Six Inches of Glory: A Quasi-Serial Adventure:
by Charles Joseph
Hey all! Welcome to week 2 of Six Inches of Glory: A Quasi-Serial Adventure. I’m Charles Joseph, and before we get into this week’s shenanigans, I’d like to take a moment to thank all of you who liked and shared last week’s installment, because without people like you, this column is going fuckin’ nowheresville quickly.
Anyway, ok now look—I know last week I promised that this week’s column would be about how best to make an ordinary run-of-the-mill American movie title sound like a bonafide German Shizer film, but last night while I was taking out the garbage I thought of something funny that’s forced me to stray away from that topic completely. However, in the spirit of fair play, below is a list of our top five American Shizer adaptations for your reading pleasure.
Of course, if by some chance you feel as though you’ve conjured up a title that’s far superior to the gems on our top 5, please feel free to email me, and if it makes us laugh our asses off, I’ll gladly augment the list, and give you credit for your contribution in next week’s installment.
Ok, so now that that’s out of the way, without further ado, let’s move on to a subject that’s been somewhat of a thorn in my side for my entire life—my mother.
Case in point: The Dungeons and Dragons Incident of 1985.
Ok, now, look— I love my Mom. She’s the greatest! But while I was growing up, she made a few oddball decisions—that totally fuckin’ backfired on her.
And I’m not one to rake up old coals, but back in ’85, during the Satanic Panic, I just loved Dungeons and Dragons. So much so, my friend’s mom gave me a big ol’ box chock-full of D&D rulebooks (’70’s first editions) that had belonged to her older son (who died).
But one day when I arrived home from school, it was all gone. All of my Dungeons and Dragons paraphernalia just disappeared— poof—like it was never even there.
“Mommy, Mommy, where’s all my D&D stuff?” I said. “Where did it all go?”
“Oh my God, I forgot to tell you,” she said. “We got robbed. I’m so sorry, shit happens.”
Now, of course I believed my mother. I mean shit, I was eleven years old, and I never would have imagined that my sweet, beautiful, loving mother would have lied to my face.
But years later, when I was in my twenties, I brought up the fact that I wished I still had all of those books, because even now I still remember them as being pretty cool, and she said, “Um… we didn’t get robbed you jerk, I threw ’em all away.”
“Huh? What the hell’d you do that for, Ma?” I said. “I fuckin’ loved Dungeons and Dragons.”
“I was afraid you’d become a devil worshipper,” she said. “I saw it on TV. I think it was on Geraldo Rivera.”
“Seriously?” I said. “Holy hell, I can’t believe you bought into all of that bullshit.”
“You’re my son, I was just tryin’ to protect you, because I love you more than anything in the whole entire world,” she said. “Are you mad?”
“Nah, man. I ain’t mad at ‘cha. It’s just funny that’s all,” I said, and it’s honestly something that my mother and I have laughed about from time to time over the years ever since.
So, thanks Mom! Thanks for saving me from a lifelong addiction to fantasy books, hundred-sided dice, and whatever else one uses in their quest for glory during a completely wholesome Dungeons and Dragons campaign. If it wasn’t for you, and Geraldo Rivera, I most likely wouldn’t have smoked all of those cigarettes and joints in the park with the new friends I made shortly after I turned my attention away from Dungeons and Dragons and found a new game called: hanging out in the park after dark.
Well, that’s all for now boys and girls. Tune in next week where I’ll be discussing how I feel about Whole Foods, and why I believe they’re a catalyst for the downfall of western civilization as we know it.
Later on, and I hope you enjoyed my six inches.
P.S. — HAIL SATAN!