Hodgepodge Society Codename: SweetMonkeyCreek

Hodgepodge Chapter: Pittsburgh (Co-Founder), Webmaster

Distinguishing Marks: Tattoo of Linda Hamilton wrestling a bear which happens to have the head of a cobra, birthmark in the shape of Aaron Burr on left buttock, lack of prehensile tail.

Year of Hodgepodge Society Induction: 2006

Bio: I was born into a poor family of Dutch spice merchants. So that my family would be able to eat, I would let sailors punch me in the face for two-bits down on the docks. Ever since I was a young lad, applying many a poultice to my facial bruises, I realized that only through humor would I be able to survive in my nightmarish hellscape of crippling poverty and basic cable. I strived to earn acceptance into the Hodgepodge Society upon hearing about it from a local insane person, in my native Pennsylvania (Of course, at the time, Pennsylvania was known as New Tanzania due to a snafu at the state fair involving the chamber of commerce, a chicken named El Pollo Loco, and grain alcohol.. Also, back then, the Amish were then known as "Native Carnivorous Cousinlovers" and the Dutch Amish were just simply known as "the Amish".).

The aforementioned insane person went by the moniker Captain Herschel P. Alpacamonger. This name was, of course, completely fabricated. Later in life I would come to find that his real name was, in fact, Harry, not Hershel, and he never mongered any Alpacas, nor had he ever even seen one. Some believe he thought "Alpaca" was just another word for "STD", others feel he thought it meant "squirrel skull codpieces". Either way he was a real Captain in the French Foreign Legion, having filled out the application and correctly answered the admission quiz, which contains only one question. (Here's a hint, the answer is "Bastille Day" and not "The Feast of the Ascension of Dean Martin.") Regardless, Captain Hershel was a good friend of mine and he imparted to me the secret codes and practices of the Hodgepodge Society. I was fascinated with this legendary society and I knew that becoming one of their ranks, would be my lifelong goal. Once Captain Hershel was ripped to shreds after trying to make sweet crazy-person love to an industrial air conditioner, I set forth on my quest to find the Hodgepodge Society, granted, this was a time before trendy websites and cyber-baking. With a note pad in my pocket for collecting my humorous writings, a defiant spring in my step, and a samurai sword sharpened by the souls of a million loiterers, I would find the Hodgepodge Society or die trying. So, about 45 minutes into my journey, I died after a paper cut infection incurred while asking for directions.

Days passed. I was later revived in a Hodgepodge Lodge located somewhere deep within the heart of Guadalajara. I would later learn that there is a Hodgepodge Lodge in every city across the globe. I ended up in Guadalajara after a Scotsman with a poor sense of direction tried to sail my corpse to Valhalla, which is what he called Florida for some reason. A Hodgepodge elder who went only be his codename, The Crimson Dandy, brought me back to life with a sacred Hodgepodge right that involves rubber chicken dust, the femur of Stan Laurel, and Mrs. Dash seasoning. I trained with the Crimson Dandy for years and years, learning about the storied history of the Hodgepodge Society and training for the day I would join their ranks. On the day he died (a death brought on due to a gunshot wound allergy), the Crimson Dandy's final act was to bestow me with my noble Hodgepodge Sash. He was all screaming some such nonsense about bringing him back to life too, but I was too busy admiring my new sash! So here I am today. Proud member of the Pittsburgh chapter of the Hodgepodge Society and loving every second of it...because I'm contractually obligated to.

Although, in my weakest of moments, I still feel like that young lad, waiting for that next life giving punch in the face. Ahh, memories.

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