Chuck Jagoda

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Charles Jagoda

  • Appears in the promo video eating hamburgers, ordering at FeBrizzio's cafe
  • Charles Jagoda is credited as himself - Charles is a real person (see below).
  • May be connected to the recently renovated Jagoda Museum Center
  • Charles is believed to have special powers, as seen in the credits of the promo video[1]
  • Has a powerclass of [populate with class, and reference]
  • Dec 2, a twitter account was discovered, believed to be owned by Charles Jagoda, named ChuckDideEate. This was directly "hinted to" in The Worker's Tale with a reference to briddes "twittering" and ending on the words "Chuck Dide Eate." (see below)

Real life Charles

  • Charles is the only person credited as himself in the promo video
  • This has led to the interesting situation of having both in-game (IG) and out-of-game (OOG) "Charles Jagodas".
  • The out-of-game Charles has a Facebook listing, found November 23rd by jonthewallflower [2]. Being asked about Blackstar, Charles replied:
You are right, Sir. But I have no knowledge of Blackstar. Do you want to email the producers of the video?[3]
  • This OOG Charles joined MITT's facebook group.
  • Further discussion with Charles Jagoda via Facebook confirm that the real life Charles Jagoda has very limited knowledge of ThisIsMyMilwaukee.[4]


General tweets
Nov 30, 10:47pm from web
Just ate some briddes.
Dec 2, 3:36pm from web
Am enjoying a fine stew.
Dec 2, 8:00pm from web
Just got back from a stroll with some friends, saw Russo stumbling around the streets. Offered him a ham sandwich, and he started crying...?
Dec 3, 3:38pm from web
I am about to go down to the Piers for a night of gambling, gamboling, and old-fashioned steak. Early today I had a tacolaza salad.
Dec 4, 2:09pm from web
Saw Anna Tate Mellon over a lunch meeting at Brizzi's today about JMC outreach to the public schools. Had potato soup, which was decent.
Dec 5, 8:56am from web
Staying in tonight, simple meal at home, resting up for next week's food tour.
Dec 7, 1:13am from web
Attacked by some rebels (the Snake Charmers) tonight. They tried to take a can of peaches I was appreciating at the time. I let them live...
Dec 8, 3:42pm from web
On rail down to the BBC food tour... excited at the prospects. Silently chewing grape gum to cleanse my palette.
Dec 10, 5:16pm from web
In BBC after a lengthy delay, just in time for the opening of the tour. Milwaukee needs a festival like this, will let Larose know...
Dec 10, 12:49pm from web
Celebrated the opening this afternoon with Mayor Vincenta Cruz, members of the Decatur Tourism Squadron, and Big Brass Industries.
Dec 11, 5:46am from web
Day one is over. Fantastic- a spicy pork gordoopa (taco variation) was my favorite. Looking forward to day two.
The Dinner Party
  • December 13th, Chuck posted some valuable information about a Dinner Party
Yesterday was incredible. DOR French inspired cooking, memories of happier days. Had duck confit, so delicious I leveled up. Today is Cajun

I just got back to my hotel, trying to make sense of the vision I had last night. The Cajun food brought dreams and madness

Took a long shower, collecting my thoughts, having a rejuvenatory ham sandwich. Will post more soon...or am I still dreaming...?

Will try to sort things out by writing- attended a special dinner on Friday with just a few others. Mysterious location, warehouse

It was organized by a group of investors from all five cities who call themselves Big Vision. I'd never met any of them before.

The guests were various monied gentry unaffiliated with BV. We were led to a room deep within the complex with a long oak supper table.

Black curtains hung around all four walls in the room. Light conversation was buttressed by fine port. A gong signaled the start of dinner.

Waiters, one for each guest, appeared from out the curtains, each carrying a covered plate. They stood motionless behind us.

Then, at the sound of another gong, they uncovered and plated the meals before us. Everyone at the table stared in quiet wonder.

"Crawfish boudin, just a little something I remembered from my days in New Orleans. I hope you all brought your appetites."

The voice belonged to a man of considerable height, wearing a deep red suit. His face was handsome, uncanny, amused. Finally: Voltaire.

"We have assembled you here tonight, ladies and gentlemen, because each of you is faced with a choice."

"Though each choice will be separate, they are all intertwined. Some may be obvious, while others may appear inconsequential."

"It is not my place to tell you what your individual choice will be, or what you should do when confronted with the decision."

"I can only offer you this fine Cajun cooking as clarification, and hope that each of you finds her own way. Enjoy the meal, friends."

And like that, he was gone, shifting out of sight. Even the Big Visions at the table looked overwhelmed by what had happened.

We supped on the crawfish delicacy. Voltaire's culinary prowess matched both his prowess for political satire and for elemental magics.

Having finished most of the plate, guests started complaining of lightheadedness. A woman to my left named Alisanda began laughing.

Conversation veered toward the surreal, the profane. Some began to strip, while I felt the sensation of my feet turning into roots.

"I'm alive! I'm alive! Oh god, unbury me! Lift me up! I'm here, down here!" Alisanda was screaming out, reliving a memory of the Troubles?

What interaction there was at this point was limited to a small scope, each diner trapped in his or her own world.

I maintained until the last, thanks either to my personal weight, or experience with foods exotic, or possibly my powerclass.

But soon, I too slipped away, and this was the vision that I saw:

I was in a city that was all gold and iron. The people there kissed and ran naked in the street, paying nudeness no mind.

I wore a uniform, something from dormant days, a great helmet and guarding, heavy and powerful, what I would call a yellow and crimson.

The sun hung low in the sky, constantly setting, my innermost thoughts obsessed with using it as a map to chart my way in this strange land.

I looked up to try to find a street sign, and there was a living mural in its place, a small calvary of nine horsemen, all headless

So frightened was I by the moving sign that I ran into the nearest building, a cafe of sorts

I knelt and gave silent Gratitude for this cafe to cool dog, wise and cool, then stood and looked around.

A woman appeared before me, young, black skinned, beautiful. I asked for a table, and she showed me three options:

The first was the cafe proper. I looked over the tables, and the people eating there seemed dry, stiff, stale. They chewed on sand and rocks

"No, I would not like a table here," I told her, and she smiled and nodded. She led me to another part, a garden.

This garden pulsed and bulged upward, and I knew that there was something terrible beneath the earth. I said "No, miss. Not in the garden."

And she smiled again, and walked me to the last option, a green house in the back.

It was quiet and alive in a simple sense, and a balance of creation and destruction that I knew to be safe, natural, pleasing.

"Yes, I will dine here, in this green house" I told her. "Will you eat with me, please?"

"Yes, but I am shy, so pardon me if I am not talkative," she replied.

"How can such a pretty girl be shy?" I asked her. "The world is open to you, why do you hide from it?"

She blushed and smiled again. "You have done a great thing, to make me feel as a friend. I have felt in a dark forest without friends."

"Because you have offered me your kindness, I will repay you with a secret," she continued.

"Do you see these tables?" She waved her palm across the green house at the three large tables there. "They are not all the same."

"Come," and she took me by the arm and led me to the first table on the left as we entered the green house.

A giant sign hung over us as we sat, asking us a threatening question that I could not understand.

I looked at the menu, and saw a great many unusual foods. "These are just distractions," the girl said. "Where you sit is the secret."

There was a peacock feather and a plant across from where I sat, from my bench against the wall. I asked the girl her name.

"I have many names, but they are not important now. What is important is what you will leave behind. You are an agent of change."

"But what will I leave behind?" I asked her. "I grow old. My legacy will be buildings and lands. I am not a hero."

She looked directly into my eyes. "You leave something behind here, in this secret place, that goes beyond what you know and understand."

"I only hope that it is found quickly, covertly. The owners here, the ones who control this cafe, they are women and men with dark hearts."

"And they must not know of what you leave, so important the artifact."

She leaned over and kissed me gently on the cheek. "You are tired, Duke Chuck, and so now I plant the seed."

"Somewhere quiet, somewhere under. A little, a little. A trifle. Whoever finds it will spread it, and it will grow."

"This table, this seat, under. Reunion."

And darkness was calm on the face of the bay.

Anyway, that's about when I woke up in a gutter a few blocks from my hotel, covered in puked-up crawfish. Voltaire can be a real dick.

Think I'm gonna go eat some vegetables. Tomorrow is Ham-burger day, and the closing of the festival.
General tweets


  • An additional twitter account WhatChuckEats, is associated with This can be confirmed via Twitter's People Search, which will find twitter usernames based on email addresses in email client address books. The account has since been removed.


  1. See this illustrated credit frame
  2. jonthewallflowers Unfiction forum post
  3. Report of Charles' response at Unfiction forums
  4. Discussion at Unfiction forums
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