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Vlog the Inhaler, or The Occasional Video Blog Musings of Jim Thornton

Spunky Po'Boy McPunkerton-Thornton

Rating: 4 votes, 5.00 average.
As some of you may know, and others are perhaps discovering for the first time, Vlog the Inhaler, like Sybill, is a person of multiple, and for the most part delightful and/or pathological, personalities.

We have, for instance, Jim Thornton, AKA, James Thornton, AKA, James S. Thornton, and various other anglosaxonate aliases of this sort. Born a white male Episcopalian country clubman jr., MasterJimmy (as he was known by servants and bank tellers alike) grew up understanding that he was made in God's likeness: indeed, he and his twin brother John were, in their own eyes and the eyes of the surrounding community, as close to the spitting image of God as could be found anywhere in the firmament.

Oh, I was also known widely as Golden Boy.

More recently, we have Jamesuardo, the Hispanic form of the above, a little further from God's image, to be sure, a bit tanner than the clubman jr., but one of the few completely original surnames in the Internet universe, and thus one of the few people who can get email addresses and the like at popular sites without having to add an endless string of random numerals and letters.

JimThornton@hotmail.com? Taken, in fact, so taken that the first available facsimile is JimThornton27753qzx44rtlfgn99@hotmail.com

But Jamesuardo@hotmail.com? To my knowledge, still robustly available!

In even more recent times, following the adoption of atheism as my personal saviour and the epiphany that a white male Episcopalian country clubman jr. is, in point of fact, not the spitting image of God, but, if anything, the very antithesis thereof (not, mind you, that either God or Antigod now exist in the world of this defrocked former clubman who would no longer even want to be admitted to the Allegheny Country Club even if he could afford it and could find a single living soul to put him up for membership)--following all this, and inspired by the Nietzchian concept of resentiment (learned not from a primary source, but rather as such was explained to me by my still God-Like identical twin brother after John had taken a class in philosophy at UNC-Chapel Hill in the early 1970s), wherein the Germanic philosopher argued that what we want, but cannot get, is devalued, and its opposite held up as a virtue, thus explaining the "turn the other cheek" and "the meek shall inherit the earth" passive aggressiveness of the early Christian devotees, who wanted the power of their Roman bastard overlords, but had no chance whatsoever of securing this...

Where was I?

Oh, thus was berthed Jimby the Scrivener, who made up in utterly mild mannered ineffectual good naturedness what the former Clubman Jr. had claimed for himself in his "highest being in biological and theological evolution" birthright mentality.

Jimby, nice, pleasant, not arrogant, not an in-your-face blackguard, but rather, at best, a gently teasing jokester whose most defiant of all positions was, as his famous scrivener inspirtation, Bartleby, taught him to say, "I prefer not to." And then make himself as deadweighty and immoveable as a stubborn toddler who does not want to be bodily removed from the toy store.

Jimby has been a pretty good persona, all told. He lets me stalk the CreamPuffs of the world without inviting restraining orders. He lets me complain about my illnesses and IRS audits and the like without provoking a barrage of rotten vegetables hailing down upon his harmless head. But Jimby, in his submissiveness to his fate and general vulnerability to misery and giving up easily, etc. is not without his downsides.

Jimby has his place, as does Jamesuardo and, to be honest about it, James S. Thornton, dethroned Clubman who, to be even more honest about it, would still like to play golf sometime before he dies, no matter how ugly and divot-marked the rough and fairways will inevitably become in his wake.

But as the assortment of me's face the prospect of financial ruin and death, James S. sneering, Jamesuardo swearing, and Jimby maintaining he would prefer not to, it occurs to us that perhaps it is time for a new morph to emerge: one with the wherewithal to confront the challenges of the New Era.

And on this note, I would like to introduce the latest neonatal form of me:

Spunky Po'Boy McPunkerton-Thornton.

I do not yet know that well my new aging lad who refuses to surrender but remains, cheerfully and indefatigably, a man's man and a lady's man, part rogue, part scoundrel, part rascal, part scamp, but 100 percent the kind of man that everyone, including himself, can't help but like. Beyond this, I am not sure what kind of guy Spunky Po'Boy is.

Thanks to my kindly vlogging commentators, whose sagacious counsel has provided the impetus for this new me's birth. If you know of any attributes that you think Spunky has, swimming related or non, please feel free to let me know.

Likable as he is, Spunky Po'Boy McPunkerton-Thornton is a work in progress. He needs guidance, perhaps more of this than Jimby, Jamesuardo, Master Jimmy, Golden Boy, and James S. Thornton, even working in concert, can provide.

Perhaps some of you have met Spunky at some point in your lives, and maybe even have stories to recall of his rough courage in the face of adversity and difficult swimming practice sets. Feel free to make up anecdotes to share about me.

I need to know how to be next.

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Comments

  1. ViveBene's Avatar
    Seems to me Spunky Po'Boy would be intimately acquainted with the Jungian shadow side of Virtu, and counterparty risk. His approach to cards, and therefore also to other feats of skill that entail clawing competitors back from the wall, hews to principles of TEGWAR, The Exciting Game Without Any Rules, the very little he remembers of of Bang the Drum Slowly, consumed during inconsolable adolescence.

    What happened to swimmers and their dawgs? Work in progress?
  2. jim thornton's Avatar
    Swimmers and dogs is still in the works! For some reason, my windows Movie Maker program is thoroughly screwed up. Not quite sure how to fix it. I sent my brother some footage for a Dickensian Homage I am hoping he can assemble: A Tale of Two Jimbys. Coming eventually to an Internet theater near you!

    ViveBene, she of poetic soubriquet, thanks for the outstanding intimation of Spunky's formative years. I shall have to beat a path to the Internet Wikipedia to find out about Virtu, Counterparty Risk, TEGWAR, and Banging's plot!
  3. qbrain's Avatar
    Would Spunky swim two all out 200 frees in one day?
  4. The Fortress's Avatar
    Sounds like you're channeling Captain Jack Sparrow, are you? You may have to start drinking again ...
  5. Kurt Dickson's Avatar
    spunky is definitely a healthier place to be...I shall look for some John Wooden quotes to inspire...please give up some angst/pathos every once in awhile...it shall be lonely without you.
  6. jim thornton's Avatar
    1. Spunky definitely woud swim as many all out 200s per day that he could then fight the paramedics with their annoying electrocution paddles in an attempt to swim yet another one despite losing the loss of his left arm to agonizing pain, which Spunky laughs at

    2. Spunky hadn't thought about drinking. Hmmm. He does have to have some vulnerability to add to his likability.

    3. Don't worry, Kurt. Look closely and it's easy to see the sneers of a clown when nobody's around. Only women bleed, but Spunky leaks an awful lot of lymph in his private moments. Spunky, I am learning, seems to be a fan of 1970s top 40 AM radio. Hmmm. I wonder how much better those songs would sound with a couple snifters of gin from a broken glass, while simultaneously having the heart electrocuted into sinus rhythm?

    Something to file away for future vlogs.
  7. Bobinator's Avatar
    "I don't want to be
    Anything other than what I've been trying to be lately
    All I have to do
    Is think of me and have peace of mind.
    I'm tired of lookin round rooms
    wondering what I've got to do
    or who I'm supposed to be
    I don't want to be anything other than me."
    --gavin mcgraw

    Jimby, you are yourself no matter what title you give it.
    You are not a playwright(at least I don't think you are)creating some new character reacting to whatever crazy twists and turns your life has taken. Just relax and do what the normal Jimby would do. Really...life is pretty simple...."just be "(whatever you are that is).
  8. RustyScupperton's Avatar
    I basically agree with the Bobinator. But when God has given someone as much perrsonality as She apparently has given the Inhaler, it fills several vessles and still a lot ends up spilling onto the ground. Where it nutures the soil and amazing vegetation springs forth. Vegetation that can think and feel and create. And smile and cry and rejoice in the day that the lord has made!
  9. Bobinator's Avatar
    I, the Bobinator am in over my head here. At this time I shall retire for a well-earned slumber. Who knows, the A.M. may bring new insight and perspective in the case of "Spunky Po'Boy McPunkerton-Thornton."
  10. jim thornton's Avatar
    We who are me thank all of you who are ye.

    On a somewhat unrelated note, there does seem to have been a bit of bosom growth over the past 12 hours.

    The mind(s) reel with the new possibilities.
  11. Kurt Dickson's Avatar
    A.M radio??--3 minutes of muskrat love and you will volunteer to be electrocuted even if you are already in sinus rhythym.

    And that's not lymph friend that's.......
  12. jim thornton's Avatar
    That's not? That's snot? The human body is one multitudinously foul secreter of viscous fluids and gels. Sometime I need to post my Neal Scallopini episode in the Chihuahuan Desert.
  13. qbrain's Avatar
    Spunky T,

    Sir,

    Well,

    Umm...

    Will reading your "writings" cause my brain to rot inside my head? Or if I begin to understand them, will I have finally transcended to a higher plane of intellect?

    Thank you Mr. Spunky T Sir, for your kind tolerance of us plebs, namely, me.
  14. jim thornton's Avatar
    Q:

    I think the latter is the case. No rot. Final transcendence.

    Perhaps rather than "reading" my "writings" with the various analytical skills you gleaned at CMU, you should throw away that slide rule and abacus and Wang calculator and instead skim the vlog the way a creature like the noble bear sniffs the zephyrs.

    And with the snifters of Jimby you thusly collect, simply get a dream-like sense of the meaning intended, if indeed meaning is intended, for which the answer is, of course, that your guess is as good, if not much, much better, than mine!

    It is your verbigerative servant that is the plebe here, not you, sir! Of this you need not fear!