The Dirty Yurts of Utah

The Yurt catches on in Teletubby land.

Today I leave Park City – home, as you know, of the Sundance Film festival, and head south, where I'll spend one night in my southern Utah home and then first thing tomorrow head out for San Diego and Comic-con 2006. Aside from the numerous film premieres and sneaks that we'll be treated to, I'm really looking forward to seeing dozens of claims adjusters dressed up as Yoda, "have a life I do not." Of course I'll be shamelessly hawking my script, so if you are an influential Hollywood agent looking for a Hot Property, I'll be the guy with no costume, I should be easy to spot.

Looking forward to the trip as I will be traveling with the think tank and/or brain trust of the site. Adam Mast, Kyle England and Tyler Sanders, if anyone dresses up like Yoda, it will be Tyler. Full of surprises that one. I haven't been down San Diego way since I took the wife and kids down there after a massive family vacation to Disneyland. Wanted to show my little branch of the clan my old stomping grounds (south County and further down). A former resident of Laguna Niguel I know of the most gorgeous beaches south of Malibu and my girls had never seen the ocean. I realize this isn't funny yet , it was just one of those times when it occurred to me how totally blessed I am. That was until I made the serious mistake of trying to get back on the "5 "by following PCH southward out of Dana Point, instead of just zipping over on Crown Valley. About 90 minutes later I just pulled the damn car over and said "screw you fucking people, I'm walking." I meant it too. I was just going to buy a Yurt and live in the sage brush. Live off the land – hunt and fish, make my own Jerky. Replace my family with a Wilson volleyball. Work the streets of Laguna as a fake-blind homeless-guy. That would be fun. Wait for some nasty old fat broad to jump on my shit, "he's not really blind, don't give that phony loser a damn penny !" Then you could keep right on poking-along with your red-tip and just mention as you go by "She's right sir, you're gonna need all the money you can get to feed that sperm whale you married."

Ah, but Jesus I love people. If it weren't for people, Id have very little to make fun of. "Have you ever seen one of those Hippos? Talk about fat, dumb and smelly – I have no punchline here. Only bone-poetry. I'll just sort of fold into a sample, because the point I'm really trying to make is that there is always a situation and friends for bundling under righteous balloon water without sandwich beliefs. (shifting to iambic pentameter) As trust the salad boot waxes holy cattle flower, before seven whose self-pleasure happys the hour. For if those below ashes, pickle tourist fires truth – thrice golden shadows trickle sad Asian youth. Time after rhyme can be minted on myspace, so come come-tralescent my true hole in yourface.

So send that to your friends on myspace. If they like it just say so, I'll write more. Below here is a little "say so" box, that a challenged chinchilla could master.

I saw an article in the newspaper today all about a small Utah community and their bitter struggle with a local infestation of Yurtles. No this is serious, I'm not just writing Bone-poetry. I guess there are these somewhat portable tent-like dwellings called Yurts (some of them are pretty nice if you're not too hung up on a lot of personal space. Actually I didn't read the article but from the headline and the pictures I was able to deduce that the fine folks of Boulder Utah are none too pleased to be the latest community to be hurt by the Yurts. (hold on I'm gonna run grab the article – if that's as good a line as I can dredge up) .

So a family named the Ryans were the first residents of Boulder to call a Yurt home. Described by a disgruntled citizen of Boulder, "at night they light up like giant lanterns" and she's convinced that her cattle are suffering from the nearby Yurt, "the cows are anxious, they're not themselves at night, I believe the cattle see these big glowing Yurts and think they're UFOs." She goes on "I don't think it's any secret that cattle have had a long standing beef with the owners of UFOs, mutilations, scientific amputations and disrespectful probings. They're spooked is what – hell I would be too. If I'm gonna get probed it's gonna be because it's before noon and Sheldon's still sober enough. After that I'm on my own . . . probe-wise – are you getting this!?"

For the most part folks around Boulder didn't mind the Ryans' and their peculiar choice of shelter, but as Mayer Bill Muse observes "since they moved to town a year ago, Yurts have been popping up like pimples on a fat kids ass." Mayer Muse, the city's most affluent land developer, finds himself in a tricky conflict of interest potlight. "Yurts don't meet building codes, it's the law – and I'm bound to enforce that law regardless if it means lining my pockets with green, and kicking otherwise law-abiding folks out of their homes. I think there might be a few people around who might mistake my position as self-serving, and money-grubbing, but that's not something I can help - if that's the way they're gonna be then they shouldn'ta voted for me. Hell they knew I liked money. I've been likin' money all m'life – didn't seem to bother nobody ‘til all these damn Yurtles started squatting all over the joint. All they are is hippies with with a fancy new tent. They're still dope-dropin', trip-smokin' freaks in my book, and in case you hadn't heard, we don't cotton to that sorta lifestyle here in the great state of Utah. No sir. Particularly in this town, ‘fact I had a catchy campaign slogan about stinky drug-takers, went somethin' like, let's see - ‘If you want to get stoned in Boulder – you got rocks in your head.' Yea that was it, ‘put that in your pipe and smoke it. The way I see it, runnin' these dirty Yurtles outta my town is just like a mission from God. It ain't no different than Brigham Young or Moses. How did Moses say it – ‘Make these people Go!"

Indeed Mayor Muse is not the only Boulder resident eager to put the hurt on the Yurts. Gladys LeFevre is quick to point out the health risks and aesthetic issues brought about by the influx of the Yurt. "Yurts are unsanitary, smelly, bad for property value and flat-out ugly." Ouch, easy Gladys, that might be said of your husband Lloyd. As for the controversy it has yet to reach it's boiling point as more Yurt-dwellers are moving in daily – drawn by the promise of fertile Yurtle living - land is cheap and Yurts are even cheaper. I'll keep you posted and I'm thinking of doing the entire second installment in Dr. Seuss. Yes maam I am.

Anyway, I'll be essentially incomunicado until Sunday night, unless I get lucky and somebody lets me use their laptop. It would be exciting to do blow by blows from the show, though this is my virgin Comic-con, Adam claims that it's a veritable smorgasbord of celebrities, from all walks of celebritihood. He says you might be walkin by and see, Kevin Smith, strolling by with Lance Armstrong, and Jason and Stan Lee. We'll do our best. So until my next transmission fly the cat varnish with all due rigidity and paper well little indian, paper well the stingy fig marsh as we sing . . . as we sing. Goodnight.