The Truth About Beef Jerky

Back when I was going to UCSC, I lived in a funky little beach-cottagey studio apartment near Seabright Beach. This thing was funky and old - thin walls, crooked door frames, drafts, astroturf-like carpet, etc. But it was a cool place in a great neighborhood - two amiable bars, an Italian restaurant that played Snoop Dogg, a laundromat, two tacquerias, a Chinese place, a breakfast cafe, a coffee cafe, a corner liquor shop, a wood-fired pizza place, a barber, a brewery, and a bus stop, all within two or three minutes' walking distance. And then the beach just a few minutes' walk in the other direction. Ideal, really.

Anyway, my next door neighbor at this place was a guy about five years older than me who seemed to lead a very odd life. He always seemed to be home, and never out working. And he always seemed to have money, somehow. He seemed to lead the perfect life - always having friends over, sleeping late in the morning only to wake to a breakfast of grapefruit (the sign of a luxurious morning), and spending the day listening to good music and detailing his Harley. I couldn't quite figure out what it was that he did for a job, and figured he must've been independently wealthy. Since then I've figured out what it was he was doing, though I still don't know where he got the money. In fact, what he was doing led me to question even more the source of the money.

This man, Fritz Junker, was producing a movie. A movie that ran under a half hour, and cost over $300,000 to produce. And this movie was called The Truth About Beef Jerky, and I have just watched this movie. It's a short comedy lampooning the two extremes of hippie and redneck culture, with a Ted Nugent doppelganger leading a group of sportsmen on a hunt of hippies who had been lured into a trap with promises of a Phish reunion concert. The slaughtered hippies are used to make "Count Nugent's Beef Jerky." It's a rather amusing 24 minutes, at least for anyone who's lived in Santa Cruz or anyplace like it. You can get your own copy on DVD by e-mailing Fritz yourself.What do I take away from this? Well, I have a memento of my time in Santa Cruz. And I have more questions about Mr. Junker, who now leads up a music-promotion non-profit in Des Moines. I guess you just meet some weird people in life, and I'm thankful for that.