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Tuesday, September 24, 2002   |    Fruit Salad

Only Time

by Geoff Wolinetz
Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and soon I have lost all track of time. It has been quite some time since I have regaled you with tales of my life, accomplished as it is. In the time of my absence, I have accomplished much. My new novel, Dishwallapalooza, about my time touring with the seminal rock band of 1995 hits bookstores in early November. It is a comprehensive work, more than 1500 pages long. As my sometime sexual partner Kevin Bacon once said to me, "Wolinetz, you may be hung like a horse and have the sexual prowess of a lion in heat, but give the people what they want. You are a wise and sagely man, share with them." I mean no offense to Kevin Bacon . Kevin Bacon is a dear friend of mine. I recall with great pleasure those days of the early 1980s, when both Kevin Bacon and I were struggling to make it in the field of commercial acting. We were both at a tryout for a Wendy’s commercial when this woman approached us and asked us if we’d like to party a little. 10 hours later, we found ourselves naked and forlorn, with little memory of the night before and the lady nowhere in sight. Three months later, we were still struggling and "Where’s The Beef?" was sweeping the nation, starring none other than the woman who’d drugged us, made love to us and left us for dead. I never regretted one minute of it.

As you know by now, I am an activist. I cannot help but reach out to the masses with my undying love and support, in return for debasing sexual favors and a virtually endless supply of narcotics. This is what has consumed my time over the last months. I accepted an invitation to an Indonesian island, where the residents participate in activities such as consuming frightening amounts of speed then performing A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen and folding cloth napkins into swans for formal dinners. This was a farm of degenerates, psychopaths and full-blown wackos — my kind of people. We spent afternoons in experimental sexual positions and evenings quaffing absinthe. I was asked to speak at our end-of-camp banquet and Hawaiian-themed barbecue called "Lai You, Lai Me." Here now, my remarks:

Friends, I have been asked to speak to you here at our closing ceremonies, and I have deigned to do so, albeit briefly. I have greatly enjoyed my time here among you lunatics and hope that I will someday be able to return again as your guest. You have extended your arms and welcomed me as your drug buddy, your sexual partner, and your brother. I appreciate it and I love you all deeply, especially you Tiffany [Johnson].

We have had good times these past weeks. Who could forget Lenny [Millstein]’s bad acid trip and his proclamation that he was ‘hotter than a Billy Goat in heat’? Or the time that Sally [Callow] went apeshit and urinated in our water supply? These were times my dear friends. I, too, participated in a few exercises that both boggle the mind and betray Newtonian physics, like the time John [Fox] and I took Quaaludes and gave that chimpanzee a bath. These are memories that I will treasure.

In closing, I know that I am a wildly famous, attractive, sexually engaging and staggeringly personable, brilliant man. At times, my reputation precedes me. You have taken the time to get to know me. It’s like my sixth wife, Tiffani-Amber Thiessen, once told me, "Wolinetz, you have a certain something that I can’t put my finger on and it makes you the most incredible person I’ve ever met. Understand that only time will show your true brilliance.

Only time, my friends, only time indeed.

Geoff Wolinetz cannot be found on IMDb because the Hollywood community refuses to acknowledge the production of his seminal masterpiece Come What May, a gritty psychothriller starring a guy who kind of looks like Billy Baldwin and Erin Gray (formerly of "Silver Spoons"). If he were to be found on IMDb, his name would fall between "Geoff Witcher" and "Geoff Wood." In addition to his imaginary film career, Geoff also maintains an imaginary career as a baron of industry, is lead singer of the imaginary band Kick Ass, Falco, holds an imaginary Olympic gold medal and is an imaginary Pulitzer laureate in the field of journalism for his investigative piece on the albinos of Alaska.