and featured an Angel of Positivity repelling the materialist, consumerist objects spewed by the Clouds of Despair, using the mighty Bellows of Self-Empowerment. The game was a big hit with my sophomore roomate, a certain Mister David Munson you might have heard of (wink wink!).

However, technology is a temperamental beast. I saved the game on a SAWG-E Flopping Diskette, produced by the Balonatronics corporation (back in the glorious '80s, Balonatronics was a subsidiary of the famous Baloney Hut fast food chain we all know and love). Unfortunately, I never found another computer compatible with it after I got rid of my trust old Rubendo 5000 PCD (personal computational device). Then after my beloved Vickie died back in 1996, I lost track of it.

But you can't keep a good idea down! A couple months ago, Scott was fishing around in some old boxes, looking for hidden treasures among a bunch of Grandma Kellerman's old stuff. What should he find, though, but the original SAWG-E Flopping Diskette by Balonatronics? He passed it on to his whiz-kid pal Johnny Weinstein, and using his incredible electronics skills, he was able to access the original master and sub-ter files!

Under my supervision, the game was updated to reflect the modern era. The name "The Angelic Struggle" was dropped because Scott said it was too outdated. He re-named it "Butt" instead, due to his market research into youth culture and modern gaming trends. Some of the objects in the game were touched up, and some new ones were added, to reflect 2010s sensibilities.

An interesting development occurred when Johnny discovered the licensing agreement of the original Balonatronics diskette I used. Apparently, by using the disk, I was also signing away half the rights to anything saved on the disk to the Balonatronics Corporation. I called in my manager, the always fabulous Lance Erikson, to investigate and sort everything out. Apparently, since Balonatronics now only exists to oversee the properties they created when they were an active company, in lieu of paying them any licensing fees, we made the project a sort of collaboration. All we had to do was credit Balonatronics as the co-producer of the game, along with me, and the Jeremy Kellerman Productions gang. This is great! I get to see my name alongside a beloved fast food giant's subsidiary! To show our thanks for being so easy to work with, we gave Roger Nimrockets, "Mr. Baloney" himself, founder of Baloney Hut, a little cameo in the game. Thanks, Roger!

Our game was finally released on April 1st, 2014, and I couldn't be happier. The PC version is currently available directly from Jeremy Kellerman Productions via this link:

The OUYA version can be accessed here:

Even more exciting, BUTT is a featured OUYA game today, April 2nd, 2014! Wow! A historical Kellerman moment! Yes! I hope soon to see some Let's Play Videos, reviews, and other fun stuff! We're working on an Android tablet release, too!

One last note: like other Kellerman projects, I'm releasing BUTT into the public domain using the Creative Commons Zero Waiver (CC0). This way, even more people will have access to my uplifting wisdom. Share it, friends!

I hope to do some more releases in various mediums in the year still ahead. The Kellerman creativity train can't be stopped! Choooo choooo! Nothing can hold J-Kels down!

Until next time, my friends, as always...

Think well, live well, and be well!
Jeremy Kellerman

Promo for Kellerman game

Thursday, May 31, 2012


Transcript of "Jackson Blubber" Commercial on WXVH, Channel  23, Ann Arbor, Michigan Local Access Network








Tuesday, February 21, 2012

"Two Gods from New God" a work of Beat poetry by Zack Pat Shak


Hey there, it's Jeremy Kellerman!

Sorry it's been so long since my last post, but it's been kuh-razy 'round ol' Ann Arbor!

I've been in and out of the hospital and in and out of the studio and sometimes in one and out the other, like the way information passes through my ears, LOL!

I hope to begin posting here again as soon as possible, but in the mean time, here's a poem by my old friend and fellow Michigan genius/legend, the Beat poet Zack Pat Shak. Enjoy the depth!

"Two Gods from New God"

"where one road ends
Another begins
and quickly leads to the edge
thousands of screaming souls
return to the place from which
They Started.

I dreamed a Dream far too great
for this world
and so the World forgot the Dream
and forgot Me
and I, then, forgot Myself.

Memory comes and goes
and Returns and Departs
and Returns again
with the Tides
inconstant, ever-changing, liquid
much the same as Dream.

if you were I
I were you
we would not be standing here

and how to break the barrier
of Otherness
that insufferable Gulf
between Us
between You and I
and who
we might be