it's not real

An account from Samuel de Champlain’s chronicle, Travels of Champlain:

“There is something strange, worth mentioning, that many savages have sworn was true: it is that, near Chaleur Bay, toward the South, there is an island where there lives a terrible monster that the savages call Gougou. They told me it had the form of a woman, but very scary and of such a size, they said that the tip of the masts of our vessel would not reach her waist; she had also often devoured many savages, which were put in a large pouch, when she was able to catch them, and then ate them; those who had escaped the peril of this terrible creature said that its pouch was so large that it would fit our vessel inside of it. This monster made horrible noises on this island, that savages call the Gougou.”

An account from Daryl Hall and John Oates, who accompanied Samuel on his journey:

“She’ll only come out at night, the lean and hungry type. Nothing is new; I’ve seen her here before. Watching and waiting… The woman is wild, a she-cat tamed by the purr of a jaguar… I wouldn’t if I were you, I know what she can do. She’s deadly, man; she could really rip your world apart. Mind over matter, the beauty is there, but a beast is in the heart.”

From their Facebook page: “The Mothman Festival is an annual gathering commemorating the visit of the mysterious entity known only as ‘The Mothman’ (by his moth-like appearance and red glowing eyes) that tragically ended on Dec. 15, 1967 with the collapse of the Silver Bridge that killed 46 people.

Come out and have some fun! The 2010 Mothman Festival is going to be held Sept. 18th and 19th 2010.”

I know the families of the 46 bridge victims will be there to sign autographs and get their faces painted. Hey Betty, remember when Daddy didn’t come home? Here’s a balloon! Be sure to check out the pictures from previous events. This one is a personal favorite because it gives away the plot to Stephen King’s Thinner. My God Point Pleasant, is there anything you won’t do to shut down your one street?

Say hello to the 2009 Miss Mothman Festival Queen, who happens to be posing with two men too old to dress up as insects. My guess is Mothman #2 gets the girl. He’s totally ripped and that forehead vagina shows he’s not afraid to flex his femininity. Chicks dig that, especially in West Virginia.

MMFest2K10 drops September 18th and 19th. Get your tickets now before a bridge collapses and you die.

7. Shug Monkey: Chicks dig thugs. Homeboy from around the way told me he once held a guy over the edge of the highrise rooftop. With his tail. Day-um.

6. Ogopogo: When the up-and-down is embedded in your moniker, subconcious seduction is unavoidable.

5. Mongolian Death Worm: One for the cutters. Mongolia is known for producing some of history’s most brutal and bloodthirsty conquerors. Genocidal warriors who used prisoners as human shields, ate victory meals atop the crushed corpses of defeated members of royalty and assembled pyramids made of SEVERED HEADS. Anyway, this thing scared them shitless.

4. Pope Lick Monster: You don’t know it’s a man-goat that lives under a bridge in Kentucky. All you know is “Pope” and “lick” and “monster.” So bad, it’s good.

3. Jersey Devil: What doesn’t get laid in Jersey. Plant some standard seeds and let ‘em grow.

2. Futakuchi-onna: While not a cryptid, it’s still a woman with two mouths.

1. Snuffleupagus: Look at what’s just on his face.

“He shimmies. He puts his hands in the air. He’s happy. But if I press the angry button, he gets angry.”

Fisher Price invigorates the man-ape image with a Fight Club haircut and an electronic leash. Your kids can break it immediately for a measly $97.

Consider the coelacanth, a prehistoric fish that rocks anal fins. Anal fins. This guy supposedly dies out in the waning Cretaceous days (chronic smoker - tragic, really) then resurfaces a few hundred million years later when Captain Hendrik and a dame with way too many names hauled one in off the coast of South Africa.

The fish died, as fished fish do, but Marjorie Eileen Doris Courtenay-Latimer insisted the specimen was like no other. She called in the help of a man who, in 1939, proclaimed to the world, “Hey, it’s a coelacanth. And I should know; I teach at Rhodes. RU FOOTIE RULES!”

-drops mic, grabs package, lifts-

This brought Marjorie fame and a plaque and a spot on Oprah and a Nike deal and a Slurpee flavor. It also brought the world a dead fish that mankind proclaimed extinct once again. Until another one was caught a few years later. Large Marj’s thunder stolen, she died alone, like, 50 years later. But still, alone.

The coelacanth, however, did not. It kept hittin’ and quittin’ until they were found living and middle finning peeps in Madagascar, Indonesia, Kenya, a Port-O-Let in Jersey, EVERYWHERE. A thriving genus, resurrected. A Lazarus taxon.

Which brings us here.

The unknown deserve a place to sip mojitos and laugh at a world they’ve successfully evaded. Unicorns? Maybe. Bigfoot? Possibly. Chupacabra? Definitely. Elvis? Bigfoot.

I’m excited and hope you are too.