Illusions of Dander Awarded Awards

For one long summer, Illusions of Dander became a safe spot to report false news and attitudes to thousands of disillusioned men and women. We're happy to report that in 2007, we were awarded a Nobel Prize for Literature, a National Book Award, two Oscars, one Tony, and even a Grammy for "Best Audio Blog" for Anthony Hopkins's brilliant, moving, and inspired performance of this text.

So as we enter the New Year, we hope to continue to bring you the most informative information available to us at the time of publications. We look forward to 2008, for it is an evenly divisible year, and those tend to always go better. Or was it the odd ones? whatever.

First Monster Ballad Reaches Solaria IV

Alpha Centauri--Almost forty years ago the first broadcast signals from Earth hurled through the heavens for the universe to enjoy. Warm and magical pictures of Johnnie Carson, Elvis Presley, and a little group from Liverpool extended their audiences further than anyone could have imagined, and starting next month, aliens both humanoid and abstract will soon encounter an entirely new human expression: the monster ballad.

"If aliens ever had any doubt that humans weren't one of the universe's most passionate, sensitive, yet powerful creatures, the introduction of monster ballads will surely erase their doubts," says Howard Huey Hamilton, co-founder of "Bright Lights," a Journey fan club based out of a Detroit suburb. "If the 70s showed aliens how humanity likes to dance, the 80s will show them how we love to care, and care deeply, about one another, and the world."

But what exactly makes a ballad a monster, or a monster a ballad? 2 things according to Hamilton.

"Sythesizers and strong, powerful men bearing their souls for the world--and now universe--to hear, feel, and believe in." Hamilton leans back in his wicker rocking chair, and with his noise cancelling Bose headphones around his ears he twirls his iPod cursor around until "Don't Stop Believin'" comes pouring through the speakers. "Can you imagine their reaction when they hear this? Can you imagine the look on their gray, expressionless faces when the drums kick in. You better believe it, Journey will rock Alpha Centauri just as hard as they rocked Cleveland in 87'."

And while scientists at NASA's Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence (SETI) have yet to pick up a signal from any nearby solar system, they remain optimistic about the promise of monster ballads provoking a response.

"If they're out there, they've been quiet," reflects Dr. Don Watson, analyst at SETI headquarters in New Mexico. "We've hit them with The Beatles. We've hit them with I Love Lucy. We've hit them with everything from Bob Dylan to Ray Charles to even the early beginnings of prog rock, but this is the first time in our history when aliens will hear bands like Warrant, Poison, and Mr. Big. We think we've got a good shot here."

And if the universe stays quiet? "If there's [no response] its only a matter of a few years until they'll get grunge music. After that, there will be a dark period in pop music when we can pretty much turn off our satellites. We're running out of quality media. Monster Ballads may prove to be exactly what the universe needs to hear before it makes contact. Like the song says, don't stop believin', and believe me: we won't."



This post is dedicated to NASA. Keep the human spirit alive--find those aliens however you can so we can make plans to reverse engineer their superior technology or devise meaningful strategies for annhiliating them before they humiliate our race with their telekenesis.

Being John Norris: An Essay

Williamsburg, Brooklyn---In the mid 80’s, a small southern boy with big city dreams descended upon New York with one goal in mind: to change forever how pop culture news would be reported. John Norris, not to be confused with Kurt Loder, graduated from NYU with a degree in Journalism and went on to become one of MTV’s most recognizable and influential VJ’s. Whether he was pounding the pavement in search of hard news, or lounging on a comfortable leather couch across from Madonna, Norris’s calm, sweet, and permanently hip demeanor earned him the respect of tweens and parents alike. I had nearly forgotten about John Norris until I ran into him in a Williamsburg bar, and like a one hit wonder from before my Bar Mitzvah, remembering him in the now made the memories come rushing back in a disarming deluge.

What was so disarming—or impressionable—about seeing John Norris in a hip, 20-something bar, wasn’t that he was just a MTV superstar. No—what made seeing him so powerfully maddening was that despite everything he has seen, heard, and been through, John Norris has aged backwards. His jeans were as tight as his thinning hair was dyed blonde. He was wearing a super tight jacket so restrictive I couldn't fathom how his arms were moving. The last time I had watched him was probably in 1999, when I was 17. The modern day John Norris looks 16. He is now younger than I was when he was almost 40.

At first, this chronological paradox eluded me like any other miracle or piece of temporal sorcery. How, I asked, could John Norris have become a Peter Pan? How, I wondered aloud, has this man discovered the fountain of youth and gotten away with it? But then, like a weight lifted from my shoulders, I realized that John Norris had done exactly what MTV has done, and that the two are inextricably linked to one another, symbiotically feeding each other’s lifeblood and fulfilling the other’s destiny. Just as MTV has regressed into serving those between the ages of four to eleven, so too has John Norris. Just as The Real World has given way to the Surreal Life (VH1, I know, but it’s all Viacom…damn you Viacom!!!!), so too has John Norris gone from pioneering music newsman to a nimble sprite whose dreams are as enchanting as a child’s careless laugh.

In the bar, John Norris was surrounded by a few young guys. He smoked cigarettes and cocked his head to the sky as he daintily blew the smoke towards God in the stars. He reached out and touched one of the guy’s shoulders, flirtatiously laughing as my friend next to me said “Wow, John Norris is so gay.” John Norris sipped a PBR as he rapidly sent a text message to whoever it was who has in his phone a contact for “John Norris.” I imagine that person, sitting in an apartment, looking at his phone as the message pops up “New Text Message From: MTV’s John Norris.” I’m jealous of this person, but I don’t know why. Maybe because he’s friends with John Norris, the Man Child of MTV who only has a few short years left before a full regression into painful adolescence.

When John Norris walked past me and my friends, a girl sitting beside us, who’d also recognized that it was John Norris, patted him on his arm as he passed and chirped “Hey! Hey!” John Norris kept walking towards the bar but casually responded “Hey! I’ll be right back!” We all giggled like excited school girls.

But John Norris didn’t come back. He disappeared at the bar, buying another 2 for $5 rounds of PBR cans, and slyly returned to the corner where he was talking to the 4 boys. They looked so enamored by him. There are some celebrities who look so much like how they look on TV that you want to congratulate them. You want to say, “Dennis Hopper---wow---you know what, you really do look just like Dennis Hopper!” It’s almost stunning how someone can look exactly like how they look.

Not John Norris. John Norris looks like a photocopy of a photocopy of John Norris. He looks similar, but entirely otherworldly, and strange. In another time, I would have gone up to John Norris and said something awkward like “wow, I’m such a big fan of your work.” Or tried to ask a poignant question that would lead him to believe that I was an abovely average intelligent fan, something like “how have you seen MTV change since 9/11?” I would have killed to be one of those cropped hair Elvin boys surrounding the age defying VJ, hanging on his every word while already having hatched complex plans to murder all those who wanted to take time away from me and John Norris.

But we leave the bar without approaching him. It seems like we’ve all gotten older, and the allure of John Norris, even with his magically youthful transmogrification, holds little appeal. It’s almost sad. On the subway ride home I wonder who, if anyone, I would run up to and say “I’m a big fan.” Or ask a contrived, complex question. I can’t think of anyone. Well, almost anyone. There is one person.

Kurt Loder.

Ken Burns Begins Work On New Documentary on Works of Ken Burns

New York, New York--For decades, Ken Burns has probed the photographic and narrative depths of American culture. His previous work has included the stunning 11 hour documentary The Civil War, 2001's Jazz, and most recently the 15 hour cinematic tome The War. Best known for his ability to harnass the power of individual storytelling as a means to portray large historical events, Burns's legacy is at once popular as it is timelessly historical--in short, quintessentially American.

It comes as no surprise that beginning February 1st, 2007, Ken Burns will turn his camera inward and begin research on his next documentary, tentatively titled Burns.

"We know that storytelling has been central to the American story for as long as stories have been told," says Burns. "We know of stories being told as early as the Jamestown colony. Most suspect that stories were told even before that."

Burns's own story begins in Brooklyn, New York, 1953. A graduate of the hippy-dippy, "we're-not-convinced-it's-a-real-school" Hampshire College, Burns went on to receive an L.H.D from Bates College, a distinction too obscure to impress yet, like a ragged boot in an old 19th century photographic, represents the kind of detail that brings sterility to life.

"I want Burns to do more than talk about being Ken Burns," says Burns. "I want it to be about the time and place of being Burns; about Brooklyn and the way that sunlight slants down Flatbush Avenue; about photography and the acidic smell of fixer in a reddened dark room; about making all the films for PBS and the stories about the people who sat in their living rooms for hours nightly and watched these films. Who were these people? Who did these people know, and cherish, and love? And who were those people, and why did they know those other people who sat in their living rooms and listened to voices from the past? Only by answering those questions can we really know Burns," finishes Burns.

The tentative outline shows that Burns will be Burns's most ambitious project to date. Combining footage from all 19 of his released documentaries (including forgotten gems like 1988's Thomas Hart Benton), the film will span more than 56 hours of the life and times of Burns.

"I had to hand over all of the photo albums," recounts Claire Burns, Ken's mom. "We had about 8 albums, including me and Bob's wedding album. Ken took them all." When asked whether or not she expects the photos to be returned, Claire replies, "Yes, but only in the form of a ten part mini-series on DVD."

While sources cannot confirm the buzz, a source close to Ric Burns, Ken's brother, reports that Ric is also planning a similar documentary due out in 2010. Tentatively titled Ric, the film will be "similar to Burns," but much less popular.

Deja Vu Claim Proven False When Bystander Claims First Time In America

"It was the way that Katie leaned in to put down her glass on the black trimmed coffee table that triggered it," recalls Seth O'Rourke.

It was as if suddenly he knew that Mark was about to say "can someone get some ice?" and a nanosecond before someone would laugh from the other room, stop, and then cough three times.

And then Marissa would look at the TV and say "Brad Pitt just isn't hot anymore."

It all added up to one thing: deja vu.

"It sort of hits you like a train," recalls Seth. "Except not a real train. It's more...vague. More like a ghost train. Yes, just like a ghost train."

It wasn't long before Seth interupted his friends to inform them that he had seen and heard all of this before. Not only that, but as Sweet Virginia by the Rolling Stones came over the speakers, Seth was quick to tell his friends that he "knew this was coming on next!"

However, just as Seth's deja vu became all too real, Hans, a foreign exchange student who had arrived earlier in the night, felt compelled to confront his new friend's mystical experience.

"I told Seth that his deja vu could not have been truly accurate. That he could not possibly have seen or done this before. You see," Hans points to his passport. "This is my first time in America."

When Hans alerted Seth to this anachronistic faux pas, Seth seemed confused.

"But, I swear...I'd seen this before."

Hans repeated "No, you must not have. No you must not have. I have never been here before."

Seth looked downtrodden. Removed.

As the night crept along realistically, Seth just repeated

"I swear....I swear..."

Chest of the Week

This week we profile the Medium Sized Dolphin Dynasty Chest. Learn all about this wonderful item here. . Great for all rooms, people, and sexualities, Wood Carved Treasure Chests make unforgettable additions to a little thing in life we like to call decor.

Remember --It's never too late to get involved in Wood Chests. It's almost too late to get involved with basketball.

"Don't Tase Me 'Ho" Lands Imus In More Hot Water

Long Island, NY--Dom Imus is again facing trouble with the black, female, and this time campus police community after another "insensitive" comment. Reflecting on the recent Taser fiasco at the University of Florida, Imus jokingly imitated to his long-time friend Mack McLaughlin the student's now infamous plea not to be tasered. Instead of saying "bro," Imus allegedly used the word "ho."

Although Imus's and McLaughlin's conversation took place on a remote sand trap on a private golf course, a video soon emerged on YouTube that captures in stunning detail the complete scene. In it, we watch first a golf ball in the blue sky and its swift descent into a sand trap. Moments later, Imus appears with his friend. McLaughlin can be heard saying "nice shot, Don." Imus replies, "Did you hear about the kid from University of Florida? The 'don't tase me ho' kid?" McLaughlin nods his head in concurrence, then disappears off camera, allegedly towards the green where his 9 iron pitch landed him only 2 feet from the hole. Imus then takes position in the trap, and is able to, although not without some difficulty, extricate himself from the sand with a beaut of a lay up shot.

But importantly, Imus's use of the word 'ho' remains firmly planted in his lexicon. Civil rights leaders took notice.

"We immediately put a call into Mr. Imus's representative demanding an apology," says Margaret Pennucci, spokesperson for the United Guild of University and College Security Officers, or UGUCSO- (pronounced Oo-GUC-so), the oldest guild of its kind in America.

Meanwhile, at Rutgers University the same basketball girls who were first tormented by Imus's ho-obsession held a benefit to both support a local daycare and to condemn Don Imus. After the release of the recent video, the benefit raised over $5,000 more than expected.

"Don Imus loves ho's," Says Michelle White, 28, of Elizabeth, NJ. "He loves 'em nappy headed, he loves 'em athletes, and now he loves 'em campus safety officers."

There has been no official statement from Don Imus's office. The friend to whom he spoke the most recent ho-mage, however, did remark to an anonymous source who promptly leaked the hidden video to YouTube to " Give me a break."

"We'll give you a break, Mr. McLaughlin, but not until you drop the ho-speach," reacted someone.



For an up-to-date on the Taser Incident, go here .

...which is a subsidiary of Sony, partially owned by News Corp., and wholly distributed by God

In an article regarding OJ Simpson's recent legal battle , CNN.com fully and clearly discloses its relationship with one of its sources:

TMZ.com is partly owned by AOL, which is part of CNN's parent company, Time
Warner.

Sounds like justification for dating your second cousin, to me.

Rogue Scientist Argues For "One Ocean"

Pounding his fists on the lab table, Professor Clive Rochester has the familiar look of a rebel emboldened by a severe injustice. It's a look that combines the rage of a betrayed lover with the inexplicable dizziness that accompanies confused bemoaning, a look so instantly recognizable it can sometimes appear invisible.

But Rochester's embattled look has a very real purpose: he sees the planet differently than most. He sees only one ocean. And he's willing to risk his reputation for it.

"They said the sun orbited the earth," he says, pounding his fists with each word. "But they were wrong. They said the earth was flat. But they were wrong. Now they say we have five oceans. And we are wrong."

Sitting before a panel of esteemed geologists, Rochester appears to be a wild car, a joker, an outcast, and at times even mad. His theory of "one ocean," or as he calls it "Waternia," is often met with cocked heads and raised brows.

Michael Cunningham, tenured professor of Marine Biology at UCLA and vocal opponent of Rochester, explains "we all see how they're all connected, Richard, but that doesn't mean we can't have different names for different parts."

Rochester retorts, "No! No! No!"


Cunningham calmly suggests, "that's like saying just because Africa, Europe, and Asia are all connected we shouldn't have different continents, just one place called Afeurosia. Do you like that? Afeurosia?"

Rochester pronounces the word. Afeurosia. He seems to like it.

Although few have come to Rochester's defense, several student groups across the America seem to agree with his reasoning. One group, Students for Integrated Lakes and Oceans, or SILO, seems to think that the dispute is the most important to come since the great Antarctican Ocean debacle of the 70's.

In the meantime, Rochester remains committed to his dream of Waternia. Looking up at a world map, you can see his body tremble with passion, conviction, and rage. He offers a final reflection: "For the oceanic and geological academic community, this represents a 9 on the Richter scale of maritime revolution!"

The Beatles Considered Great by New Music Fans

On his way home from Cherokee Middle School, Eric LaGuardia is trying to remember the bridge of Two Of Us from The Beatles' 1970's album "Let It Be."

He softly hums a melody, then looks up and says "Well Paul wrote it, so its sort of cheesy and all..." He tries another melody, confuses it with a verse, and tries again before hitting it on the nose. His face lights up as the words come back to him.

"You and I have memories, longer than the road that stretches out of here!"

But Eric isn't the only new music fan to discover how great The Beatles were. Reports from across the country show that new music fans everywhere, old and young, continue to agree that the little band from Liverpool is completely listenable, emotive, and satisfying. And although the psychological phenom called Beatlemania is long gone, passion for the group remains like a phantom arm from an amputees torso that just won't go away.

"I still feel it whenever a student of mine tells me about the first time they hear Rubber Soul," says Mr. Richter, a 7th grade music teacher at Lake Pines Junior High outside of Cleveland, Ohio. "They're energetic, interested, and generally pleased by everything they hear from The Beatles."

Eric first heard of the band from his mother, Deborah. Like many from her generation, Deborah remembers going out and buying the new records on the day they came out, running home, and watching the record spin over and over again until the sun came up. And although the only thing Eric watches now when listening to Help! is the cool blue volume bar from his iPod Video, he seems to be as "into" the band now as anyone was from back then.

"Everybody argues about which Beatle they like the best," he says wisely. "And it's usually a battle between John and Paul. But I like George. I guess I've always been pretty different."

But even new music fans who are older seem to take to the band. Irvine Reynolds, 74, had been living a life of self-described "music hatred" until he heard "Lovely Rita" from Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

From behind the bar where he's worked for 36 years, Reynolds growls "I hated music. Hated lyrics. Hated melody. But then I heard that song 'Lovely Rita,' and it reminded me of my first girlfriend of the same name. The song kind of bounced. Had some nice harmonies. And a sort of dark end section. Anyway, once I heard that, I never went back. Now I'm a music fan."

No one can predict just how long The Beatles will continue to be enjoyed by new music fans, but by the looks of things, things won't slow down any time soon.

As Eric makes his way back home, he heads straight to the computer. "Today I'm uploading Abbey Road on my iPod. I hear it's great. I can't wait!"

Woman Decides Against Enjoying Chamomile Tea

Sommerville, MA--Its sweet, odorous, and calming qualities no longer entice Jenny White. After throwing out a half-drunk cup, Jenny, 32, remembers saying to herself "you know what, I don't like chamomile tea." The revelation has stunned friends and family alike, but to Jenny, this was a long time coming.

"In the morning I used to always get coffee. Always. Then my IBS kicked in and my doctors recommended I get off it." IBS, or Irritable Bowel Syndrome, impacts millions of Americans and is the number one cause of irritability among bowels, beating out Mexican food and mixing beer with cheese.

Most people switch to tea when coffee becomes unbearable, and for Jenny her favorite cup was Mint with a dash of Earl Grey.

"She used to always get that," recalls Adam, a barista at Monk's Cafe. "When we'd see her walk in, we'd get it ready for her. She loved when we did that."

However, sometimes Jenny liked to "mix it up," says Adam. "Sometimes, she'd get chamomile. No big deal for us. But I guess it was for her."

A big deal, indeed. Jenny remembers thinking, "Friends told me that I'd love chamomile. They were always saying, 'Oh, Jenny! You'd love it! Chamomile is sooooo relaxing, and with a little bit of honey it's like you're tasting heaven.'" Jenny frowns. "Sure, if by heaven you mean burped up vomit of pickle juice." Her face sours.

Many tea drinkers enjoy chamomile's ability to put one to sleep. For generations, Sleepy Time tea has helped millions of otherwise anxious sleepers relax into oblivion. Not Jenny.

"I would get so angry that I couldn't enjoy it that I'd stay up at night, wondering what was wrong with me. Imagine everyone loving your husband, but you secretly hate him. It gnaws away at you. It's a whisper in your ear, all the time, a crackling whisper reminding you that you're missing it, and everyone else gets it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it."

In retrospect, the divorce was a long way coming.

"Finally, one day I ordered some chamomile," Jenny says. "I put some honey in it. I asked Adam for just a splash of soy. I got a few blocks down when all of the sudden it hit me like a freight train: I. DO. NOT. ENJOY. CHAMOMILE. TEA. I said it aloud. 'I DO NOT ENJOY CHAMOMILE TEA.' It was like this cloud lifted from my shoulders. At once, the world became lighter. I realized that I can still be Jenny White, and not like this flowery tea."

It's been six months since Jenny made her decision. Friends and family report that she's doing great. And she's never looking back. Not even for a sip.

Guilt to Blame For Recent MTV/MSNBC Poll Findings

According to this MSNBC article , youths between the ages of 13-24 report "spending time with family" as the number one factor for creating happiness.

Unconvinced of the efficacy of the study, researchers from Illusions of Dander followed up with the study's participants a few weeks later. Suspect of their wholesome response, we put out another poll asking why the youths voted the way they did.

Unsurprisingly, the number one reason for youths between the ages of 13-24 reporting that spending time with their family contributes to happiness is massive guilt.

One respondant said, "I wrote 'family' because I haven't seen them in 4 years. Dad left when I was 8, and now Mom is married to Carl, that asshole mechanic. My sister Liz is a lesbian and I can't really talk to her about it. I just feel terrible."

Pressed to find out why guilt made him vote the way he did, the respondant said "I guess I thought it would make me feel happier."

And while the MSNBC poll reports that teens did not list "sex, drugs, or rock 'n roll" on their list of what makes them happy, our poll disagreed.

In fact, teens report that those three things do in fact make them happy. Most responded with that exact order.

"I like sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll," writes Jeremy Neworth, 22, Indiana.

Family did, however, make Jeremy's real happiness list, just after Cracker Jacks and before No Rub contact solution.

Guitars, F Chord, and Healing

After stumbling upon this flake of dander, one reader comments:

I finally found my guitar, a broken acoustic for $15.00. After lovingly repairing the damage in a less than craftsman like but acceptable manner I started what I knew would a long breaking in on my tender finger pads.

When I just started thinking I could tell where my fingers were on the strings well enough to learn some chords I found your f'ing article and it has convinced me to try and make a profit on the g'tar in my next g'rage sale.

Let us just begin by saying "YES YES YES." Good for you for reselling that guitar. Along with inflicting chronic and severe finger-tip pain, guitars are responsible for teenage dreaming, mid-life avoidance, rampant expression, soul searching, sing-a-longs, difficult B strings, discordancy in general, and for having written songs such as "More Than Words."

Instead of buying beat up musical instruments that lead to eventual existential and physical disappointment, I suggest investing in Wood Chests. Wood Carved Treasure Boxes are sturdy, strong, and useful in most rooms. They help keep things organized, look sharp, and most importantly, never let you down.

Thanks for writing, and good luck.

Administrative Assistant Still Drunk

Philadelphia, PA---Although he had his last drink at 4AM, Amos Rosenblatt, just waking up, believes that he's "still drunk." After six beers, two jello shots, and a "dumb" shot of Yeiger, Amos remembers thinking "I'm not going to remember anything about tonight."

The evening began around 9:30 when Amos met up with his colleagues at a house party. The last time Amos had been to a house party was in 2004, and the prospect of going to a new one filled him with "rambunctious delight."

"I paced myself early on," He vaguely recalls. "But then that girl Melissa from HR showed up, and I totally wanted to flirt."

That's when Amos began chugging, as well as taking the first jello shot.

"So a few minutes later, I started to feel pretty buzzed, and I went up to Melissa. We talked about something...maybe her brother moving to New Mexico. But maybe I'm making that up. Honestly, I don't remember anything."

As the music got louder and the crowd more full, Amos felt himself getting pretty "wasted." He went on to engage in 6 conversations with people he knew but whose names he'd never known, 4 toasts and one "l'chaim," and 2 kisses on the cheek with some girl from work who he usually sees in the coffee room.

"And then someone pulled out that bottle of Yeiger. I was like 'I really don't need this.' But what the hell right?"

A small crowd drank the shots, and after that Amos seems not to remember anything.

"I sort of remember, but not really. Like...there was ...no....it was Friday." He mutters.

Amos reaches for the glass of water beside his bed, but the water is gone. His feet feel kind of distant, and while he'd like to pee, that's just not going to happen right now. A slight giggle escapes his lips when he thinks about kissing that girl on the cheek.

"I feel like I should be hungover," He says. "But I'm not. I think I'm still drunk."

American Icons

Along historic route 66, we come upon the famous Leaning Tower of Water. A true beaut.