Wednesday, December 28, 2011

PARKENSTEIN!




Monkton, MD, 20 October, 20__

My Dearest Sister,

And so it was that I made the acquaintance of Robert Parkenstein on my stop in Maryland. He was washed up on shore, but, then, I was later to learn that he had been washed up for a very long time, a victim of his nefarious scheme to defy Creation and play God himself. And as we were marooned in the God-forsaken shithole that is Monkton, my ship awaiting better weather, the storm blowing harder than a Michelle Bachman speech, I heard the horrifying and sad story that is Parkenstein’s. We had long hours to talk, and I came to feel sorry for him, though it was simple hubris that destroyed him. That and his mortuarial creation. I will tell his story in his words as I remember them, though his breath was most foul, smelling of hedonism and Gruner Veltliner, and it was hard to be in a small room with him as he had the figure and charm of a beanbag chair.

I became fascinated with power, Parkenstein told me, and the more power I accumulated, the more I felt this feverish desire to transfer it to another being, to give power to a cipher of my own creation. The thought obsessed me. Yes, I had created monsters before, horrible monsters—Turleystein and Rollandstein and that hideous Kranklstein—but they had life before I gave them power. I wanted to start from scratch. I wanted to give life and power. And I believed I could do it. There was nothing I couldn’t do, aside from duplicate my scores in a blind setting.

I set about obtaining parts for my creation. I thought it would be difficult, this assembling a windbag, this scavenging for a bag for my douche, but it wasn’t. There was Craigslist. “Man seeking body parts,” read my ad, “won’t pay an arm and a leg.” In less than a day I was overwhelmed with offers. A man in Napa Valley offered me the head of his late father, but he wanted 100 points in exchange, and I don’t trade points for money, I trade them for integrity. But I had mountains of body parts to choose from, and I selected carefully and, I believed, wisely.

I worked day and night, removing the parts from my freezer as I needed them, at one point mistaking a fish stick for a penis. I was so crazed I forgot to change it. It was only later, when it was alive, that I noticed him sticking packets of tartar sauce from H. Salt down his pants hoping to attract someone horny and hungry, and let the chips fall where they may. Time was of the essence, for as the parts thawed, my house began to smell like corruption. Little did I know…
Parkenstein toasts his Creation--the HORROR!!

Finally, he was assembled. I beheld my creation. To me, he was beautiful. Perfect for the life and power I intended to bestow upon him. He was bulky, I confess, a nod to my own physique, a visual clue that the good life is about overindulgence, and, more importantly, the unquenchable need to talk about it, to rub it in the faces of my followers, to write endlessly of gluttony and debauchery with the eloquence to make it seem desirable and admirable in a world of starving people, and people who would sell body parts to a madman for a pittance just to buy a bottle of one of my Best Buys Under $20. I’d used the arms and hands of a maitre-d’ to give him the natural gift of taking handouts and bribes. I’d found the brain, only slightly used, of a fellow hedonist who’d gone insane, and I took it, leaving him still functioning, yet no one could tell his skull was empty because it had always appeared that way, and never more so than recently. So with my creation’s head full of Suckling, I had to find the right nose. The nose, the most important part of my monster, the part that would define him. I had to carefully pick my nose. Hell, I thought, I know how to do that, I was once an attorney.

And so it was that I gave him the nose of a Bassett Hound. It just made sense. His nose would be sensitive, powerful, and forever in my butt, where there’s plenty of room for everyone. I was ready to give him life.


To be continued...


41 comments:

  1. Hurray! The Return of the HoseMaster...and in such fine form! The Parkenstein (part 1?) prose harkens back to those long ago Hosed-days of yore from say...2010.

    You had me at "My Dearest Sister...." Of course, that was just the beginning...literally...
    leading to one of my favorite lines: "...he had the figure and charm of a beanbag chair." What a dashing physique to behold -- to another beanbag chair.

    And then the body parts sequence culminating in 'picking the nose' was sublime. (And I am ever so thankful you stuck with the Bassett Hound over a dachshund. :-) )

    Can't wait for the next installment!

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  2. It's aliiiiiveeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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  3. This Hosemaster guy proves without doubt that it is possible to revive the dead--or make a new body from old parts. Either that or he simply wants to get sued.

    I'd welcome him back, but I've done that a few times already and I hate to repeat myself.

    The fun in reading this entry, however, is over the top and truly like potato chips to me--can't stop eating it up.

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  4. I like the "post once a year" approach. Very smug. Go with it. And make next year's post one about "sorry I haven't been posting in a while/been super busy/etc."

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  5. Ron My Love,
    You know those moments when you happen to glance at your spouse, see them laughing, singing along to music, pensive or just seconds before they drift off to sleep and it inspires the exact same feeling that made you fall in love in the first place? As my eyes darted across the screen the sides of my mouth turned up and my heart once again was set racing...so nice to see you again.

    The wine blog world is nowhere near as interesting without your voice and I for one will be waiting breathlessly for more.

    I love you!

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  6. Oh Mary! Mary I missed you so! Though surely you don't take your Miller in a stein - that would be taking it far too seriously! Alas I can only give this post 94-96 points at this time. Let's see how it festers, er... matures. Before I revisit this see if you can get us in to the Laundry.

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  7. Marcia Love,

    Against my better judgment, I decided I would once again have the occasional fun here on HoseMaster at someone's expense. Thank you for the enthusiastic welcome back. I'm sure the wine blogosphere is all aTwitter over my resurrection. Or not. And, yes, there is more Parkenstein! to come.

    Thomas,

    I should be so lucky to be sued. Which of my eight readers is going to take me to court? I'd say it might be a class action suit, but somehow the word "class" doesn't fit.

    Joe,

    Great idea for a post! I was leaning more towards one of those classic wine blogger self-pitying posts where they wonder aloud why they bother with their idiotic blogs, finally giving voice to what their audience was actually thinking.

    Smug, my friend, is what I do.

    My Gorgeous Samantha,

    I promised myself that this time around I would be far less involved in the wine blog world, not get sucked into that vortex of drivel. I simply enjoy writing, and wine, and publishing it on HoseMaster allows me to spend some time with my friends, and enemies. You won't see me on any other blogs, really, except yours, My Love, and an occasional cameo elsewhere, because I'm not really interested in how many comments I get or how many hits or anything else. I just enjoy the work.

    I love you too!

    John,

    I can get you into the Laundry, but they'll never get out that nasty Parkenstain!

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  8. Oh trust me, I don't expect to see you popping up over at Stupid Sweaters & Wine or My Daily Bore or anything. I meant your voice here and those of us that have been aching for something interesting to read about wine and the wine business, the poking of over-inflated egos and foolishness of what we do, well we welcome you back with very open arms.

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  9. Ah, yes....

    After ecstasy, laundry....

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  10. My Gorgeous Samantha,

    You give me too much credit. What I mostly do is just dump the unrelenting Voice in my head onto the blank screen and hope for the best. If folks find it interesting, well, that's nice. I find it therapeutic.

    And the reason I have great affection for HoseMaster of Wine is because it brought you, and the rest of my little circus, into my life. For you alone, I owe my little crappy blog more than I can ever explain--though you understand.

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  11. Are we getting mushy here, or have I wandered into a STEVE!-like blog?

    John, how did you manage to get Ron to do your laundry? Have you uncovered his true calling?

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  12. No, Thomas, It will be officially mushy when Charlie pops in. Then, we'll have to bring out the bucket and mop....

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  13. Thomas,

    Oh, if only I could be a STEVE!-like blog! That would be a dream come true. No, I'm stuck being the HoseMaster.

    One needs to be mushy after such a long time away. I get all teary-eyed just thinking about all my old gang. It'll pass, like the kidney stone it is.

    Yeah, where is Puff Daddy? And Anonymous 1, and the rest of the crew? And, of course, I could always use some new commenting blood too.

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  14. Ron,

    If just thinking about us can make you cry, I can't imagine how you react when you pass a major car accident on the highway...

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  15. Thomas,

    If I'm not texting, I applaud, though I think of the gang here as more of a train wreck; and because I'm the one standing in my self-made puddle, I'm the conductor.

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  16. You, Jose, not interested in how many comments you get? Now THAT'S funny. New commenting blood, I suspect that's what you're really after.

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  17. Careful, Anon, Statcounter (see at the bottom of this page) lets Ron see your IP address, blood type and mother's favorite ice cream flavor....

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  18. Jose: For the record, yes, much to your delight, there are numerous tweets (barks) about your resurrection, but then again you just love all those poodle's (basset hound's) noses in your ass. And Parkerism? Way to beat a dead horse.

    SAWMW: I'm hardly really worried about Ron knowing my IP address.

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  19. Anon, I left out from my previous comment the emoticon for "rolling eyes while jamming tongue firmly into cheek".

    My point was (sigh...) that you have a point - as evidenced by the presence of a traffic/statistics monitoring script.

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  20. Hey Anonymous,

    Love the hostility!

    I don't care who you are, and, apparently, neither do you. I won't spend much time on this because no one gives a crap, but, actually, returning to the blog was motivated by my love of the work, not by attention or comments or Tweets. You'll just have to take my word for it. I don't need new commenting blood, honestly, and I only jokingly said that, though it sure does turn up as soon as I start getting noticed.

    I don't think I've had many Poodle noses in my ass, most of them share your eloquent sentiments. And as for beating a dead horse, I think I've been saying Parker is dead for three years now. I thought it was time someone expressed a more interesting take on the Parker/Miller situation, and the story of Frankenstein just popped into my head. Sorry to be so dull and unoriginal.

    Thank you for commenting. Sincerely. It can get a little thick with flattery around here.

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  21. Oh, to be loved and adulated the way the North Koreans loved and adulated Kim Jong Il......

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  22. This is cracking me up. "I'm hardly worried about Ron having my IP address" way to take a stand, anonymous....

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  23. Nice to hear you posting , albeit from your bunker in Italy

    Yes, I know now, Hosemaster has moved to Italy and is posting from this new site


    http://endovinosa.wordpress.com/

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  24. Alfonso,

    I'm actually funnier in Italian.

    Yeah, I know, how hard is that?

    How do you say "HoseMaster" in Italian?

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  25. I have learned so much from this blog. Pre-HMW-retiremnet, I had never before heard of Stupid Sweaters & Wine, and I thought you were making it up. I was so sad to be mistaken. Now you tell me about Steve! Thanks for not including a hyperlink, which would make it far too easy to click before thinking. Having thought, I won't click (or Google).
    At the risk of thickening the flattery, I enjoyed the post and am glad to see anything here whenever it appears.

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  26. Wine Peeps,

    Thanks. It's not that I mind the flattery, I'm not that neurotic (OK, maybe), I just think it gets old and sickening for my eight readers. That, and I don't deserve it.

    I intend to have a little fun here in 2012. I hope to make people laugh a bit, and I also hope to annoy some people, and, simply, I intend to enjoy myself. And then I'll retire again. Tough habit to break, sort of like checking stats.

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  27. How the hell did you sneak back into my world and I did not know it.

    I guess it's because I don't have such modern things as Twitter, Stat Counters, UpURS feeds and the like.

    Arthur is, I see, his usually joyful self. Hey, Arthur, I have some advice for you--SHUT UP, and make wine if you have to.

    Tarter Sauce and fish sticks had my out of control, but only after the first, "oh, my, the Hoser is back".

    You have proven Yogi Berra right again.

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  28. Charlie

    If you look at the "About" page of my blog, you'll see that the title is aimed at schmucks who think that by tasting in the presence of winemakers they actually know wine.

    How are your 2011 wines coming along, by the by, you old fart, errrrr... I mean puff?.....

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  29. Ron,

    I'm not Alfonso, but I play an Italian-American in real life. Try this:

    padrone del tubo flessibile

    best i could do.

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  30. Hey Charlie,

    I snuck out, now I've snucken back in. Who knows for how long this time? And Yogi Berra is always right. "That blog gets so many comments nobody comments there any more."

    Great to see everyone again, and in such fine fettle.

    Thomas,

    Thanks! I love it. When I first started the blog back in 1945 I saw a comment about me in a German blog. I used the Google Translator to see what they were saying about me and the name of my blog came out as "TrousersMaster of Wine." Always loved that. Though there ain't no flies on me.

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  31. Word verification: yiness.
    They're BAAAAACK!

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  32. High-larious. Can't wait for the next chapter. You might want to check out this utterance from ParkenCampoStein: According to Recently "Retired" Spanish wine critic Jay Miller of Robert M. Parker, Jr.'s The Wine Advocate, Great Wine Can Be Equated to Pornography (see link below).

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  33. Mr. Dawes,

    Thank you for showing up at my humble little commode. With wine celebs like you showing up, I'm liable to get a swelled head. Which brings us to the Jay Miller quote...

    OK, I may criticize Parkenstein's monster about his wine ratings, but I would never question his authority when it comes to porn. That fish stick gets a solid workout.

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  34. "Thomas,

    I should be so lucky to be sued. Which of my eight readers is going to take me to court? I'd say it might be a class action suit, but somehow the word "class" doesn't fit."

    How the Hell did you end up getting eight readers? I only have five and that's shrinking.

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  35. Clever, but but did you really need add an ad hominem attack on a conservative candidate clumsily veiled as a simile? I really think "blowing harder than Keith Olbermann would have been MUCH MORE effective.

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  36. Dave,

    I write the alleged jokes around here. Who the hell watches Keith Olbermann any more? And that's hardly a "veiled" simile. It's out and out contempt.

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  37. "I think of the gang here as more of a train wreck; and because I'm the one standing in my self-made puddle, I'm the conductor."

    Thus giving your blog the distinction of being the only one that train wrecks slow down to read.

    @ Anon - you obviously lack any understanding regarding the therapeutic value of sadonecrophilia.

    Welcome back Honorable Master of the Hose.

    Cheers,
    Dave (not the Olbermanophobe)

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  38. Correction:

    make that sadoequinonecrophilia

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  39. Welcome back, your humour is much appreciated...

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  40. Dean,

    Thanks! Nice to know I'm a hit in Canadian too, eh.

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