Baron Von Nibbles: the Playboy Emperor
Living above an Indian restaurant in college had its advantages and disadvantages.
advantage: the interminable aroma of curry masking all competing smells in our 4th floor bathroom.
disadvantage: the interminable aroma of curry
advantage: free Indian food
advantage: lessons in making naan bread
advantage: the companionship and comaraderie of a congenial waitstaff
disadvantage: BARON VON NIBBLES
Not since Bao Dai, the "Playbor Emperor" of the Nguyen Dynasty, has an authoritarian figure so brazenly wielded and misused his power than Baron Von Nibbles during his reign of terror at 230 Wickenden Street.
Bao Dai's authority fueled a reckless hedonism visually manifested in ostentatious gold toilets, elegant ivory-tipped cigarettes and a seemingly endless bevy of sycophantic prostitutes.
Baron Von Nibbles displayed an authority of excess in a similar fashion, leaving carcasses of half-gnawed whole wheat bread loaves, pockmarked packages of crackers and telling trails of excrement in his wake.
Bao Dai and Baron Von were kindred spirits, inextricably linked. With this association evident, is it not a stretch to liken 230 Wickenden to being "in the shit"? I don't think so. I can recall several nights spent lying awake in semi-comatose terror, convinced I could hear Baron's sewer-rat physique slithering towards my bedroom as if I were camoflauged in palm fronds in anticipation of Charlie's inevitable advances.
(editor's note - for those offended by my usage of the slang word "Charlie", I can only say that I have been emboldened by the epithet's puzzlling resurfacing in the upcoming issue of Damon Dash's America Magazine, in which R Kelly justifies transforming his studio into a jungle by stating:
"I have never been to Africa, but I got books and studied up on the music, the culture and, most importantly, the people....That's why you see all of the shrubs and plants and trees in here. I just wanted to feel it. I put tents in the studio and slept in the tents for like a few months, eating off the floors, dressed in army fatigues...I know people out there might laugh, but we are in the jungle....We're on a serious mission, and just know that Charlie is out there to stop us, and you have to load up your guns. I know this all sounds crazy...."
Come to think of it, I guess its never a good thing to follow the lead of a man who urinates on tweenage girls whilst wearing a Kato mask....)
I was in the shit. Like Kevin and his Boredom Offensive, it was a war of attrition. Time passed, seasons changed, we soon graduated and moved on. Yet just as Vietnam Vets have carried the shackles of post traumatic stress syndrome throughout their civilian lives, I have likewise been cursed with daily reminders of my unsavory tour of duty, for I now have mice in my apartment.
I am now back in the shit. Whether their unwelcome appearance in my apartment is a result of our scabies-ridden friend's weekend residence on my floor I cannot tell. Evidence cannot be corroborated. Speculation is pointless.
If I have learned anything from my previous journey into the heart of darkness, however, it is that swift action must be taken. Land mines in the form of mousetraps, agent orange in the guise of rat pellets, this is guerilla warfare and this time I will not be Bao Dai'd.
When the napalm clears, I will have bayonetted so many rodents with spring-action peanut butter-baited traps that even Lieutenant Calley would lose his lunch.
I will come to work wearing a necklace made of little mouse ears.
And then I will come home and dance joyously to the Chocolate Factory, a free man once again.
advantage: the interminable aroma of curry masking all competing smells in our 4th floor bathroom.
disadvantage: the interminable aroma of curry
advantage: free Indian food
advantage: lessons in making naan bread
advantage: the companionship and comaraderie of a congenial waitstaff
disadvantage: BARON VON NIBBLES
Not since Bao Dai, the "Playbor Emperor" of the Nguyen Dynasty, has an authoritarian figure so brazenly wielded and misused his power than Baron Von Nibbles during his reign of terror at 230 Wickenden Street.
Bao Dai's authority fueled a reckless hedonism visually manifested in ostentatious gold toilets, elegant ivory-tipped cigarettes and a seemingly endless bevy of sycophantic prostitutes.
Baron Von Nibbles displayed an authority of excess in a similar fashion, leaving carcasses of half-gnawed whole wheat bread loaves, pockmarked packages of crackers and telling trails of excrement in his wake.
Bao Dai and Baron Von were kindred spirits, inextricably linked. With this association evident, is it not a stretch to liken 230 Wickenden to being "in the shit"? I don't think so. I can recall several nights spent lying awake in semi-comatose terror, convinced I could hear Baron's sewer-rat physique slithering towards my bedroom as if I were camoflauged in palm fronds in anticipation of Charlie's inevitable advances.
(editor's note - for those offended by my usage of the slang word "Charlie", I can only say that I have been emboldened by the epithet's puzzlling resurfacing in the upcoming issue of Damon Dash's America Magazine, in which R Kelly justifies transforming his studio into a jungle by stating:
"I have never been to Africa, but I got books and studied up on the music, the culture and, most importantly, the people....That's why you see all of the shrubs and plants and trees in here. I just wanted to feel it. I put tents in the studio and slept in the tents for like a few months, eating off the floors, dressed in army fatigues...I know people out there might laugh, but we are in the jungle....We're on a serious mission, and just know that Charlie is out there to stop us, and you have to load up your guns. I know this all sounds crazy...."
Come to think of it, I guess its never a good thing to follow the lead of a man who urinates on tweenage girls whilst wearing a Kato mask....)
I was in the shit. Like Kevin and his Boredom Offensive, it was a war of attrition. Time passed, seasons changed, we soon graduated and moved on. Yet just as Vietnam Vets have carried the shackles of post traumatic stress syndrome throughout their civilian lives, I have likewise been cursed with daily reminders of my unsavory tour of duty, for I now have mice in my apartment.
I am now back in the shit. Whether their unwelcome appearance in my apartment is a result of our scabies-ridden friend's weekend residence on my floor I cannot tell. Evidence cannot be corroborated. Speculation is pointless.
If I have learned anything from my previous journey into the heart of darkness, however, it is that swift action must be taken. Land mines in the form of mousetraps, agent orange in the guise of rat pellets, this is guerilla warfare and this time I will not be Bao Dai'd.
When the napalm clears, I will have bayonetted so many rodents with spring-action peanut butter-baited traps that even Lieutenant Calley would lose his lunch.
I will come to work wearing a necklace made of little mouse ears.
And then I will come home and dance joyously to the Chocolate Factory, a free man once again.
1 Comments:
I thought Damian's e-mail was funny. After reading this, i ran to the bathroom to check for scabies. i feel bugs all over me. i'm like brian wilson mid-breakdown. THE SPIDERS! MY FACE IS MELTING! Out with Bao Dai, in with the Diem brothers. By the way, i think one of us needs a butterfly lady.
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