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Me and the Mother-Grabbin’ Pope

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 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

3 Responses to "Me and the Mother-Grabbin’ Pope"

    Brockman March 9th, 2007 at 1:09 pm

    Your post makes me wonder why there was never an Evil Dead cereal. Ash-Os? With chocolate marshmallow boomsticks? And one in three boxes contain Evil Ash-Os instead. A groovy treat in every bowl!

    Angela March 9th, 2007 at 1:37 pm

    Do u like the Wallflowers? Jacob Dylan sings and plays with them.

    john robey March 9th, 2007 at 2:39 pm

    I just read an excerpt from John Sellers' new book. I have known his father since before John was born and everything John writes about is true. His father was, and is, a Dylan nut. He is obcessed with Mr Zimmerman and will interpert and reinterpert and analyze and reanalyze Dylan lyrics endlessly. Mark (John's father) not only warped his sons but his friends too. I have been subjected to over 40 years of abuse by his father but I took the easy road and have become a Dylan admirer myself. However, I have other interests. Dylan does not equal harmonic convergence of the basic forces of nature. He is, as he himslef describes himslef, "just a song and dance man." Not so for Mark, who may have accepted Bob as his personal lord and savior for all I know.

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