Full disclosure:  the end of the semester is insane.  I’ve got two mammoth papers to write, a grant proposal to wrap up, classes to teach and so forth.  I’m actually on blog hiatus.  I talked with my blog union rep and determined that I have enough service time to squeak out two weeks of only sporadic and/or weekend content.  This counts as sporadic content.  The next time you’ll hear from me is for our regular Lazy Saturday together.  While I’m here, sporadically providing content, I thought I’d give you the update on the rest of the dicks, paired with a musical embodiment of their whereabouts. (None of these clowns has official “hiatus” status, but you, dear reader, deserve to know a touch about their recent comings and goings.)

James - James’ birthday is sometime in the month of December. (None of us have the actual date, just an approximation; amongst other things, James is wildly paranoid about identity theft and, accordingly, releases very little personal information.)  In celebration of said birthday, James travels to the country of his actual birth, Equatorial Guinea, or, more specifically, the off-shore island of Elobey Chico.  Once per annum, to celebrate the confluence of  circumstance that brought him onto the planet, James returns to the land of his forbears, sheds all of his clothes and electronic devices and disappears into the African wilderness for a week-long “vision quest.”  Clad only in his lizard-like skin, James does battle with the elements, and emerges a stronger, wiser man.  He’ll be back soon.

James’ quest for the infinite feels like a Mudhoney song, slashing through the fuzz and feedback of tropical foliage, emerging with a nugget of truth.  (By the way, Mudhoney is playing all of Superfuzz Bigmuff at next year’s New York iteration of All Tomorrow’s Parties.  Barring some spectacular lottery win or something, I will not be in attendance, but that sounds pretty excellent.)

“In ‘n Out of Grace” – Mudhoney – Live

Rob - Rob was recently named Double Secret Offensive Coordinator of his beloved Cleveland Browns.  For public relations reasons, the team kept Brian Daboll as the public face of the offense, but Rob is calling all the shots from behind closed doors.  Rob has never held a football coaching position at any level before this recent assignment, so, understandably, he’s been a bit locked up.  Those three screen passes to Josh Cribbs in the fourth quarter Sunday, by the way, were completely Rob’s idea.  Not cool, Rob.  Not cool.  Assuming the Browns continue their decent in the seventh circle of football hell, Rob will soon be shitcanned and back in the blogosphere.

Rob’s futile efforts to make the Browns relevant feels like the distorted but blissed-out garage rock of New Zealand’s Surf City.  (I’m on the Surf City bandwagon late.  Their 2008 self-titled release is the bee’s knees.)

“Records of a Flagpole Skater” – Surf City

Kevin – Kevin is on the book tour for his recently released novelization of the third season of Golden Girls. Kevin has long written fan fiction focusing on poorly crafted eighties sitcoms, but this is the first one to be released to the broader public.  Turns out that Bea Arthur is a managing editor at Random House.  Kevin, in a fit of drunken excitement, e-mailed a draft of his Golden Girls novelization to all surviving members of the cast.  Bea loved it, inked Kevin to a deal and the rest, as they say, is history.  You can snag Back in St. Olaf at all major on-line retailers and can see Kevin tonight at the Albuquerque Barnes and Noble.  He’ll be “blogging” while on the road.

Kevin loves Deer Tick.  Deer Tick love the Golden Girls.  The Golden Girls love Kevin.  It’s a circle.

“Baltimore Blues no. 1″ – Deer Tick – Live

Justin – I’m not privy to fine details of Justin’s social calendar.  I know the following things for certain: 1.) Justin owns a helicopter and has the relevant licensure to fly it legally.  2.) Justin owns many leather-bound books.  3.) Justin has a finely tuned understanding of the American political system.  The rest is conjecture.  Could he be fomenting a revolution in some country we’ve never heard of?  Maybe.  Could he be on a  hovercraft, somewhere in the mid-Atlantic, listening to Dvorak with a host of models and bon vivants?  Possibly.  Could he be in an underground bunker, developing plans for a manned mission to Mars? Definitely.  The possibilities in Justin’s life are only limited by our imaginations; sadly, conversely, our imaginations are too small to conceive what he’s actually up to.  God speed, man!  Grab the brass ring for all of us!  (He’ll be back as well.)

Justin is a cipher.  So is George Clinton.

“Cosmic Slop” – Parliament/Funkadelic – Live