SUCK FACE BLOW; Web Master Of Disaster!

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

The Webmaster Of Disaster!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

01/13/2007

I thought I might call my buddy with the online diploma printing service.. just to get a leg up on some authentication I was needing for a project of mine.... when I realized that he really had it pretty good.

I further realized that in this magnificent age of communication, I should probably use the ever secure and reliable electronic mail capabilities that are at everyones finger tips.

So I sent an email with full and total confidence that he would receive it.

He did, presumably - unless of course it was one of the various other options possible with modern forms of communications in being someone posturing as him and doing so through the ease of rerouting such forms of communication with the simplest of hacks and cracks.

That is when it occurred to me. I could be living on easy street with little effort what so ever.... and I quickly sent another email to him (again presumably) inquiring as to where I might get some quick programming classes from which to begin my career as The Webmaster Of Disaster!

I made it clear as to which kind of programming I was interested in learning, and I even got my mom to call in a few favors to get in the advanced placement category.

He replied in what seemed like forever in email terms, being a few hours - with the information - encoded in our secret language of course - which I had requested.

I was soon to be getting another degree - though this of the more exciting and less openly accepted sort - of programming guru! Master of the Webmaster Disaster!

I would be surfing around the Pentagon in no time if I wanted to. But the Pentagon was boring compared to what is out there to have fun with.

Soon I would be able to devise the ultimate one stop for computer data base access. I wouldn't even need to lift people's personal information. I wouldn't even need to steal other people's creative work and publish it as my own.

I would just be able to transfer as much of what ever I wanted to where ever I wanted it to go.

As I considered it, I realized the ease with which I could implement the ease with which I would implement my implementation, if I got myself a cush little office job in the public employ. Something with access to a computer data base of course, and preferably one from which I could then easily access even larger databases from which to do most of the really good stuff.

Secret agents be damned! I was Suck Face Blow! And I was about to be a public employee doing what I damn well pleased with other people's information when ever I wanted to. I even said so right there in the privacy policy statement!

Well, okay... so I won't exactly say I am going to do precisely with the information, that which I intend to do.... But I am Suck Face Blow! Nothing more need be said.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Rock Band Talented Guy!

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE
BLOW

ROCK BAND TALENTED GUY!

A Short Fiction Series
That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer
02/15/1968

01/10/2007

The Marquee read;

ONE NIGHT ONLY!

SUCK FACE BLOW AND THE EFFIGIES!

I knew I had made the big time!

My mother was incredibly proud when I showed her the photographs. She was so happy that she cried!

I realize what you must be thinking; "How could Suck Face Blow just become a famous Rock Band Talented Guy... just like that?"

It is a simple thing really.... there are a few ways to do it... but the best way to become such an icon, is simply in claiming to be someone that is actually talented. It helps if they happen to have some money you can use as well, through using the individuals you have managed to convince of how much you deserve it to remit payments from their accounts to you.

If Suck Face Blow can do it.... anyone can really.

Of course, the aspect of using someone elses identity only goes so far.. sooner or later a person has to produce something on their own, since you can't necessarily get the guy you happen to be aping in an existential way to actually perform for you, as well. So we, the band and me (I just love the way that sounds) - set out on our own and rented the local coliseum to put on a show. Using of course, the notoriety of the individual(s) we were aping as a promotional medium.

It was incredible! Literally ten's of people showed up, not even counting our moms.

When I think about how incredibly unique the endeavor was at that point, it sends shivers down my spine. There we were in a huge coliseum with somewhere near 10 people that actually bought tickets and crowded near the front of the stage to give it that really cool feel.

We even used some groupies that we made from that guys girlfriends and acquaintances.

Groupies Rock! Especially when they are other people's groupies.

Needless to say we rocked the joint until my mom got mad because all of the other nine or so people wouldn't sit still and let her watch the show. So we had to stop. But what a night... we must have played two full numbers from someone elses set list... then as I said, my mom got mad somewhere in the middle of the third song. When that happened we had to get the guy to turn the tape player off so we could say we were done with the show.

That was kind of a difficult part since we didn't rehearse stopping in the middle like that... we had to rely on our showmanship and talent to pull it off so no one could tell that we were just moving around while a tape player was playing.

Thank goodness for my mother making such a fuss! It distracted all of the other handful or so of people from seeing that we weren't actually playing. Except one guy.

Some of them wanted a refund because we only did two songs or so.... but that is when our great manager - Mr. Nobtwid, told them that they were bound to the contract printed on the back of their ticket... which stated there would be no refunds.... and that we, as talented rock band guys, were now entitled to their souls which Mr. Nobtwid would keep in a safe place for us.

One guy threw some popcorn at me... so the security guy subdued him and dragged him over the barrier. It was that one guy that my mom didn't distract.

There might even be a law suit over it which would be cool... because you can't be a cool rock band talented guy without some media exposure.

I hope someone got some pictures to show in the court room and in the news paper.

Suck Face Blow and the Effigies were really on their way! And that is when I had another brilliant realization!

If we could find some guy that just won the lottery, we could get our album on the charts sooner, too. But probably only if we gave the guy a percentage of actual future record sales for spending all of his lottery winnings on our lip sinking tape album. If you think about it, all a person has to do is get that big time exposure and just the fact that there are so many people out there - someone is bound to buy what ever you may be selling... especially if we could get my mom to make everyone say it was really cool.

It would be easy enough if we kept the price low on the first album. It would probably be the better move to only produce a few of them with anything actually on them... just to have in the record stores to prove we rocked.... but then sold the lottery winner guy blank tapes and C.D.'s to save on production costs... which would amount to more units he could purchase and get us farther up the charts for record sales.

Suck Face Blow and the Effigies could be totally famous without doing anything except having that show for my mom and that other guys groupies.

Art? I heard someone say.. "What about the artistic aspect of making music?" He yelled again from the few people in front of the stage... which is when we knew someone in the crowd had noticed when we stopped - "Art Fart!" I heard my mother yell at him... "My baby is going to be a famous rock band talented guy... and all of the news papers are going to say it, too. And he will go to the trendy coffee shops and hand out and be cool so the chicks can dig him, man!"

That is when I realized that maybe girls were just dumb. Even my mom. There was no way I was going to hang out at trendy coffee shops... it would be too risky in getting discovered as a fraud.

What would happen if someone asked me to actually do something rock band talented guy like? Right there in person and without having a tape player to play through the P.A. system?

No way was I going to hang out at someones coffee shop. I might get a quick picture taken at one though, just to say that we did that kind of stuff... but I would have to ask Mr. Nobtwid if it was a good idea.

If that didn't work, I guess I could just pose with a sock puppet to get some good promo shots. Chicks dig sock puppets - at least my mom does, and she is a girl - and if the chicks dig it, someone will think it is cool.

In the mean time though, I realized we were going to have to do something about the guy that noticed when we stopped our show... a rock band talented guy can't risk having anyone out there knowing about the tape player show part. Maybe Mr. Nobtwid was already doing something about it. If we were lucky, the guy that yelled Art and noticed our tape player show, will have some money that we can use, too.... I am sure that is the first thing that Mr. Nobtwid will look into once he gets him contained.

You just can't have loose cannons like that out there... someone knowing you aren't really a rock band talented guy, but really only faker/belly ache-r's as the secret industry code word goes.... is just too damning to a fruitful career. It is just too risky for talented rock band guys to have to deal with.

I already told Mr. Nobtwid that I wanted his favorite hat if anyone thought it was cool... and my mom told him she wants to sniff his underwear.

I hated it when she did that to me. Thank goodness rock band talented guys get some social liberties. What would rock band talented guys do if they had to keep letting their moms sniff their underwear? Thank goodness for guys that can tell when it is a faker belly ach-er show... if it weren't for them, then the managers wouldn't have people to contain... and rock band talented guys would still have to let their moms sniff their own underwear.

Moms are weird. At least rock band talented guy moms are.

At least, that is what Mr. Nobtwid says.

My dad just likes to look at that other guys groupies.. the girls that he used to know, that we said are groupies.

Mr. Nobtwid thinks he is a perv... but then again, what does that mean coming from someone named Mr. Nobtwid?