My Many Faces

Look. It's some earlier shorter-haired version of me from what I assumed would be a long-since abandoned website page. But here it is. I found this picture when I was image searching my name. I thought it might be interesting to see what other Jason Olsen's look like. So I decided to undertake this search using the Alta Vista Image Search option because, really, who uses Alta Vista anymore? Let's love Alta Vista. They need us. Google doesn't need us. They only pretend.


This guy needs his dad. They're fixing a car together and they look tired. Or maybe dad just looks tired. Or frustrated. He'd be more frustrated if that Jason Olsen next to him helping him with that car was me because I'd be even less help. For example, I've been referring to that vehicle as a car. It's clearly a truck. So, yeah, this would end badly.




I know him...that's Major Jackson! He's a very good, very cool poet with whom I conducted an interview in Third Coast a few years ago. He and I look very little alike, really, but this picture does pop up when I searched out myself, evidently because that aforemention interview is on Major's website. If you're not familiar with him, check out his site -- www.majorjackson.com



I think my namesake is riding that bull with the scary eyes. My namesake is a bit crazy, but whatever. I'm also guessing this Jason Olsen is not at all a vegan. But maybe he's one of those bullriders who is trying to end the abuse of animals from the inside. Much like the guy I saw once on the hot dog eating championships who claimed to be a vegetarian. Except those few occasions in which he would eat, say, 32 hot dogs in 12 minutes. Other than that, total vegetarian.


Dude. I am not and never was one of these guys. But one of them shares my name. Somewhere during this conversation, that guy in the Champion shirt (is that made of of mesh?!?) made the comment that Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness was the best album ever made and that guy sitting on the edge of the couch showed his agreement by falling off the arm of the couch onto the ground. The guy in the middle laughed hysterically for the next forty five minutes, forgetting what he was laughing about ten or twelve seconds in.



Is she really as happy as she should be? That's a Jason Olsen she's touching heads with. I'm worried about this thing between them. Sigh. It's out of my control. Perhaps I should just move on.




This Jason Olsen is likely in a band. I'm hoping that shirt is part of the band uniform. It's pretty rocking. If he's not in a band, I hope he's a lawyer or something.



This Jason Olsen is a game developer. I think. I wonder if he's responsible for all those Nintendo controllers people are throwing into their TV's and shattering? That new Wii controller, the one you swing all motion-sensor-like around to use, evidently slides out of people's hands and into TV's. And windows. And babies. I don't know about the babies part, honestly, but maybe. And it might be my namesake's fault.

Look at him, smirking. Thinking of all the broken babies and televisions. Sigh, I cannot help what the other Jason Olsens do.