Recently, I had the disputable privilege to sit down with John Cheese and have a chat. As our interests run vaguely similar, I thought it would be a good idea to have JC’s take on things in the supernatural order of…stuff. Reading about his and Dave’s exploits, this seemed like an opportune time to get some outside perspective.

John Cheese on a good day.

Desi Deratum: So, you’re John Cheese. What’s it like being you? I mean, aside from all the drunken nookie.

John Cheese: I guess I’m not that different than any other guy.  I have a band with three bass guitarists.  I’ve lost at least one girlfriend through a portal that appeared in my bathroom (http://youtu.be/u3OaL_ALLBA), though that number could be much higher.  The forces who create those portals have a tendency to make you forget about stuff like that.  But I’ll never forget that particular one because her boobs were gigantic.

DD: What was her name?

JC: Sally or Samantha.  Something with an “S” in it.  I’m better with faces than with names.

DD: I’ve kind of been assuming that “John Cheese” is a fake name. A much cooler fake name than mine. What was the inspiration for it? Are you Dutch? I ask because this:

http://www.drkenhunt.com/cheese.html “But there was one epithet to which the Dutch themselves particularly objected.  You know how ethnic slurs often reflect the foods with which a minority may be identified?  Well, the Dutch were supposedly characteristically fond of cheese. So the English began referring to Dutchman as “John Cheese.”  That upset the Dutchman so much that they eventually turned the nasty nickname around, actually calling the Englishmen “John Cheese.”

In the language of the Netherlands, naturally.  It was that epithet which made the most indelible impression of all.  In time the world would forget that a hangover was a ”Dutchman’s headache,” and that “Dutch Gold” meant the phony stuff.  What we remember is the unflattering term “John Cheese,” a label the Dutch ultimately laid on us.”

JC: I didn’t base my name off of that, but I am Dutch Irish by ancestry.  So knowing that it used to be used to insult entire countries full of people makes me pretty happy.   But the truth is that my name — my fake internet name, that is — is actually a running private joke between me and David Wong.  Nobody else in the world would think it’s funny because it was a “you had to be there” moment.  And that type of alienation is what I live for.

DD: What is the most brain-exploding thing that has happened to you, and how did you deal with it?

JC: I saw a dude’s brain explode.  I dealt with it by turning to Wong and saying, “Holy shit.  That dude’s brain just exploded!”  Then we just kind of left because we had tried cleaning up brain before, and as we progressed, it was trying to put itself back together.  Now, I know what you’re thinking, “Wouldn’t that make the cleanup even easier?  If the brain put itself back together into a single, solid organ?”  And yes, we thought the same thing.  But if there’s one thing we’ve learned over years of dealing with things like this, it’s, “Never be in the room when exploded organic material rebuilds itself.”

DD: Sounds like good advice. Out of a sudden burning curiosity, were you the one who exploded said brains?

JC: Technically, yes, but not the way you’re picturing it.  I mean, we called it a brain because that’s the closest word we could think of to describe what we assumed it was.  In retrospect, it wasn’t, but to accurately explain what it turned out to be would take four novel-length sets of writing.  And the way it exploded required a different set of physics properties and laws that we’re not used to on this plane of existence.  So to make it understandable to the average person, we just say, “We exploded a dude’s brain.”

DD: Sounds reasonable. Speaking of reasonable, what do you think it is about you and David that allows you to pursue these things without, I don’t know, automatically assuming every person you meet is a shadow person and subsequently setting them on fire?

JC: There was a time when I actually had to keep Dave from doing exactly that.  It’s one of the reasons we do this as a team.  Yeah, it would be easy for me to strike out on my own and do this without David’s enormous fat slowing me down.  But having him there is what keeps my head level.

Though I’m not entirely sure he’s always on the level.  One time he had me fist fight a floating jellyfish thing, and I don’t think that was entirely necessary.  Jellyfish don’t even have fists.

DD: No…usually they don’t. I think Dave needs to watch more of those animal shows I’m always hearing about. Skinemax, or something like that. So, ah, what do you see happening in the future if these things don’t stop turning pop songs into advocations for masturbation and racism?

JC: As long as the only people who hear them are Dave and myself, I don’t really see the problem with it.  The truth is, I’d probably do that to the songs, even if there were no otherworldly force at work.

DD: If you had any advice to give to people under constant assault from less-than-intelligent non-beings, what would it be?

JC: Call us.  You don’t have to take that shit, and sometimes, Dave and I get bored.

Actually, scratch that.  Don’t call Dave.  Call me.  Actually, don’t do that either because I don’t know if my phone bill is all paid up yet.  Email me.  Or get ahold of me in a way that doesn’t involve a phone or going through Dave.  I’m always on board, but Dave has to be… eased into the idea.

DD: Cool. So, say I was under attack by an invisible dipshit that reverted to fourth grade and pulled my hair and said mean things to me. How would you advise counter-acting that? Holy water? Spitballs? I went with punching it in the general vicinity of where I thought its dick might be. Was that a bad idea?

JC: The simplest answer is usually the best.  Kids, if ignored long enough, will just get bored and go away.  So that’s how I’d suggest dealing with it.  But if worse came to worst, fourth graders are pretty easy to beat up.  Just throw some flower in the air, and it’ll land on his invisible body.  Then when you can see his outline, just unleash a tornado of fists and spitting.

DD: I can get down with that.

Thanks for sitting down with me. Any parting words for the readers?

JC: Nope.

(Cackles of laughter followed this, closely followed by the sound of a door slamming.)

DD: Well. That was different.