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.