Blog: Lane Sleestack And The Land Of The Lost

WARNING: This blog contains a virtual interview. A Virtual interview is sort of like talking to yourself only with vastly more interesting conversational  partners.

So up until last Monday I had no clue what the hell a sleestack was. And it only follows I couldn’t see the connection between loser illegal USC football Coach Lane Kiffin and the sleestacks from 70s TV cult classic "The Land of the Lost" (although just writing the title of the show brings the 2012 squad clearly into my mind’s eye.)

Thing is I realize I’m way too bitter about this year’s crummy loser illegal Trojan football results.

And I wouldn’t have known a sleestack from a hole in the Trojan D-line and couldn’t have cared less if the word hadn’t come from an awesome woman who can throw a spiral (attention: Matt Barkley.)

Had no choice but to call upon my spiritual buddy the Dalai Lama aka His Holiness Tenzin Gyatso aka HH. If anyone could help me find some harmony, clarity, or just the right blanket or barstool it would be HH (the Dalai Lama’s preferred form of address from preferred Western insiders.)

I didn’t take my call to HH lightly; it’s just that when the quality of your life goes straight into the toilet just because 20-year old kids don’t behave right on fall Saturday afternoons, I feel some serious virtual spiritual intervention is called for. What’s even worse is when awesome women who can throw spirals look at you and it’s obvious you remind ‘em of Land of the Lost. No doubt about it; definitely time to call: 1/800-DAL-E-LAMA.

So I virtually met with His Holiness across the street over at El Pollo Loco (our usual MO) on a drizzly Friday afternoon. Server La Polla Loca carded the Dalai Lama just for the fun of it (he looked younger in his USC baseball cap) and for the 20th year in a row, offered me a senior discount on my Pollo bowl. I just mumbled  “Yo mama’s a sleestack” under my breath as she walked away.

“His Holiness, a thousand thanks for your trouble and time. I hope your journey was comfortable and safe.”

“Duh JVB, what’s with this His Holiness crap, I thought we were initials buds; you know, like JVB and HH?”

“Oh yeah, sorry HH, no disrespect; it’s just that I can’t seem to come outa this loser illegal USC football funk. And women you gotta love keep talkin’ to me about Land of the Lost and it’s probably code for The Land of Get Lost and I just don’t know what to do.”

“Ah young JVB, the sound of a whiner is music only to the ears of a sleestack.”

“”HH, what the…! You just said sleestack. Do you actually watch Old School sci-fi reruns from the 70s?”

“Yes honorable JVB, and are you still the foremost elite athlete/scribe/DDS in the San Gabriel valley?”

“Yeah, that’s true HH but what’s this sleestack story stuff? (Dare ya to say that three times real fast Mr. HH Know-it all.)”

“JVB, I thought even the simplest creatures knew the fable of the sleestack. There was a time long ago when my people were ruled by self-absorbed, entitled princes who inherited their position of power. Instead of a crown, they wore a curious visor, even at night. Instead of paying attention to the needs of my people, they spent time needlessly reading script (from really close up) and constantly pushing buttons with no real purpose. The land grew dark, my people lost hope. Then, one glorious day an ancestor rose up and first drove away the prince’s assistant (who was his father) and then the entitled prince himself. My courageous ancestor was the first Dalai Lama; the entitled ones became known as sleestacks.”

“HH, I can’t believe it; you’re actually here to fire loser illegal USC football coach Lane Kiffin and you already made his dad quit. AWESOME! FIGHT ON! YOU RULE HH!!! HOT DAMN!!!”

“JVB, perhaps you can pass me whatever it is you are smoking. I was only telling a story.”

“But what about me HH; what am I gonna do?”

“JVB, our prime purpose in life is to help others. And if you can't them, at least don't hurt them. I truly don’t think I’ve helped you much but then again you’re so screwed up, how could I hurt you? So as my revered and noble ancestors once said to the sleestacks on their being forever banished from our land, SO LOOONG SUCKAS!!!” I’m outa here.”

HH jumps into a limo and is whisked away south on Baldwin toward the freeway. There’s a scrap of paper lying next to my corn tortillas; there’s some writing scribbled on it. By now, on reading the note, I’m not surprised. The note reads “the penance for University of Spoiled Children arrogance is…two more years with loser illegal USC football coach Sleestack Kiffin.”