When a work colleague learns that I will be interviewing Maxwell Yezpitelok, he visibly blanches.
“It will be like a dichotomy obliquely juxtaposed onto an idiom,” he warns me.
After giving these words careful consideration, I decide to keep things casual and elect not to wear a bow-tie. We arrange to meet in the lobby of the same Kentucky-based McDonald's restaurant where former U.S. president John F. Kennedy used to conduct government business. Yezpitelok arrives on time and immediately orders several items from the top-secret menu.
In an attempt to break the ice I remark that his surname reminds me of a meso-American god, while his Christian name evokes the popular coffee brand - Maxwell House.
“People are always confusing me with the Aztec feathered serpent deity, Quetzalcoatl,” he replies with characteristic self-effacing humour, adding “I have on occasion drunk coffee.”
In 1994, Yezpitelok became the focus of Chile's one-man army program, in which all military duties were delegated to a single individual.
“I was given 60,000 assault rifles and a pair of tanks that I wore like roller-skates. A general instructed me to invade Uraguay, which at the time was part of the planet Krypton and had been trademarked by DC comics. After I blew up Kyrpton a great big chunk of it fell to earth and landed on what is commonly known as South America.”
In 2007, Yezpitelok left the army and became an independent soldier of fortune. He funds his military escapades on earth, and on the planet Saturn, with the proceeds raised from the sale of his patriotic webcomics. In 2012, he built a robot to assist him with writing dialogue:
“The robot went berserk,” he recalls. “It grew a goatee and began writing and editing articles for the popular humour website - Cracked. Recently it has started framing me for murders that I didn't commit, while attempting to legally overthrow convictions for other murders that I did carry out. (You can read robot Maxwell's Cracked columns by following this link: http://www.cracked.com/members/Mxy/ ).
By the time our interview commences the convivial atmosphere that characterised the first five minutes of our meeting has evaporated. I find myself an unwilling participant in a Mexican stand-off, with me, Yezpitelok, and my assistant/transsexual fuck-buddy, Geoff, all yelling and pointing medium-calibre pistols at each other.
In between threats to take him down “John Woo style,” I interrogate Yezpitelok on the subject of his well-documented badassary:
In February your name was added to America's list of People who you absolutely do not want to fuck with under any circumstances. How does it feel to be thrust into the illustrious company of hard-men such as Bradley Gleaves and Steven Chinery?
A great honor, even if it convinced everyone I have syphilis.
Which is ironic considering the restraining order preventing you from venturing within 50 yards of syphilis. Is this why you no longer tour North and South Dakota?
I was banned for simulating masturbation Jim Morrison's corpse on stage, even though it was clearly a plastic corpse (everyone knows the real one is in Paris, on display at the local Hard Rock Cafe), and the substance I shot at the audience was clearly vanilla yogurt. Furthermore, a corpse of that age wouldn't even produce semen.
That's very true. The human testes stop producing semen six months after death. Returning to the list, everyone seems to have a theory as to how Alan Netting came to be included on it. Would you care to share yours?
It's most likely something to do with his epic takedown of Martin Lubbock for that slight diss published on Trousers Monthly; as you know, Netting arranged for live lobsters to invade Lubbock's estate in Bedford, killing all residents and driving down its market price to the point where Netting could purchase it for pennies. He then persuaded the lobsters to move to a small apartment in New Jersey, directly across the street from the new home of Lubbock's grieving widow, and re-sold the Bedford estate for millions, which he then used to bribe the jurors into putting him in the list.
You are one of eight people recognised by the UN who can legally declare unilateral war on a nation state. Last year you became the first person to kill a country (Spain). Do you have any words of consolation for the 47 million or so stateless people who must now eke-out an existence on the rotting carcass of their home country, as it swells with gases and fly larvae and slowly decomposes into the North Atlantic?
I hadn't thought of them. I have a hard time conceiving individual people as sentient beings (right now, my brain registers this as a conversation with the south of England), but I wish them the best and hope they find a new home country soon. Just stay away from Angola because that motherfucker is next on my shit list.
Ha ha! Those Angolans sure are crazy!
In your press briefings you occasionally mention “those clowns in the White House”. I recently visited the U.S. capital and was surprised to learn that not one of these people is a professional clown and only two have received any kind of circus training.
Is the lack of certified clowns in North American government a cause for concern, or do your subscribe to Aleister Rorty's theory that clowns effectively fill the role of terrorists for the under fives?
Never speak Aleister Rorty's name in my presence again.
In 2012, the U.S. Military announced that it would be discontinuing the manufacture of M-prefix weaponry (The M16, M60 etc) having exhausted the fire-power potential of the 13th letter of the alphabet. You recently tested the new N1. How do you rate its performance?
Gosh, that was so long ago. I was impressed by the performance of the N1 when I had a chance to try one in my garage two weeks ago, but mostly I remember being frustrated by the slow development of these weapons: I was told we would only reach the O series by late May 2019. I decided to tinker with the materials on my own and by Thursday at brunch time, I'd developed a Z99999 missile capable of wiping out the known universe twenty times over. Having completed every human alphabet I have now moved on to the emojis provided by my phone. As of now the most devastating weapon is the emoji of a monkey in diapers holding a flower-2836, which can destroy an abstract concept so completely that it will never have existed; for example the other day I tried it with [indiscernible] My neighbors complain about the noise and the radiation, but they can lick my bunghole.
I always found it strange that the M4 came into service decades after the M60. Going off on a tangent, did you know that M4 is one those words like 'pants' or 'fanny' that means different things on either side of the Atlantic. In the UK it's a motorway that goes from London to South Wales. In the U.S. it's an assault rifle. Imagine the many hilarious misunderstandings that must have occurred!
Anyway, getting back on topic, is the inability of the US military to name their weapons in ascending sequential order a deliberate ploy to confuse their enemies? Or can it be attributed to poor counting skills?
As far as I know the weapons were produced in sequence, but the rampart time travel abuses of the 2060's have wreaked havoc on North America's history and shifted the order of several events. It's why Lincoln, currently a 14-year old playing Xbox and masturbating constantly in Kentucky, only became president in 1861. When the European settlers first arrived in Virginia 400 years ago, they found the city of Richmond fully constructed and as a first order of business had to deal with a major deficit in the public transportation budget left over by the previous administration in 1986. The current mayor of San Diego is an amoeba, but no one is sure if it's a primitive one from our unicellular past or a super-evolved lifeform from our distant future. She dodged the issue when I met her at Val Kilmer's house.
I always figured the English M4 transformed into a giant gun, like Megatron. I may have to reconsider my decision not to invade if that isn't the case.
Lincoln called my friend - Viscount George Pauly - a dick on Xbox live. I hope someone shoots him in the back of the head at the theatre.
In 2013, the UK government, under advisement from the Obama administration, classified barn owls as a state secret. No one is allowed to acknowledge their existence. My step-sister's niece – Baroness Hamilton - saw this kid who had just bought a calender with a barn owl on the front cover get bundled into the back of a van by an MI6 snatch team.
The other night I saw a barn owl. It had the words TOP SECRET stamped across its breast in big red letters. What on earth is going on?
[Upon careful review, this message has been classified as TOP SECRET by Her Majesty's Government. HTTP://WWW.UK.GOV We're Working For You! Renewing your trouser license is now easier than ever. Save time and trouser hassle at the Online Ministry of Garments and Furniture Homepage. HTTP://WWW.UK.GOV We're Working For You!]
Finally, you dedicate an appendix in your third autobiography to a list of highly-classified information that has only been seen by yourself and a few others in the global intelligence community. Featured on this list is the Boston-based sitcom Cheers. I think this has actually been seen by quite a lot of people. At its peak over 23 million households in the US alone were tuning in. The show won numerous awards and spawned a successful spin-off series (Joey - starring Michael J Fox) which also netted millions of viewers.
Haha, no, the show I mentioned is the secret one from which Cheers (and every other classic sitcom including I Love Lucy, Leave It to Beaver and Shasta McNasty) spun off from, but it's so secret that most people are physically incapable of perceiving it, so their senses attempt to cover up the "hole" in reality by going to the nearest point of reference: in your case, Cheers. If you've ever seen a rerun of ALF at 3 AM on C-SPAN, it was probably a rerun of the secret sitcom that you couldn't comprehend. If you experienced any headaches, nosebleeds or small pieces of metal shaped like triangles in your stool for the following week, it was definitely it.
It's a pretty good show that has been running for a good while (it still uses the theme song Luigi Boccherini composed in 1779, except for the 95-96 season where they went with a techno tune), but the main problem is that since only the sixteen most powerful people in the world can know about it, they have to write, direct, perform and edit most of it themselves. Richard Nixon played fan-favorite cousin Marvin until his death in 1994, at which point he was replaced by Harry Hamlin, but many still refuse to accept Hamlin in the part. There's currently a petition to replace him with Angela Merkel. Curiously you can still see bootleg copies of some of the most popular seasons in used DVD stores, but if you attempt to watch them they will turn every electronic equipment in your house into produce.