Tales From The Lebowskis - Diane Thirty: Unscripted

I've been blessed with two terrific parents. It's a corny thing to say, yes, but true nonetheless. There is much I've learned from each of them, and much I could say about each of them as well. Today though, I'd like to take a moment to talk about one of the traits that runs on the Lebowski side of the family: a quick wit. All of the children of the Lebowski-Jerboa union share this trait to a greater or lesser degree, and most of the grandchildren as well (I flatter myself amongst the grandchildren of wit). While she may not be as much of a natural spotlight-magnet as her younger siblings Hulka and Patty, my mother possesses the gift of a quick wit in spades. She is less of a storyteller, her gift is in her ability to play along with a situation or mutter a quick retort. Here are a collection of some of my favorite Diane Thirty off-the-cuff witticisms.

At a birthday dinner for Holly Lebowski (Hulka's beloved wife), we were all seated around a table in a restaurant. My mother is very particular about certain foods, and insists on only ever using REAL butter for her bread/rolls, not margarine. So when the basket of rolls arrived to the table with a mix of butter and margarine packets, she was nervous. The basket was going the wrong way around the table from her, and she was carefully watching as the stock of real butters gradually depleted. Eventually, the basket reached the diner directly to her right, her brother David "Blaze" Lebowski, with only 1 real butter left. Now, David is a scheming sort of guy, always up to do something to get a rise out of someone (another trait that runs in the family), so I can't say I blame my mother 100% for the preemptive strike she was about to launch, but it seemed harsh nonetheless.

As soon as the basket of rolls reached David's hands, it was slapped out of them, onto the table as my mother warned him, without a hint of warmth in her voice, "Don't even think about it, fuckhead." [alternative heard as "don't even think about it, dickhead."] She quickly snatched the last butter out of the basket and turned back to her conversation with my father, leaving David with his jaw on the table and only margarine for his roll. Now, I realize that wasn't a particularly "witty" comment to lead the tales of wit, but it was hilarious, fuckhead.

One Christmas in our old house, probably when I was about 13, 14 or so my mother had ordered a large leather recliner for my father for Christmas. It was a warm Christmas Eve that year, with very little, if any, snow on the ground. I recall being sent out onto the deck at some point in the morning with a bag of stale Rice Krispies to throw out to the birds. The house was built into a hillside, and the deck wrapped around from the side of the house where it was just a few steps up from the driveway to the back of the house where it stood above the slider doors to the finished part of the basement. I was feeling particularly lazy, and didn't feel like throwing handful after handful of cereal out onto the lawn proper, so I stood at the deck railing in the rear of the house and just upended the bag, dumping a pile of cereal down 1 story to the ground below where it remained.

Later that day, Dad's new chair arrived. My mother guided the deliverymen down from the driveway to the backyard and around to the basement doors to bring the chair in. She then noticed that to do so, they'd have to walk through a pile of Rice Krispies. Thinking quickly of a way to save face, she let the delivery man know that she'd asked her son to feed the birds that morning. But her son, she claimed, had Down's Syndrome, and didn't understand the task. How do I know she said this? After they left, she came upstairs and told me so. Angrily. As if it were my fault she lied and said I had Down's Syndrome.

Now, my cousin, Derek Dynamo, does in fact have Down's Syndrome, and he is one of the kindest-hearted young men you'd ever hope to meet, a real sensitive guy who loves his family and loves to make people laugh. One day my mother was sitting with her sisters, Susan (Derek's mother), and Patty chatting with their mother, Nonnie, and HER sister, Aunt Claire Philbert. Aunt Claire sometimes has a funky thought process, and doesn't quite follow exactly what's going on (but she is a very sweet and good person). At this particular time, Susan was talking about the accommodations Derek gets at school, including a dedicated para-educator. However, Aunt Claire didn't hear para-educator. Instead, she looked confused and asked my mother to clarify for her sister, just exactly, "what does the parrot do?". Now, my mother could've explained that Derek did not, in fact, have a parrot educator, but instead opted to tell her that the parrot uses its claws and beak to sharpen Derek's pencils. Aunt Claire looked not at all less confused by this, but blinked, nodded her acceptance, and sat back in her chair. To my knowledge, she has not, to this day, been corrected.

The final moment of unscripted, muttered wit I'll share today happened during a family game of Monopoly Junior. Monopoly Junior is like regular monopoly, but with fewer properties, set in an amusement park, and with the dollar values greatly reduced, usually by a factor of $100 or so. Also, the man currently officially known as Mr. Monopoly featured more prominently in the various cards and properties. However, Mr. Monopoly went by a different name back then. Back then, he was Rich Uncle Pennybags.

It was a typical family board game, the type pictured in print ads for the very same board games. All four members of the Thirty family were sitting on the living room rug, Steven and Diane Thirty patiently playing this childrens' game with Meghan and I. Mom was not winning though, and was becoming mildly annoyed with her poor luck. She rolled, and landed on one of the card drawing spaces, taking a card. She grumbled about how she had to pay back a $3 loan to her rich uncle. However, her description of this was "Oh, damn it, fine, pay $3 to Uncle Peniswhistle." Meghan and I laughed so hard we couldn't finish the game.

Uncle Peniswhistle.

Hahahahaha, it's still funny.

Tales From The Lebowskis - In Loving Memory of Uncle Jim

Considering I've been on a one-update-per-month-ish schedule, some may find it shocking that I'm posting a new entry literally less than 24 hours after the last one. This morning I received some very sad news: my granduncle James Lebowski passed away late last night after a long full life and a rough battle with leukemia at the end of it. Uncle Jim, as he is known, was the older brother of my grandfather, Dave "Jaja" Lebowski, and his best friend throughout his life. Known to all of us in the family as a kind and gentle man with hardly a rough word to say about anyone, Uncle Jim was loved by all and renowned for his lightning fast eating abilities. It was said that if you looked closely enough you could see the sparks flying from his knife and fork.

I think that paragraph sets the tone I want to have for this entry. I want to take a few minutes to remember some of my favorite Uncle Jim memories and share them with you all. It may be odd that I'm writing this so quickly after his passing and that the tone I'll use is so lighthearted, but it's done out of love and so I can start processing the loss and, sincerely, I think he'd like it. So with that, let's take a moment and remember some fine memories of a terrific man.

A recurring theme with Uncle Jim was his love of food. It could be said that this runs in the family, but in a field of gifted amateurs, Jim was a professional. As I said before, he could eat with unbelievable speed, usually finishing his meals before others were even half done. Although he wasn't one to brag, I believe he took pride in this. I distinctly remember being at breakfast one morning back when I was probably 15 or so with Uncle Jim, my father, Hulka, Jaja, and other various men of my family and being particularly hungry that day. I ate my meal far more quickly than usual and when I looked up, Uncle Jim still had a few bites left to go. Genuinely surprised, I exclaimed, "Whoa! Uncle Jim, you're not done yet?" I immediately regretted it. He looked completely crestfallen, and spent the rest of the meal far more quiet than usual. The next week, the natural order was restored though, and Uncle Jim reclaimed his speed-eating crown.

As with any individual, Uncle Jim had particular favorites in the world of food. Once asked what his favorite food was, he contemplated deeply for a few seconds, brow furrowed, and then finally replied, "... you know, I think I'd have to say gravy." Uncle Jim LOVED gravy. His favorite food wasn't even a food, but a condiment. He would often eat Hungry-Man Salisbury Steak meals and would frequently lament that the amount of gravy provided was insufficient. Hulka, knowing this, decided to have some fun with Uncle Jim one day. He launched into a description of an ad he'd seen for new, larger Hungry-Man dinners with the tray extended to include an entire sidecar of gravy. Uncle Jim's eyes lit up like a the 4th of July. He demanded any and all information Hulka could provide on this new development in the world of frozen foods. Hulka was vague, but descriptive. He couldn't remember where he'd seen the ad, but he said the picture of the meal showed the special gravy sidecar clearly. He wasn't certain, but he thought they were rolling it out to test markets in certain cities. Jim could hardly contain his excitement. He implored his daughter, Holly, to keep her eyes peeled at the Stop & Shop she worked at for any sign of the coveted sidecar.

Of course, this was complete BS. There is no sidecar of gravy. You know this, and so do I. Hulka knew it when he said it. But the story filled Jim with such zest for life that none of us have ever been able to break the news to him that it was false. Hulka would periodically check in on the topic, claiming friends from cities far and wide told him how it just came to their town and how great it was. I hear they adored it in St. Louis. And so, Uncle Jim lived in a state of perpetual excitement for the day that Hungry-Man would finally release the gravy sidecar, a veritable Holy Grail of frozen dinner, in his local grocer's freezer.

His love of food was not limited to just love of gravy, though. He just loved eating. I recall being at a wake a few years ago that Uncle Jim also attended. Many members of my family were sitting in the back of the room, quietly talking amongst ourselves when somebody approached who happened to be holding a bag of some sorts. Uncle Jim, apparently hungrier than anyone realized, couldn't contain himself and asked, hopefully, eagerly, sincerely, eyes big like a child's on Christmas, "What's in the bag? Sandwiches?" No context clues pointed him towards this desired conclusion. The bag merely represented possibility: anything could be inside. And what Uncle Jim hoped more than anything else, hoped beyond the capacity for reasonable consideration of the possibility, was that the bag was full of sandwiches. For the wake.

One other memory of Uncle Jim I'll relate today is a time I was out on a boat with Hulka, Jaja, and Uncle Jim. I was probably 18, 19 or so. We were cruising around, enjoying a bright, sunny day. Everyone was having a great time, including the people in the other boats we'd pass by. One boat I noticed had a family that included a daughter who appeared reasonably close to my age. And she was cute. We traveled near this other boat for a while, and I became increasingly distracted, repeatedly glancing over at the other boat. She was sitting on the side of the boat, facing away from me, wearing a bikini. Nothing skimpy, just a normal, black two-piece bathing suit. And, pardon my crassness and objectification, she had a very nice ass. What? She did! I wasn't leering or anything, but there was no way I wasn't noticing. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't the only one who noticed. Or the only one who noticed that I noticed. Uncle Jim, seeing what was going on, couldn't resist speaking up.

"Oh ho, look at Remus, watching that dupa over there!" Dupa, for those who don't know, is Polish for "rear end". If only those of us on our boat had heard, I would've shrugged it off, laughed. But Uncle Jim said it loudly. Loud enough that the passengers on the other boat heard him, turned, and looked at me. I turned bright red, she moved down from the edge of the boat to a seat inside, and her father gave me a disgusted look. Thanks a lot, Uncle Jim. I don't think he even realized, he was already back engaged in conversation with Jaja by the time I could turn to look at him.

So those are some of my favorite Uncle Jim memories. I'll always remember him fondly, with love, as a good sport, a kind man, and an honest person. I don't think I ever once observed him acting with malice or duplicity. I make no secret of the fact that I have no idea what happens after we leave this world, and I prefer not to guess, but whatever happens, I hope that somehow, someway, Uncle Jim's in a place where he finally has his sidecar of gravy and he's at peace knowing he left loved by his family and friends. Goodbye, Uncle Jim. I'll miss you.

Tales From The Lebowskis - Almost Made Me Wish I Was Dead!

This'll be a super short one, just something kinda funny I thought of.

When I was little, maybe 6 or so, I had a toy set called Playskool Pipeworks that I LOVED. I think I had the the Pipeworks 2000: Big Builders Set. Basically it was a set of white tubes and connector pieces that you'd use to make appropriate child-size furniture, forts, wheelbarrows, etc. It was fantastic. The instruction manual was the same for the 1000, 2000, and 3000 sets, and I was always wishing I had the parts to build the items that were in the 3000 set only. Pipeworks 3000 reached this mythic status in my young brain, a Holy Grail of toys.

Now, I was raised more-or-less Catholic by my parents, Steven and Diane Thirty, in that I attended CCD weekly, but usually didn't actually go to mass. I did eventually go to a Catholic high school. My parents, they're both Catholic, but in a pretty loose sense of the word, not like Nonnie (the late and very missed Mary Lebowski), who I think would've fought the Python at Delphi to get to church if she had to (and she, like Indiana Jones, hated snakes). In any event, at a young age I fully believed in such concepts as Heaven, Hell, angels, demons, etc... although I tended to imagine them in whatever way seemed fun or interesting to me, Catholic dogma be damned. (It was only a hop, skip, and jump to full blown apostasy and agnosticism! What up, present day?)

I remember more or less vividly a conversation I once had with my beloved uncle Hulka at that young age. I was curious about Heaven, just what it was like. I figured Hulka knew a lot of things, maybe he knew what was so great about this Heaven place. He told me that anything I ever wanted and anyone I ever loved was there. That sounded pretty good, but I needed to know more.

"Hulka, do they have Pipeworks in Heaven?"

"If you like Pipeworks, they have Pipeworks."

Whoa.

"Hulka! Hulka! Do they have Pipeworks 3000!?"

I was totally unprepared for what would come next.

"Remus, they have Pipeworks 1,000,000."

I think my brain exploded. Could. Not. Process. The. Awesome. I couldn't do this math in my head then, but Hulka, in a sentence, in an INSTANT, took the greatest thing I could imagine and improved it by 33,233.33%. That is a return on investment you don't often see, my friends.

Maybe 1 Person Will Find This Interesting (And That's Rounding Up)

When I was in 3rd grade, I got a very special birthday gift from a very special uncle. That uncle was Hulka, whom you may remember from, uh, like every other post on this blog. That gift was a Nintendo Game Boy. I remember it now: the olive green screen, the gray brick-like shape and weight, the mountains of batteries it killed... I loved that Game Boy. I loved it for years and years.

My cousin Sarah Thirty had gotten one about a year before me, and had a few games. So, naturally, we'd trade and try each others' games out. One game in particular that she had stood out to me. The label on the cartridge had a picture of a sword on it. And the gameplay... holy crap, it was like Zelda! It was like Zelda, but with more weapons besides swords, and with partners who followed you around! This game blew my mind. It was called Final Fantasy Adventure. Sarah didn't particularly care for it, she had too much trouble finding Bogard at the falls (the first objective). When I found ol' Bogard, she was impressed and offered to let me borrow the game for a while, since I seemed to be more into it than her. I played that game like an obsessed madman until I finally had to give it back. I needed more. I begged my parents for the next gift-giving holiday to include a copy of Final Fantasy for Game Boy. I got my wish on Christmas. I got double my wish.

Unbeknownst to me, there was more than one Final Fantasy for Game Boy. On that Christmas morning, I shredded wrapping paper to find not just Final Fantasy Adventure (the green box one), but Final Fantasy Legend II (the blue box one). Also Jeopardy! which I found difficult to type answers for using a D-Pad and two buttons, and played maybe 5 times. (Still, 2 out of 3 were and are all-time classic favorite games, so thanks Mom & Dad!) So Final Fantasy Adventure was a known quantity, and I focused my attentions on it first. And I played the hell out of it. I took a few minutes to try starting up Legend II, but it didn't play at all like Adventure. I couldn't use any weapons, and instead of enemies showing up on the screen, I'd walk around and the screen would flash and go to a "battle screen" where I'd have to choose my actions from menus. What the hell? Back to Adventure, the Zelda-style action-RPG. Eventually though, I found my way back to trying "the blue one" for real.

Reader, I married him. ... Yes, I just quoted the book I hate more than just about any book I was ever forced to read. I love(d) this game THAT MUCH.

This is the game that cut my teeth on RPG turn based battles, and what a long strange trip it's been since that point. But this game was SO NEAT in SO MANY WAYS. To start, you pick your character from a list of 8 character types: a male and female Human, a male and female Mutant, a Robot (a freaking robot!), and three different Monsters. Each type of character plays differently, and within moments you get to choose 3 characters from the same list to round out to a team of 4. You can double/triple/quadruple up, too. Lots of combinations to try!

So to run the types down, Humans are a basic character type. They use items and weapons and get stronger by participating in battles (I learned the hard way that this means running from as many battles as possible means you have weak-ass humans by not far into the game). Mutants also get stronger by battling, but more slowly than humans. This is offset by the fact that they randomly learn up to 4 special abilities, which are either innate (like preventing enemies from sneak attacking) or rechargeable (like fire magic). The rechargeable thing is important because weapons have finite uses before "breaking". So the male human's starting sword, for example, gets 50 uses before it's gone. That mutants have abilities that can recharge by staying at an Inn is a real economizer.

Robots (and can I just tell you how effing delighted I was at that age to have a robot on my team!?) grew in a really neat way. Equipping weapons and armor to robots increased their raw stats. They didn't need to battle to get strong, they just needed to hold your best stuff. And when they equipped weapons, the number of uses remaining got halved (ouch!) but they could recharge at an Inn, just like mutants' abilities. So instead of 50 shots from the basic gun of the game, I got infinite shots, but no more than 25 before needing to recharge. Again, this was a real economizer and made rare one-or-two-in-the-whole-game items stick around much longer.

Monsters grew in an even more interesting way. The monsters you could have on your team were the same as the enemy monsters of the game. Same stats, same abilities, everything. Basically whenever you fought a monster, there was a chance it would leave behind its meat (somehow, even skeletons, ghosts, flowers, and viruses [amongst others] left meat). Eating that meat transformed your monster into a new monster (through a complex table that is unexplained in the game and confused me to no end as a kid). It wasn't foolproof, but generally eating a stronger monster's meat made your monster transform into a better one. Learning certain patterns in this meant you could wind up with a monster on your team several worlds ahead of the ones you were fighting. This kicked an ass or twelve.

Uhhh, is it clear I was really into this game? The story was pretty awesome for a Game Boy game. Basically there was a network of worlds all connected to one larger "Celestial World" by giant pillar-like vines. You'd go from world to world solving crises and looking for shards of a statue of an ancient goddess, trying to track down your lost father. Various non-player characters would join your team temporarily (including that selfsame father!) as the story required. Usually they were awesome help in battles.

Here comes my favorite part about it all. I was a mythology nut as a kid, and I still love those stories. This game weaved several world mythologies into itself. You're not the only one looking for the pieces of the ancient goddess statue. New Gods, seeking to bolster their own growing power are on the hunt as well. I hadn't heard of Ashura before, but Venus? Yeah, I'd heard of her. Odin? Yeah. Apollo? Check. (I guess technically his pre-translation name was Apollyon, the Greek spelling of Abaddon, the demon of christian mythology, but as far as I knew, it was Apollo, Greek/Roman light god). This game required me to KILL GODS. Not just made-up, in-game gods. These were gods I'd heard of. Even the final-stage monsters were gods or epic legendary monsters. And the ones I hadn't heard of, I was so curious about! It gave me tons of leads to learn more about different mythologies.

Good lord did I love this game. At one point I was even working on the novelization of the game. OK, it was fan-fiction, but really, this was pre-internet and I didn't realize this would eventually be commonplace and ridiculed. So yeah, after my initial obsession with it, I'd still go back and replay it every few years. The advent of the internet shed light on all the hidden mechanics of the game for me to go back and retry. ("Ohhh, so this is how to know ahead of time what monster I'll transform to!") I've long lost the cartridge, and even if I hadn't, by now I don't have that old Game Boy, or any player compatible with it. But by George there are emulators now! And I'll be damned if FFLII wasn't one of the first ROMs I downloaded when I learned about emulators (and no, it's not even gray area illegal, since I owned the game legally before downloading. Well, THIS game anyway...).

Now, nostalgia put away, it wasn't a perfect game. There's a lot of game mechanics that really should be better explained in-game, but aren't. Some things are glitchy. I mean, it happens. Such is the nature of older games and their limited programming space. But there are other issues, such as gameplay balancing. There are too many abilities, particularly monster attacks, that are clones of other abilities, just with different names, leading to very little actual meaningful variety between early-game monsters. And a lot of the monsters are just plain useless compared to others. Rotate between the fairy, eye, medusa, ghost, and maybe slime classes and you're all set. It's nice to know how to power through the game, but it lacks variety. Human and mutant stat growth is random and slow. So yeah, flaws.

About a year or two ago, Square-Enix announced a Nintendo DS fully enhanced rebuild of this game. I was PSYCHED. I sifted through the internet for information, images, music from the new release. Seeing my old pixelated monochrome buddies in color and 3D filled me with oddly powerful nostalgia. The Japanese release came and went. Surely they'd announce the US release soon. Surely. ...surely?

... please?

Still no word on if that'll ever happen (I still hope it does). But two very interesting things have happened for me and this game recently. 1) I got an Evo 4G. It runs Android. Android has an app store. The app store has emulators. Miss Susie went to Heaven, the Steamboat went to... um, anyway. After years of having to play this game boy classic chained to a desk (WHAT IS THIS COMUNISTS RUSHIA AM I RITE?), I can take this game handheld, like it was meant to be played. 2) There are a few folks on the internet who apparently loved this game as much as me. Actually more. And they have programming skills. I just downloaded a hacked, patched version of the game that seems to fix most of the flaws, adds variety and difficulty, and even does cosmetic touches like allowing longer names (originally 4 characters max).

I am back on that Christmas morning, with my brand new Game Boy Final Fantasy. The other, blue one. A whole new, harder version of the game I've loved for years awaits me. It is new and old, mingled together. Nostalgia and novelty. ... Why yes, I am 27, chubby, and single, why do you ask?

I know I rambled on this one, guys. To those of you who read this blog for funny stories (80% of my readers, or 1.6 people, if you do the math out), I apologize. Actually, you probably stopped reading several walls of text ago and I can say awful terrible things about you, your mother, and other loved ones. But I wont. To the remaining 0.399 of you who stuck through this, thanks for bearing with me! And to the 0.001 of you who can relate, or maybe even loved this game yourself... let's hang out and be best buds forever.

Tales From The Lebowskis - Mornings at Hulka & Holly's

Growing up, I always wanted a brother. I had a sister, which has turned out to be nice in the long run, but growing up we fought miserably. Meghan and I really couldn't stand each other as kids, because we really weren't at all the partner-in-crime the other wanted. I wanted a sibling who would be interested in things like Ninja Turtles and robots and video games. She wanted a sibling who would be interested in things like American Girl dolls and sports. It was a bit of a mismatch, and neither of us were mature enough to be adults about it (WE WERE CHILDREN, LITERALLY).

Now, eventually, I did join a fraternity. I have lots of brothers now, which is awesome. But long before that, the closest thing I had to brothers was cousins. I have four cousins which were/are like brothers to me growing up. Chris and Kyle Rudedawg are like my younger brothers. Jimmy and Charlie Easterbreak were like my older brothers. Jimmy and Charlie weren't always my cousins. They are my Aunt Holly's sons from her first marriage. Hulka is now their stepfather, but when I first met them, Holly was still his girlfriend. The night I met them, at a Pizza Hut, I somehow erroneously believed at first that Jimmy was named Charlie and Charlie was named Jimmy. I absolutely refused to believe them when they corrected me, and I think I wound up in tears over it. This small hiccup did nothing to stand in the way of future awesome times for us three.

Jimmy was the oldest of us, then Charlie, then me. Jimmy was also the best behaved when we were together, and Charlie and I resented the fact that he would get in trouble the least, so we would periodically plot against him in minor ways. It was nothing personal, we loved Jimmy, we just resented his higher status. It was pretty standard.

We got to do all the dumb, fun stuff that brothers do (well, they were actually brothers, but I got to be part of it). We had burping contests, played war games outside, did stupid voices to make each other laugh, stuff like that. Actually, making Jimmy laugh was something Charlie and I liked to do a little too much sometimes. Jimmy has asthma, and we were too young to really fully understand how bad it was for him to have an attack. We would just consider laughing himself into an asthma attack as proof that we were being REALLY funny. Like a compliment. If we really knew what we were doing, we would've been the biggest assholes.

A major league bonus of hanging out with Jimmy and Charlie was the fact that they and Hulka had tons of video games. I LOVED video games as a kid. I still like them a lot, but obviously with appropriate moderation. Not back then, I was like an addict. And they had so damn many, we could play for hours. We would team up on hard games and try to beat them, we would replay our favorites, we would sing funny songs to the tune of the game songs, really it was a fun social thing, it just happened to be video games.

I was such a wired kid though. I would get excited and just be a total spaz. So nights when I got to sleep over, I would regularly wake up pre-dawn and want to start playing video games with Jimmy and Charlie again. I would just be too excited to keep sleeping. This wouldn't have been so bad, since they tended to be fairly excited to get up and keep playing too (although not always, sometimes they told me to go back to sleep). The problem was, when I got excited like that, I tended to have trouble regulating my volume. This caused problems for Hulka and Holly.

They liked to sleep in on weekend mornings, as do most people. The shrill sound of a child's laughter at 4 AM isn't the most welcome sound in the world. Nor is it at 5 AM. Nor 6. You get the idea. Holly was very kind in her reminders to try to be quiet in the morning. Hulka had slightly less patience, and would try to establish iron-clad rules. For example, I was not allowed to get out of bed before I could actually see the sun out of the window. Once I could see the sun, I could go into the kitchen to check what time it was, and if it was before a certain time (7, maybe?) I had to go back to bed again. No noise before 8 or 9, I can't remember which. That was the hardest for me. I would wake up and fully intend to be silent and keep Hulka happy this time, but nope, inevitably I'd get excited and make noise and incur Hulka's wrath.

Hulka's wrath pretty much consisted of him shouting my name, telling me to get my ass into his and Holly's room, then telling me very sternly to keep the noise down for a while longer, then sending me back out. This would frequently be repeated a few times per morning. It would work temporarily each time, you don't argue with a big angry man in his underwear. It's just that I would forget to be quiet again shortly thereafter. Oops.

Something Jimmy, Charlie and I liked to do was make funny tapes. They had an old boombox with a record function and we had a couple of cassette tapes we would pop in, then record ourselves being jackasses. Some classic moments included a skit involving a mystical "Geeenieee Bear!", Charlie singing INXS in the bathroom, and Charlie and I ruining Jimmy's well planned out sketches with fart sounds. That last one was pretty common. Being the oldest, Jimmy would actually come up with lines of dialogue for us to learn and make a funny tape. We'd usually go along with this for a minute or two, mess up a line somehow, and when he'd get upset at us, we'd just make fart noises on tape. One time in particular he decided to get his revenge on me for being a brat in his skit by narrating gross things to happen to me. I got poop on my face, he claimed. Somewhere there exists a recording of me angrily shouting that "If I get poop on my face one more time, you're gonna have poop in your stomach!" A comeback for the ages.

The greatest recording we ever made, though, happened early (although not ungodly early) one morning. It was probably 7:30 AM or so. The three of us were awake and ready to make another classic tape. This time, Jimmy thought we could use musical backup, so he was going to play the old, out-of-tune piano along as we recorded. I wish I had the audio recording to post here, but it's lost to the sands of time. I will try to transcribe it from memory.

The skit begins. Jimmy narrates while Charlie and I call comments from the peanut gallery. Jimmy begins playing the piano to enhance the mood of the story. Suddenly, although it's coming from an entirely different room, you can hear Hulka's voice on tape, clear as a bell. "REMUS! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!" For a few moments, you can only hear Jimmy and Charlie whispering to each other. Then, in the most shit-eating, smug, childish, sing-songy voice you can imagine: "Jiiiiimm-myyyyyyyy, he's mad at YOOOO-OOOUUUUUU!" and then immediately, "REMUS! GET YOUR ASS BACK IN HERE!!"

For once, for fucking once, it actually was Jimmy who pissed off Hulka. It wasn't me spazzing out and making noise early in the morning. It WAS Jimmy! This never fucking happened, it was a one-time shot! I felt so goddamn vindicated when I went in there the first time for a tongue-lashing and could legitimately insist that I was innocent, and it was Jimmy who was to blame. Jimmy, who never got in trouble while Charlie (sometimes) and I (nearly always) took the fall (usually deservedly). I just couldn't contain my satisfaction at this stunning upset, and ruined it all by being a smug little shit. There's a moral in here somewhere. I flew far too close to the sun on wings of wax, my friends. Pride goeth before a fall.

Tales From The Lebowskis - Their House (In The Middle of Their Street)

From the mid-1960's to the mid-1970's, the Lebowski family lived in a great big house (3 stories, 6 bed, 8 bath) that I've never seen the inside of. Seven people (two parents, five children) is a big family, and a large house would be reasonable for a large family, but this house also doubled as a care facility for several adult patients that my grandmother, Mary Lebowski was responsible for (she was an RN who basically ran a mini-rest home in her own home for a few wards of the state). It is a constant sadness to me that I never got the chance to visit this house (it is now occupied by a privately owned business, although my aunt Pappy does visit sometimes for her work, which is nice for her). It sounds like a fun place where lots of interesting things occurred. I'd like to walk you through some of the highlights.

The living arrangements were as follows. The basement was a basement, and had laundry machines. The first floor was the main living area with kitchen, dining room, etc. The 2nd floor had bedrooms for Nonnie, Jaja, their two sons David and Stephen (Hulka), and the patients. The third floor, accessed via a flight of stairs with each step painted a different bright color, housed my mother, Diane, and her two sisters, Susan and Patty (Pappy). The bulk of the third floor was Patty and Susan's room, which was enormous. My mother's room (she desperately wanted her own room, being the oldest) was tiny, like a broom closet. Because it was her VERY OWN ROOM, she got to paint it any color she liked. She chose lavender. Apparently this tiny room was extremely lavender. It was once described by David as "so damn purple, Prince and Barney would spew."

Having the patients live in the house provided Nonnie and Jaja with convenient watchful eyes when they wanted or needed to get out of the house. If you think about this, though, the patients living there were wards of the state. Hulka likes to point out that they were, "frequently left in the care of individuals the state deemed unfit to care for themselves." One patient's entire babysitting strategy was slap a box of cigarettes in his hand and demand that the children "get off my floor!" should they venture to play on the 2nd floor.

The first floor of the house, as stated earlier, was where the daily living took place. With 5 kids and 4 or so patients, Nonnie and Jaja thought it economical to invest in a milk machine, the type you might see in a college dining hall. They'd buy enormous bags of milk, load them in, and then the milk would freely dispense from it's tube when the lever was pressed. Susan perfected a trick she would demonstrate for Hulka where she would milk the milk machine. She would grip the pouring tube as if it were a cow's udder and use the "milking" motion to nudge the lever with her elbow. Classic misdirection. Hulka's use of the milk machine was more direct: he liked to wrap his lips around the tube and hit the lever.

The outside of the house was apparently full of memories too. It featured a built-in pool, for one thing. However, Nonnie lived in perpetual fear that young Hulka would have dangerous mishaps given any chances (this was a somewhat justified fear, given little Hulka's fearlessness, which is probably better described as obliviousness to danger rather than "bravery" per se. He once, at age 3 or so, held a Vietnam protest parade which consisted of walking the median line of the busy street the house was on holding a flower. Tractor trailers honked their support, he assures me.). As a result, the pool was not allowed to be filled beyond a couple of inches of water. Poor innocent Hulka might've drowned otherwise.

In addition to a pool, the yard also had a fountain. This fountain, like the pool, had much less water in it than it should, by design, have held. It held zero water. I do not know if this was another deliberate Hulka-proofing on my grandmother's part or not, but I do know that according to my mother, aunts, and uncles, an empty fountain has some great hide-and-seek possibilities.

Another outdoor highlight was a very tall evergreen tree. This tree was not a highlight on it's own, it was rather the site of an escapade involving my mother's cousin Jimmy Sownd. Young Jimmy was apparently an expert climber and a bit of a little shit. On this particular occasion, he managed to climb all the way to the very top of the tree, clinging not to a branch but to the central tree trunk, at that height so thin and flexible that he was reportedly swinging from side to side, rocking the top of the tree, shouting not with fear, but with glee. His father, George "Gorilla" Sownd demanded he climb down, a demand which was summarily dismissed. Uncle George was nicknamed Gorilla for a reason: he was built like one. The man called Gorilla was FULLY displeased at having to climb two full stories up a tree to haul his monkey-swinging son down. I'm pretty sure Jimmy's ass got beaten to hell and back for that one (it was a different time).

As if these weren't enough outdoor items of note, the backyard also featured a life-sized statue of the Madonna (the religious figure, not the singer), and an enormous D.O.T.-orange trash barrel. This barrel was notable for moonlighting as a swimming pool for the kids (since the real pool could not be filled, as mentioned above) and as a vehicle of sorts. A favorite game of the Lebowski children was to load a child or two into the barrel, turned on it's side, and send it rolling down the hill, most frequently to come to a sudden and clanging stop at the propane tank. This may sound dangerous, but the kids were sure to run a series of tests before attempting this. The tests consisted of getting their neighbor and friend, Sally Bigalow to do exactly this dangerous thing first. This was a valid strategy for a number of potentially hazardous outdoor activities, I hear.

My favorite detail about the Lebowski house of those days, saved for last, is the fact that it had a laundry chute. I always thought laundry chutes were really cool when I was younger, because it was a legitimate excuse to drop things from a fair height, usually a no-no. But this laundry chute was special. It ran from the 2nd floor to the basement ceiling, with an opening on the first floor as well. In about 1970 or so, the Lebowski children needed to find out just how valid a shortcut from the 2nd floor to the basement the laundry chute would be. Sally Bigalow must not have been available, because the test pilot for this mission was none other than Hulka, 6 or 7 years old at the time.

The four assistants made sure there was plenty of laundry at the bottom of the chute to cushion the landing. A few bedsheets and a pair of underwear was probably enough, right? The intrepid young sailor of gravity gave his thumbs up and he was hoisted into the chute to make his rapid headfirst descent. What the kids didn't realize was that about halfway down the chute, it narrowed. Hulka did not. Firmly lodged upside down in the chute, Hulka awaited rescue by his siblings. They tried valiantly to free him, eventually resorting to using a broom to try to push him through the narrow segment to freedom. Hulka reports that he wishes they'd used the other end of the broom, and that the handle didn't even buy him dinner or call him after the time they had together.

Eventually, Hulka was freed, relatively none the worse for wear. But it's a pretty unique family of five kids that sends the youngest brother down a laundry chute just to see what would happen. Or maybe not so unique. You should ask my dad's brother Sean Thirty about that.

NES Nightmare Fuel

Like so many people in my age cohort, I had the pleasure of having my childhood years coincide with the explosion of the video game industry. While my loving parents, Steven and Diane Thirty successfully kept video games out of our home until I got a Nintendo Game Boy in the third grade, I had been playing them for years prior to that, courtesy of my dear uncle Hulka and his stepsons Jimmy and Charlie Easterbreak. Hulka actually spent a few years working for a local video game story that was actually (unknown to him) a front for a media pirating racket. Hulka got tons of games through this position, and Jimmy, Charlie, and I reaped the benefits.

However, video games aren't all fun and... uhh... games. At least not when your age is in the single digits and fear is a still a difficult emotion to regulate. There are scary games today. They tend to try to be scary, sometimes to awesome effect (What up Resident Evil and Bioshock?). Old video games, if they were terrifying, were often terrifying without particularly trying to be so. Their anxiety was more one of a feeling of impending, inevitable death at the hands of some relatively cartoonish looking creature.

I would like to share with you today a rogues gallery from my young childhood, a veritable who's who of my most hated and feared 8-bit nemeses. Those of you of comparable ages to my own, be warned, this could trigger long-buried anxieties. Without further ado, here are the five NES-era video game baddies that taunted, tortured, and traumatized me more than any others.

#5 - Duck Hunt Dog

Alright, this guy would be higher on the list for the sheer amount of hate he caused me to spew, but I wasn't actually afraid of this dog from Duck Hunt. I hated him. I hate him still. This smug god damn dog would act like my friend, eager to help me shoot some ducks. But when I inevitably eventually missed one or two, he would laugh at me. He would laugh at my failure, giddy with contempt. A boy can only take so much of this before he turns his NES Zapper on his faithful four-legged companion. But wait. What's this? Oh dear god. Dear god in heaven. YOUR FIREARMS ARE USELESS AGAINST HIS DICKISHNESS! The only thing to be done was eventually to turn off the NES through tears of frustration. God damn you, dog. God damn you to hell.

#4 - Dodongo

Dodongo, a level boss and later mid-boss in the Legend of Zelda, wasn't really that terrifying. Look at his picture. He's just a little yellow triceratops. But beating Dodongo took careful timing. You had to place bombs directly into his mouth (or apparently you can stun these guys with bombs that explode NEAR them, then hit them with your sword. I did not know this as a child). Getting the timing on this right as an adult is tricky but not that bad. As a child, coupled with a genuine desire to not screw up at Zelda in front of my beloved uncle, getting that timing right was awful. 3/4 of the time, I wouldn't even fight Dodongo. I'd wander around the dungeon, putting it off, until finally giving the controller to Hulka and begging him to just beat this one part for me. This strategy was also useful for the #2 foe on the list.

#3 - Baron Von Blubba

When I was really young, I loved Bubble Bobble. In nursery school, we made an "All About Me" book that was a cross between a scrapbook and a yearbook, and my favorite song is listed as "The Bubble Bubble Song" because my nursery school teacher didn't know what a Bubble Bobble was. There was a restaurant in my town that had a Bubble Bobble arcade game. I loved that game so much. But there was one problem with Bubble Bobble. Taking too long to beat a stage caused the game to generate an invincible, deadly, and scary looking enemy: Baron Von Blubba, the ghost whale. Nothing can hurt him. Nothing can stop him. He will chase you until you finish the level or die at his ghastly white flippers. This was so much worse than just dying when a timer ends. Here you had the faintest glimmer of hope for escape and a grinning death's head cetacean ripping that glimmer out of your 5-year-old hands. If I knew who Captain Ahab was at age 5, I would've understood him. White whales are trouble like whoa.

#2 - Queen Medusa

I don't know why, but the Medusa boss in Castlevania earned the name Queen Medusa in the American manual for the game. Maybe because she was the queen of the lesser-but-still-unbelievably-frustrating Medusa enemies. Whatever. I don't know what it was about Queen Medusa's grinning, snake-haired head that filled my heart with ice and stopped my brain in its tracks, but she did just that every time I neared the end of level 2. I would literally stop advancing down the hallway to the battle against her for minutes at a time, trying desperately to think of a way to keep playing without having to face her. Maybe it was something about the way she moved in those sinuous arcs, maybe it was the perfectly cast sinister smile on her face, but Queen Medusa reduced me to the scared little child I was, leading to me begging Hulka to "please just beat her for me!" I would even leave the room when Hulka was playing while he fought her. Hulka put up with a lot. I owe you one, buddy.

#1 - Phanto

I do not have a good track record with floating heads that smile evilly. Medusa may have been the queen of my video game nightmares, but Phanto was king. Phanto appeared in several levels of Super Mario Bros. 2. His gimmick was to appear as a simple wall hanging until you picked up a key, necessary to proceed through the stage. Once you picked up the key, Phanto would fly around, his gleefully sadistic expression unchanging, until you either narrowly made it to the door, or he murdered you in cold blood, grinning all the while. The fact that you could get him to back off by putting down the key seemed like mercy, but in fact it just made lifting the key again all the more panic-inducing. Touch the key and Phanto will get you. Phanto was the monster under the bed, the boogeyman, the man in the van with free candy. Everything you fear when the lights go out, that was Phanto. The grin of pure evil.

Some of you may be wondering why the Angry Sun from Super Mario Bros. 3 isn't on the list. Honestly, I didn't like him either, but he didn't fill me with terror like these other guys did. By all rights, a big face moving in an arc pattern fits the description of my hit list, but maybe his fiery grimace scared me less than an ice-cold smirk.

Tales From The Lebowskis - Great Jaja Adventures, Vol. 5

After a long hiatus, I thought it prudent to do another installment of Tales From The Lebowskis. For those of you just joining us, you may want to navigate older posts and acquaint yourselves with the individuals featured in these tales. This installment is the fifth Great Jaja Adventure, entitled "Lunar Fenderbender"

In the early 1970's, an enjoyable pastime for the Lebowski crew was to play the board game Password. The whole family could get involved with this: Mary Lebowski (later to be known as "Nonnie"), David Lebowski Sr. (eventually "Jaja"), Diane Lebowski (my mother), Susan Lebowski, David Lebowski Jr. (later "Blaze" and/or "Daven"), Patty Lebowski (later "Pappy") and the youngest Lebowski, Stephen (later "Lebo" and "Hulka"). On some occasions, they were joined by the clan patriarch, John Lebowski, then Jaja, eventually Great Jaja, and now living in our hearts and memories.

It was April, 1972. I am sure of this for a reason that will eventually become clear. The entire Lebowski clan was playing a heated game of Password. It was Great Jaja's turn. Password, for those unfamiliar, consists of a player attempting to get the other players to guess a secret word within a time limit. Great Jaja had the perfect clue for his secret word. The timer began. "Astronaut" he said smugly. Reasonable guesses such as "rocketship", "space", and "planet" were thrown out. Shocked and angry his perfect clue fell to such simpletons, he repeated it again, angrily. "Astronaut!" More guesses. "God damn it, astronaut!" More guesses. "God damn you people, astronaut! Astronaut!" But alas, the younger generations of Lebowski were unable to come up with the secret word, even as more and more obscenities framed the perfect clue.

Time eventually ran out, as time is wont to do. The time came for the big reveal. What was the secret word, Great Jaja?

Fender.

You may be thinking, "what in god's holy name does the word astronaut have to do with the word fender?" This, and other variants thereon, was the exact question every Lebowski in the room asked Great Jaja.

"Don't you people watch the goddamn news?"

You see, in April 1972, the Apollo 16 mission was taking place. Apollo 16 was one of the moon missions that made use of a Lunar Roving Vehicle (LRV) or "Lunar Rover". The LRV used in Apollo 16 experienced issues with its rear fender extension during the mission. Essentially, it broke off, the astronauts attempted to reattach it with tape, but the lunar dust caused the tape's adhesive to fail, and the part was lost. They eventually constructed a makeshift fender out of, amongst other things, duct tape and moon maps.

But you no doubt already knew this. Everyone knows this, god damn it. What kind of damn fool could even hear the word "astronaut" and not immediately think "fender"? Certainly not the Lebowskis, not anymore. In fact, to this day, if you approach any of the Lebowskis present that evening (and several who were not) and prompt them with "astronaut" the response will ring clear and true.

Fender.

If you know who these people are, try it for yourself some time.

Tales From The Lebowskis - Catch Me!

As those readers who have met my family may know, the Lebowski genes carry with them a certain body type. This body type could be described as "stocky" or "full-figured." While the Jerboa family genes carried by my grandmother, Mary or "Nonnie" trend slimmer, Lebowski genes seem to be dominant in most of the offpsring of the Lebowski-Jerboa union. As readers may know, this is certainly the case with Stephen "Hulka" Lebowski, but he is not alone in this. I too am a heavy-set man. And until recently, my aunt Patty "Pappy" Lebowski was a big lady too. I would like to note here that she has recently trimmed down quite a bit and is looking and feeling great!

One thing Pappy has always had is a lot of spirit. She is the first to sign up to plan a party, host a party, set up a party, attend a party, or help clean up from a party. She is a party-oriented individual. She has a playful and exuberant spirit that was not at all done justice by her role in the first Tale From the Lebowskis. At parties she has always been willing to get up and sing karaoke, lead the movement to the dance floor, or even give a decorative deer's head's antlers a new hat made of a brassiere. There is one party game of Pappy's that will forever live in infamy however.

It was New Year's Eve in the mid-1980's. Several of the young adult Lebowski's had gone to a local establishment we'll call "Billy J's" to ring in the new year. Among those in attendance were Pappy and her darling baby brother, Steve "Hulka" Lebowski. Pappy was dressed to the nines for the occasion, wearing a slick new dress. A few drinks in, Pappy decided to let her spirit run wild and decided to play her favorite party game with a man who could handle it, her enormous brother.

She started running towards Hulka, who was standing near the doors to the club's kitchen. Hulka, enjoying some hors d'oeuvres, was at first, unaware of his sister's charge. To alert him, Pappy shouted two words that would be immortalized by the events to follow:

"CATCH ME!"

Hulka turned and saw his sister in a full run coming towards him. He had only seconds to act. He rapidly oriented himself, eyes wide, and prepared to catch his sister, who by this point had left the ground, flinging herself towards her target. Her aim was good. His stance was good. His arms closed around her.

This would be the end, except for the fact that Pappy's new dress was not just slick-looking, it was literally slick. At least, this is what Hulka insists. He maintains to this day that Pappy was debuting Teflon's new line of evening wear that New Year's Eve, and the results should be, by this point, predictable.

As Hulka closed his arms around her, Pappy's airborne acceleration failed to stop. It, at best, slowed. She slid through his grip and continued her forward momentum into the swinging kitchen doors. In they swung, and in she fell. As they swung back out and crashes were heard within, out flew a pair of shoes (it is unknown if her shoes were also from DuPont's latest line). One hit the floor and tumbled harmlessly to a stop. The other, as if guided from above, landed on a waiter's tray of empty and half-finished drinks, overturning some glasses, but stopping cleanly on the tray.

So goes the legend of Pappy, "Catch Me," and the Teflon Dress. If only Monica Lewinsky had owned one.

Hey-o!

...

Too soon?

Tales From The Lebowskis - Vinnie Jerboa, The Lyin' King

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you may recall an entry I did entitled "Tales From The Lebowskis - Hulka, Prince of Lies." Today I'd like to tell you about the man who ensures that Hulka will never rise from the rank of Prince to take a place as a reigning monarch. I've met only one other man from whose mouth pours falsehoods so freely and so truly believed by their source as the man I'd like to tell you about today. The Lyin' King in question is my first cousin, twice removed (that is to say my grandmother Mary "Nonnie" Lebowski nee Jerboa's cousin) Vincent "Vinnie" Jerboa (the man who could match him lie for lie was a Spanish and Italian teacher from Venezuela who taught at my high school for two years, Bellido Alejandro Golbez).

Uncle Vinnie, as he tends to be known these days, is a liar so adept that he doesn't even realize when he is lying. I am convinced he could pass a polygraph test for any of the bullshit he spews. This is what sets Vinnie into a lying league of his own. Hulka and Jaja can both spin great lies, but they know they're lying. Vinnie's lies, to him, are true. Here below are just a few of Uncle Vinnie's most classic lies, the ones that will be remembered always for their sheer audacity, obvious falseness, and his insistence on their veracity.

• Vinnie served in the US Navy as a younger man, and was in fact active in the service during World War II. The fact that he was in the Navy during this time is probably the only true thing he says about his service. He once reminisced about his days afloat with my grandfather, Dave "Jaja" Lebowski, Sr., recalling bemusedly how his shipmates nicknamed him "Ski," and confessing he had no idea where this nickname came from. Jaja loudly informed him that he was a damn fool, and that Ski was not Vinnie's military nickname, but John "Great Jaja" Lebowski's, Ski being short for Lebowski. Vinnie somehow did not believe his cousin-in-law on this one, and maintains that he, not Great Jaja, was called Ski, in spite of the fact that this makes absolutely no sense.
• The more memorable of Vinnie's lies about his time in the Navy took place in New York Harbor. Vinnie says that at some point during World War II, he was on a naval ship that was in said harbor area. This is the only part of this claim that is likely true. Vinnie insists that one night, he was completely alone on deck, when he witnessed a German U-boat surface from the still waters of the harbor. It remained for a moment, then resubmerged. He then claims he ran and found his superior officer and informed him of what he had seen. To this, his commanding officer reportedly answered, "Keep it to yourself, we don't want any trouble with the Germans." During World War II. In US coastal waters. Next to a major US city.
• The most whimsical of Vinnie's lies also took place on a boat (perhaps water vessels increase his lying ability...). Long after his Navy days, Vinnie was enjoying a day out on a boat on the Connecticut River with his cousin-in-law, Dave "Jaja" Lebowski, Sr. and his cousin-in-law's son, Steve "Hulka" Lebowski. Vinnie was gazing at the riverbank when he suddenly announced to his companions, "There they go." "There who goes?" asked Hulka. "The penguins," answered Vinnie. "Penguins?" asked a befuddled Hulka. "Yeah, penguins. They were on the rocks and they just dived under. You just missed them," said Vinnie, as if it should be completely obvious. "Vinnie," started Hulka, "penguins don't live around here. They're indigenous to Antarctica." "and Connecticut!" addended Vinnie. Since the climates are so similar.

In the Lebowski family, the latter two lies have been merged in our collective consciousness into one charming delusion. If you ever meet a Lebowski clan member or friend of the family and hear him or her mention Nazi penguins, you now know why. And knowing, they say, is half the battle.

Tales From The Lebowskis - The Rise and Fall of Huckleberry

A little over five years ago or so, Hulka decided what his home needed was a brand new barn, big enough to house his antique tractors and various other hardware and vehicles. The Lebowskis and their friends are a bit like the Amish: raising a barn is a community affair. So through the entire process of clearing the land, digging the foundation, and actually building the barn, Hulka was aided by his family and friends. Almost everybody got involved on some level, from the oldest family members (Dave "Jaja" Lebowski, Sr. and his brother Uncle Jim) to the youngest (my cousins Chris and Kyle Rudedawg). My father helped, I helped, first, second, and third cousins helped. However, two individuals in particular are important to this story.

At this time, my uncle Dave Lebowski, Jr. (also known as "Uncle Daven" and "Blaze") was recently divorced and spending a lot more time visiting his family even though his residence was in another state, and we were very glad to have him around more. Uncle Daven's interests include music (he's a pretty awesome guitarist) and computers. Construction and similar activities have never really been his forte. But he wanted to spend time with his family, and his family was building a barn, so he was up to give it a try.

Also on the crew, actually a crucial member of the crew, was longtime family friend Jerry Lamaze. Jerry is a man who couldn't be more acquainted with working with his hands. He has worked construction all his life, and is, for his size, immensely strong. This is a man who used to have a party trick where he would grip a metal support column in my grandparents' basement with both hands then hold himself completely perpendicular using the mighty strength of his arms. Jerry, basically, is a tough guy. A man's man.

Over the course of this construction project, David had a few things to learn about building a barn, and Jerry decided to take this man he's known since he (David) was born under his wing and show him the ropes. David got the hang of it fairly quickly, and Jerry was delighted with him. Jerry would offer to buy him celebratory beers, include him in his little pranks, and even gave David a new nickname. David was now Jerry's "Huckleberry."

All was well with Jerry and Huckleberry. This construction project had made them the best of buddies. Such good friends, in fact, that Jerry had a special job for Huckleberry one day. You see, the crew realized that to work on the roof, it was a little bit easier to put a reliable, skilled person in the bucket of the payloader (yes, Jaja owns a payloader. Doesn't everyone's grandfather?) and raise them up. Usually this job would go to somebody like my father, or Jerry himself. But on this day, this special day, Jerry had reserved this special honor for David, his Huckleberry.

David climbed into the bucket, tools in hand. This was a big chance to gain esteem in the eyes of the great and powerful Jerry Lamaze. David stood at the ready in the payloader bucket and prepared himself for the ascent to the roof. But fortune frowned upon him and a single hammer slipped from his grasp. He watched it fall, hit the payloader bucket, bounce, and fall out to the ground. Jerry's face showed the slightest hint of displeasure. David could still recover though, he just had to make the right quip for the situation, which he came up with after a brief pause.

"Whoopsie-doodle!"

Jerry's face lost any and all joy or compassion. "What did you say?" he asked, as though David had informed him of the death of a child. "... Whoopsie-doodle?" David repeated, almost a whisper. There was another brief pause. "Get out of the bucket," instructed Jerry with absolute gravity, "Steven, get in." And just like that, Huckleberry had fallen from grace, much like Jerry would weeks later fall from that same roof (he survived).

However, the legend of Huckleberry and whoopsie-doodle did not die. Months later, around Christmas time, some of us were sitting around Hulka and Holly's kitchen table, enjoying some holiday cheer. A knock came at the door. In bursts Jerry to debut his new holiday hit song, relatively to the tune of "A Holly Jolly Christmas."

Have a Huckleberry Christmas
And in case you didn't know
Say "whoopsie-doodle" and you'll get a lot of snow!
(repeat until bored)

And all was right with the world.

Tales From The Lebowskis - Hulka, Prince of Lies

A lot of the Lebowski family tales are brief moments, that don't really translate well to a single, dramatic narrative. This is because these stories are real life events, and real life doesn't always follow the traditional "rising action-climax-falling action" pattern of stories. For this entry in the Tales From The Lebowskis feature, I'm going to share with you a number of brief, unrelated episodes on a common theme. Stephen "Hulka" Lebowski is my uncle and is quite a character, as you may recall. He is also an accomplished artist of the English language, and can use his linguistic prowess for both truth and lies.

Over the course of my life, I have borne witness to many of Hulka's finest lies, so I would like to relate a few of my favorite untruths from Uncle Hulka. Before I do, let me say that Hulka's lies to me were often spun with the intention of entertaining me, filling my head with images of a fantastical world where anything is possible. It made my childhood that much more fun, and I wouldn't trade those wonderful lies for anything. Here now are a few chosen lies that I've enjoyed from Hulka over the years.

• Hulka supposedly had two alternate dog-like personalities that would come out from time to time complete with gruff voices. They were Lockjaw (the nice dog person) and Dogjaw (the mean one). When I was being a little shit, Hulka would warn me that Dogjaw was taking over, usually scaring me into behaving and pleading with Dogjaw to let Lockjaw take over instead.
• Dogjaw was not enough of a deterrent for bad behavior I guess, because Hulka also warned me of The No-Fun House. The No-Fun House was the worst place in the world. Anything bad I could think of to ask if it was there, Hulka told me was there. Any redeeming qualities I could think of to ask if they belonged to the No-Fun House, Hulka denied. I was terrified of being sent to the No-Fun House. The No-Fun House was located in Moosup, CT, where they have nothing but wheat. When I was told this, I cried. Once I was being particularly spazzy in the car and Hulka pulled his car up in front of an abandoned house and told me this was the fabled No-Fun House, and to get out. I was scared shitless and immediately behaved like a model child, at least until we were far enough away.
• Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, and Goofy apparently used to live in the house next door to the one Hulka lived in at the time (his parents, Mary "Nonnie" Lebowski and David "Jaja" Lebowski's house). They were not the best neighbors for Hulka because they used to wake him up very early by coming over and jumping on his bed, instructing him to Mousercise with them. They had moved away to Florida before I was born, because their new home, Walt Disney World, had been completed.
• Hulka, while driving one day, spotted a car being driven by a cat, with another cat riding in the back. The car pulled up next to him at a red light and he recognized the cats as my cats, Jammers (driving) and Jiggs (passenger). The car was my mother's brand new Subaru station wagon. Jammers tried to convince Hulka to drag race against her by revving the engine, but Hulka did not. Jammers peeled out when the light changed and zoomed away, as Jiggs waved out the rear windshield. I was dubious of this, but Hulka convinced me by correctly identifying the make, model, and color of my mother's car.
  
• Hulka was part of a conspiracy of adults who successfully had me believe that our elderly family friend, Katherine Kookaburra was trapped in a number of dryers in a variety of family members' homes. Katherine had a distinct and easily imitable voice. Did you know that if somebody stands at the dryer vent outside a house and speaks into it, it sounds like the voice is coming from inside the dryer? Hulka, his siblings, and at least a few of their spouses knew this. Obviously upon opening the dryer, I could see she was not inside, but I believed she had somehow gotten herself trapped behind the tumbler (so many times! Katherine, stay away from dryers for Christ's sake!) and if the adults would just cooperate with me, we could get the tumbler out and save her. But no, not only did they let me futilely try to figure out how to get behind the tumbler, they also would inform me, after a minute or two had passed, that we couldn't wait any longer to run the dryer. "But there's no clothes to dry! Katherine's in there!" "I know, but it's time to run the dryer now. Let's hope Katherine can handle it."
• Hulka and his sister Patty "Pappy" Rudedawg nee Lebowski (the one who accompanied Great Jaja on his trip to the Springfield Bus Station) collaborated on the wonderful idea that the live lobster they were going to cook for their father as a Father's Day feast was in fact the new pet lobster, Leo (named after Leo Bootywitz? Maybe.) Leo enjoyed crawling around, and even visited me while I was in the pool, although he wouldn't actually get in. He had rubber bands on his claws so he wouldn't hurt his new family. They did not think this lie through, because eventually they had to murder Leo and let my grandfather feast on the corpse of our new pet. When I tearfully pleaded for him to stop, that Leo was a pet, I was told by my loving grandfather, Jaja, "Oh, horseshit! *crunch*"
• Hulka's lies were not always to me. On one memorable occasion, he lied for my benefit. Hulka and my father, Steve Thirty, had just taken me to Wal-Mart so I could buy the Super Nintendo Entertainment System (packaged with The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past!) that I had saved up a $2 per week allowance for for over a year. We got back to Hulka's to drop him off before going home. While at Hulka's, Hulka wanted to loan me a few more SNES games for my new system. My father did not want to wait, and told me to go get in the car. Hulka, from the bedroom where he kept his old SNES games, told me to come and take them from him. I was trapped between contradicting orders from two adults I loved and respected. "Remus, come here!" "Remus, go to the car." "Remus, come here!" "No, you go to the car." Then the stalemate was broken by Hulka: "Remus! I'm on fire!" Now, I didn't believe him. Nor did my father. But I looked up at my father, shrugged, and ran to get my games. Upon returning to the living room, I said to my father, "I'm probably in trouble, huh?" "Yeah." But Hulka came to my defense! "No, Steve," he said, "Remus saved my life. A comet crashed into me and set me on fire. It flew all the way from Uranus! It hit me in My-anus!" A good laugh was had by all, and I did not get in trouble.

From MyAnus to Urs, take care, all!

Tales From The Lebowskis - Bad Influences

Up to this point, I've left myself out of the Lebowski stories that have appeared on this blog. Today, that changes. Today, I would like to share with you a story from my early childhood, a story that my father Steven Thirty wishes would just vanish from history. This story was actually kept from me until I was about 20 years old, despite the fact that I was a key player. I had no memory of it, because I was about 1 or 2 years old at the time. I had just entered that lovely phase of childhood during which a young child, his or her brain seeking to learn as much language as possible, will repeat anything you say to him or her. In this case, him. Duh.

Also, I should warn you that this Lebowski tale contains language that some may consider shocking or offensive. If you are easily offended, I recommend you read a different blog, or better yet, leave the internet and never come back, because the internet is not a safe place for the gentle-minded.

Stephen "Hulka" Lebowski has been a wonderful uncle since day one. He was always looking out for me, making sure I knew about cool things like his muscle cars or The Doors. Seriously, after the usual childhood basic words (mama, dada, kitty, doggie, etc.) Hulka made it a point to teach me that he drove a "Fouh-Fouh-Two!" and the lead singer of The Doors was "Jim Moh-son!" Mixed in with these important facts were also an astonishing number of harmless-ish, entertaining lies but those will be saved for another time. Because between the truths and the lies, there rests forbidden knowledge.

One day, Hulka, who at this point was still living with his parents, Mary and David Lebowski (Nonnie and Jaja), had a couple of friends over. Notable amongst these young men was John Tygers, one of Hulka's best friends. Eric Zealand may or may not have been present for this. Anyway, Hulka and his buddies were watching a movie together in Hulka's room. Not just any movie, an adult movie. The film was one of the movies from the adult film series The Devil in Miss Jones. I think it MAY have been the 4th installment, The Final Outrage, but I am not certain. I sadly have not seen these films, and so cannot tell you.

There was a line in this film that Hulka, John, and company found absolutely uproarious. At some point an African-American character with a gravelly voice describes to the titular Miss Jones, possibly whilst in Hell, that "... you got a jizz-a-mighty dick, HANGIN' out yo' butt!" What this line actually physically describes is difficult to determine. What makes a dick jizz-a-mighty? Why would it just be hanging out of Miss Jones' butt and not doing something? These are questions I do not know the answer to, and certainly did not know the answers to at age 1 or 2.

This did not stop Hulka and John from continuing my education though. Because when his beloved nephew wandered down the hall from the living room to see Uncle Hulka, Hulka and John saw opportunity. An opportunity to take what was already a hilarious porno line and make it even funnier. By getting the 2-year-old to repeat it. And so, Hulka and John Tygers started teaching me the line. "Remus, say: you got a jizz-a-mighty dick, HANGIN' out yo' butt!" And what else could I do? These was my beloved uncle and his good friend. They usually steered me right. And I had no clue what the words meant anyway.

"You ga jiiiiiiimadig, HAAAAAAAn oucha bud!"

The laughter was immense. This was comedic gold. "You ga jiiiiiiiiimadig, HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAn oucha bud!!" Even more laughter. This line was a keeper. I was going to use this all the time to make the grown-ups laugh. And use it I did. But nobody else got it. Nobody else even understood what I was saying. It was the idle talk of a toddler. And so parents, grandparents, strangers, all were treated to the best of The Devil in Miss Jones without knowing it. For several weeks. But then something happened.

My family was visiting at Nonnie and Jaja's, as was a frequent occurence. John Tygers was also there at the same time, visiting Hulka. And we were all in the living room. And upon seeing my uncle and John together, I did what I would naturally do: use their favorite line to get a reaction. "You ga jiiiiiiiiiiimadig, HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAn oucha bud!" And they laughed. And John repeated it back to me: "You got a jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizz-a-mighty dick, HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAngin' out yo' butt!" And it was grand fun. Except this time, my father was there.

His gaze turned to something between ice and stone. "What did you just say?"

"Uhhh, Steve, I uhh..."

"What did you just say, John?"

"Steve, it's just, it's just a line from a movie, it's not a big deal."

"You taught my son, my 2-year-old son, a line from a porno?"

Needless to say, I wasn't really allowed to hang out with Uncle Hulka and John alone much after that point, at least not until I was a little older.

Now, I would like to end with a request/challenge. As established earlier, I have never actually seen the film the line is from. I don't feel like watching a seven-film series just to find the line. If any of you readers can find me either a copy of the film (the correct film, not just any film in the series) or even better, the clip in question, I will come up with a good prize for you. This prize will include a special write-up on the blog, and probably something else good too (what it will be depends on who wins). So start searching, my beloved perverts! Find me this porn!

Tales From The Lebowskis - The Revenge of the Ex

Prior to meeting my father, the various guys my mom, Diane Thirty nee Lebowski dated in her youth were not always the best and brightest mankind had to offer. I obviously do not know this from personal experience, as I did not exist prior to my mother meeting my father (unless I am able to experience time travel at some point, in which case my future self may exist at some point in the past prior to my mother meeting my father, but this is unlikely). For example, one skeleton from my mother's closet (not actually a skeleton as far as I know) was heard to suggest that the best solution to the escalating Three Mile Island problem would be to "just nuke it and get it over with." He was serious about this, not joking. There is a reason this man is my mom's ex instead of my father.

The ex-boyfriend in this story may be this very same guy, but then again, he could be another less-than-awesome person. Suffice it to say, the guy in this story is not somebody you'd call classy. Anyway, let's give this guy a name for the purposes of the story. I don't know his real name to modify into a fake name, so this name is completely arbitrary. How about.... hmm... Louie Assbutt. OK, so at the time of this story, my mother had just recently broken up with Louie Assbutt and he was less than pleased about this.

Now as it happens, Louie was at the local YMCA one evening and he ran into none other than his ex-girlfriend's youngest brother (about 15 or 16 at the time) Stephen "Hulka" Lebowski and his best friend, Eric Zealand. I'm not going to bother linking to the past Hulka stories on this blog right now because seriously, it's not that hard to scroll down (OK, I lied). Hulka and Eric had come to the YMCA to work on getting buff so they could score with lots of chicks, or at least this is how they imagined the process working out. Louie saw in Hulka an opportunity not for buffness and scoring with chicks, but for revenge.

Louie asked these lads several years his junior what their plans for the evening were, and offered to replace those plans with a trip to the bar if they were so inclined. Hulka was delighted at the chance to drink underage someplace he would not usually be able to do so. Eric was leery, being both more timid and with better judgment than Hulka. Something about this older man offering to take out two mid-teens with whom his only contact was via his recent ex-girlfriend struck Eric as suspicious. Also, he told his parents he would be at the Y and did not want to get in trouble. So Hulka and Eric parted ways here, thinking each other an idiot and a wuss, respectively.

Off went young Hulka with Louie Assbutt to a local dive bar, one where nobody would question the age of the kid sitting there drinking as long as he wasn't buying the drinks for himself. And Louie asked Hulka what he would like to drink on this fine evening. Hulka, for all of the beers he'd snuck up to this point in his life, realized he wasn't exactly sure what adults drank in bars, at least not cool adults. Wanting to look cool enough to be out at a cool bar with this cool guy, Hulka told him that he would have "whatever you're having, dude." And so Louie Assbutt's diabolical plan began to unfold.

Louie told Hulka he was drinking tequila shots and ordered round after round for the two of them. However, Louie wasn't exactly honest. While Hulka was downing tequila, Louie switched after the first shot and enjoyed the refreshing taste of Peachtree Schnapps for the rest of the night, which has about 50% the alcohol content of tequila. This fact, coupled with the gross differences in age and drinking experience meant that while Louie got mildly inebriated, Hulka got shitfaced. And so, his mission half complete, Louie Assbutt loaded Hulka, so drunk he couldn't even see straight, into his car.

Next would come phase 2 of the revenge: bring drunk Hulka back to his home. Because that'll teach the bitch to break up with him! Get her 15-year-old brother drunk and bring him home. As diabolical plans go, this one was no Death Star. Hell, it wasn't even a Death Pebble. Anyway, Louie and Hulka rode up to the Lebowski residence, which had at that time a gravel driveway. Louie put his car in park and asked Hulka if he was ok to walk himself in. Hulka replied something that sounded like, "eeah, am fan" which was probably intended to be along the lines of "yeah, I'm fine," muffled through inebriation and the fact that Hulka's face was planted snugly against the dashboard of the vehicle. With great effort, he managed to get himself out of the car and steady himself with one hand on the roof. Once again, Louie Assbutt asked Hulka if he was alright. Once again Hulka assured him he was completely fine. And then fell like a redwood facefirst into the gravel driveway.

Louie was not a totally heartless monster. He knew that this kid wasn't actually responsible for his oldest sister kicking him to the curb. He couldn't leave him face down in a gravel driveway. So he got out of his car and, with effort, hefted Hulka up onto his shoulder. Together they slogged forward towards the front door of the Lebowski household, where most of the residents were sound asleep. Upon reaching the door, Louie stood Hulka up straight. When that failed, he propped him up against the door much like how one might lean a sack of potatoes against a pantry wall. His young charge/revenge secured, Louie Assbutt quickly rang the doorbell, hopped back in his car, and vanished into the night.

Hulka, meanwhile, was not quite home yet. He face was pressed as close to home as one can really get, but he wasn't quite there. Luckily for him, it was only a matter of moments before the door he was leaning on opened and he tumbled forward into the loving, gentle arms of his father, Dave Lebowski Sr. Dave looked down into the face of his youngest son, reddened by alcohol with small flecks of blood and gravel peppering his face from his earlier fall. Hulka's eyes flickered, trying to open and see his mysterious benefactor, but ultimately failing. So Hulka, slurring his words, asked one favor of this unknown Samaritan:

"Don't wake my father. He's such an asshole."

Epilogue: Dave, being the kindly father that he was, dragged his son down the hall to his bedroom and heaved him onto his bed to let him sleep off the night of mild alcohol poisoning.

Epilogue 2: Dave, being the Lebowski that he was, woke his son up at 5:30 AM, forced him to eat bacon and eggs, and had him spend the next day doing an assload of chores.

Epilogue 3: My mother found a better guy named Steve Thirty, married him, and had an awesome son and an almost-as-awesome daughter.

Tales From The Lebowskis - Brown Bagging It

As we learned last time, Steve "Hulka" Lebowski aka "Lebo" and his best friend Eric Zealand were drinking (or at least acquiring alcohol and failing to drink it) since their early teens. As they got a little older, this didn't change. This story comes chronologically later than the one that will come next, "The Revenge of the Ex", but it's briefer and the last entry was so long I thought I'd do a shorter entry this time. Anyway, at this point, Hulka and Eric were in their junior or senior year of high school, and all of the members of their class were going on a (junior or senior)-class ski trip. They loaded onto a bus and went to a ski resort town where they booked most of a motel for the students. Hulka, because of his size, was as usual asked to go to a package store and pass for older to obtain booze for his classmates. If he succeeded he would be the hero of his high school class. If he failed, there were several teachers on the trip as chaperones, and consequences could be dire.

So Hulka and Eric left the motel and walked into town, eyes and ears keen for any sign of authority figures. The trip was uneventful, and once there they set to work picking out various bottles of spirits to delight and inebriate their classmates. When all was said and done, Hulka had obtained two big brown paper shopping bags full of booze. And he was feeling a mite peckish at the time, so he also bought two bags of pork rinds, which would not only be a special treat for dear Hulka, but would also sit on top of the booze in the bags and block prying eyes from seeing the "true" contents of the paper vessels.

As they walked back towards the motel, Hulka and Eric glowed with pride. They had come through for their peers, and no doubt they would be rewarded. Their jubilation was cut short however, because they realized that the two men who were walking towards them on the sidewalk going the opposite way were in fact two of their teachers. It was too late to change course to avoid them. Doom was certain.

Eric was gripped by fear. "Lebo, what the hell are we gonna do? We're screwed! We're so screwed!" he hissed to his friend as the chaperones drew ever nearer. "I don't know Eric, just shut up, here they come," replied Hulka in a whisper.

"Gentlemen," greeted one of the teachers.

"Oh hey! Fancy meeting you here!" returned Hulka, hiding his panic perfectly.

"Indeed, Stephen. And how are you boys?"

"Great, great. This is a great town, isn't it?"

"It is. And are you enjoying the trip so far?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. We're having a blast, just heading back up to the rooms now."

"Good, good... say, boys... What's in the bags?"

Their hearts stopped. They were trapped. If they lied, the teachers could just look in the bags and catch them in the lie. But they couldn't just turn the alcohol over either, that wouldn't save them from the unholy hell they would catch for such an egregious infraction. Not just from the school, but from their parents as well! Eric silently made peace with his creator and prepared for the worst. Hulka decided he would try one last gambit. It was a long shot, but it was the only shot. He steeled his nerve, looked his teachers in the eyes, and in his best false bravado voice said the only thing he really could say:

"Plenty of alcohol!"

Time, like their hearts seconds earlier, stopped. For a half-second that lasted eons, the teachers' faces remained impassive, their voices silent. The only sound during this temporal stand-still was the pounding of Hulka and Eric's hearts in their chests.

The eternity/moment of silence was shattered when one of the chaperones burst out laughing, joined nearly immediately by the other. "Good one, Stephen!" joked the first one to laugh, not believing for a second that his student would be dumb enough to actually tell them he had two shopping bags full of alcohol on him, underage, on a dry ski trip. Hulka and Eric, realizing it worked, joined their teachers in laughing at the "joke."

"Alright you kids, we'll see you later. Take care!" and off they went, leaving Hulka and Eric alone with their two bags of booze. They had escaped. They would be heroes.

... and the truth will set you free.

Tales From The Lebowskis - The Beer in the Barn

And so, at last, we move on from Great Jaja stories to tales of other Lebowskis. Now don't worry, we haven't seen the last of Great Jaja Adventures. Great Jaja will be back in all his plaid-pantsed glory at some point in the future. But today's story focuses on Great Jaja's grandson, introduced in the 2nd Great Jaja Adventure: Steve "Hulka" Lebowski. Hulka is a big guy. A really big guy. He always has been a big guy. So when Hulka was 13 or 14, he could pass for older. Old enough that lax liquor store owners (and in the 70's, they were pretty much all lax from what I understand) wouldn't particularly bother to check the age of their eager young patron.

One fine day, Hulka and his best friend and semi-willing partner-in-crime Eric Zealand decided they would undertake a dangerous mission: they were going to ride their bikes to the local package store, buy beer, and drink it. The plan was obviously flawless. So this stalwart pair of early teens set off, bravely cycling towards destiny. They arrived as planned, and Hulka ventured into the store to make the pick-up, leaving Eric who actually did look his age outside. Calling on his 13 or so years of experience, he selected a case of beer that looked good, and approached the register. To his delight, the cashier processed the transaction without any questions as to his age. He emerged from the store victorious, and joined an awestruck and grateful Eric. Not so awestruck and grateful that he was going to carry the case on his bike and risk getting caught, though.

They set off with their score, Eric filled with nervous anticipation, and Hulka huffing and cursing as he tried to balance a case of beer on the handlebars of his bicycle as they rode through their small town. They navigated the roads, avoiding areas of likely discovery, and finally mounted the steep damn hill that the Lebowskis lived on (no easy feat with a case of beer and a bicycle, or so I'm told). The two boys ducked into the barn located a little ways down the hill from Lebowski house with their prize and realized they had made a miscalculation. Eric was expected home for dinner shortly, and certainly couldn't show up drunk. The two friends decided to hide the beer somewhere in the barn temporarily, split up and go to their respective houses for dinner, then return later that night to enjoy the fruits of their efforts.

They began looking for a good hiding spot all over the barn. One that would be invisible to the unknowing eye, but easy enough to find again for the rightful owners of the treasured beer. Hulka absently dug through a pile of hay and came across a metal tool chest. This thing was old and forgotten, it was covered in rust and clearly hadn't been used within the last decade or so. "Eric!" called Hulka, "Come here, look at this!" Eric brought the case over as Hulka, with effort, forced the box to open against the squealed complaints of the rusted hinges. There was nothing inside but cobwebs and dust, quickly cleared away. And the interior was just big enough to hold one case of beer. It was as though some divine force had provided Hulka and Eric with a blessing for their plans of (very) underage drinking.

They secured the beer within the chest and reburied it in the hay. They carefully marked the spot with some hay strands in a way that would appear random to anyone snooping, but that would be recognizable to Hulka and Eric when they returned later. Immensely pleased with themselves, Hulka and Eric parted ways and joined their respective families for dinner.

Later that evening, they met again in the barn as previously agreed. Now giddy with excitement, they approached the hay pile and began digging for their prize. They quickly found the metal chest that held their beer, and pausing just for a brief second to take in the enormity of their caper, they creaked open the box once more. The joy on their faces changed almost instantly to confusion and disbelief. The chest was completely empty. Not only was the beer gone, there was no sign it had ever been there in the first place. They looked at eachother in shock. Surely there must be some mistake. It had to be there. They forced the lid to creak shut again, and immediately forced it back open, looking again as though somehow they could've missed it the first time. Unsurprisingly, it was still gone.

"Lebo," started a heartbroken Eric, using another of Hulka's nicknames (actually, he didn't even have the nickname Hulka at the time), "I think someone stole our beer."

"No!" replied Hulka, steeling his resolve against crushing disappointment, "somebody just came and moved it, that's all!"

"Lebo, why would somebody move our beer? That doesn't make any sense."

"They moved it, Eric! They moved it and we have to find it. It's here somewhere, I know it!"

"Steve, I don't think someone would find our beer and just hide it somewhere else in the barn."

"Eric, god damn it, help me find this beer. It's here, it's here somewhere!"

And so they looked. They looked in the hay, they looked under benches and tables, they looked in cabinets, they looked in wheelbarrows, they looked everywhere. They checked, re-checked, and re-re-checked the hidden metal toolchest about a thousand times, each time opening and closing it more smoothly and with less creaking as they wore the rust off the hinges. They scoured the barn until darkness stopped their efforts.

"Steve, it's dark. The beer's gone, and I want to go home."

"Don't be a puss, we have to keep looking. I'll go get some flashlights."

"Steve, this is retarded. If anyone took it, they left with it and drank it."

"I'm going to get flashlights. Keep looking."

"...God damn it."

So Hulka trudged up to the house to obtain flashlights. He looked around but had trouble finding any, so he had to ask the man he most feared would discover his and Eric's exploits: his father. You may remember Dave Lebowski Sr. from his brief but important role in "Tree Hunting". Dave, or Jaja to me and his other grandchildren, is a lot like his father John/Great Jaja. Gruff, practical, and kind of an asshole sometimes. But he's a terrific guy besides all that. So of course he excused himself from his friend, Leo Bootywitz (also from "Tree Hunting") and helped his son find flashlights. But he wanted to know what they needed them for, so he gently asked.

"What the hell you need goddamn flashlights for?"

"Burglars, Dad. Eric and I think there's some burglars prowling around down near the barn."

"Oh, shit, well you better go catch them damn burglars then," instructed Dave while laughing.

So off went Hulka, back to the barn to rejoin Eric with flashlights. And they kept looking. And they looked some more. And they kept going back to the box, opening and checking again, as though it would magically reappear where they left it. And by now the box opened completely smoothly and with no hint of a creak sound at all. As Hulka tried to convince Eric to crawl further into a crawlspace up in the 2nd floor/rafters area of the barn, the flashlight batteries died. Eric, tired and filthy, pleaded with his friend to call it quits.

"Steve, please. We've checked everywhere. It's late and I'm tired and I want to go home."

"No, Eric," replied Hulka, fighting back tears of frustration and disappointment, "it has to be here somewhere. You can't quit on me now, we need to find it."

"Steve, the flashlights are dead, this is pointless."

"I'll get more batteries. I'll get more. Just don't give up on me, man."

And up he went back to the house. And he rummaged around and found some batteries while Dave Sr. looked on, amused.

"You catch them damn burglars yet?"

"It's not burglars, Dad. It's ghosts."

"Ghosts? Oh, well shit, you better get back down there. Catch them ghosts."

It didn't matter that his father obviously didn't believe his lies. What mattered was that he wasn't pushing the issue, so Hulka and Eric were free to continue the search. And continue they did, well on into the night. Finally, completely defeated and exhausted, spirits totally broken, Hulka and Eric gave up the search and went home to their respective beds to sleep an unsatisfied, tortured sleep.

The end.

...

No, not quite. Ten years later, Hulka and Eric were visiting at Nonnie (my grandmother, Mary Lebowski nee Jerboa) and Jaja's house and recounting the events of that evening, now old enough that any consequences were a thing of the past. Hearing the tale, Jaja finally related the truth of the matter to his son.

It seems that Hulka and Eric were spotting sneaking into the barn on their initial hiding trip by Dave Sr./Jaja and Leo. They couldn't see exactly what was going on, but they could tell there were suspicious dealings afoot. So some time after Hulka and Eric split up for dinner, Dave and Leo made an expedition to the barn to check the situation out. I should mention here that Leo is one lanky dude. His arms and legs would be proportionate on a giraffe. When they started looking around the barn for signs of Hulka's misdeeds, it wasn't long before Leo decided to check the haystack. In went his Dhalsim-like arm and immediately his hand felt something metal and cool. He quickly cleared the hay off and opened the fateful tool chest.

"Dave. There's beer in here! And it's cold!"

Dave came over to look, and sure enough, a case of beer was sitting there, staring them in the face.

"What do you want to do with it, Dave? Call Steve down here and show him what we found?"

The answer didn't even need consideration: "Hell no, we're going to drink it!"

And so, for the rest of the night, while Hulka and Eric tried harder to find their beer than they ever tried at anything else in their lives, Dave Sr. and Leo were sitting back, enjoying a case of free beer, and laughing their asses off at them.