The Tragic Saga Of Harry Potter Woman
Published August 09, 2005
Sat round the bonfire, the battery-powered FM radio scaring the round about with the delightful Fuck Forever by Babyshambles, an acoustic guitar propped up gainst a bin, the youngsters all fighting over a bottle of gut-rot, what happens is a stranger wanders into the scene.
I know you, says one of the cider-soaked teens, you went to school with my brother.
Aye, is what the stranger announces, that I did. A while back now, I dare say, too long for to be bothered contemplating.
What's your name, an older fella asks?
The Duke, is what stuck. Maybe you could let me sit down by these burning tyres for a time, maybe get the color back in the spine.
For sure, they say, kicking crates out the damn way. Sit your shivering hole down, would you ever? What happened to you anyroad, look like a man just stepped out a pitful a cum-crazed Nazi priests?
I took a fairly lengthy drag on a cigarette some kind soul shoved tween my teeth, and next thing I know a story's being related.
"Happened round about last Friday", I tell them…
I feel fairly safe in assuming, see, that Friday past was as gloriously catastrophic a day as I've had in months. A day in which a fella's ineptness was flung at his jaw with stunning precision every which way he dared turn.
Battered senseless by circumstance, yes, and still high from the triumphs of the previous evening.
Only the night before, see, I learned that Blogcritics.org had passed the 10 Million unique visitors mark, learned that all that work was paying off for those folks, learned that all those voices were being heard by more people than a pessimistic sorta fucker like The Duke might ever have dared consider.
Blogcritics.org, where a man can easily bound from an article all bout Tom Cruise Makes Me Wet to Tom Cruise Makes Me Cough Up Fetus with a minimum of effort, where the rabid left and the rabid right snarl and bicker and bite digital chunks off a each other's shoulders right there in the Real Time, where all there is, is the currency of Opinion, finally, I say, this Blogcritics get-up is attracting the serious attention it deserves.
Thank fuck for that, and for Blogcritic Aaman Lamba, who not only included The Duke in a list of Sexiest Bloggers or some such a while back (keep hold that thought, the irony will be useful later), but also includes a couple Duke-Related pieces in this here selection of His Favorite Blogcritics Posts.
So celebration hung from every limb, and yet woe, woe to you oh Earth and Sea, like in that song by Megadeth or Cinderella or whoever. Y'know, "Night was black, was no use turning back" and so on and so fourth, something about Bring The Devil To The Slaughter or Keeper Of The Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son. Something about guitars, anyroad.
- The Tragic Saga Of Harry Potter Woman
- Published: August 09, 2005
- Type: Opinion
- Section: Culture
- Filed Under: Culture: Society
- Writer: Duke De Mondo
- Duke De Mondo's BC Writer page
- Duke De Mondo's personal site
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Comments
Duke -- I read this last week or so on your Mondo site and already told you privately that it's one of my very favorite pieces of yours.
This must certainly make its way to the forefront of a Romantic Wanderings and Lamentations as Told By The Duke book of some variety.
Seriously -- this is brilliant writing, brilliant storytelling right here.
WE love you Duker, and the right woman will too, one of these minutes-hours-days-weeks-months (I will go no further).
You really do have the ability to grab a reader and absolutely control his/her attention with power of a spell. It's a gift.
"as Jandek is my witness" - classic! He of the untuned barbed wire guitar strings
Yeah, what all of these folks said, and what I've said on other occasions.
Thanks Duke.
yea, i read this the other night as well.
late at night....and when i hit the line "tom cruise makes me cough up fetus" i snorted very loudly...which made little black cocker spaniel bart...which woke up the wife from a sound sleep.
oh well, it was worth it.
I.sat.on.the.edge.of.my.seat.
That was funny, delightful, sad and then tragic. Like Shakespeare.
That WOMAN IS A FOOL. A FOOL I TELL YOU!!!
sometimes the suppression of a snort can have grave seismic consequences
This great piece just goes to prove a line I heard Garrison Keillor say once (forgive me if he's not to your tastes, but I find this line apt in many circumstances):
"Nothing bad ever happens to a writer; everything is material."
We're fortunate to have you weaving your material into such fine writing for us, Duke.
Mark,
I have to ask...
"which made little black cocker spaniel bart"
A) take the subway from Oakland to SF
b) bark
c) flatulate
I'm hoping that it's A or B, as the thought that your snort caused your dog to fart make me laugh uncontrollably.
Oh your poor wife...
I'll say it again - for the record:
Goddamn Duke. God. Damn.
It needed repeating.
If only the stat counters told us how many kids hit this post looking for H-Pot material and discovering Duke's rant instead.
But quite amusing. At least you tried, man... most people never bother.
they need a little slap of reality
hey folks! good lord, who knew such kind responses would be found at the tail-end of this woeful tale!?
apologies for not gettin back to the fore sooner, you'll be out your head to learn that the computer broke down last night around ten, and from then till now i had to keep myself sane by rambling into a notebook. a thesis will emerge eventually, i dare say.
again, thanks a hella lot folks. and the folks who said they read this on the mondo thingy, thank you, and know that this version is the definitve account, what with the prologue / epilogue etc and the touch-ups here and there.
i think i might encounter HPW again tomorow, if recent history is anything to go by. this time, no rants will result. possibly an embaressed and awkward shuffle past an then headfirst into some paperback or other. hurah!
thanks again folks
It would be pretty rad if you print out this very page and hand it to her, then without a word push past her as though you've moved on with your life and past this momentous yet trifling episode!
dear god, EB! once upon a time i MAY have harboured notions along the lines of passing a similar text relating to a similar situation to a similar lady, but the idea of doin so AFTER the fact is nothing short of criminal!! haha, dear god. mind you, it's just demented enough a scheme for to have snared my attentions...
Once upon a time, dear old EB passed a 14-page (legal-sized paper, for some reason) ode of love and sonnets and Deepest Thought to a friend with whom he hoped there could be something more... Vast awkwardness came of it, was the upshot.
Weird thing is that she started dating one of my oldest friends. This was about 13 years ago... and they're still dating, living together happily way up in Maine.
Go figure!
EB, a fantastic anecdote! i've been shoved in the direction of doin similar of various occasions, but other than a prologned bout of chasing in high school, it never came to such affairs. when there was some sort of hint of progress offered, then, perhaps, i maybe bombarded with plenty such items, but the ideas of droppin them out the blue, i never did that. well, cept for times in bars leaving stuff sitting in eye-view of certain ladies and pretendin i didn't know they could see it. haha, dear god
I should have added that I was the one who introduced my platonic lady friend with my old friend. Ahh... but that was back in younger, more innocent days. Then I soon graduated to consuming enough liquid courage so that I might be able to speak to young ladies at social events.
Reminds me of a fantastic line from Swingers when Mikey bats away Trent's attempts at building up his ego by saying, "It was college... they drink, they don't know any better."
I think I'm seconding and thirding pretty much what everyone else had to say. I loved reading this.
In reality, to present HPW with this tome of angst could prove to be awkward -
but ohh, in the fantasy world? Hollyshite!
Seriously, how fucking flattering it would be to hear that about oneself. If anyone did that for me? How very cool.
Mary, sorry i missed your comment till now! thank you for the kind words!


The Duke (Aaron McMullan to his parents and the clergy) is a Northern Irish writer, performer and insomniac currently residing in London. He is the creator of 



Goddamn Duke. God. Damn.
That post was....superlative.