“Help me sell my CDs and shirts,” he beseeched the world. “Please, or there will be no hope for the children!” I could sense the air of desperation in his plea. My duty, my very purpose in life, was clear: I would man Jonathan Coulton’s merchandise table, and the cosmos would be at peace.

With my friend, Melissa, in tow, or rather, in tow by my friend, Melissa, because she drove, I made the journey to Milkboy Coffee in Ardmore, Pennsylvania. In my secret communications with Mr. Coulton - also known as “JoCo”, also known as “JC”, though that’s blasphemy - via the speedy, “hi-tek” services of electronic post, I established my identity as a dark-haired, quarter-Asian male, who would be wearing a “tee-shirt” designed by Paul Southworth called The Morning After, and my cohort’s identity as a dark-haired female carrying an eggroll. He informed me that he would meet Melissa and me near his goods, cryptically pointing out that it would be “obvious” where they are. The thrill of mystery wafted through my nostrils, tickling the follicles.

We cautiously approached the performance hall, prepared for a tense hunt, but there sat Jonathan, in plain view, near the door. Such brass! His bone crushing, no-nonsense handshake reminded me of the unyielding but well-meaning beratements that once issued forth from my commanding officer in Vietnam. I felt a pining tear well up, but quickly blinked it away, for I knew that no grief could bring Sergeant Ralleigh to join us there, because he drank a lot, and had lost his driver’s license. He also lived very far away, but not so far that it was worth the money to buy a bus ticket.

Okay, I can’t keep this up anymore. I’m going to talk normal now.

After allowing myself three seconds to squeal at the poor guy, because I’m kind of a fan, we stood around and chewed the fat for a few minutes, discussing the eggroll that I had mentioned when we talked over email that I also managed to forget to bring (We’re trying to turn it into an Internet meme, you see, and what better way to do that than by getting its picture taken with Jonathan Coulton, who is himself an Internet meme), until it came time for him to go in back and get ready to play. He handed me an envelope full of money, instructed me on what to charge for what, and off he went. On his way back, one girl there handed him a big tray of cookies. I became very jealous.

A few minutes later, he climbed up onto the stage and opened up with The Future Soon.

Here he is, playing that song.

And then, he played some other songs. I don’t remember the order, but we got all of the fan favorites, such as Ikea, Shop Vac, Skull Crusher Mountain, and Code Monkey. I very likely forgot a few. He closed with a sing-along version of Re: Your Brains.

And now, he’s playing some other song. Might have been Code Monkey. It works better as an acoustic than I had expected. (Sorry these are blurry, by the way - My camera doesn’t do too well when you don’t use the flash.)

He finished his set, and then people came over and started buying t-shirts and CDs from me, which meant that the plan to sell t-shirts and CDs had worked. I was surprised by how many people bought the full set of CDs that he had there, though, admittedly, I shouldn’t be, because he’s great and all.

The guy playing after him came on and did his thing, and then more people came by to buy stuff. Once everything settled down, Melissa and I got a chance to just sit around and chill with Jonathan for a half-hour or so. Very cool guy in person, as laid back as anyone should dare to be without the proper equipment. We talked about such mundanity as grad school, Connecticut, and Jettas. I offered to buy him a beer, but he had to drive home to Brooklyn that night, and I didn’t really want him to die. I daresay I would be distraught if that happened.

Eventually, it was time for everyone to go home. Jonathan made sure to remind us about his next visit to Milkboy in December, which I will have to try to hit up, and then we accosted him one last time for pictures.

Jonathan Coulton posing for a digital photograph with Melissa.

Me posing for a digital photograph - Jonathan Coulton happens to be in it.
Jonathan freaking Coulton.

Before we left, I made sure to give him the URL for Hindrances (which may be why you’re reading this right now), and Melissa gave him the URL for the eggroll’s MySpace. Back outside, I allowed myself one last squeal, because I had totally just hung out with Jonathan Coulton. At home, I blew the photo of him and myself up into an 8×10.

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I have created the greatest party game of all time. Years upon months of painstakeous dedicamotion and imagimechaniceering have gone into the development of what will undoubtedly become the primary pastime of freedom-nonhating liberty huggers around the world. Ladies, gentlemen, and taxable aliens, I present to you: Pants or Shot, a game for two or more players.

Players all sit or stand in a circle, draw straws to determine who goes first, and then play proceeds clockwise. At each turn, you, the player, have two choices: take a shot, or take off your pants. Eventually, one by one, each player will become drunk enough to choose Pants instead of Shot.

The best part about this game is, everybody is a winner!

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