In light of our inactivity on this blog this summer, I feel obligated to report on some of the summer's events, especially those leading to such inactivity. There have been lots of changes this summer--for all of us, in all our lives--and there are some reasonable explanations for why we have neglected to keep up Johnny Whopper:
Shortly after graduating, Gavin, the blog's co-creator, returned to the region of Tunisia where he conducted his thesis research, intending to rendezvous with his former colleagues and maybe find some academic work. His endeavors quickly went awry when he discovered that his colleagues had fled the country back in January. Cooped up in an elegant hotel, he gained relative fame amongst the hotel restaurateurs for his refined and esoteric palate. One night, he requested his rack of lamb be delicately seasoned with ambergris. The chef retorted, "Why don't you come down here and season it delicately yourself!" Thus making his way into the kitchen, Gavin wowed the staff into offering to help him start a gourmet restaurant. After months of planning and investment, Gavin cut the ribbon on his bistro, Bichon.
Much to his chagrin, the locals--and especially the youths--expected Gavin to serve greasy American food. Patrons would loudly declaim their shaved fennel and pear pork loins, their pan-roasted duck with medjool dates, etc., and stir up a daunting ruckus. For fear of facing the same fate as his former colleagues, Gavin begrudgingly gave in, changed the place into a burger and hot dog stand, and is now starting to see business improve. He recently began offering milkshakes, which has been interpreted by leading Western ambassadors as a move towards Tunisia's democratization. For franchising opportunities, send an e-mail to bichonburgersandhotdogs@gmail.com
Knox, the blog's other co-creator, has become a proud father. With semester's end, Knox's period of denial and secretiveness about his baby boy gave way to inspired acceptance after reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road. Knox re-established relations with the child's mother about a month before the anticipated birth date. Then, on the evening of the day of this nation's independence, the Fourth of July, 2011, Knox helped deliver his newborn son, Knox Jr., from the womb to the world. Father and son's cries were punctuated by firework blasts in the night, and eventually the whole family was lulled to sleep.
A couple weeks later, Knox landed a construction job, and he, his son, and his son's mother moved into the bigger half of his aunt's duplex in Knoxville, TN. Knox has since adjusted to his new life, but often recalls his reckless college days wistfully. He is currently planning a Labor Day barbecue which he insists will be "kick-ass," despite everything.
As for me, I have not had quite as good a summer. What I foolishly hoped would be a baller Brazilian summer rife with rooftop pool parties, beach babes and caipirinhas took an abrupt turn for the worse when I sustained a neck injury at a small forro show. My dance partner and her friends assured me that had I had more experience the accident would have been avoided. Nevertheless, I suffered nerve damage which prevented me from moving my right arm and leg. It was determined that my time in Brazil was over, and dejectedly I moved back home to commence my physiotherapy course.
Since then I have made a fair but not full recovery. The doctors have prescribed a treatment combining a medication regimen and a daily aquatic stretch exercise. My health notwithstanding, I have been able to start working again. I help coordinate after-school activities at an underfunded elementary school. The coincidence of this job with my easy access to pharmaceuticals has resulted in a minor addiction to pain and anxiety pills. But I should note here at least one benefit of the job: a private, handicap bathroom.
I think I speak for the three of us when I say that these, the summer's developments have given us a new perspective on Johnny Whopper. The schedule that being an entrepreneur, a construction worker, or a disabled elementary school peon demands doesn't leave enough time for blog duties. Reading indie Mickey Mouse's rave album reviews of the newest meaningless music, site:mediafire.com searching that shit, downloading it, listening to the middle ten seconds of the first and last songs, uploading the song with the better middle ten seconds to dropbox, finding a cool picture that doesn't have a Getty stamp, coming up with a decent paragraph about how refreshing the music sounds, looking up synonyms for 'awesome' and 'exciting,' and making sure it's all formatted right--you know, I mean those things are really important and all, but there are only 24 hours in a day, and most of those hours we're either trying to make a dollar out of fifteen cents or sleeping. So it's not that we've opted to cultivate and keep our immaculate tastes in music to ourselves, it's not that we want to stop sharing those immaculate tastes, it's that we are just--we have different lives now. Times change. People change. Blogs change.
We hope you enjoyed our coverage of the last year and a half in music, and all the rest of our antics.
And we out.
