Something for your Monday

Statistics have shown that Mondays are the most likely days that you’ll visit jaymekohler.com.

With that, I leave you with a few odds and end to keep you laughing, crying, guessing, and worrying about the things that really go on around here. Caution is recommended.

I’d also like to take this time to recognize John Klimas: fellow motivator and Marine Security Guard. You see, I missed Klimas’ birthday back in August without so much as an email or f*** you. I felt bad. But before I got to feeling bad I received an email from good old Klimas in response to discovering his page on my site through a freak Google search.

I regret to say I have but a few meager pictures of him roaming aimlessly around Ireland, but like the Yeti of legends, I’m sure he’ll soon be near… if not a bit out of focus.

Without further delay, here is an email worth reading.

For me, most days used to be fairly uneventful. I lived in regular obscurity and traveled this world largely unanimous. So I guess it was about a couple of weeks ago that people started noticing and, dare I say, recognizing the man so often referred to as the Klimanator. People would stop and say hello, each in his or her own broken / accented English deriving from dialects the world around. Women would blushingly smile with both intrigue and shame in her eyes, while the men would give me “thumbs up” and then extend their fists in a seeming show of both respect and acceptance, but then forcefully move it up and down in a wild mock display of self gratification. Ah, blessed recognition. Is this what life is like for David Beckham? Women throw their panties at me, albeit not the caliber one would expect to see anointing the likes of Justin Timberlake, but women. Humans who definitely (although often questioned) have a vulva if not hidden behind roles of fat and cellu-elite. I begin to wonder what makes me such a celebrity to these people. They couldn’t possibly have heard about the wild misadventures I have lived in this world or about my unblemished track record for self satisfaction. Shall I share my secret of not being able to pick up women? Or would that only cause me to lose valuable celeb credibility? So my life twists and turns with these questions pending. In my pursuit for an answer, I find it in an unlikely place….

August 7th, 2003 marked the 25th anniversary of my “famed” life. While dealing with the ever-growing piles of “fan mail”, mostly well wishing from family members, I stumble across one which holds the secret to the answer I had been looking for. Apparently a Google Search done for “John Klimas” turned up a rather intriguing and laughable enshrinement to digital cyber space. A page dedicated to the, all too few, misadventures of the Jayme Kohler, John Klimas and Aaron Lindskog team of nightlife professionals. Yet I still wonder, why the displays of phallic massage? Why do women give me disapproving looks with shameful undertones? My short search leads me to a rather compromising photograph taken while I am seemingly engaged in copulation with a rather soft and memorable ….. pillow. My hand in places my mother refuses to mention, and with a look of total dedication on my face I am placed in real time for the world to see. The pinnacle of my life has been, without question, established! Heroes come and go. Often with books written about their feats of greatness. 6″ by 8″ “reliquaries”, dedicated to battles one and worlds changed. But never before has a man so modest in looks and laurels been so consecrated.

Mark my words, “This is not the end”. More chapters of this unlikely team of paladins have yet to be written. Look out Brazil for your fate is being considered. As the world turns, so do the propellers on the world’s fleet of aircraft. So with a smile on my face and a handful of Bulgarian Leva in my pocket I set out to find my writ-da-passage to the world’s creator of carnival. Lest these words be my last I do ring, Let the Good Times Roll….

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The author.Born in the year of the Dragon, the author grudgingly accepts the fact he has too many interests and not enough time. A cyclist as long as he can remember, an avid yet inconsistent writer since age eleven, and a U.S. Marine since age twenty-one, the author also adds peak bagging, diving, snowboarding, and computers to his list of interests. Incidentally, he is aware of his inability to make a living from any but the Corps. The author accepts this as fact and remains optimistic. Feel free to drop him a line.

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