Desservo #15: Members Only: A Tale of Courage

Recently, I acquired one of those old "Members Only" jackets from the 80s...mostly popular with middle-aged office workers of the time, butnow popular with ME. So, at long last armed with the coveted Members Only jacket, I set out in search ofwhat club I was actually now a "member" of.

And let me be the first to report that this club sucks. I walked (walked! As a "member," I should have a limo ready at all times) over to the McDonalds in the nearby negro neighborhood, and I confidently strode to the front of the line, because, well...I AM a member. I can do those things.

A large black man that reminded me of Mr. T seemed angry with me, but Iturned around and smiled, pointed to the little "Members Only" tag on the jacket, and said, "Back off, buddy. Members only." He must have been a "member" from a rival club because the next thing I know he was knocking several of my teeth out.

Knowing that my McDonalds venture had been sort of a defeat, I went home and contemplated what to do next. I was clad in, literally, a ticket to the entire world! I belonged to a club, a special order of "members" who were entitled to all that was good and holy, and all that was not. Oh, where to begin.

So naturally, I tried to attend the Dokken concert that came to town. Ratt was opening for them. I went down to the concert hall, walking head and shoulders above all, even the Chewbacca impersonator, because I was a member! And the only one there, as well. So naturally, I would have to represent my Members Only brothers and let the world know that we have no weaklings in our ranks.

However, when it came time to enter the concert and enjoy a fine and classy evening of Dokken, I was turned away…they said it had something to do with not having a "ticket," or some other such nonsense to this effect. I was obviously wrong to think that we no longer resorted to such barbarous activities as collecting tickets from upper-echelon insiders of the Members Only club such as I. But I always have been a dreamer.

Beaten and broken, I went home. I had to gas up on the way home, and I was shocked yet again when my jacket and special affiliation weren't able to award me a few bucks worth of gas. Instead the clerk just yelled at me and told me I was holding up the line. No one has respect for the respectable anymore.

The next morning, when I ventured out for a fine day of shoplifting useless objects, I ran into a rather elderly old chap who was wearing...you guessed it...a MEMBERS ONLY jacket! I ran up to him, and performed the Members Only secret handshake, which is a series of confusing hand-slapping gestures followed by a swift punch to the gut. He seemed to have forgotten the secret handshake, though; he only yelled and tried to run me over with a shopping cart, but I heard old people are prone to do this when they get confused. After calming him down, I asked him what was expected of me in my great journey as a Member, what my special powers were and what my purpose was amongst the stars. He instead called me a "punk" and told me to get a job.

I walked home, with my head down, thinking, and thinking hard. My head hurt, but I came to the sorrowful and disappointing conclusion that the "club" was no more and that I was the last "Member" left. Somewhere in between 1988 and 1992, the members had disbanded across the galaxy, and many were never heard from again. I came to the painful realization that the club was null and void...a dead and buried entity. The Byzantine Empire, The Greek Empire, Rome, and Members Only. All had been great, and all had fallen. Oh well.

Many of my fashion-conscious friends foolishly tell me that "Members Only" was only a cool brand name in the 80s, but I know in my heart that unity will one day be possible, and perhaps I can be the leader of a new generation of "Members."

But then again, I always was a dreamer. And a nightmarer, too.

Burn in Hell,
Desservo, Member Since 2002