Listen up, because moments like these are big.  We don’t get to hear from  Godfather Nogz very often.  We used to lovingly call him Führer (check out that umlaut) until he pointed out that is what the German people called Hitler and despite having control of most of Europe, including Ibiza, Adolf didn’t really like to party that much. 

The Godfather recently reached out to us with a message recalling the very evening that the modern day 9.02.10 Party was born.  He is responsible for the current 9.02.10 Party Gang, a group of ruffians who call New York City home and comb the streets in search of some decent trim and an even better party.  As the unofficial leader of the gang, Nogz spends most of his time doing shit that we can only dream of.  We have seen photos of monkeys actually flying out of his butt and it is rumored that he recently reinvented the wheel.    Here he is in all his glory:

This introduction has gone on long enough, so without further adieu, a message from the Godfather of the 9.02.10 Party and the origins of this year’s 9.02.10 Party.

The bare light bulb in the living room at 145 Gibbs St. had always flickered.  No one ever questioned why, or did anything about it.  Its sputtering glow a fact of the house.

The three 11 year olds underneath the light hardly noticed it anymore.  They sat idly on the faded green couch. Once a prized possession of the household, the sofa was now depressed by their marathon TV sessions and stained by their apathetic hygiene.  A piece of bologna remained on the glass of the cabinet above them, two days after they first affixed it as a joke.  It hung there, like a trophy head of indolence.   

Once the Montell Jordan video had ended, a desultory search through the channels proved fruitless. They were on edge.

“This sucks nuts,” said the fat boy.

The pale boy and the skinny boy nodded in agreement.

“Donkey nuts,” Giggled the pale boy, unable to restrain his laughter at his own joke.

The clock read 5:58.   Two minutes, they would have the same argument they had every night. California Dreams vs. Beverly Hills 90210.  Disney Channel vs. The WB. Tiffani Smith vs. Kelly Taylor. A show for girls based in Southern California vs. A show for girls based in Southern California.

“Let’s watch California Dreams,” said the fat boy.

“I agree!” said the pale boy.

“That show sucks. C’mon, that music is so fake! Let’s do 90210. And I want to see if Brenda gets back with Dylan.” The skinny boy’s face reddened with embarrassment at his comment, his emasculating remark would be punished.

“You are gay! Plus, these are reruns!” shouted the pale boy.

“Don’t be a fag-stick,” Added the fat boy.

“They’re new to me…” The skinny boy muttered under his breath, his eyes widening as moment of inspiration entered his mind. “Fine, we can watch California Dreams. But, we have to throw a party on 9/02/10.”

The pale boy and fat boy looked at him quizzically.

“Like September 2^nd, 2010. You know, 9- 02-10.”

“That does sound cool.  There should be a lot of chicks there, ‘cause girls love that show,” Said the fat boy.

The pale boy smiled. “Maybe we can get blown.”

***

Over the next 15 years, the boys meticulously planned the bash. And that light bulb finally did get fixed.  Brenda never got back together with Dylan. The bologna eventually fell down and was eaten by Shuma, the family dog (RIP). California Dreams was canceled with little fanfare in 1997.  Will the boys get blown? You’ll have to come to the 9.02.10 party on Thursday September 2, 2010 (9/02/10) at 10:00 to find out.  Or blow them.  If you’re chicks. Otherwise that would be gay.

ALL HAIL NOGZ!!!!!