Tales From Home Pt. 6: The Tunnel of Doom

During my youth, I was often forced to find things that kept me entertained. This unfortunate side effect of living in a small town helped expand my imagination as well as opening my mind to more advantageous pursuits, like history. Despite this, there were occasional novelties which broke the monotony and allowed me to experience the frequent carelessness associated with youth. The parties at Dan Hummel’s house were one of these things. Famous among everyone who had been their or heard about them, they featured a string of some of the most random things in history. Strange tales of axes crashing through doors, turkeys crapping on couches, and clown heads wrapped in plastic garbage bags, would compliment the unquestioning hospitality of Dan's parents along with the appeal of the latest video game system. Unfortunately, as we began to age, the parties became less frequent and arguably less fun. Despite this, we still found the time to meet on occasion and spend some time at one of our favorite places. It was at one of these last parties, that we entered the "Tunnel of Doom."

Dan was always full of crap, but that was always part of his appeal. He would often tell the most ridiculous stories, and if you feigned belief he would continue, making the stories more and more ridiculous as he went. Of course, if you did not want to hear a particular story, you would just have to call him on it exactly two times. The first time he would assure us it was true, after we repeated our objections, he would concede it was false. This sure fire system always worked until one of us (probably me) told him about it. In any event, Dan's stories were always good for entertainment, and we often listened intently. One of these stories was the "truth" about the "Kennerdell Tunnel".

The Hummels live on a former railroad bed about a mile and a half from a long curving tunnel. When you were in the middle of it, it was almost completely dark. Of course this meant that a visit at night was a must, and therefore Dan felt the need to spice it up. Naturally, the trump card in this situation, at least in the mind of a 17-18 year old, is murder. Dan proceeded to spin an absolute yarn of death, murder, and intrigue all of which had occurred in the small rural tunnel. Apparently, a number of workers had died during the construction, which inevitably caused it to be cursed. The haunted tunnel caused many trains to crash, killing many, if not all of its passengers. The curse resulted in the closing of the tunnel, which only encouraged murdering psychopaths to move in. Of course they would kill people as well. Eventually, the hundreds of deaths would finally force the community to install a road block in front of the tunnel, but by no means would there be any plans for destroying it. It was in the midst of these stories that Dan casually suggested that we visit the tunnel at night and see if there was anything of interest. Therefore we all piled in to his car, and made our way to the tunnel.

In retrospect, the makeup of our group on that faithful night was quite random. It included Dan and I, Shay (a friend of Jesse and I, but someone who hated Dan), Steve Dubrowski (sometimes called DumBROWNski, due to an unfortunate accident on the school bus in fifth grade), Scott or "GYB" (see blog entitled "Tales From Home Pt. 4: GYBin' It Up"), and Chad Reilly (a friend of Shay's). As we all made our way to the tunnel, we could not help but notice storm clouds forming, an ominous omen to be sure. Despite this, our joy a possibly meeting someone who would brutally murder us lifted our spirits, and we entered the tunnel with two flashlights and firm intentions. What happened next would change our lives forever.

As we entered the tunnel I was given the duty of holding a flashlight, while Dan (as the guide) was holding the other one. We had both been to the tunnel before (and surprisingly survived), and therefore seemed to be the most obvious choices for such an important task. The walk was difficult due to the uneven gravel and drainage ditches full of water on either side, but we continued into the deepest depths of the sinister public work. As we were walking, Dan quietly suggested that I walk a little slower. I obliged, knowing that Dan had an idea that would undoubtedly make me laugh. As we reached the middle and by far the darkest part of the tunnel, Dan went over to investigate a part of the wall that had been occupied by one of the tunnel's previous serial-killing residents. Leaning over the ditch his hands against the wall, he claimed that he found it and then stepped back to shine his flashlight on the spot so that we all could examine it. As I moved forward, Dan stopped me, and whispered, "When I say, shut off your flashlight and run to the car." I chuckled, and agreed. While Dan's light flashed on the indiscriminate wall, everyone carefully scrutinized it. At that moment, we both shut of our lights and started running. Dan and I had been quite good runners, and this coupled with the fact that Chad, Scott, and Steve were all quite tall and slower, caused us to get a healthy lead before they finally realized that the dark crunching of rocks quickly moving away from them was us running. As we got to the car, we realized that Shay had managed to follow us. The rain had started to fall, and the three of us hopped into Dan's car and attempted to turn around and go home. Dan was about to go, when a loud thump hit his car. It was at that moment that we saw the unimaginable.

It was GYB. We couldn't believe it. In a furry of grunts and saliva, he had jumped on the top of Dan's car. Holding on to top of the windshield and smiling at us, Dan had no choice but to hit the gas. GYB screamed for us to stop, but Dan only turned on the windshield wipers so that they would hit his fingers, forcing him to let go. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful, and we made it home with GYB riding on top. He dismounted from the car, only a little wet, but (in characteristically typical fashion) assumed he had been part of the joke since he had ridden back with us. Not opposed to laughing at the misfortune of others, we all sat back and played Nintendo 64, while musing over the plight of Chad and "DumBROWNski".

After a few minutes, Chad and Steve entered the room, both soaking from the rain. Chad was angry, but just decided to sulk, while Steve decided to take his anger out on the one responsible for the whole charade, Shay. Quietly dismissing the possibility of Dan being the culprit, he accused Shay of orchestrating the whole thing, including the moment that he had fallen into the drainage ditch (unbeknownst to us). After yelling at him for a good ten minutes (while Dan, Scott, and I laughed), he and Chad left. For the rest of the evening, Shay had a bewildered expression on his face, while Dan and I nonchalantly engaged in games of Sonic and Ecco the Dolphin.

In conclusion, I have not entered the tunnel again since that faithful night. I would be lying if I didn't say that I feared its powers. It's ability to generate murders, house the infirm, and participate in practical jokes while simultaneously passing the blame to the innocent is a skill that is stunningly evil in its execution. Therefore I would urge all to heed my warning and avoid the God-forsaken spot. If you don't, you may be murdered, or worse, blamed as the inspiration for something committed by someone you don't even really like.

The Joy of Russian TV Pt. 2

I have always been a fan of the female form. As a heterosexual man, my entire chemistry has been geared to this undeniable fact. It was with this in mind that I decided to leave the testosterone and chauvinism of Walker and the A-team behind, for the greener pastures of the fairer sex. Russian TV is full of shows that celebrate women while showing things that would make American censors cringe. Russians don't shy away from showing topless women on national TV, and many programs would feature occasional flashes (no pun intended) of this fact. I attempted to watch these shows, but would constantly be forced to change the channel due to a baseness of overall content that left me physically incapable of rational thought. Despite this, my spirits remained high. Then one night I stumbled upon a show called Голые и Смешные. My life would never be the same.

Голые и Смешные, or Naked and Funny as it is called in English, is a mix between Candid Camera and soft-core pornography. The premise is simple. Show people reacting to one of three things, a fat woman requiring help (thankfully not naked) in nearly impossible situations, show people's reactions to being exposed (a light-hearted look at sexual harassment), or the most frequent, people's reaction to naked people (mostly women) doing the most random things under the sun. Each feature as its own unique merit, and therefore I would like to discuss each in detail.

By far the most infrequent, but often funniest aspect of the show is the fat woman in impossible situations. In the most recent episode, she sat on a chair and broke through the bottom. Naturally her butt was stuck in the chair with her legs in the air. While the camera's were rolling, fellow patrons at the restaurant attempted to remove here from the chair through any means necessary. While they were doint this, the grossly over-weight woman "attempted" to free herself by kicking her legs and frantically shaking her head. Another great clip was a fat woman who wanted to climb in through a window. Since she was really fat, she could not pull herself in, and therefore was forced to ask people walking by to help lift her. Hilarity ensued as people would just flat out tell her that she was too fat, or attempt in vain to lift her leg or pick her up. One man almost got smashed when he tried to put the 300 lb woman on his shoulders. Finally the woman would tell the exasperated men that their kindness had been in vain, because it had all been a trick. Upon hearing that the torn muscles in their arms were the product of a practical joke, the men made the "got me!" face, and laughed and applauded their own gullibility.

The second feature of the show is the exposing of innocent people. Naturally this occurs to only attractive people (the overweight woman never finds herself in this situation) and almost always to women. The scenario follows a brilliant formula. An attractive woman must change her clothes for some reason, and then hilarity ensues. For example, one episode showed a number of women in a changing booth at the beach. As soon as they had their shirts off, the producers would raise the booth leaving this naked women exposed to the entire beach. Of course she is horrified and we all laugh. The show presents us with no less than ten different women featuring the same result. Occasionally (as if the show was forced) they would show us a fleeting clip of a man in the same situation, but this would transition into the tried and true clip of a topless woman jumping up and down in the attempt to pull the booth back down to her. Other clips play off this theme, with men sliding (on skateboards on their backs) under the booth while a woman was changing or women changing for a medical examination, only to be exposed. Naturally the women are only angry until they find out it was a joke. After this is revealed, they throw their hands up (no longer concerned about being nude) and laugh at themselves.

Finally, and by far the best and most frequent aspect of the show is people (men) reacting to other naked (women) people. This part is by far my favorite because it shows the natural reaction of men when confronted with a naked woman. Naturally most of the comedy comes from their vain attempts to resist the primal urge of ogling. Naturally the most common method is surprising men with topless women. This is done through a number of completely random ways. In one clip a woman is roller skating and falls down. When a man attempts to help her up, her shirt flies off (at quite an alarming speed). The man then makes a surprised face and apologizes profusely. Another way is to entice a man to play a game of darts. After he throws the first dart, the target falls off only to reveal a pair of women's breasts. Or finally, a man is walking down the street, when a bathtub with a naked women in it (complete with suds and brush) comes rolling out of a side street past him. He of course tries to stop the tub, only to be embarrassed by the naked women inside. (This same joke was also used with a man on a toilet complete with a roll of toilet paper floating behind him, hilarious!) Naturally, the men are all surprised after they find out that was just a hilarious joke.

In conclusion, my blog is only the tip of the iceberg when addressing the genius that is Naked and Funny. The show features many more jokes like women in short skirts asking men to hold a ladder for them, while the men attempt to resist looking up their skirt, or naked women kissing men in front of their girlfriends, causing irreparable damage to the relationship. Unfortunately, I haven't got time to discuss the wide range of ways the show hilariously objectifies women. Despite this, I hope that my praise of such a forward looking program causes it to become popular outside of Russia. I look forward to the day when the two great concepts of nudity and hidden cameras can free themselves from the previous negative connotations and bask in the light of all its potential. After all, any invasion of privacy or petty crime can be justified, as long as it’s (apparently) innocent and done in the pursuit of humor. If that's the case, than that's a guilty pleasure I can feel good about.

The Joy of Russian TV Pt. 1

Three years ago while traveling in the Italian city of Rome, I was inundated with cultural and historical relics that both delighted the senses and rejuvenated my love of history. It was as a result of this vigorous mental and (sometimes) physical exercise, that I would often return to my hotel room exhausted and desperate for something capable of relaxing me. Fortunately, my hotel provided us with the under appreciated luxury of television. Despite my lack of Italian, I felt that the flashing pictures and dull roar could help me achieve a level of comfort so desperately needed at that moment. Of course, you can imagine my surprise when I was greeted with the calm but calculating expression of master actor and martial arts expert, Chuck Norris. Intrigued by his sheer presence on screen, I continued to watch him deliver justice one round house kick at a time. Of course in Italy, he was as an Italian speaking Texas police officer, but that did not deter my fascination with the man that was Walker, Texas Ranger. The rest of my time in Rome was spent impatiently traveling around the city before hurriedly returning to my hotel in order to catch another glimpse of Walker in Italian. When I left Rome, I knew that at all costs I had to return to a country to watch embarrassing American programming dubbed in a foreign language. Although at the time, I did not realize how close I was to fulfilling that dream.

Fortunately, my opportunity for more foreign TV would arrive with my move to Japan in July of 2006. I had heard simultaneous tales of horror and delight from those who had had the opportunity to view its programming. Unfortunately, I was disappointed to find that the Japanese had catered to their foreign guests by allowing all of their American programming to be tracked in both Japanese and English. Therefore, with a simple flick of a switch, I could watch any foreign program in English. This coupled with very little original programming capable of capturing my attention (with the exception of Hard Gay, a "gay" comedian, see my blog “Hard Gay: Japan’s Answer to Stereotyping”), I found myself watching the channel, Movie Plus (see Blog “Smell You Later Japan”) almost exclusively. My heartbreak was further compounded by the absence of Walker in Japanese. I endured the long winter with hopes that Russia would improve my lot.

My first time in Russia had allowed me a glimpse at my possibilities. While living with a host family in Moscow, I had caught brief glimpses of Gordon Shumway chasing a cat in the 80's hit sitcom A.L.F. My host mother's hatred of the show forced me to miss this fantastic program, but its existence stimulated my appetite for the future. My return to Russia didn't immediately reap any rewards. Much of the programming seemed typically European, with some game shows and talk shows littered with some absolutely unmistakable Euro-pop. Sensing defeat, I returned from work one day and decided to flip through the channels, hoping beyond hope for some type of reward. I was just about to give up when something strangely familiar caught my attention. My eyes lit up when I realized that the mohawk and gold chains that I was staring at belonged to no other than a Mr. T, I was watching the A-team. It was better than I could have possibly hoped for. "Команда А" (Commando Ah) or A-team in Russian gave me all of the ridiculousness of Walker multiplied by four. They were all there. Hannibal was leading, Face was attractive, Murdock was a "crazy fool" and B.A. (Bad Attitude) Barracas showed his fear of flying. My heart went out to these four falsely accused heroes, and I cursed the government for their unjust persecution and relentless pursuit. Just as my euphoria began to subside, the show ended. The screen turned black. It was then that it happened.

When the screen finally began to light up, I could see Walker standing there in all his glory. He stood as if looking directly at me, his unmistakable grimace and his coat rustling, the ridiculous music playing while a Russian announcer translated the lyrics. All of the fond memories of Italy coupled with the fact that three people, one for men, one for women, and one for children had been given the task of reading the show’s entire dialog. I was so thrilled that I collapsed and viewed a ridiculous episode featuring dogs having seizures, Walker riding on the top of tanker trucks, and much more. I realized that I had moved to a country capable of providing the poorly dubbed programming so important for my life. In conclusion, I finally had my dubbed Walker. I thought that my existence could not get any better. I went to my evening class full of hope for the future and a strong commitment to life. Little did I know that the best part of Russian TV was yet to come, and this time, not from America...

To Be Continued Next Week!