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…from 1990 to 1994.

Yeah, I’m old. Rub it in.

During those four years, I had a homeroom teacher named Mr. Cooney. I can’t remember my homeroom number, but it was on the third floor. 310 maybe? Whatever. It’s irrelevant.

Mr. Cooney’s full name was Chuck Cooney, and it’s safe to say that for those four years I made his life pretty much a living hell. I was the loud funny kid (to be read: asshole) who just loved starting off his day with the easily agitated and extremely animated Mr. Cooney.

Last week, I got thinking about Mr. Cooney. What was he up to? Was he still in Milwaukee? Still teaching? Was he even still alive?

And so I did what everyone with questions does nowadays: I Googled him. And I found this:

During the civil rights movement, Chuck Cooney marched for equal rights and open housing for Milwaukee’s minorities. He was also friends with Father Groppi.

And this is the part where I feel like a dick.

Over the past twenty years or so, I’ve never thought of Mr. Cooney as anything more than a slightly neurotic public school teacher. Definitely never as a real person, and especially not as someone with interesting stories to tell.

And so I’m sorry, Mr. Cooney. Looking back on it, I wish I had been a little more inquisitive (to be read: less of an asshole) during those four years together, because I would have loved to have heard more stories like these.

I can admit when I’m wrong… it just might take me two decades,


…from Horror Happy Hour.

Dig it here.



…especially when we visit our good friends Bill and Sarah (and their dog Bowery) in San Francisco.

Over the span of numerous visits up there, Mr. Fabulous has gotten her inquisitive (and hungry) nose into quite a number of their things.

One time, she literally opened the door to their bedroom, then snuck into their bathroom and ate an entire bar of soap out of their shower. Another time, she got into Bowery’s bin of dry dog food and ate until she literally couldn’t eat another bite. Luckily, her stomach didn’t burst… and at least it wasn’t Aleve.

Last month while we were there visiting, she got into their butter dish. Somehow, she got up on the counter and pulled the ceramic dish toward her. The bottom tray fell to the floor and shattered, but the actual stick of butter (and the lid that was covering it) miraculously stayed on the counter.

She’s like a goddamn magician, pulling the tablecloth from the table without disturbing the vase of flowers and fine china resting on top of it.

A few days after we got back to Los Angeles, Bill sent us this email:

Of course, we replaced it:

Never take full blame,


dead at 95.

I saw him at the Great Circus Parade,


…twenty years in the future.

Yet another thing I wish I had thought of,


…which is Milwaukee’s annual music festival, when I was in town last week.

Volkswagen had a tent set up there, and in the tent was a bicycle-powered photo booth. The idea was simple: get on the bike and pedal for a minute or so to generate enough power to run the photo booth, then get inside and snap a shot that Volkswagen would then email to you.

I pedaled. My mom and I got inside the booth and got our photo taken. And when I got home, this photo was in my inbox.

That’s not me or my mom,


…who some of you may know as Special K, stopped by for some catching up.

Kalpa and I were college roommates our freshman year (way back in 1994), and while we’ve kept in touch here and there over the years we haven’t actually seen each other in over a decade. Kalpa is doing really well for himself, working in the film industry in his native country of Sri Lanka.

It was great to see him again after so long, and it definitely won’t be another ten years before we see each other again.

One half of the 206 Crew,


…for these tea towels that he designed for Milwaukee’s first annual Garlic Fest!

Learn more about Dwellephant here.

Vampires hate Dwellephant,


dead at 86.

He did,


I first told you about this. Three months after that, this happened.

And now, while we were back home last week, we got these:

One more shipment to go,


Old Poop!