Ed Helicopter Jones
03-04-2008, 12:02 PM
This year's SPAM pilgrimmage was my most insightful yet. Due to the magnitude of this event I had to divide the journey into a three part mini-series (Part II Wednesday, Part III on Thursday) that is being presented exclusively on Spurstalk.
Many secrets regarding the might SPAM will be revealed over the next three days. You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll wet your pants. But most of all you'll have insights into the reality that is SPAMNATION.
PILGRIMAGE VI - THE QUEST FOR SPAMTOPIA -- BACK TO BACK IN 2008 (Part I)
Greetings brothers and sisters of the SPAM. Gather ‘round, Chopper’s gonna tell ya’ll a little story…..
For those of you who don’t know me…my name is Edward Helicopter “Chopper” Jones, Esquire. I am a simple anglo negro man of asian decent, who at one time lived an ordinary life, in an ordinary town in the Pacific east coast region of the desert southwest. I had a thriving business as a "flaxseed oil" and vitamin B12 distributor to hundreds of professional athletes and trainers. Because my "flaxseed oil" sold for hundreds of dollars per application I was blessed enough to own a house on a mountainside overlooking the city, and in the evenings I’d eat a delicious dinner on the deck and then relax and watch the sunset while sipping a cocktail and fondling myself. Life, as I knew it, was as complete as it could get.
Then, suddenly, in late February of 2003 my life changed forever. While in the grocery store picking up some milk, eggs, nose hair clippers, my daily fifth of Jack Daniels, a Low Rider magazine, and $150 in Powerball tickets I turned down the potted meat aisle, not realizing the magnitude of this seemingly meaningless event. As I approached the now magical oblong blue cans of hydrogenated heaven I heard a faint voice calling my name—“Chopper…Chopper”-- the SPAM spoke, and my life has never been the same.
SPAM. Four little letters that stand for oh so much. Spurs Peak After March.
At the time, the Spurs and their fans had witnessed the Lakers reel off three straight championships, and the memory of the ’99 title seemed like a distant memory to many. The Spurs were playing only marginal basketball as seemingly happens each year from December to February. And, as happens each year from December to February cries of “fire Pop!” and “make an f’in trade!” and “headbands…more headbands!!” and “Let’s sacrifice another virgin to the basketball gods!” rang out in the forum. I obviously took exception to the whole “headband” idea, but despite my loyalty to the Spurs organization the other ideas were really beginning to make a lot of sense.
Then, I encountered the SPAM, and it told me that everything was going to be alright. That the Spurs would go on that year and win the title and that the Laker run was over. It then instructed me to take my message to the masses and proclaim it to anyone that would listen. And, thankfully many did. The chaos subsided. T Park who was on the alter as the fourth spring sacrifice, had his life spared…SPAMMEN!
Then, when the Spurs went on to win the title in 2003 the prophecy was fulfilled and SPAM became a synonymous with the Spurs ability to ‘flip the switch’ beginning in March and ride it all the way to the title. I was thrilled…the SPAM was real!! The SPAM IS REAL!!
At the end of my SPAM Pilgrimage 2007, those of you who can recall back (or do a thread search) might remember I was visited by a bald black man wearing an overcoat, and he offered me two pills…a red pill and a blue pill. I accidentally mistook him for a SPAMdamn Cuban, however, and shot him in the face with my BB gun. Then, after getting summarily pummeled, I never did receive the message he came to deliver. Then I woke up in a mental health facility with my case worker telling me “welcome to the real world, Chopper.”
“Real world. Real world.” I scoffed. “I’ve been living in the real world, beotch, and it’s made of delectable meat by-product!” After this proclamation I jumped up and jetted for the exit. Luckily for me they don’t make the security guards at mental health facilities quite like they used to. Also lucky for me is the fact that thanks to the combination of my all SPAM diet along with applying leftover "flaxseed oil" to my testicles and taking the vitamin B12 injections for the past five years I’m now a 6’3”, 400 pound SPAM machine with a size 17 hat and testicles that glow in the dark. Some people think that might make me look a little strange but I’ve been told I wear it well.
So…after bowling over the two very frightened security guards I ran into the arroyos near the hospital. From living as one with nature the last couple of years I’ve come to know the landscape by heart and had no trouble alluding the authorities since last year.
I laid low (as low as a 400 pound man with a ginormous melon can go) for a couple of months in my underground bunker until the heat was off. Fortunately for me back in 2004 I cashed in my 401K and built a small underground bunker in the New Mexico desert where I stored only the essentials that I would need to survive, namely 500,000 cans of SPAM, 200,000 bottles of Jack Daniels, 600 gallons of "flaxseed oil" and vitamin B12, 10 years of back issues of Black Juggs, Red Hot Botts, Oui, High Society, Panty Play and Over 40 magazines, every televised Spurs game on CD since 1976, a full-sized basketball court with two dozen new basketballs, and 3 gallons of water. When I built the bunker I figured that I could last there for at least 7 or 8 months should “D” day (otherwise known as Dallas winning an NBA championship) ever occur. I always figured that after 8 months or so it would be ok to return to the surface as most of the fallout surrounding Mark Cuban’s giant ego exploding would have subsided. (Please don’t quote me on the half life of Mark Cuban’s ego.)
When I felt it was safe to leave my Spurs SPAM sanctuary I set off in search of the man in the overcoat, the man who seemed to know a something about the SPAM.
For six months I searched for this man. Following the manhunt example set by my childhood hero, OJ Simpson, I started golfing at every course from California to the state of Florida searching for the man in the overcoat. I encountered several friends and acquaintances on the various courses and at opportune times I would search their wallets and blackberry devices looking for important phone numbers and also looking for information about the man in the black overcoat. Amazingly I was able to fund my entire search simply by the generous, albeit unknowing, donations made by my golfing partners. But unfortunately, no man in an overcoat was found.
Then one day I heard that OJ was no longer content to search for the real killers only on golf courses and had expanded his own search to a sports memorabilia show in Las Vegas, and had even made some new friends while he was there. OJ is so smart, I thought. That totally makes sense. So I began visiting every sports card and autograph show I could find. Surely I'd find the man in the long overcoat at one of these shows…and luckily for me, I did.
To be continued...
Many secrets regarding the might SPAM will be revealed over the next three days. You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll wet your pants. But most of all you'll have insights into the reality that is SPAMNATION.
PILGRIMAGE VI - THE QUEST FOR SPAMTOPIA -- BACK TO BACK IN 2008 (Part I)
Greetings brothers and sisters of the SPAM. Gather ‘round, Chopper’s gonna tell ya’ll a little story…..
For those of you who don’t know me…my name is Edward Helicopter “Chopper” Jones, Esquire. I am a simple anglo negro man of asian decent, who at one time lived an ordinary life, in an ordinary town in the Pacific east coast region of the desert southwest. I had a thriving business as a "flaxseed oil" and vitamin B12 distributor to hundreds of professional athletes and trainers. Because my "flaxseed oil" sold for hundreds of dollars per application I was blessed enough to own a house on a mountainside overlooking the city, and in the evenings I’d eat a delicious dinner on the deck and then relax and watch the sunset while sipping a cocktail and fondling myself. Life, as I knew it, was as complete as it could get.
Then, suddenly, in late February of 2003 my life changed forever. While in the grocery store picking up some milk, eggs, nose hair clippers, my daily fifth of Jack Daniels, a Low Rider magazine, and $150 in Powerball tickets I turned down the potted meat aisle, not realizing the magnitude of this seemingly meaningless event. As I approached the now magical oblong blue cans of hydrogenated heaven I heard a faint voice calling my name—“Chopper…Chopper”-- the SPAM spoke, and my life has never been the same.
SPAM. Four little letters that stand for oh so much. Spurs Peak After March.
At the time, the Spurs and their fans had witnessed the Lakers reel off three straight championships, and the memory of the ’99 title seemed like a distant memory to many. The Spurs were playing only marginal basketball as seemingly happens each year from December to February. And, as happens each year from December to February cries of “fire Pop!” and “make an f’in trade!” and “headbands…more headbands!!” and “Let’s sacrifice another virgin to the basketball gods!” rang out in the forum. I obviously took exception to the whole “headband” idea, but despite my loyalty to the Spurs organization the other ideas were really beginning to make a lot of sense.
Then, I encountered the SPAM, and it told me that everything was going to be alright. That the Spurs would go on that year and win the title and that the Laker run was over. It then instructed me to take my message to the masses and proclaim it to anyone that would listen. And, thankfully many did. The chaos subsided. T Park who was on the alter as the fourth spring sacrifice, had his life spared…SPAMMEN!
Then, when the Spurs went on to win the title in 2003 the prophecy was fulfilled and SPAM became a synonymous with the Spurs ability to ‘flip the switch’ beginning in March and ride it all the way to the title. I was thrilled…the SPAM was real!! The SPAM IS REAL!!
At the end of my SPAM Pilgrimage 2007, those of you who can recall back (or do a thread search) might remember I was visited by a bald black man wearing an overcoat, and he offered me two pills…a red pill and a blue pill. I accidentally mistook him for a SPAMdamn Cuban, however, and shot him in the face with my BB gun. Then, after getting summarily pummeled, I never did receive the message he came to deliver. Then I woke up in a mental health facility with my case worker telling me “welcome to the real world, Chopper.”
“Real world. Real world.” I scoffed. “I’ve been living in the real world, beotch, and it’s made of delectable meat by-product!” After this proclamation I jumped up and jetted for the exit. Luckily for me they don’t make the security guards at mental health facilities quite like they used to. Also lucky for me is the fact that thanks to the combination of my all SPAM diet along with applying leftover "flaxseed oil" to my testicles and taking the vitamin B12 injections for the past five years I’m now a 6’3”, 400 pound SPAM machine with a size 17 hat and testicles that glow in the dark. Some people think that might make me look a little strange but I’ve been told I wear it well.
So…after bowling over the two very frightened security guards I ran into the arroyos near the hospital. From living as one with nature the last couple of years I’ve come to know the landscape by heart and had no trouble alluding the authorities since last year.
I laid low (as low as a 400 pound man with a ginormous melon can go) for a couple of months in my underground bunker until the heat was off. Fortunately for me back in 2004 I cashed in my 401K and built a small underground bunker in the New Mexico desert where I stored only the essentials that I would need to survive, namely 500,000 cans of SPAM, 200,000 bottles of Jack Daniels, 600 gallons of "flaxseed oil" and vitamin B12, 10 years of back issues of Black Juggs, Red Hot Botts, Oui, High Society, Panty Play and Over 40 magazines, every televised Spurs game on CD since 1976, a full-sized basketball court with two dozen new basketballs, and 3 gallons of water. When I built the bunker I figured that I could last there for at least 7 or 8 months should “D” day (otherwise known as Dallas winning an NBA championship) ever occur. I always figured that after 8 months or so it would be ok to return to the surface as most of the fallout surrounding Mark Cuban’s giant ego exploding would have subsided. (Please don’t quote me on the half life of Mark Cuban’s ego.)
When I felt it was safe to leave my Spurs SPAM sanctuary I set off in search of the man in the overcoat, the man who seemed to know a something about the SPAM.
For six months I searched for this man. Following the manhunt example set by my childhood hero, OJ Simpson, I started golfing at every course from California to the state of Florida searching for the man in the overcoat. I encountered several friends and acquaintances on the various courses and at opportune times I would search their wallets and blackberry devices looking for important phone numbers and also looking for information about the man in the black overcoat. Amazingly I was able to fund my entire search simply by the generous, albeit unknowing, donations made by my golfing partners. But unfortunately, no man in an overcoat was found.
Then one day I heard that OJ was no longer content to search for the real killers only on golf courses and had expanded his own search to a sports memorabilia show in Las Vegas, and had even made some new friends while he was there. OJ is so smart, I thought. That totally makes sense. So I began visiting every sports card and autograph show I could find. Surely I'd find the man in the long overcoat at one of these shows…and luckily for me, I did.
To be continued...