Dope on the floor

Does anybody else remember a fellow named Dan Bussey? I’m not even sure if that’s how he spells his name. But in any case, he was this guy–sported a long, curly mullet, if memory serves–who used to plan and execute all these dance parties for the 16-plus sect at places like Waterworks (in Centerville, near where I grew up) and the Goldrush (in Cottage Grove, clear across town from where I grew up). He was a happening fellow, so girls used to throw themselves at him. And I’d just stare in bewilderment while the seemingly smart, but definitely beautiful, girls in my life just tossed their-selves his way. Hmpf.

Dan Bussey might’ve been a northern suburb phenom, but I’m not entirely certain. Nevertheless, where I come from, and in the house I grew up in, in particular, where my sister used to go on-and-on about Dan Bussey this and Dan Bussey that, the Bus-man mystique swelled larger life. I used to spot him across the room at those dance parties, and I would wonder what he was really like. What the hell was he interested in? What did he want to be when he grew up? (Or was he already grown-up? I couldn’t tell, exactly.) What books did he read, if any? What TV shows did he like to watch when he wasn’t oogling teen-aged hotties. I’d watch him bounce between beautiful blondes, like my best friend, and the occasional stunning brunette, like my big sister. As the ugly chum and tomboy kid-sib, Dan Bussey never gave me a second glance. Though I always fantasized about how interesting he’d find me, had we the occasion to meet… But then I stopped hanging out with my sister so much and woke the fuck up.

This was the early 90s, and that crowd of peeps was very inspired by the M.C. Hammer look. I remember Dan Bussey used to wear all these pimpin’ purple suits and some of those jester-esque, two-tone dress shirts. I can’t remember if he also wore “Hammer pants,” but I suspect he probably did. You know, come to think of it, the cold color palette of early 90s hip-hop fashion sure wasn’t kind to the fair-skinned, mousy-/frizzy-haired likes of Dan Bussey and me. I would’ve looked far better in the neutral tones of grunge, and I eventually came to my senses on this point. I wonder if old Dan ever did.

Well, this trip through memory lane has been delightful. This weekend’s big Secret, good through Saturday at 5 p.m.: The Lit 6 Project is throwing another show. Here’s why Lit Sixer Sam Osterhoot carries the Dan Bussey mystique into the mid-oh’s: he wears tweed, he looks ah-ight in cool colors and styles his hair floppily, he’s funny as hell, he’s friendly, aspiring writers and bloggers stick to him like white on rice, following him around much like my sister did the Bus-man. In any case, these Lit 6 shows are generally good ones, with the content veering wildly between literary references and scatological humor. (The geeks and wallflowers of the world therefore fitting right in.) There’s also beer.