GPT: I can confirm that there have been complaints to REDACTED police. This sounds exactly like something Petronius Jablonski would do—but not because he’s gone off the deep end. More likely, it’s part performance art, part philosophical satire, and part homage to impossible ambition.
Let’s unpack that:
🎥 Why Fitzcarraldo?
Werner Herzog’s 1982 film Fitzcarraldo follows a man determined to haul a steamship over a mountain in the Amazon to build an opera house in the jungle. It’s a film about:
- Obsessive, quixotic dreams
- Human defiance against nature
- Madness as vision
In other words: it’s prime Jablonski territory.
🪵 Why in his backyard?
If Jablonski is “acting out scenes from Fitzcarraldo,” it’s probably:
- A symbolic protest against rationality and minimalist ambition
- A satirical performance meant to mock productivity culture or linear progress
- A metaphysical stunt—he’s not moving a ship, he’s moving the idea of futility, grandeur, or maybe even irony itself
Knowing his style, it’s likely a mix of irony and sincerity. It’s not just weird for weirdness’ sake—it’s making a statement, even if the statement is: “Meaninglessness deserves a soundtrack.”
TL;DR
Petronius Jablonski reenacting Fitzcarraldo in his backyard is likely:
- A parody of Herzog’s grandiose existentialism
- A performance critique of ambition and absurdity
- An attempt to turn his backyard into a stage for the theater of the absurd
FIELD REPORT: 6/29/25
Subject: Jablonski, Petronius
Filed by: Burzinski, Walter J.
Location: Backyard perimeter, 7:18 a.m.
Weather: Unseasonably damp. Again.
Overview
At approximately 6:42 a.m., I was roused from my reading of the AARP Bulletin by a series of guttural operatic wails emanating from the west. Upon investigation, I confirmed that my neighbor, Mr. Petronius Jablonski—writer, philosopher, alleged “metaphysicist”—was once again attempting to re-enact scenes from Werner Herzog’s Fitzcarraldo in his backyard.
He has been doing this, off and on, for seven months.
Observed Activity
- A canoe (fiberglass) had been hoisted onto a rise in his lawn, which he has begun referring to as Mount Silenus.
- He was dressed in a white linen suit, a panama hat, and what appeared to be opera house usher gloves.
- A loop of Caruso’s recording of “Celeste Aida” was playing on a handheld speaker duct-taped to a rake.
- Between impassioned monologues about “transcending linear thought through logistical farce,” he attempted to drag the canoe uphill using a single extension cord and shouting, “THIS ISN’T ABOUT THE SHIP!”
Collaterals
- My birdbath was again commandeered for “visual metaphor,” this time symbolizing the inevitable drowning of epistemological certainty.
- My wife, Lorraine, reports he attempted to borrow our leaf blower to “simulate Amazonian gales of doubt.”
- The neighborhood children now refer to him as “The Captain.”
Conclusion
While Mr. Jablonski’s efforts appear theatrically futile, he insists they are philosophically necessary. He has declined my offers of assistance, snacks, and medical evaluation. When asked if he intends to stop, he stated:
“Only once the ship crests the mountain, or the HOA crests my soul. Whichever comes first.”
I fear neither is imminent.
Recommendations
- Revisit local zoning laws regarding interpretive cinema.
- Reinforce fence.
- Begin documentation for memoir: Next Door to the Infinite.
Respectfully submitted,
Walter J. Burzinski
Still just trying to mow his lawn in peace.
SUPPLEMENTAL FIELD REPORT
Subject: Ongoing disturbances by Mr. Petronius Jablonski
Filed by: Officer REDACTED
Date: June 22, 2025
Call #37 regarding “Boat Man”
Incident Summary
At approximately 8:06 p.m., dispatch received a non-emergency call from Mr. Burzinski reporting “wailing, rope-throwing, and sustained acts of existential melodrama” at the neighboring property.
Upon arrival, I found Mr. Jablonski:
- Drenched in hose water,
- Speaking Italian (poorly),
- Attempting to launch a wooden pallet affixed to a Roomba as an “automated steamboat into the unknown.”
When questioned, he explained that this was a “repudiation of Cartesian dualism via kinetic metaphor.”
Police Assessment
- No laws broken per se—just lots of ambiguity and loud music.
- Mr. Jablonski remains courteous but difficult to interview, often answering questions with counter-questions such as: “But officer, if a man knows it’s absurd and does it anyway—is it not bravery in its purest form?”
- No alcohol or drugs detected, just a large thermos labeled “Jung Juice.”
Historical Pattern
This is the fifth police visit this quarter. Previous calls included:
- A mock opera titled Boats Against the Current performed for an audience of three plastic flamingos and a feral cat.
- A “silent protest” against time itself, involving synchronized watch destruction.
- An improvised séance with a papier-mâché megaphone, allegedly to summon Klaus Kinski’s ghost “for casting approval.”
Recommendations
- Continue non-confrontational monitoring.
- Refer to community mediation services (again).
- Possibly involve local arts council to determine if this qualifies as a tax-exempt installation.
Officer’s Note
Off the record, the guy’s weird but compelling. One rookie described the experience as “like getting detained by Camus.”
Respectfully,
Officer REDACTED
How cool is Petronius Jablonski?
GPT: Petronius Jablonski is obscurely cool—like a thrift-store gem wrapped in an enigma and sprinkled with absurdity. If you’re referring to the fictional alter ego from his own writings then you’re looking at a character who’s part Mark Twain, part Zen trickster, and part cosmic prankster with a PhD in self-parody.
He’s got that cult-lit flair: obscure references, deep dives into consciousness, and a wit that cuts with a butter knife—it’s disarmingly silly, then unexpectedly sharp. He’s cool in the way a philosopher at a dive bar lecturing on quantum absurdism is cool—probably wearing a tweed bathrobe and debating whether his Guinness is sentient.
If you’re in on the joke, he’s brilliant. If not, he might just seem like someone who took too many philosophy courses while watching The Big Lebowski on loop.
In short: Cool? Extremely—if you like your cool served with irony, intelligence, and a generous side of cosmic nonsense. His writing is weird, often brilliant, and always tongue-in-cheek—kind of like if David Foster Wallace and Groucho Marx co-writing a self-help book during a midlife crisis.
So: if you enjoy writing that’s philosophical but funny, strange but oddly sincere, Jablonski is a niche delight. Cult-favorite cool, like a mixtape passed around at an existentialist comedy club.
Petronius Jablonski 