We are thrilled to hear from the ‘Yoko Ono of Badger Kull…’ and Brooklyn, New York resident, Mari Gustafson joins us as a special guest writer as she reveals her ticket plight, the job she was allocated and how Day 1 unfolded…
THE GREATEST JOB OF ALL / AKA HOW I BECAME YOKO KUNT
(AN INSTRUCTION MANUAL WRITTEN DRUNK ON A FRIDAY NIGHT IN NEW YORK) – Part 1
On the 22nd of August of 2017 in the city of Liverpool, I walked down a flight of stairs and approached a desk in the back of the back of The Dead Perch Lounge. A building that was sort of a cement art gallery/ former warehouse/ bar/ tea shop/ hair salon/ Bomb Shelter. I didn’t really know where I was, and I had never seen a Perch so I had no idea what a Dead Perch was or where it would be lounging.
I did know why I was there, I had a ticket. A secondhand ticket. I couldn’t buy one firsthand. The ticket buying website was crashed as soon as my computers tried to talk to it. There was no way a lonely music obsessed middle aged woman sitting in a warehouse in Brooklyn, New York with two computers was ever going to punch through a crashed website in Liverpool at 6:30 AM on a Sunday morning to get a ticket. After a week of not having a ticket I had fantasies of roaming Liverpool dressed as a cow with a sign that read “Will MU for Ticket”. I began to monitor The KLF Facebook hourly to see if there was any news of tickets turning up. One did and I desperately messaged the owner. When the ticket arrived it came in an envelope hand stamped with the Pyramid Blaster, addressed from the land of the Badger (do we even have Badgers in North America). Soon 400 other people that helped to crash the website where I couldn’t buy a ticket would stand before the same desk in The Dead Perch Lounge.
There was a lovely young blonde young woman taking names, and trading tickets for bright yellow wristbands behind the desk in the back of the back of The Dead Perch Lounge. I presented her with a gift from my great nation. A massive candy bar with the face of my current dictator emblazoned on a cheap foil wrapper, It was a Cheeto Chocolate Bar. I really hope nobody ate it. I can imagine that Bill and Jimmy covered it with whitewash and threw it off a cliff. Part of wearing my new bracelet was to choose from a list of tasks something that I could admit to possibly having some sort of skill at. I can’t play bass, I never say no, I can’t draw and I’m sort of girly weak so I couldn’t do any of those items on the list. One thing I did know that I can do is stop traffic! Me and my friends stop traffic a lot. Mainly because we hate our president, and there is a lot of traffic around his tower of golden shit, and we like to stop it. It’s sort of a dangerous job. Not nearly as glamorous as playing bass, Americans are convinced that all British people are smarter than us and would not choose a job as dangerous as traffic stopping when they can very safely and glamorously play bass. I excitedly signed up for traffic stopping. I started to fantasize about getting hit by a car and dying in Liverpool in a cow costume holding a sign that read “Muing for the JAMs”.
The next day on the 23rd I travelled to another reinvented Warehouse Universe called Constellations. In the back there was a jobs ceremony with The 400 other people that had crashed websites and traded tickets for wristbands. There weren’t chairs for all of us, and barely enough space. A woman in a top hat, on a small stage, named Daisy pulled yellow cards of chaos from buckets. I imagined they were wildflowers. The Cards of Chaos contained our jobs. They were random. Only half the jobs made sense. Some of the jobs seemed to come from a List, and some were from a Nowhere. 100 jobs must have passed before my mind. I heard the job of stopping traffic pass me by. I wouldn’t be a dead Muing Cow bleeding music on the streets of Liverpool. I concluded that British people must also be dumb as fuuk and want to stop traffic. And I thought ”SHIT, I SHOULD PAY ATTENTION!” since I have a ridiculous name, that everyone mispronounces, so I have to really listen for it. I was also completely confused by this impossible list of imaginary jobs which somehow made it hard to hear. Then suddenly Daisy says a name that is most likely the name “Mari Gustafson”, and I realize I’ve been hired!!!
“VOLUNTEER FOR THINGS WE HAVEN’T YET THOUGHT OF”
Of course a rational person that wasn’t already having fantasies of wandering Liverpool in a cow costume would be “Oh that’s really cool, I’m going to kick back and enjoy this lovely Liverpool weather and when they think of something they will let me know.” But I am not a rational person, rational people don’t sit for almost an hour, way too early on a Sunday morning desperately refreshing the screens on two computers to purchase tickets for some 3 day unknown event happening in a city they have never been to.
So I thought, the JAMs have never met me, they have no idea what the Fuuk I am thinking. Anything I think is som￼ething they have potentially not yet thought of……..
And then I thought……….. They thought to have a “Pop Up” and a “Burn Down” book club of their actual book, “2023”. But somehow they didn’t think to assign the job of breaking up their imaginary band, Badger Kull. And then I thought……………
MY JOB WILL BE TO BE THE YOKO ONO OF BADGER KULL
First I had to figure out how to be the Yoko Ono of Badger Kull. No one in Badger Kull was dating me, and I didn’t think I could get any of them to fall in love with me within 3 days (by the looks of the 4 men chosen to be Badger Kull I guessed they were are all married with 3 kids a piece), and I’m not Japanese, I’m a Honky.
I got really drunk. That’s usually how I solve problems such as “How to become Yoko Ono”. I drunkenly decided that Badger Kull was yet another Sexist Fuuking Example of how Women are underrepresented in the Kreative Output of Human Kind. I mean come on it’s Bill and Jimmy, when it really should be Jimmy and Beatrice. And then I got even more drunk trying to figure out how to Tweet as a Honky Yoko Ono without a John. Eventually we (I sort of forget who I was with, but I don’t think his name was John) went to the Black E a half hour before the “lecture” and I started screaming, because the one thing that I know Yoko Ono and I are sort of good at is screaming.
Everybody seemed to love and be terrified by the screaming. This made me want to scream more! I firmly believe that you should be terrified by everything that you love. I screamed maybe a little too long. By the time I was in the lecture hall, the seats were gone and I crashed out on the side of the wall. A Scouse Boy in a stripey shirt named Dennis crashed the wall next to me and gave me a Liver Bird pin and I gave him a bracelet made of American Money. He wasn’t John but he was awesome, and then his mate came by and asked if I would be in their Badger Kull tribute Band called Budget Kull. His name was Matt still not a John, and he was also awesome. I had found my Plastic Ono Band!!! Now I needed a stage name! The stage name YOKO KUNT! I was going to be the Lead Screamer of the Badger Kull tribute band, Budget Kull / BADGER KUNT!
AND IT ALL WENT DOWNHILL FROM THERE!
Part 2 to follow…
Starbucks War Is Over Photo courtesy of: M. Gustafson
Yoko Kunt Photo courtesy of: M. Gustafson
List Of Skills Photo courtesy of: P. Robinson
Volunteer For Things We Haven’t Yet Thought Of Job Card Photo courtesy of: M. Buchanan
Brick Photo courtesy of: P. Robinson
Badger Kunt Photo courtesy of: M. Gustafson