I'm stunned. It's Friday already, and I haven't even told you about the time in 1999 when Bruce Campbell, he of Evil Dead fame, and other types of fame, did a meet-and-greet at the magazine where I was working and tried to abscond with my headphones. The story about how I beat Jack Black in a best-of-seven thumb war remains mysteriously unrevealed. And I haven't admitted to you (or anyone else, ever) that I was once a member of the Official Paul Young Fan Club.
Luckily, my reign of terror here ends with news of the Pope's disdain for Bob Dylan coming to light. It couldn't be a more fitting way to go out: Me and the mother-grabbin' Pope joined forever in our hatred of Dylan. Sure, he and I are offended by Dylan for different reasons. The Pope, it seems, is wary of Dylan because he's one of those "types of prophets." Dylan rankles me because his nasally voice, inflicted on me in my youth by my dad (see excerpt of first chapter here), makes hungry Sudanese refugees cry and small aircraft explode on liftoff. I am dissimilar to the Pope in every other regard, of course, except one: I'm wearing a mitre right now.
It's been a blast blogging here this week. Anyone who wants to check my stuff on a continuing basis can head over to my website at www.johnsellers.net. And a final note: I'll be reading at the Burnside Powell's on April 18 and I'm greatly looking forward to it. Anyone who wants to come out to that has an open invitation to kick me in the nuts. Just kidding. But could you imagine?
Finally, a reader and ardent cereal fan named Karen took note of my rediscovery and extreme enjoyment of Froot Loops and now wants to know: "What is [my] stance on Golden Grahams?" Well, they certainly are delicious, Karen. Sometimes when I'm being honest with myself, though, I feel that Golden Grahams are all about the jingle. But ask me about Boo Berry sometime.
Books mentioned in this post
John Sellers is the author of Perfect from Now On: How Indie Rock Saved My Life