The Profundity of Absurdity – Vol. 1/Part 2: Hans Yolo
We are starting to draw an audience right behind me. Mainly though, it is just friends of ours camping nearby. They are our fellow Wild Turkey-ers, if you will. Or maybe calling them our fellow Wild Turkeys rolls off the tongue a little smoother. Either way, they are some silly motherfuckin’ turkeys, damn it! One of our neighboring campsites full of peeps goes by the official group name of “Team RAD.” I’m not exactly sure how this came to be, but I’m guessing it’s because they are just so damn radical. Like fuck yeah dude. It is mainly comprised of people we know from the Ar-KANSAS area that have their own brand of outlandishness. One cannot deny that they excel at these kinds of ventures. They even have a splinter sect called “Camp Bacon Alien,” which inspired stickers at one point in an effort to prove its existence. My friend Alan, who is a charter member of RAD, emerges from the small crowd of onlookers. He is one of the veterans of the crew who could be best described as a rager/sage/UMphreak of sorts. That and he just so happens to be a carpenter. He comes up right to my ear and starts semi-whispering, trying hard not to disrupt the flow of what’s taking place in front of the camera. “So what’s going on here dude?” “Ohhhh, you know, just another day on the Mountain,” I reply while trying to keep my eye on things. “Is he a part of one of those performance troupes I keep hearing about?” Alan casually inquires. “Not unless there’s one that has a flying dinosaur coming down a Reading Rainbow,” I earnestly reply, trying not to sound like I just made that shit up. Alan gives me a sudden look of surprise, trying to comprehend what I just imparted on him. “Well shit, where do I sign up for that?” he laughs with a hint of total seriousness somewhere underneath. Next thing I know, Hans is right here next to us like a phantom. He seems to be very taken by Alan’s jean shorts (aka “jorts”) that he is donning this afternoon. “Vhat is thiz creation you have on?” Hans takes his hat off and crouches down low to get a closer look. Alan and I exchange a smile while shaking our heads in semi-amazement. I say semi because even though I’ve only known this man for less than an hour, nothing surprises me anymore. As I focus my attention back to Hans, he is now actually sticking his hat up to Alan’s legs to give the Googs a better look at things. Apparently even aliens are enthralled by cut-off denim. Hans then jumps up enthusiastically and starts doing some dance in celebration of the jean shorts. Iowa even gets in on it for shits and giggles. Alan gives me this look like, “Is this guy for real?” Right about now, I think it’s safe to say that he is in fact a real, living being. Not a projection. Not a figment of anyone’s imagination. Hans Yolo is no performer and sure as hell doesn’t need any help from some troupe. He’s just a breath of fresh, rather funkified air.
Totally out of breath, he finishes up with his ridiculous jig and takes Iowa’s beer right out of his hand, chugging it down to the last drop. He crushes the can and quickly hands it back to Iowa. Like nothing ever happened, Iowa reaches in his back pocket and grabs another one. Still trying to catch his breath, Hans finally is able to collect himself. “Vhat the hell are theez things on your legs my friend?” Alan looks down at his shorts knowing that it is probably in everyone’s best interest to just humor the German. “They are what we call jorts around here dude. I made ‘em myself the other day,” says Alan. Iowa comes up to put his arm around Hans. “Yeah buddy, they’re just jorts. As in jeans that have magically become shorts.” “Yessss, but they are so, so beautiful! I must haaaaave!” Hans is practically still in awe as he is taking in the power of these pretty run-of-the-mill jean shorts. I mean, it’s not like they are bedazzled or have a Sector 9 bottle opener attached to them. Perhaps he is having a Hasselhoff flashback or something. Hans takes his eyes off of Alan and then looks up at me with a gaze of astonishment. He starts talking right into my ear. “Ok, ok, ok. Can we pleez pleeeeeez do interview with thiz mah-gical shortz man now?” I feel like some kind of father figure who is at the pound with his kid. He really, really wants to take that one dog home. But instead of some cute puppy, we’re talking about Alan Saylor’s jean shorts here. Par for the course at this point. I go up to Hans and put my hand on his shoulder. “You know buddy, I’ve never seen someone so mesmerized by fucking jean shorts in my entire life. With that being said, if you want to interview Alan, then I’m sure he’d let ya.” We both look at Alan in the hopes he will approve. He raises his coozie up to the sky and winks at us with a grin on his face. “Just as long as you don’t ask me about my damn jorts anymore! Deal bro?” “Ahhhh yes, yes…ok, ok, ok. You’z have a deal braaaah!” exclaims Hans. To no one’s surprise, he walks up to Alan and gives him a big ole grateful man-squeeze. It’s all good though. Because Alan has no problem with this display of affection whatsoever and reciprocates right back.
For your average person this has been quite the oddly spontaneous introduction to a total stranger. Then again, Alan is not your average person. You see, if you are on a Team RAD or a Team Branson or even a Team Chicago Steamer for that matter – it is because these mofo’s are goddang professional ragers. And when you get down to it, there are only a few things professional ragers actually give a shit about: raging, resting and fuckin’ repeating. Whether your name is Hans Yolo or Shoji Tabuchi, as long as your algorithm of absurd is in tune with that circadian party rhythm: ain’t no one going to judge your ass for dancing around in lederhosen with Googley Moogleys all over your damn head. It’s just a way of life out here. And just maybe Hans Yolo is in fact a fish out of water after all. Who knows. But then again, he’s so fuckin’ weird that he fits right in. With that being said, I arrange the two so that they are nicely positioned in the frame of my camera. Hans is running in place as a way of staying loose I assume. Snoopy is bouncing all over in his half-ass baby bjorn like it’s some kind of half-ass jazzercise class. Meanwhile, Alan is just casually standing there with a splendid smile on his face, sipping his beer generously without a care in the whole wide world. And rightfully so.
Hans is still running briskly in place as if no one is noticing. He keeps throwing his arms up in the air randomly for some reason. I’m thinking that if running in place actually seems necessary, then maybe Hans needs to really be pumped up right now. I mean, the guy has been pumping everyone else up, so I might as well return the favor. I move out from behind the camera and pull him aside. I grab him by his lederhosen and get up close.
Me: What’s your name?
Hans Yolo: My name? Woot do you mean vhat iz my name?
I really get up right in his goofy face this time.
Me: You know damn well. It’s Hans fucking Yolo. And don’t you forget it bitch!
Hans’ eyes get super big as he takes a step back. He seems a little thrown off and acts like he is going to turn around. But then he comes right back at me.
Hans Yolo: Hey, you big juicy veener! One day I vill introduce you to the Levar Bur-tone, yes?
Me: You’re damn right you will, you Reading Rainbow son of a bitch!
With that being said, Hans starts laughing and strolls over to the CruiseAmerica. Although I have no clue quite yet what he is up to, I feel like I’ve successfully pumped up the beefy German. However, just maybe it was too much pumping up. Right about then he makes eye contact with some random Wook chicks that have been standing there for a little while observing our scene. Then, sure enough, Hans begins freaking the corner of the damn RV. He’s rubbing all up against it so hard that the whole thing is starting to shake.
Hans Yolo: “Don’t you vunt me baaaay-beeeee. Don’t you vunt me, Ohhhhhh-Ohhhhhhhhhh!!!”
Iowa: Oh fuck yeah, Human League! Nice Hans!
Alan: Well shit, I didn’t know it was gonna to be this kinda party!
The Wook chicks, who have already been giggling up a Wook giggle storm, run up to Hans and start dancing with him next to the CruiseAmerica. You know, just your average Mountain floozies I guess. I must say though, I’ve never seen such an impromptu Soul Train on the side of an RV before. No music, no band. Not even a damn washboard. The only soundtrack is Hans fucking Yolo.
Hans Yolo: Untz untz untz untz untz untz untz untz!!!
Hans takes Snoopy out of his lederhosen and has his little dog hand spank one of the girls repeatedly on the side of the ass. Nothing here but some good ole fashioned TCB: Takin’ Care of zee Bitches. The girls just keep on dancin’ and gigglin’ away though. One of them has a handle of Jim Beam in her hand while the other is smoking a rather over-sized, hand-rolled cigarette. I’m sure it’s legit though. Of course, I have to put the camera on this nonsense.
Hans Yolo: Ohhhh yahhhhh, Hans Yolo Dance Party right heeere foooolks! You knaw you like thiz shit!
Breaking out the “Roger Rabbit” this time around, our boy from Iowa just has to get in on this.
Iowa: Go Yolo! Go Yolo! Go Yolo! Untz untz untz untz!
A few other rando’s get in on this. Now there are two, make that three handles of booze being passed around in this small ocean of people. Good lord, it’s a damn booze love-in. And somewhere that over-sized hand-rolled cigarette is moving around the mix. This is right in Hans’ wheelhouse though. So much so that I can barely fit all of these crazy bastards in the frame of the camera. This shit could very well go on forever. But alas, I have spoken too soon. Something seems to be going awry within this fracas.
Hans Yolo: Heyyyyy! Vhat the fook do you think you’re doing cowboy?!
It appears that some short dreadlocked dude is trying to stick one of the bottlenecks up Snoopy’s ass! You just never know how quickly shit will get out of hand up here!
Dreadie dude: Hey man, chill out! I’m just trying to party!
Hans runs over and grabs a broom that is laying against the side of the CruiseAmerica.
Hans Yolo: Heyyyyyy, stick this up your fooking party!
Hans leaps into the small crowd and tries to stick the broom pole right up the guy’s ass. However, the dreadlocked beast is a stealthy little mofo and is able to elude the surprise party favor. He drops his handle and escapes down the campsite road as Hans swats him off with the broom. For some reason the guy is doing the “Walk like an Egyptian” dance while running off. Fuck it…whatever.
Hans Yolo: Stay away from my buddy you filthy veeeeener!
He walks back over slowly to Alan, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Hans Yolo: Ok….(breathing heavy)….Ok Mr. jorts man.
Alan: You alright there dude?
Hans Yolo: Oh yahhhh. Hans just a leetle out of shape. Probably from all zee veeners.
He is holding onto Alan with one of his arms, trying to keep himself propped up. He has his other arm around one of the Wook chicks. The second girl is still dancing around all about behind them.
Alan: It’s alright dude. Just breathe in. Then breathe out. Now, drink some of this beer.
Alan places his can of beer right in Hans’ face, practically force-feeding it into his mouth. Most of it is getting consumed, while part of it is running down the side of his face. Hans is able to recover and stands up straight as the second Wook chick comes up under his free arm.
Hans Yolo: Holy sheet man! That hairy bas-turd just tried to so-domize my dog!
Hans takes Snoopy and re-arranges him back into the lederhosen while still trying to catch his breath.
Alan: It looks like shit just got a lil tooooo wild and crazy!
Hans Yolo: Yes, yes. Everyfhing joost fine though. Vee-cause you knaw why?
Alan: Why’s that bro?
Hans puts his arms around both Wook chicks and takes a mean pull off the Beam one of the girls is holding.
Hans Yolo: Because this ain’t Yolo’s first ro-de-ohhhhh bitch! Hahahahahaha!!!
Still trying to catch his breath, he spits out some of the Beam on one of the girl’s face. All she does is giggle in unison with the other though.
Alan: You son of a bitch, you were just sandbaggin’ me weren’t ya?
Hans Yolo: Hahaha, yes, yes! I sanded your bags! I sanded your bags!
Hans perks right up and starts dancing around again, doing his jig of stupid wonder. He then reaches over and gives Alan a hearty hug.
Hans Yolo: Wheeeew, I almost dance myself clean there…(breathing) So, vee do interview now, yes?
Alan: I’m ready whenever you are bro.
Hans Yolo: Ok then jorts man, tell me your name now, yes.
Alan: My name is Alan Saylor. I am a carpenter and a dreamer of dreams.
Hans Yolo: So tell me you man of many woodz, vhat do you love about thiz Wakarooster?
Alan Taylor: The freedom. It’s everyone’s chance at hedonism. You go out and you don’t do anything you don’t like. You only do the shit you want to do. You eat what you want. You drink what you want. And ideally you have no drama. There’s very few things left in America where you can go experience hedonism that easy.
Right on cue one of the girls feeds Hans a heaping mouthful of Beam while the other one sticks the over-sized hand-rolled cigarette up to his mouth.
Hans Yolo: We are in the Ah-merica right now, yes? (exhales while coughing) Is that where we are? (still coughing) Holy sheet, that tastes so good.
Alan: Something like that, yes.
Hans Yolo: So would you say that it’s kind of like the Ah-merican Dream eh?
Alan: I would actually say that it’s Zen for me.
Hans Yolo: Ahhhh yes, I love zee Zen-master, Phil Jack-sone!!! I draw the triangle offense right on your ass!
Speaking of Zen-masters, I motion for Hans to come over to diagram a play. “Hey man, I have an idea.” I pull him in real close and look him straight in the eyes. “Do you know what it means to be radical?” He shakes his head in slight befuddlement, unsure of what I’m getting at. “Well you know who does know? That man right there.” I point right at Alan. “Go over there and ask him about Team RAD.” “Ok, ok, I get radical now yes!” He slowly steps backwards into position like he is physically trying to rewind back time. He might not be aware of the concept of the edit.
Hans Yolo: Soooooooo, tell me about this Team RAD. Vhat makes it so rad, yes?
Alan: The people that are here with us. It’s 100% the people involved.
Hans Yolo: And what makes it so special having thiz time with thiz RAD team you speak of?
Alan: Because where else are you going to go and have that time to hang out with people? You go to a party and it’s one night. You go to a single show in another town and it’s one night. This is three to four days of hanging out with your besties and you just can’t do that anywhere else. Again, part of the hedonism.
Hans Yolo: It always comes back to zee hedonism. Itz full circle with zee hedonism. You can never get too much of it, yes!
Alan: No you sure cannot! For me it’s the one chance I get to turn off the world.
Hans Yolo: Vorld totally off!
Alan: It’s just getting to hang with all the right people in the right time frame and the right moods. And you can’t be in a bad mood here. Even the rain couldn’t do it last night. We are some resilient folk!
Hans Yolo: Yes, resilience. I eat zee resilience for breakfast.
Hans takes a couple of huge bites out of the air and starts chewing like it’s beef jerky or something.
Alan: That’s part of being heady brah!
Hans Yolo: Yahhh, I only go super heady brah. Like super duper super heady-heady!
Hans and Alan engage in a brief fist-bump to the sky to commemorate this.
Hans Yolo: Ok, ok. Let me ask you somefing.
He takes a moment to get up even closer to Alan.
Hans Yolo: Do you have a veered quota to fill this weekend?
Alan: I don’t have a quota because I think it will get there by definition. I’m already here. My friends are here. We came prepared to…if it ends up weird, I mean, so what. We’re already here.
Hans Yolo: Ahhhh yesss, I all-vays be filling mine. You know vhat I mean?
On cue, Hans starts dancing again as the two Wook chicks join in. The dance party just never quits with this guy. And to make things even more interesting, one of the Wook chicks takes it up a notch (or ten) and starts torquing right against Hans midsection. Yes, that’s right – motherfuckin’ torquing on Mulberry Mountain. Hans clearly is all into this defilement of the human spirit as he starts spanking the girl squarely right on the ass.
Iowa: Nice! I had no fuckin’ idea that this shit went down at festivals!
Me: Well shit, like I did?
This prompts a wave of chatterly contempt amongst the Team RAD contingent. I sense that they do not approve of this wooly adulteration. Kansas City Mickey, a good friend of mine from Tulsa, steps out of the huddle with a look of displeasure on his face. I can tell that something is deeply awry within him.
K.C. Mickey: Now listen, if you’re gonna be torquin’ and gettin’ all freaky and shit, you are just gonna have to take that elsewhere.
Hans immediately has the attention of the ire that has been raised by the crowd. He is trying hard to keep busting a move, but I think he just might be out of moves to bust.
Hans Yolo: Vhhaaaaaat? Vhat do you mean elssss-where you party-pooper?
K.C. Mickey: Hans, you seem like a good kid. And don’t get me wrong. Because we sure as shit like to get weird around here. But we just can’t be having that kind of orgy on the Wild Turkey.
The girls walk back up to Hans as he puts his arms around them once again.
Hans Yolo: So you mean vee can’t have orgy at thiz place at all, evvvver? Like W-T-F man!
Kansas City Mickey turns around to the rest of Team RAD for an official ruling. Everyone in the Team starts shaking their heads sideways while saying “No” in a wave of varied unison. I swear, if I closed my eyes it would feel like I was watching the freakin’ Muppet Show.
K.C. Mickey: Yeah, that’s right. You want to have an orgy, you take that over to the damn Satellite Stage!
There is no doubt that Wild Turkey clearly has the most action within a 5 block radius right now. The crowd around us has grown even larger as this ruckus has proliferated all about. On the other side of Hans and the girls is a group of our neighbors from Boulder that have congregated. From all accounts, they seem like a pretty lively bunch. This one guy who has a captain’s hat on and some cruise attire steps forward. I reckon he looks uncannily like Captain Stubing from the freaking Love Boat. Surely, he must be the leader.
Stubing: So what exactly do you have against orgies, man?!
K.C. Mickey: With all due respect, I’m sure orgies are fucking spectacular. But c’mon now, there’s a time and a place for that. Am I right?
Team RAD moves up closer behind Mickey as they give him their collective approval. They are yellin’ and stompin’ all over the mofo.
K.C. Mickey: Just who do you think you are anyways?
Stubing now stomps his feet on the ground and comes to an upright position like a military general or some shit. He raises his hand to his forehead and salutes the RAD-icals.
Stubing: We’re Team fuckin’ Motor-Boat yo! What you gonna do?
All of a sudden, every guy from Boulder turns to a girl in their group and face plants right into their cleavage in seemingly orderly fashion. It’s like synchronized swimming, except they are swimming in a face-full of boobies. Heads are shakin’ back and forth while lips-be-a-flapping, mimicking the sound of a damn motorboat! It’s like a sloppy symphony of mouth-on-boob action like I have never witnessed before. Hans turns around to behold this once unfathomable sight. His mouth is wide open as he is clearly over-stimulated by this rather random show of support. I truly think he wants to join in, but ultimately is torn out of loyalty to RAD. He looks to me for an answer. I throw my arms up in the air with a look of, “Ya got me,” all over my face. It doesn’t matter though. RAD ain’t having any part of this act of defiance.
Team Rad: Booooooooo! Boooooo! Go back to Cool-orado you crazy animals! Booooo!
All of the guys from Boulder attempt to drown out the noise from RAD with even more vigorous motor-boating. Boobies be jigglin’ all over the damn place now. I can tell Hans really doesn’t know what to do and starts running in place again. Stubing then pulls his head out of his designated cleavage and steps forward. It sounds like he is starting a chant that just keeps getting louder.
Stubing: MO-tor-boat! Mo-TOR-boat! Mo-tor-BOAT! MO-TOR-BOAT!
Team RAD, never one to back down from a challenge, marches forward towards the Boulder crew. Kansas City Mickey steps out to lead the charge.
K.C. Mickey: RAD! RAD! RAD! RAD! RAD!
Everyone from RAD is joining in at this point.
Team Rad: RAD! RAD! RAD!
Team Motor-boat: BOAT! BOAT! BOAT!
The two bands of idiots are approaching each other ever so closer. I swear somebody from far off, who has no idea what’s going on, is only hearing a chant of “RAD-BOAT!” That sounds about right.
Team Rad: RAD!
Team Motor-boat: BOAT!
Team Rad: RAD!
Team Motor-boat: BOAT!
Good lord, things are really starting to get contentious up on Wild Turkey right this minute. Both teams are practically on top of one another chanting like there’s no end in sight. I can see the weird in their eyes. All the while, I have no clue what has become of Hans Yolo. Maybe this just became too much for him and he hopped back on the Pterodactyl. Regardless, I am left speechless and don’t know what to make of all this. We’re at a goddamn music festival and fuckin’ Wrestlemania is about to break out. And I thought hippies were nice people.
But then…then…out of the clear blue, I hear the song coming from somewhere…
BUTTERFLY IN THE SKYYYYY, I CAN GO TWICE AS HIIIIIGGGGGHHH!
TAKE A LOOK, IT’S IN A BOOK!
Holy shit, it…can’t…be…
A READING RAINNNNNBOOOOOOOW!
You’re damn right it is. The fucking Reading Rainbow theme song! Well, I’ll be. Both sides take notice of the unmistakable anthem as it only increases in volume. Each team’s chant very quickly starts to subside. Nothing can match this force.
I CAAAAAAN GOOOOOOOO ANYYYYWHEEEERE!
Sure enough, Hans Yolo must have gotten tangled up somewhere amidst the squabble. For now he has risen up right from the middle of the hullabaloo, voice recorder in hand playing back the original intro. It’s like a beacon of light poking into the sky! Both sides begin parting ways from Hans as he throws his arms into the air while singing at the top of his goofy lungs.
Hans Yolo: FRIIIIIENDS TO KNOW! AND WAYYYYS TO GROW! A REEEADING RAAAAAINBOOOOW!
Hans and Snoopy are now conducting the theme with his arms waving in the air. He turns to one side of the crowd and then another. They are locked right in with him now in pure synchronicity. I mean, how can you not sing to this fucking song right now? Members of both teams are already feeling it in their loins as they sing right along in bountiful stride.
Everybody: I CAN BEEEEE ANNNNNYTHIIIINNG!
People from both RAD and Motorboat are smiling ear to ear while singing. And wouldn’t ya know, people are putting their arms around each other as if nothing had ever happened. Orgy? What orgy? And to think there was ever a big fuss in the first place!
Everyone: TAKE A LOOK, IT’S IN A BOOK, A READING RAAAAAINBOOOOOW!
A REAAAADING RAAAAINBOOOOOW!
A REAAAADING RAAAAINBOOOOOOOOOOW!
A REAAAADING RAAAAINBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!
A REAAAADING RAAAAINBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!
As the song begins to dissipate in all its glory, everyone is embracing everyone. People are high-fiving and laughing their ass off in merriment at the spectacle that just came out of total left field. Never in my wildest dreams. What a sight to behold this is indeed. Hans then runs over to the steps of the CruiseAmerica door. Standing above everyone else, he has their full attention like the maestro of mayhem that he is.
Hans Yolo: Beeee-cause why go solo?….When you have Hans Yolo! Hahahahaha! Now let’s group hug thiz shit out, yahhhhhhh!
He then jumps off the steps of the RV and pulls the entire crowd of people in with all his might for one massive group hug. The dude is a freaking hippie lightning rod of sausage love. God Bless that bratwurst mystic! I mean, WOW. I’ve been in some group hugs, but nothing tops this colossal magnitude of affection. This is one big-ass Radical Motor-boat reach-around if I ever saw one. The real Captain Stubing himself would be mighty proud. Yoda too. In fitting fashion, everyone starts chanting Hans’ name.
YOLO! YOLO! YOLO! YOLO! YOLO! YOLO! YOLO!
Before too long, Stubing whistles to get everyone’s attention. It’s kind of hard though because of all the love floating around aimlessly in the Wild Turkey air. “Hey, who wants to go roll around in the fuckin’ mud?!?!” The wild bunch starts hootin’ and hollerin’ as all of the gathering cheers in jubilation. Upon that proclamation, pretty much everyone begins walking in the direction of the festival together. Damn, it feels great to see so many good people just throwing down on life. In true Yolo fashion, Hans is still in the middle of the full collection as they parade off into the sunny day. He has his arm around one of the Motorboat girls this time around though. She turns to him with a funny look on her face. “Heyyyy, aren’t you that yodeler from ‘The Price is Right?’ Hans starts bellowing out loud with laughter, trying to collect himself before answering. “What zee fook do you think? Yooooooo-deeeeeee-layyyyyy-heeeeeeeeeeeee-hoooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!” With that, everyone in the roving mass of absurdity is yodeling like a damn free-for-all for the ages. You gotta love those silly bastards.
As the party is strolling off in that extended moment in time of unified group love shit-show, Iowa and I are left there standing only to wonder what the hell just took place before our eyes. What on Earth did we just get ourselves into? Who is this Hans Yolo character and just where did he really come from? The answer to that we might never know. I do know one thing though: I can go anywhere and I sure as shit can be anything. And ain’t that the damn truth. On that note, I reach down and grab a couple cold PBR’s out of the cooler for the both of us, putting my arm around my fellow Hawkeye. “So Waterfingers, what do ya think about your first festival so far?”
To read more stories about music festivals, live music, the Tulsa music scene and the surrounding area, please subscribe to my work on this site. Your support is greatly appreciated.
– Matthew Cremer