Friday, June 22, 2018




* i'm rooting for Bull: CLICK HERE

* the mystery of Staci Keanan, everyone's first crush and television crush, boy or girl. she should be on Big Bang now. i mean you just don't give up acting, fame, and glory for law. stagemom must have intervened and drawn up an ironclad legally-binding contract.

* Greg Evigan, i hear he's a country singer now...

* Jerry O'Connell knows where River is. he's dancing on the river

* in the '80s, you could only see movie trailers on the backs of VHS rental tapes.

* don't worry about those FBI warnings, Comey will take care of them for you

* the end of this dreambow is a nightmare. a recurring nightmare of sorts. when did we stop calling hunks dreamboats?

* Jerry is playing the cool Mr. Rogers. in a surpsie twist, the ethnic kid is also the bully.

* Jerry: it's not my fault, this computer is old! okay i'll watch some tennis.
black friend: American Gladiators. American Gladiators!

* Jerry: this paperwork isn't just gonna do itself.
wife: why not? i do myself all the time.

* i believe in magic wishes. but all of this is the result of inhaling the candle smoke.

* in the '80s, cool people wore open-toed sandals, Hawaiian shirts, and sunglasses with white plastic frames. and they drank milk from the carton cos kids weren't on them yet.

* whoa! it's the PlayStation Guy! i always feel bad for him, he had this really cool show which came on after the megahit ABC show, probably Desperate Housewives or something back then, that i thought never got a chance. it was funny and the star/writer of the show came on Conan that night with the most genuine hardworking smile on his face so proud of his creation before it was canceled the next week. Eden Sher from that show went on to acting, fame, and glory, but what about the rest of the Roseanne cast?

* fat Dr. Drew's really let himself go. i won't go there with the drugs. all HLN's fault of course.

* Ted Apples: how you like dem apples?
wife: okay that was kinda hot.
Ted Apples: your pussy's like a warm apple in newspaper on a New England chilly-night trashfire with cinnamon.
wife: shoulda quit while you were ahead.

* those bikini party girls were wished to Master Roshi by Bulma


* too many cooks in the kitchen spoils the broth on that kitchen countertop. WAY too early for a Holiday Special.

* check to see if the ethnic kid's NFL jersey is from a player who knelt

* does GrubHub deliver those new IHOB burgers? would really save me the trip on a Salinas country road

* wife/mom: Justin, your father's a good man, but he's a turkey so the whole Thanksgiving thing...kinda garlic rubs him the wrong way.

* poor kid didn't have the strength to snap a wishbone so they used a prop

* wife: like he's LITERALLY a turkey! don't ask me to sing the green bean casserole song, you know i don't know it!
Ted Apples: sorry about all the gravy on the countertop, ma'am, you really know how to gobble my giblets. please leave before my wife gets back.

* cop: are those coconuts you're showing me?
Ted: do you want them to be?

* wife: this sped-up version was the sex that conceived Justin in my belly.
Ted Apples: no time for food. there are no states anymore. just the state of fear.

* Ted Apples: i don't need your spray bottle like i'm a common disobedient housecat, dear! i watered myself this morning.
wife: are you cheating on me with the sun?

* Ted Apples: hey it's all legal now.
cop: it's still not legal to drive under the influence of a plant.

* wife: this is an intervention.
Ted Apples: but i got you a gift, son. it's from Toys R Us. it would have been a toy 4 months ago but then the bankruptcy and everything, it's not my fault.

* black boss: i want to talk to you tomorrow morning.
Ted Apples: about drugs?

* black boss: you should have stayed a piece of gum at the bottom of a shoe.

that would have been the title of Spalding Gray's next monologue

* Ted Apples: oh come on, wife! NOW you look hot and sexy?! NOW you decide to put on that robe you never put on before and look like Nana Visitor NOW that you've taken up with the cop?

* remember, all downward spirals can be soothed with a little Nine Inch Nails

* black friend: what's my name, man?
Ted: Plant Guy? hey i said Plant Guy not Black Guy.

* doctor: inoperable brain tumor.
Ted: what's the point of having a tumor if it can't be operated on?

* Ted: i don't have time to explain, just hand over the wish, boy! here, read this Nietzsche then grant me into Superman.

* Sad Dad, starring Keanu Reeves

* when they say it's your feature's not your feature presentation. it's never NEVER the correct format to fit your screen

* And Introducing Woody Allen as Writer, Director, Producer, and Bon Vivant

* kid: for the last time, we don't like being called sport. NO kid in the history of time has ever liked being called sport!!!

* wife: but first, coffee. it's like what you do, honey, with the selfies at the suicide forests. don't believe what they say, not all cum tastes the same. this one has the distinct flavor of weak authoritarianism and tears.

* oh please no more cries, not this week i can't take it. i'm praying hard here.

* Jerry O'Connell: and these were the lengths i had to go to to get a blonde.


happy weekend, my babies. dark horse: Switzerland. this World Cup tournament has already been determined and funded. it is secretly run by the Federer Feds. there is no deep state, the Swiss people are so nice they are upfront about their state and keep their island banks open 24/7. they can't have Swiss bank accounts themselves

Wednesday, June 20, 2018


The Line adjusts the rim of his beige fedora to showcase the huge chunk torn out of it from the grazing bullet. he is proudly and spits into his rum in a Sprite can slightly crushed under the weight of his hand which is always formed into a fist.

Grandmike, tryna keep a low profile with his eyepatch over his mouth: why are we here, Loo? why do we keep doing this? keep coming back here?

The Line: heehee, oh my nigga man, cos it's what we do like we do. 8 million seconds, let's make the most of it before the midterms. we might not need those midterms.

they don't need to knock even once. And Change answers the hot patio porch door without showing his face. he would have done this in broad daylight as well, he knows about cameras.

And Change: i told you never to darken my doorstep again. keep it down. keep quiet, Son is studying.

The Line: what you gon do, it's Watts. as for the noise, i heard they tore down the club next to you, too much white activity going on. hey man, i'm the one doing all the work. i'm hard like that, dedicated. we need you for numbers. is this any way to patronize your patron anyway? where the Patron? where the Patron at laid out?

And Change: you are no brother of mine. or birther for that matter. yeah i heard about your latest fiasco, i am unable to disable weather alerts on my phone, i was doing math with Son. you think these violent theatrics are the way to go? way to be, don't you see? that just fuels the other side. the harder you go, the wetter they get. there's only one way to do it right, so to speak: through the ballot box. removal is always more powerful than a ricochet.

The Line, leaning over And Change on the sill and grinning menacingly: is that right? well now i need you on as my campaign manager.

all the fellas in the shadows laugh.

The Line: aren't you gonna welcome me in? aren't you gonna comment on this shiny new suit i put on expressly for you? to woo you? i mean i put on my finest nude suit to greet you!

And Change: nude-colored suit, clever. no thanks. i'm tired. i'm always tired.

The Line: you got sunken eyes, boy. what you watchin' all the time? didn't you see me on stage? and the stage of tv? i bashed that Neo-Nazi scum's skull in at his own meeting just as he was about to impersonate Hitler with his finest European Right impersonation. spoilers: there was nothing inside his head. y'know i shouldn't call it an impersonation, there's nothing person about it. if only he could see how the Germans are now. and there's nothing Neo about him, he's as old as salt. it wuz beautiful. those skinny-looking white boys were soaked in crippling fear as they gazed upon my specimen, pale wastrel idiots encountering an actual real black man for the first time before their conservative-tears eyes bleary with midnight reddit. they were expecting a monkey and got King Kong. priceless! they peed their pants and became sponges cos the water weighed more than they did!

And Change: Holon, right? what a terrible name. appropriate tho. it's still useless your cold approach.

The Line: yeah maybe you're right. he put up not any fight, disappointing. sad. he kept clappening on about how he was a cog, a pawn, a poor player with no struts, a paid spokesman in a suit, not a soldier. he combed his neat hair so neatly with the comb out of his backpocket. not a fortunate soldier of hire. his vagina kept gushing on about how he wasn't the Big Bad. i want that Big Bad so bad.

And Change: stop playing. you can't lie anymore, the underground journalists who risk their lives everyday to bring us the straight scoop won't have it anymore, it's too important to get it right. they'll sniff you out online. you didn't bash his head in.

The Line: meh. well i tied his three-piece tailored suit so tight around his waist he dropped three dress sizes. as small as his spiffy shoe size. they will feel us before they read us. hey! do i make myself as crystal-clear as this Sprite in my hand?! i'll leave you alone for now. this battle's getting boring. don't fuck with me tho. if i can't have you our enemy sure as fuck can't! tomorrow's the next meeting. attend or it's your ass. at the same stage there those Nazi punks were, spoils of war and all that such. Obec College, 9. in the morning!

The Line's twitter blows up and he checks the cell on his phone. Grandmike smiles and puts the nude-suit thing on a rap record he puts online.

The Line: what. calm down! it's one of my bitches, Nancy Erstwhile. she wants me to come home. her pot is cooking and she needs a ladle. now.

at Obec College President Bump is giving a rally under heavy heavy HEAVY police guard. trash is being thrown in his general direction, trash that was meant to be saved up for two years on and hence, to be extra smelly with no sell-by date.

Bump: what. i reversed the policy. it's your fault. that was supposed to be for the season-finale cliffhanger. now what am i gonna do for the Midterms? you people have no sense of television tension. the show must go on, that's Hollywood fer ya. only I can be the hero of my villain. Bill Gates, how is my Space Force faring?

Bill Gates: sir, the consultants for the Space Force are Seth MacFarlane and also former writers and scribes for Star Trek: The Next Generation, which is the greatest tv show of all time. they have canceled the meeting with you cos they envisioned a future for humanity through their show that was completely destroyed by you. instead, i'm connecting you with Kim for your video date bumped up early. i'm taking my apple break early, where i eat an apple for lunch:

Bump: Kim, howdy! remember our date at the Gardens? just you, me, walking and talking and taking around trees and ice cream in the rain? getting to know each other. while the press scrum followed us like eels? and then i scurried you over to that private room cos i wanted to tell you something important without the cameras so it would come off as genuine. i looked longingly into your eyes, at least i think those were your eyes, and i told you i loved you. you reciprocated by nodding pleasantly, which was good enough. and then we celebrated in that room. Dennis Rodman came out of the table. Dennis Rodman WAS the meeting table, i never knew summit tables were that big, i never knew Dennis Rodman was that big! i should ask him how he pulled off that bit of magic, that's a new trick on me. i can never understand what he's saying when he talks tho. i'm really hoping he isn't a UN triple-spy! and the three of us laughed and laughed over Chinese food.

Bump changes the channel on his watch:

in the studio Alexi Lalas has kept his hands up the entire hour-long of the soccer show.

Kelly Smith, in jeans: Alexi, what are you doing? we haven't heard from you. normally we can't stop you, you're a fiery faucet, you talk so much it's like the hose water the goalie drinks on the pitch inbetween action shots waiting for the next boring thing to happen in our game.

Alexi: El Presidente our host told us to do the Iceland silent-zombie chant. and so i did. after each clap, each successive clap takes place in an interval of time longer and grownier than before. i've reached the timeframe where the next clap is an hour long.........*Alexi claps above his red head* and i'm done i did it now i can talk..........and the show's over. just i'll catch you online if you want the analysis.

El Presidente: i never said stop to Lexi cos i got distracted with my huge collection of every single one of the World Cup mascot dolls.

Bump: see? this is why i don't recognize soccer. i recognize golf, which was invented in America on a Kansan farm by Superman. i'm glad Dustin Johnson didn't win, that guy is too arrogant and annoying. i can relate to the common cooking man, i've gotten my girlfriends confused, too. you know the third round at Shinnecock my hometown where i'm from that was unplayable with the impossible pin locations? that wasn't just hard but over-the-top? like the circus tops the brown kids are playing in right now alongside cockroach infests? that's how i play the game of America. so that i and only i can save the day. i can send water over there to salvage the final round and the tournament. watch, i'll do it right now.

he lifts his finger which crackles with yellow energy. a huge hurricane forms above his coiffed head. it speeds to the golf course and dumps a pounding of wicked water on the area, creating a ton pudding. Bump begins feeling a sprinkling then whole cupsful of yellow liquid being tossed in his general location on his face.

Bump: i kicked my goal. you feel that?...............oh it's just pee from Team Mexico fans. and Team World fans for that matter. thank goodness, i thought for a moment there it was acid rain as i am wont to create. haha! my boss keeps scolding me telling me i need to work on my hurricanes more. who has time to train?! i'm teaching drama to unaccompanied minors.

on a small mountaintop by the fishing pond in the ecologically-sealed ecosystem behind the back of the MSNBC Studios lies Rachel Maddow with her beige fishing hat covering her freckled face. her plaid shirt is hidden nicely between the green reeds. her pole is sticking out like a sore thumb with no catches.

Rachel: time for a snooze, a few winks, a disco nap before the next live show.

Doryce and Gladyce poof out of nowhere and sit next to her and feel all of her around.

Gladyce: what seems to be the trouble, dear. you called for us?

Rachel: you guys are my fairy godmothers?

Doryce: everything but the god.

Gladyce: don't worry, dear, we're practically married.

Doryce: well we're practically dating. but that doesn't mean we can't have some fun.

Rachel: i figured i'd try my luck. Kramer from earlier was here at this exact spot and no bites.

Doryce: well that's odd, he's known as a biter.

Rachel: i have cyclical depression.

Doryce: cyclical depression? a quick scan of my reading materials...

Rachel: you won't find it in any Harvard medical journal. it's a disease only i have.

Doryce: huh. well ain't that special.

Gladyce: give me the night to figure out a spell for you. hopefully. i might even have to ask Jill...

as the witches leave in thin air they do so right as the hurricane directed by Bump flies overhead and cycles around Rachel, soaking her head to oblivion.

Bump: cured? liberalism is painful to kick. haha! u mad?!! the party left me years ago so i threw my own party.

Rachel: i felt that, which is the first step.

disembodied crone voices: oh wait dear, one more thing, do you have the directions to the resort? the one on Lake Pyramid. we've been waiting on that nice jovial Italian man who does the tours before.

Rachel: the Illuminati one?

Doryce, taking over as Gladyce inchwises: yes yes the Great Lake Pyramid, the illuminaughty one.

on the roof of the Obec College Gallery Kim Kardashian has a little powwow with newly-eloped Pete Davidson and Ariana Grande.

Kim K: okay you crazy kids, fools rush in, no judgement. i've got three candy bars here hidden in me.

Pete: don't make me do math.

Kim K: no it's the three new Snickers---Fiery, Espresso, and Salty & Sweet.

Pete: i'll take the Espresso, i'm always irritable.

Ariana: i'll take the Fiery cos look at my hair. on my bush. *shows*

Kim K: i'll take the Salty & Sweet cos i've turned over a new leaf! and i'm a poet right now! i decided to become a consultant, an activist, an advocate for change. i'm a one-woman UN, a communist! i'm like the brown woman in the UN but i didn't have to go to school! and to think i wouldn't have known about the brown woman in jail's case if i hadn't looked at my weather alerts for the first time. they are so fun how they pop up with that grating noise like that! this is my good deed for the life.

Ariana: um, you know you're a brown woman, too?

Kim K: not yet, dear, still working on the tan. but thank you.

Pete: i'm in love with you, Ariana. or it could be i'm afraid of heights and woozy right now. or maybe i need to think of something other than 9/11. or i'm not on my meds. or i'm doing this sticking it out with you this long out of spite just to stick it to your online haters which are my online haters. it's the Kevin Love defense.

Ariana spins her body and head around three times and gets stuck between the skinny ladder.

Ariana: whoa whoa whoa i'm flying into space! i know how you feel, we're soulmates. i could use a donut or eight right now. we each have tragedies we're trying to escape. hence this fire exit. get it? see? we're both funny. you have a naturally goofy face, i can make a goofy face and sing goofy on command when i think back to my Nickelodeon sitcom days and that nice jovial plump Italian man. i hope i'm remembering these incidents from my working life right and haven't gone all black-out.

Kim K: i know about that.

Ariana: my working life tends to bleed into my life. MeToo and such,

Kim K: i know about both things,

Ariana: my mouth is burning...i can't feel my tonsils...

Pete: wasn't me. wanna get outta here and go to a 16-million-dollar glass palatial-tower lovenest apartment or something?

Ariana: i prolly should have done the Espresso one seeing as my name is Grande and all. i dreamt about you, boy. i dreamed you up, dreamed that i would dream about finding you.

Kim K: no, that's Swaggy P.

Ariana: do you have any water?

Kim K: always. prolly just the sugar rush for all three.

And Change waits for the steps to die. he descends the secret staircase, scratching the door on the way down, and reaches his basement by uncovering the white sheet on his door. he sets up the tripod and swings it closer to his chest. he mounts it on cinder blocks and pushes the red button, facing the lens up to his big nose. he begins his nightly ritual:

And Change: hoboy boys n hos, ladies and gentlemen, what is this world of ours spinning and spitting now? ain't fire. what is everyone doing? they're going out there shooting up the streets championing their causes with their chickenheads cut off and their flags stuffed inside. as their followers lace their paths like rose-bearers. this is not the way to revolve. everyone's got it wrong. your friends are not your friends. once you choose a side, you're dead. i trust in myself, there's only one thing that's important. i trust in maths. we will win with numbers. want me to show you my latest charts?

he doesn't know if anyone is out there listening, picking up what he's putting down. if he has any followers. but he sends his missives down their cyber way anyway everyday just the same. this is his freedom, his escape, his outlet, his therapy in a mad world that gets madder with each broadcast.

And Change: you know the real reason Kaepernick is doin' all this for, right? Marlana VanHoose, real talk, google it, google the game, google the gang. put that on your underground watch and bury it. just don't look at the other-suggestions pictures to the right of her, ha. haven't seen Colin in ages, hope he's okay. gotta watch out for our fam. and with that, Mulatto Messiah out!

he doesn't know. but he can feel a strange presence emanating along the edge layer of his computer screen everytime he pushes the red button. it has no face, name, gender, identity of any kind. it's more, it's not any one thing. it's the people themselves rising up, it's every human corporation coming out from behind the shadows into the blinding light of its own flashing computer light. it's the entire cloud. he gets supernaturally excited to be able to draw such a spirit out. he has his own tv show now. he wouldn't have minded if he had wasted all this time alone, his time, he wasn't hurting anyone, but it's good to know he doesn't have to be totally anonymous. he figures it's a win in his column no matter what. if it's oppo research from any one enemy, he's important enough. if it's Bill Gates his mind races over what kind of product will come from And Change's basement insight. from And Change being the independent that he is.

and so to celebrate, And Change puts on some music. his favorite music, the one song, the only song he plays again on repeat 90 times a day, over and over, his song, the one he composed himself, that bad rap song currently polluting the local airwaves that nobody knows how it got to have a source without a backtrack. where he lyrics about how he's the king of his own castle in some faraway unnamed African lands. he dances as he always do, with his hips slightly swinging and his fists slightly clenched and up close back and forth in front of his face like he's doing the Stairclimber without a mirror.

or perhaps it's just a ghost

Monday, June 18, 2018


can't wait for the new Total Drama, it's been ages

1. what was your biggest worry five years ago? do you still have the same worry or feel the same way about it at this minute? 

that i would die before making even my slight imprint on this world. that no one would know about my art. it's getting better on that front thanks to Instagram and better vitamins. i don't have to be famous despite the name of my blog which I named personally myself, i don't have to have all the money. right now i only have enough money for one ankle weight. i don't need to be JK Rowling. btw why does JK Rowling have an instagram? seems redundant. all she has to do if she wants to broadcast a message to the world is pick up her phone.

2. do you have a negative or positive body image? what factors contribute to your self body image? a) ads b) media and social media c) comments from others d) introspection and analysis of self

i'm too skinny to think about this. in a bad way. for a while there Bill O'Reilly was the only Factor. my i'm glad things changed. media and social media have now merged as one dangerous echo chamber. this is why i only trust Batman, bats stay away from echo chambers to locate their souls. using echolocation. the media gets blamed for a lot but it's not their fault that Jared Leto looks that good in gold. if anything it made me give up my inflatable dolls and opt for an inflatable pool to put my new gondola in. i turned off the comments on my social media but realized that just renders the whole thing moot. instagram without comments is a silent art gallery. is it really a social without interaction? even if you're holding a pop? i tried martial arts like Batman but ended up karate-chopping my heart. i fell in love with my instructor but it was a forbidden love cos i was white and she was black belt. Kim K told me i was fat. like she meant it in a good way, like a fat butt. or maybe she meant phat butt it's tough to read sarcasm online. and no one has used phat since David Letterman.

3. how confident are you as a person? a) no confidence at all b) confident round friends and family c) confident at work and in my job d) very confident in my surroundings---work, social settings, with strangers

i'm more confident around strangers. my friends don't like that. what exactly counts as your surroundings? cos i live in a virtual 360-degree world. i never take off my eye-phones and electronic cat-ears.

i was confident this morning till i saw JK Simmons pumping iron all buff. this is a sad commentary on our society, old men are not allowed to become kindly and dottering anymore. JK was a guest on David Letterman's show and he interviewed Dave instead, he made Dave cry when he shouted at him. so much so Dave grew out his beard to look like his captor. i have the sneaking suspicion JK stands for Just Kidding. have you ever seen JK Rowling and JK Simmons in the same picture? jus' sayin'. she/he is obviously operating on a whole higher level than you or i. not saying it's black magic or Scientology or anything, but it's, well, let's just call it cold confidence.

4. how creative a person are you? why? a) not creative b) average creativity c) creative in some situations d) very creative

too creative. i can't control it. my mind is constantly bombarded with my own craziness like a drill. mind control is one thing, but what are you supposed to do when it's your own mind doing the mind-control?

people think soccer is easy, dumb, and boring, but it takes creativity to score a goal. to dance like a Brazilian barber and juke and jive and psych-out each defender on your blazing path of glory to the storming cross in the back of the onion bag. R.I.P. Tommy Smyth's onions.

this is how i got those rugburns on my knees i swear it:


5. do you resent things being uncertain and unpredictable? why? a) agree b) undecided or don't know c) disagree 

d) remind me later

bonus: what do you wish you had invented? 

a way to watch cartoons live as they're happening the way you can watch a World Cup match live as it's happening

facebook bots. it's not what you think. yes i'm doing this from my basement bedroom but i'm lonely. i only did it cos i wanted sempai to notice me. i heard Zuckerberg is required by federal Senate-confirmed law to friend everyone who's on facebook so there's no one with zero. i hear Mark's a pretty chill dude

coffee stirrers. coffee stirrers are one of those things that you think would have been invented long ago just out of gravity and inertia but actually were never invented until you decided to invent them

Friday, June 15, 2018



* welcome to paradise, dun-dun-dun............dun dun dun dun dun-dun-dun..........Ameridise...

* something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. why is blue the color of choice? it just seems that's a pretty big deal to be the only color in the ancient spell. you would think it'd be pink. the ancient witches were very progressive.

* ripped jeans and swings with no safety inspectors. god i miss the '80s.

* everyone goes to Catholic day-school till the Bomb drops

* a specific date in the future is given. that's not Nov 4, 2020...

* talk is cheap. missiles are expensive.

* in their defense, they were only trying to achieve the world's biggest mushroom so everybody could get happy. it was the world's largest legalization of marijuana/UN Peacekeeping Mission

* wake up, guys on my couch, this isn't a video game!

* she's hot, she's got my vote.

* parody from the Gatekeepers is like a Chick tract. remember when you FIRST thought Lara Croft was hot? Bernie Sanders was the only one who survived, let's enjoy this one year of bliss with him together while we can. look at my dimples, i mean come on you can trust these dimples!!! on the whole pet/food thing i respect your choice but that doesn't give you license to eat my cat. it's a little gamey, i won't bullshit you and tell you it tastes like chicken, it doesn't.

* McPherson is dangerous, she's already hot why does she need to be Savior, too? that's too much power for one person! Jesus was average-looking according to the Bible. i won't bullshit you, when i say magic dust i mean real magic dust, not pot. look at my drug records, they were done by that doctor who looks like a Muppet. my opponent IS the system, even though it's only been three days. blood is a commodity we don't have! we need all that labor to reconstruct the dam that holds back the rivers of blood, apparently something happened over the railroad tracks i don't know i never go there. don't worry, i worship Sacram. not Satan, Sacram. comes from the root word for Sacrifice. just think of the lavage as a spa not a cleansing. want a ride in my black helicopter?

* i am Queen of the Rats. yes divorced, please don't ask where the king is. we don't mind being treated as pets but we were promised we'd win the Triple Crown every year. we rats INVENTED radiation, doesn't that count for something!? this is my chart that is also my giant piece of swiss cheese, i burned it a bit on the stove. i can smell the lies on you. i can't smell myself that's impossible. i'm so old i come from a time when cabals were good things, they were just meetings of good honest people at taverns. if factions are shaking palms and paws, does it matter how greased they are? if you're talking you're not fighting. the Quorum gave me an A rating, they don't know how to read and are just starting to learn their letters but still.

* wait don't change the channel! this isn't another KFC Colonel commercial. just kidding, you can't change the channel even if you wanted to. i am a hereditary dictator but that just means i value heritage. it looks like i have a gin goblet in my hand but i don't. they don't call me anything now......cos there are no more phones. do not politicize this tragedy, that's the last thing we need. i call her Adelaide after my favorite Power Rangers villain. i'm not creepy, the dolls are. if it keeps you less lonely, is it really such a bad thing? i mean that's why facebook was created, right? sorry, i won't mention the apprentice again, i know that's upsetting. i want teachers to be armed......with G 3 speed, the lightning speed of a bullet fired by a gun, Disney speed, not Samsung speed. robots are a good thing, they can handle the masturbation duties while we focus on more important things like society. robots don't need to wait an hour before starting another session the way humans do.

* Star Wars sucks! yeah i said it! completely misrepresented our people! the action-figure comes in the wrong-color robe! it's blue, dumbass, can't you see we wear blue!? the bandages on our heads are from our endless wars that YOU caused, it's not a religious symbol! hack job, total hack job.

* Brain: I am Brain. Father Brain. yes i am the Rat Queen's ex-husband. is it just me or is there an echo in here? i appreciate making my voice sound more ominous but i actually have a sweet-sounding voice, it's the reverb from being in this empty warehouse, can the boom-operator fix that? thanks. i appreciate you giving me this stool otherwise it'd be awkward cos you couldn't see me, i'm short. it's not as cute when it's not Groot, huh? i've fired my campaign manager, he had nothing to do with me. can someone change my water? it's getting a little yellow. this will all be worth it when i win and devalue all the currency. how am i speaking without a body? use your brains. oh you can't speak? too late, I AM your brain!

* vote for me, i'm American. you can trust me, i speak clearly, plainly, simply, and with no accent.

* big-box stores are the future. there is no more need for moms and pops. i haven't visited my folks in ages. the last time i saw my parents was when Brain came to visit me in Connecticut during the fall.

* Brain bloopers, to humanize me

* i miss when Cartoon Network did live-action...


this is how Cristiano scored that goal:


and then he scored the goal when Nacho was distracted.

Cristiano: i'm a good actor. i was named after Ronald Reagan.

happy weekend, my babies

Monday, June 11, 2018


when i was young, i didn't need to believe. i knew He was Risen, i could see it with my own two eyes of a child. i turned on the tv and watched Alexi Lalas put his hand on his heart and sing the national anthem and i knew he was Jesus, alive again. it was His Miracle when we got that World Cup ball that was red.

what is Alexi Lalas thinking right now? listen i'm the last person who would ever be labeled jingoistic, but the World Cup this quarter quadrangle is gonna be quite weird without the United States in the tournament. it's just gonna be strange to watch. i mean it wasn't like i was more invested when the U.S. was playing, but the U.S. was playing which was always a curious thing to watch. i'm not sure why i would watch without a rooting interest, except of course for when i take those long eternally expansive train rides in the Siberian snow where one can contemplate his or her existentialism and think about what post-Putin Russia will look like after Putin has so graciously decided to relinquish power after five years or so...

prediction: England over Iceland in the final

my spectacle juices are up, but do you see Alexi Lalas's pained expressions when he's doing the tv spots for Telemundo about how everyone is ready to analyze and go all-in on the Mexican National Team? it's awkward, what is the entire billion-dollar Fox Sports machinery paid-for in advance supposed to do with the U.S. out? they have to cheer on El Tre. you can see the steam coming out of his grin-and-bear-it clenched-teeth smile as Lexi does the promos. he's pretending to be excited but he's muttering in his closed mouth for El Tre to kick tres rocks. cheeks as red as his hair. Alexi wants to still have his Viking hair but he can't cos he's corporate now. Alexi Lalas does not give a fuck about the Mexican National Team.

i mean did you see the Triple Crown? that was the easiest Triple Crown of all time. NBC Sports panned to the crowd in the stables and they were all one-clapping and going


it was the most muted celebration for this feat which is otherwise otherworldly and considered the hardest to achieve in all of sports. all the air dropped out of the room, which is quite the feat since it was outside. you could hear a horseshoe nail drop, get rid of all the horseshoes!!! you see? it's happening. nobody cared anymore. it just wasn't the same. god bless Justify, you were born in the wrong era. poor thing's just a horse trying to get by. you are the Second Red Sox title, not the First One after 80 years. even Baffert was like, "yeah, this one's for Mike Smith, he deserves it. but American Pharoah will always be my first love." ours, too, Bob, ours, too. btw is the investigation wrapping up?

1. if you were an ice-cream flavor, what would you be and why? pizza. cos there's no such thing as bad ice cream. you know Wendy's named the Vanilla Frosty after a technique of mine.

2. what are the best sexy skills you bring to a sexual relationship? when i lick an ice cream cone, i lick the cone off first, leaving the ice cream to float in midair. that's how sexy my tongue is.

3. what is the single largest problem causing you angst in your romantic relationship (current or most recent relationship)?

time and distance, which are the same thing if you blink hard enough. pro tip: your third eye is not supposed to blink. time is a construct, as Hannibal Buress says. hey after the Cosby thing this man is a clairvoyant.

i do not know how to love. i'm working on this with my therapist. my therapist and i are in love. it's her fault, she told me to list my heroes. i said Mick Jagger who seduced his own therapist.

4. what is the best part about being in a relationship with you? i'll leave you alone, i won't bother and pesky you with endless DMs. i won't pester, i'll eat the bugs on my trail. i'll spend large stretches of time off the grid without a word of contact, months and years of stone silence, all in advance of me still working on that novel/adult coloring book of mine. it's harder to draw than to write.

5. what is the biggest misconception people have about you? just cos i live in Carmel doesn't mean i'm rich. i'm dirt poor, we got our house on a lucky break. and we're paying for it now, constantly under threat of losing it. i've had to scale back to such a degree. i now grocery-shop once a month. i look like the Superman from The Flashpoint Paradox. Skinny Superman is my hero.

bonus: when you look at old photos of yourself, do you like what you see? yes, those were the glory halcyon days. there's a pic of me in soft cloudy with my little red overalls on with a giant picture of a lion in a cage buttoned on my front. an old man with Coke-stained teeth came up to me one day at the zoo and erased the bars of the lion cage with his pencil. he told me all vegetarians were frauds cos they still ate animal crackers. that fucked me up for life and i never returned to the zoo again.


Friday, June 8, 2018


what are we to make of all this then? i told ya! we're gonna have an NBA Champion before a Belmont Champion! notice how i didn't say Triple Crown Champion. nah, LeBron wouldn't go out like that, right? this has gotta be a pride game, Tyronn Lue the Lu doesn't get nearly enough credit. he's not a Bad Lieutnant, it's just what are you gonna do when it's just LeBron and some scrubs? Tyronn has to clear the bench, use EVERY SINGLE man on the roster, the subs and those not-yet-signed from Europe. he's gotta use SIMBA if need be! SCAR!

would Michael Jordan be able to win an NBA Finals all by himself? yes but only with the help of BUGS BUNNY.

besides, i like the pronunciation LEFTENANT better.

i noticed something which makes me very sad. it's gonna be a long boring cold lonely summer. after this weekend, there's nothing going on. no sports. and because the tennis gods deemed to have a longer like taffy separation from French to (S)Wimbledon, we gotta wait longer for the Fortnight with no more mead at the tavern. why do the gods hate us so? is it cos we don't play sports?

here's the central concern. if Justify does it---smooth gallop notwithstanding---and Justifies his existence, that really starts to sully the Triple Crown. makes the cup less buffed around the rim. the Triple Crown should be hard, it's SUPPOSED to come around once every FORTY years. if it starts to happen every other year like the Maryland 1000-year-floods, it might as well become a participation trophy. or like one of those trophies handed out every year like the Stanley Cup, go ask Ovechkin right now. btw it's confusing cos there's Ovechkin and then there's Ovie. don't wake the bear, don't hit the goalie before.

American Pharoah MY TUT it's still annoying to spell that incorrect name correct! i've forever forgotten how to properly spell pharaoh which i need to do or i won't be granted access to the golden kingdom upon death. make sure you don't remove that coin and rolled-up papyrus paper with instructions in my mouth as a selfie joke. don't go tell it on the mountain nude when that mountain is a Maori mountain. what becomes of American Pharoah? he becomes just another horse. forgotten. in the dustbin of carrots and sugarcubes and lucky horseshoes which how can a horseshoe be lucky? they're painful on the horse. i mean at least when you google-search American, Pharoah comes up first before Psycho. but for how long?

get that movie made of American Pharoah before the studio funds run not gallop dry. they only had enough to make the Secretariat movie? come on, Disney, that's why you secured the Star Wars money. to make more talking-horse movies.

see American Pharoah got his cut tail fixed, it's long now, luxurious and shampooed and conditioned, he got plastic surgery, he's not the same unknown horse we fell in love with, he never will be again he went Hollywood.

which brings me around like a horseshoe bend to this: Tiger Woods is good for golf, NOW. see? are the Golden State Warriors good for basketball? see?


don't trust the live odds, trust the brain trust. don't trust your own brain, trust the pretty flying colors. see you Sunday and here's to camaraderie in a world of cold carrots. share a piss with your neighbor. will you call me on Monday?

Wednesday, June 6, 2018


in the cluttered pantry of files and overstuffed finales, Robert Mueller is pondering not pandering his next move. he takes years to ponder. he paces back and forth on the rickety cat-alley hanging above the rafters with the one Cleveland Cavaliers banner hanging above the rim of the nonexistent basketball court. the furrows on his brow have grown wider but not longer.

Mueller: come up here, son.

his hand that was on his furrowed forehead now beckons Avenatti with a wave of fingers which require no ring. Avenatti's sparkling eye blues blink up as he acknowledges the signal and his head becomes a flaming burning sun. Ave takes hold of the long green tie Mueller lowers from the brown rafters and holds on for dear life his butt up as he tries not to fear life in front of his predecessor enjoying the ride. he makes it to the top and brushes off the nails from his nails. he ponders across the albright avenue bustling with breakers.

Mueller: enjoying the enhanced view, kid? this will all soon be your league.

Avenatti: should i speak or remain silent?

Mueller: never whisper a question you don't know the answer to, that's the prime directive of the Department. also, never be quiet when you can pound your anal fist on the table.

Mueller slides the tie around Avenatti's neck and pulls it close to his chest.

Mueller: you promise not to tell?

Avenatti: *sweat pouring off his bald forehead* gulp. you mean where i'm getting my information from for the cable talk shows, sir?

Mueller: no. about us. i gotta have one thing that Ashley Parker doesn't know about yet.

the two wrestle for a bit feeling each other out and then the claws come out. they make out and form a ball of dirt and wavy lines and flying four-letter-words and other nondescript xs and os and ox and symbols and equal signs above their heads as they fuck like cats. more descriptedly like Garfield and Heathcliff.

Avenatti: sir, are you sure this playground bannister will hold?

Mueller: sure, Ave, you just continue saying your ave marias. i'll be gentle on ya.

President Bump has been looking up and watching the whole thing. he has to rub his eyes and make them wider which is hard to do with his eyes. he forces his eyes wider by shooing away all the wrinkles with his fingers, but overflabby skin still overlaps.

Bump: do my eyes deceive me? is that Bob Mueller or is that...

Bump blinks his eyes repeatedly but can't stop seeing Melania go in and out where Mueller's bodyspace is, like a broken hologram on the fritz. Melania is wearing headgear after her hospital stay, cream-colored bandages wrapped tight on her pointy head in a cube held coarsely by a distinctive pin: a mini circular branch.

Bump: i think i've been at this too long. i better get back to work. or to work. WHOA! who's spread out splayed out nude on the wooden oak meeting table like this? with her long frizzy raven hair getting caught on the table corner knob? normally that was would get me exercised but i'm a bit discombobulated at the moment. are you the body sushi model i ordered? i mean Kim ordered?

Kim Kardashian: this is the Kim Summit, right? well here i am. time for you to climb the summit. i'd turn around and show you my ass but the hair thing...

Bump: is that a giant bowl of dip or your tits? or are you just happy to see me? like the bowl is a punch bowl.

Kim K: taste my raw fish but don't throw the sour rice. so you'll release that poor woman in prison?

Bump: sure, release all the women, they're just women. is she an illegal? whatever i don't care anymore, that policy was impossible to enforce and read. the only thing that's gonna seal the borders is that special black glue liquid-rubber sealant on tv that's rainproof. who says i'm not down with the blacks? where's that? Mooch, get Billy Mays on the phone. i have a computer problem so i'm glad i invited or at least someone on my staff remembered to invite Bill Gates's daughter to help me. hello.

Bill Gates's daughter: ...

Bump: so i'm trying to scroll for my nudes i mean my scores on my Apple Watch here and i get the same set of pics every time. it's like the internet is only spitting out one of five pics: it's either gonna be Prince Harry doing something, that woman who is on the first cover of Playboy when they decided to go back to doing nudes, Erin Andrews sitting in that damn courtroom box a woman who was granted a large settlement and never has to work a day in her life again just cos a man was being a man---talk about choosing a job you love---, Jennifer Lawrence clothed in red scales in her pool with that weird white parrot on her shoulder talkin' bout interminably her first nude scene in a movie like that was the first nude scene in ANY movie, fucking Greitens, and that mystery woman in the grey sweatpants and yoga tanktop who comes up when yous search housekeeping who's smiling into the camera whilst polishing the knobs of the pieces of a chessboard with an old yellowed picture of the ill-fated 1845 Phoenix ship behind her. can you make it so i get new pics come up when i search? keep the chess lady, though, she's blonde and hot and i feel i should learn chess finally. i have the face that you think this guy knows how to play chess!

Bill Gates's daughter: ... ... ... maybe try Pear Watch?

Bump: i like you. you know you have a hot body in that cockatil dress. like a cody body. it's strange that your shape came from one of Bill Gates's swimmers. sorry but this is all i have to ogle not google at now that Miss America didn't follow my example and go back to how tings were. what am i gonna look at now? would you mind trying on my robe? that's what Miss Zmerica calls "evening ballroom attire" now. i mean i guess your bra and panties which i can see through your clothes count as a bikini.

Bill Gates's daughter: ...

Bump: thanks for the fix. no now wait now all i'm getting for pictures no matter what keyword i search is a BALD HEAD!!! THE SAME BALD HEAD!!!

Avenatti: mine? yes! i'm finally moving up in the world.

Bump: not you, cowboy. my eternal rival, me enemy for life, no room for frenemy, Lex Luthor! BEZOS that bugger!!!

Kim: i'm the other Kim, let's go, i'm in a rush to get back to my horses. which are my missiles. and i want to listen to the new King Missile.

Bump: thanks for the fix. i like to know i still have power to throw around every once in a while. what's this? what's with this letter? what's with the novelty envelope?

Kim: this is my Dear Kim letter. i wrote it staying up all night under candlelight. it's filled with my utmost heart feelings. for you all for you. it's how i really think.

Bump: okay, thank you. it's just weird that the envelope is fun-size. *opens it up with his fingernail* let's see what we got here to read..............wait, YOU'RE the last remaining Isis fighter we haven't bombed to kingdom come of virgins yet? damn it, Kim. i wanted to take credit for that 100% clean bill of health for the record, y'know?

Kim: of course i am. look at my black jacket!

Bump: *perusing without his glasses* wait YOU WERE the secret FBI spy embedded in my campaign?

Kim: of course. i had to know, Mickey, i had to know. why are you mad that the FBI is secretive?

Bump: *rustling the envelope like a bird* Kim, it's just, i mean, i thought we were friends.

Kim: friendships are built on a foundation of truth. like a pebble in a well. it's still a trial run, man. let's take things slow, take the tale by the tail. let's start wth frenemies first. you promised me a reciprocal. where's my Dear Don letter? i want to have it on record so i can take it back home with me and pin it to my ceiling and glance at it for reference when you're not around and laugh like friends.

Bump: i'll get right on that. prolly will take the summer. i'll have the Mooch dictate. i've never written a letter before. we have much to discuss and i'll talk to you later. too much noise, drilling in the Cream House, can't concentrate, i'm putting up the BUMP golden letters on the Cream House portico. kids! how are you?

Bump takes the kids from the Florida school to a local Bump DC-area Lazer Tag enclosed classic stadium. along 5th Ave.

Bump: you guys have great aim. how bout this forum, huh? sorry i know you wanted to attend a football game but since the Patriots lost that place is off-limits. wait, stay here unattended, i have to do something classic while i'm here.

Bump takes his laser gun and points the light at the forehead of a hologram of Comey.

in Guatemala, Nadal in his orange Goku gi flies around to the summit, atop where all that damn lava is spilling out, and rescues an old brown woman from the prison of the crater. as well as her 2yo little daughter who was gonna be sacrificed to an ancient god. Nadal plants his free jailbirds on the soft ground next to where Doryce and Gladyce are lounging in purple sunglasses.

Nadal: haha, i was granted the power, not Golden Boy Federer, how do you account for this, dumb smartguys in the press-room? i lift weights. didn't you hear? it's all over the internet! Volcan de Fuego. have you no strength? why aren't you helping? i know you can do something. don't you read what's under Lupin Lodge? i was so bored at the French Open i decided to save lives, and this was before the rain delay. the rain delay at the French was the only time i felt wet over there.

Dirg: *from Doryce's watch* perfect opportunity for man to fight volcano. nobody reads internet comments. everyone figures that these people are trying to make a name for themselves this one opportunity they have before they die anonymous and alone so they're deliberately berating the place with false facts. basically nobody believes anything about anything happening online.

Laertus: yeah. there is no god. you know instagram? nobody actually looks at the Instagram picture or reads under for the comment. they like the pic simply to show they're still part of your followers list and to acknowledge you're still alive and breathing.

Nadal: kicking. what do i have to do to prove the urgent? here, take a bite of my recipe. it's my infamous Borderless Enchilada. it's my mother's recipe pero i never knew my mother. it will bring the colonies together.

the two crones acknowledge that it is indeed quite good and tasty in their biteful but not spiteful mouths.

Doryce: *crusty, slamming her glasses into her KY handbag on her lap and putting the handbag on the ground* for you, young man, as i was saying, "i was born naked and i'm gonna die naked!..."

Gladyce: did someone call for a goddess? or at least a Welsh suffragette? okay, dear, it is accomplished. it's fixed. the volcano's over. done. for at least 1000 years. or maybe 2 i'm getting old. next time get more stable leaders, the Earth simply reflects its environment. leaders who are willing to be led. take care of and heed the magnolia pods which will grow around the ring of the ash on top of the crushed crust lava, they are magic spells. and maybe don't build those mansions on top of volcanoes?

it's Game 7 of the NBA Finals. Warrior Cav. after a marathon session of seven full tiring grueling strenuous overtime basketball games, it's come down to the last overtime. a half-second on the clock after the five minutes. LeBron is exhausted and touches his calf but knows he must take the last shot. he stands on the half-court circle bubble and a tear comes to his robotic red eye, he can feel all the emotions. he knows this is the finale to a ballet of ball brilliance the two teams, heavyweight gangs, have been waging on each other by dancing with each other cheek to toe across crosscountry streets. and this final shot which only LeBron will take, granted by no man, will be the falling curtain close of the suite. but before, backstory:

Draymond: sorry for punching you and glancing you and giving you that bloody eye, LeBron, i didn't mean it this time.

LeBron looks at Draymond with a jerky headtilt. his red eye is androidic, and the red right light which streams out of his pupil shines a light on the scoreboard overhead.

LeBron: look at the scoreboard, JR Smith. it's right.

Draymond: how are you doing this? how are we tied 1-1?

LeBron: i went back in time to ensure justice. i am the Terminator. Swaggy P, how's Iggy?

Swaggy P: i thought he's still out and won't be playing. you mean my ex-wife? she's here!? in the stadium? yo LeBron can you do a favor for me? heehee, just playin' you know me i'm the Joker i'm always kidding around. i had a dream that you'd make the last shot and break out hearts.

Iggy Azalea: *in the stands* i was mad at you for a long. but art has helped me recover my spirit and your cheating heart. i no longer show my tits on Instagram. now i draw. i'm doing a webcomic on my blog. it's like Ziggy but it's more modern and more about fashion. i picked up my tips at a summer internship i bought taught by Alan Bored at Exodus College, you know the brilliance behind the Hurt Locket work? i didn't want to go back to Australia, they've disowned me there.

LeBron goes for the final shot. the big orange ball of tiny bumps slows midair in slow motion. no music. before it reaches the basket JR Smith blocks it.

at the rickety mansion:

Alan Bored: yeah so i was so glad when i got rid of the last of that peppered bacon. i can't strip pieces off that pepper bacon and give to my cats for fear of them choking. here. they're not gifts, they're parting gifts. part.

the reclusive author points to a beefsteak tomato for Dirg and a silver-spoon ladle for Laertus on the frilled table.

Alan: this is your tomato, Dirg, use it as you see fit. *hitting Laertus on the forehead with the ladle* just don't let THIS guy turn you into sauce!

Laertus: that felt weird.

Dirg: this is the game i play with myself when i'm bored. i look up any keyword, then type nudes after it in the box and look at the images which pop up. it's fun and unlimited especially if you start adding phrases and well-worn idioms. i'll get more into this next time.

Laertus and Alan: what?

Laertus: i think i have you figured out. you're a Bad Guys Win, you use Fridge Logic to throw us off our game, you're a Squishy Wizard...

Alan: what on fuck earth are you babbling about with this, boy?

Laertus: i use the site Tv Tropes to explain everything life has to offer. everything that happens to me in life can be boxed into one of those tropes. it's my Bible. i'll preach about this more at a future date and time.

Dirg: so come on, man. come back to college with us. teach us, we kids who have lost our way.

Laertus: yeah.

Alan: i can't. I...............can't............

the man whom the boys thought they had been talking to all this time was a hologram, not a man. the projection turns green and disappears and the resultant spark catches the curtain of the screen on fire. when the fire clears, the background is revealed. it's a machine of large lined-up cardboard boxes with clocks painted on them in white paint, clocks which are moving in real time ticking away. the ticking is like bees buzz. in front is a hollowed-out chair for a throne, on top of its seatcushion a yellow juice-box, on its right band sits a steel record-player with no record. a long cylindrical spidery needle of threaded copper spins the circle with a grating sound from hell. light-green computer paper with holed perforated sides is printed out fast with fast facts in ink spouting out on the left side through a slit. the source of the projection of its doomy voice is unknown.

Alan: I AM THE DOOMSDAY CLOCK. this is my art. my continuous stationery. from behind the beginning this creation curtain i was able to observe your species for centuries and galaxies. i recorded all the voices for posterity. and prosperity. i wrote all the books and drew all the letters. i shape the debate. never shake the debate. drowning the discourse. i spit out what you wanted. sure there were massive seachanges in human history, bumps in the road, but you always felt that eventually we'd figure it out and be on our way again. bets wouldn't be as dire and show themselves to be props. until all screens fell and we became one cured disease. when the arc defeated the arch without an Ark. but i must confess....and this scares me greatly and grandly.....i fear......this time.....this present time.....I do not know what is going to happen....................

Monday, June 4, 2018



2. you know a secret about someone. what do you do with that information? a) i keep it to myself b) i tell my best friend c) i wait until they hurt me and use it as ammunition d) i tell everyone i can, i don't mean to, i simply cannot keep a secret revenge porn is the vilest of the vile, those engaged should be sent to the Tenth Circle of Hell down under where you can see Satan's little short pointy legs dangling from his ice pit as he chews on Judas. i tell my best friend, who is sworn to secrecy. problem is, my best friend is Kim Kardashian.

3. you see someone breaking the rules at work, what do you do? a) pretend not to see what is going on b) inform upper management c) advise the coworker that their actions are frowned upon and can lead to job loss d) tell everyone else in the office what you saw FIRST, i inform the Geico Gecko there's cake in the break room (you have to pay for it tho). THEN i ask if they can cut me in. the Revolution will come from the INSIDE. the spark of rebellion will lead to fire across the galaxy. as long as there's no hair loss.

4. a friend has a new hair style that is unbecoming and not really age-appropriate on them. they ask you how they look. what is your reply? a) you look just fine b) you look much better this way c) OMG you look a bit ridiculous d) *silence* silence. so i can pray. about how i want the Bieber cut. every man wants to be Bieber. it's not about the women, it's that every man wants that Bieber hair. when the Beta Generation grows up, they're gonna sit on their invisible porch and reminisce how they always wanted the flowing black hair on the wide head of that green gumball dude mascot from those wireless commercials. if Bob Ross were alive today he'd be sporting The Rachel.

5. how helpful are you at home? a) i come home and immediately veg out on the couch/bed b) i cook and clean a few times a week c) i am extremely helpful d) i do what i am asked and nothing more i live in a monastery. my fellow brothers are lazy asses. i have to do everything or the place turns to dust to dust. while they do nothing all day praying and watching tv, i clean and scrub and wash the dog and dishes and dishwasher by hand and trim the rosebushes and put away the copper pots on their hooks and plant gardens and buy all the clothes and carve all the crosses and bake all the bread and sniff all the baking powder and pick out the fruit for the fruitbread and buy a cat and stick the sorghum up my nose and sew all the potato sacks which are our clothes at least when we're not praying.

btw i probably shouldn't be on this site. at least not during work hours

bonus: in your opinion, what is the best city in the world? why? Hong Kong. you see how wide Anthony Bourdain's goofy grin is when he's there? he can't stop smiling enough to eat any food.

sorry, my stomach's been in knots ever since i ate that tv dinner last night, didn't get any sleep, spent the entire night on the monastery toilet, which they say is a blessing. that's why i'm crankier than Brother Burns who is our resident cranky monk who likes to lay into the community at breakfast with his patented verbal burns. where's my sewing kit?...


Friday, June 1, 2018



* by the same guy who did that truly horrifying Strangers piece, this is his verison of Friends. hey, at least he's saying we're now all related.

* the first birthday party. silver-oxide balloons blown from the silver oxide wafting over the forming lake

* Bigfoot invented dance. hunters thought he was just running away funny and shot him. so Bigfoot had to reemerge in our times and invent modern dance.

* not photoshop, '70s tye-dye acidwashed glitch. imagine the zoning permit required for this, what did the film crew tell the government?

* put litter in its place. Charlie Chaplin moved like Bigfoot. Charlie Chaplin was British but i never heard him speak. so he stands as a kind of World Citizen figure who represents all of us humanity. Charlie Chaplin was the missing link...

* HEALTH: another difficult obtuse concept to play with. good luck, guys

* this is making me nervous. it looks like those infrared night-goggles agent-orange x-ray shooting screens with the body heat and the Predator targets. learn from your mistakes, hstory of war! live and let live!

* the tinny Mario music and geometric vectors pointing in all directions just make it worse, masks it with the playful everything-is-a-simulation guise

* human beings on the assembly line and there's a design flaw. what Superjail should have been, i'd never say that to an artist. dunno, i never could get into Superjail the way my fellow kidults did drool. i could understand the frenetic nature being cool but there was no story, it was just like tipping over the dominos and watching them fly into a face each week. with Ballmasterz, finally FINALLY Karate Karacas---may I call you Christy? that is such a lovely name for a man, are you Venezuelan?---snatched my heart Superjail bloodily-style. Ballmasterz has actual characters and storylines and development i can care about, i want to see how it ends. and yes the fact that it's anime has something to do with it, man i'm in the tank for FLCL and the tank key is buried underwater.

* Rosa Parks, never forget, no matter what demagogues firebrandish

* so this is Han Solo's birth, right? or it's the Adventure Time finale leaked?

* remember that guy in the '70s you watched with the fro and the pink bodysuit showing all the internal organs? he was like if Bob Ross had a ROUGH night barbrawlin'. i wonder if it were the same character but female if PBS could still show it.

* blame government tracer-fire red lines and alive potatoes for the reason you can never seem to slim your fat ass

* who says water is good for you? or was she just wearing the wrong shoes? not sensible enough?

* never trust a bus that isn't moving........and looks like an esophagus


* also, the painful process of Spongebob becoming human

* Dante never told us about this Circle of Hell! where's Satan in the ice-pit in his own pool of pee chewing on some folk? i want to talk to Satan!!!

* who knew pumice could be so threatening? inside a photocopier machine, remember those?

* i knew that was more than an aching molar! it was a wormhole beyond space and time! dentists became the wrong scientists!

* it all comes down to the singularity, which is a giant can-opening tab on an aluminum soda can

* youtube, now THIS is scary

* sadly, this is who i wanted to be. not a fireman, not a policeman, Zach. i mean if there's even the slimmest chance to try to get out of working for a living, you know i gotta go for it.

* i'm always jealous of men who have that long straight Trent Reznor ravenblack hair. i was born in the wrong era, i needed to be boogieing in the '70s with my frizzy fro. btw Zach, nobody reads the comments.

* Zach Trevor: i'm wearing a brand vintage puffy jacket indoors but never mind that. never mind my stupid roommate, we're all in his dream, that phone he's carrying is off-model. why are there superfoods but no superdrinks? sadly, that idiot doing the gang hand signs is an actual ninja master from So-Cal Social. you can't go wrong with chia, i love my chia pet like my own dog. who holds the camera when God wants to take a selfie?

* entering the woman's back tattoo...why is that cold water boiling? shape a heart with your finger to cure all disease

* ointment saves lives. and is fun to say.

* the band Tool's treatment of a PSA they're doing for the government about not sticking that Q-tip down your ear hole or become deaf

* and Dr. Shaq with the IcyHot saves the day. and turns your injury into those slips on the edges of computer paper, remember those? you had to remove each side, they were perforated and full of holes every time a paper was spit out by a computer in the '80s. methodically you detached, they turned into curly-Qs and you were left with a pile of huge white curls at the corner of your office. recycling hadn't been invented yet. it was more fun playing with computers in the '80s.

* this is the tale when Dr. Robotnik went good...

* and Kurosawa mixed in with an environmental message which is never heeded. even after Disney buys the rights. and an illustration of George's whale story from Seinfeld with the golf ball, we're all waiting to see if Tiger can really accomplish the only revival of a tv show that matters...

* it's an allegory. the professor is a muppet like we all are. the whale represents not taking care of what matters: our insides. our soul. our inner light, that's why it's rainbow. there's a whale swimming in your stomach right now, that's how extraordinary your life is right now. or why it sucks and you can't keep anything down.

* trees shouldn't have bones and skeletons, that's unnatural and scary. all trees should look like broccoli.

* next time, don't use a cab, use Uber they have a new manager.

* take me to church! no wait, the sun is falling on the town, take me to the Sundial! now i understand how birds can be related to the dinosaurs, it's this whale, the whale is the missing link, not humans.

* crab 1: we're really gumdrops!
crab B: spicy gumdrops?
crab 1: if you want to find out. nobody checks my insides.
crab B: well not to see if you're a good person. can we go to Gumdrop Lane?
crab 1: that's where they have those gummi rootbeer bottles that taste like root beer...

* police in a clown car, angry all the time, following the environmental laws of the government

* durries=whale porn

* old shopkeep woman: a pox on your house, which houses all our eternal souls! i need no ill-gotten pirate booty! all i want is another cinder block to block the door!

* moral: next time give the whale superfoods. btw where are we supposed to throw our trash? every office corner eventually becomes the beach.

* you don't need to work out, buddy, every man has a paunch. i know from experience that some yoga moves are impossible for the body to do. you can't bend all the way over know

* that's a nice carpet you got there, mister. it's okay if it's just one donut.

* that's you as an old man if you eat two donuts. the celery stick becomes your cane it's an allegory.

* stop making that annoying sound with your fork, use your hands! in L.A. the highways allow for a running lane for celebrities to keep fit for our films. oh i get it, he was Captain Planet the whole time.

* this is what Tool really wants to do but it's not commercially viable. okay we get it, i'm a vegetarian now, happy? humans are made from meat, but where did you get that beeper? the beeper is the key to everything, it's like a bomb that keeps us in place. it's okay cos the gloves are orange, orange is a soothing color.

* this is why Doc Ock rarely has sex

* the man is a caveman and the women are fit fitbit yoga-instructors in hot pants?!! well now if that ain't our times

* not shooting

* the women and man should have gone into the primordial lake to complete the allegory

* would you be happy if you were human? i know i'd be.


happy weekend, my babies. we're gonna find out the NBA Champion before the Belmont Champion!

Wednesday, May 30, 2018


perhaps it's the still still-afterglow the boys are experiencing comfy and warm and sprite locked in their bubble to be having quite the extended audience with their literary hero, but no one's noticing that Alan Bored is fading quick. they know he's been tired lately but that's it.

Alan: i'm gonna have to go into sleep mode soon.

Dirg: you're funny, Alan! may i call you Alan, sir?

Alan: funny is one thing i've never been accused of. not even dry British wit humor. you boys have to be careful. universities aren't the bastions of learning about obtuse oligarchs and systemless systems and sex positions involving only your spleen that they used to be when i was a kid. they've become simply indoctrinations into the Left. i mean what's the point of college if not to be free to hear all points of view and choose according to your pumping soul? if you stifle the speech you hate because it's hate speech, it ceases to be a college and becomes a camp.

Laertus: i admit it, i'm racist-adjacent. that's a tired argument and one dunked in hogwash. plainspokenness does not equal the condoning of hate speech. careful, you're intimating some very depressing things about humanity. you don't want me to get naked, too, right? it's as if you're saying that if humans were truly allowed to be free, could truly talk without censor and express how they really felt inside their black hearts without fear of consequence or societal cuffs, with no correcting cats and political pander bread, not having to win anything or anyone over, get a job cutting hair, no more doors anywhere just cleared air, enough with the kowtowing to cows on stage, not having to think you were wrong, if there were no taboos, if people could REALLY have a sexual preference, then humans would just naturally be racist and xenophobist and misogynistic and serial and it's okay cos that's just how they naturally are when they're allowed to be free animals roaming the wild woods. eating bananas. you're concluding that there's a design flaw in the assembly line, humans are from birth made wrong.

Alan: am i? well i wouldn't know anything about that.

Dirg: it's a tough life but someone's got to take the hot molten mantle. or the species becomes symmetrical. my tongue is proudly caked in mud. better a bitter spitter than an easy lazy Dem. yeah you're right, all the dirty folk here wouldn't just be triggered treehuggers, they'd be given the license to become who they truly want to achieve: treefuckers. what do you think that knothole is for? sap plus cum equals maple syrup.

Alan: i dunno. i say let freedom ring. ring out everywhere. freedom is the solution to most things, with no ph mixed in, gets out the most caked-on stains. when in doubt, call for more freedom. let everything and everyone and every notion be as free as possible. clear the stage, wash it, the audience-member is free to throw a tomato at the free speaker just as the free-speaker is allowed to duck. just don't let those beautiful beefsteak tomatoes wilt and rot, that would be a tragedy salad.

Laertus: hey.

at the French Open, it's open-mic night at the press conference. Nadal tells a joke but no one understands it.

Nadal: it's not just the language barrier. it's the accent barrier. i made an effort, you people need to be more linguaphile. the only seed which concerns me are the raw seeds which fall on my land's soil dropped by birds. you'd get that joke if you experienced an enchilada in my country culture. you know you in the stupid press continually think me dumb cos i talk slow and with few words. and yet i'm smarter than any of you to realize there is no God. how do you explain this, smartguys in the crowd? it's a divine discrepancy of the deity. this is genius hour, i'm Alice no i'm the White Rabbit already buried in my hole of red clay you can't catch me i'm too quick-witted for ya.

press: God.

Genie: now THAT is the man i need! my mother had good taste. i'm jealous of my mother, she still had a chance to be a princess, i can only be named after British Royalty which just rubs the salt in. the salt which is actually good for my androidic joints. man this French Open is boring as the dirt it's played on! no wonder we tennis players are notorious rulebreakers and get in the most trouble out of all the 4 major sports. you really feel it now, the tennis players have a LOT of time on our hands, TOO much time to get into shit and break up new marriages. it's not match fixing, it's simply coaching so we fix it so our student can play better against this particular opponent with some secret knowledge by McEnroe distributed over a midnight phone. none of this would happen if coaching was allowed to be free. if you had coaches in the stands using their hands. we could all see the coaches' hands giving signals and thus also see if there's a dollar bill clasped inbetween those fingers.

Nadal: i do not believe in God. i believe in Goku. from now on, i will don the traditional Dragon Ball orange gi to all of my matches henceforth. it's cool cos it's opensleeved so you can still see my bulging muscles.

Genie: that's it, Rafa's my next twitter date. Adonis and anime?!! genius. real men of genius. time for the nudist colony. all beautiful girls are secret anime geeks inside.

in the woods on the edge of Obec, Roseanne is pulled over by the silver cops.

cops: don't move, ma'am!!!

Roseanne: that's just my body settling.

cops: put down your phone.

Roseanne: don't shoot, my hands are up!

cops: do you have any comment? any further comment on top of the initial comment? an apology for the apology? anything which just compounds things?

Roseanne makes the zipper-up-closed-shut-tight on her long saggy mouth. she adjusts herself. the cops have actual zippers attached to their silver jaws.

cops: what's this in your frontpocket? contraband? it's a BAGGIE of ambien. where did you find this? are you getting this off the black market?

Roseanne: of course, i'm near a university, of course i got this at Exodus College. that's the problem, all the brainwashed blacks are in the universities now getting more brainwashed.

Laertus: according to Harvard, the number of blacks in college is 43. sad. shameful. that number should rise to at least 5000.

Roseanne: okay i'll compromise to get some more followers. take down the statues of the generals and all statues generally, replace them with crosses. those crosses need to be big if you know what i mean.

cops: *blowing their whistles* that's it, we're taking you in, you're coming with us. squeeze in the car, it shouldn't be hard. no, OUR car not yours!

the painted cruiser drives off with Roseanne in cuffs, into a dustnado of summer green elms.

cops: don't say it................don't say it.....

Roseanne: why are we going into the jungle?

at Mueller's office Bob has just come back from the Pulitzer luncheon.

Mueller: i love when my girlfriend dances on top of tables like she's doing her skating routine but in heels and flipping off the press who came to cover it. i'm with Ashley Parker while Comey cat is away on tour, keeping her warm for my bro. i love when she puts the cantaloupe up her nose. i need Ashley to distract my doldrums. my office is so depressing, it looks like the hollowed-out inside of a YMCA but without all the fun stuff. in fact that's exactly what it is, stripped of the basketball court. but you can still smell the stripping glue. a cavernous classroom with one oldskool projector in the far front, projecting onto a big pulldown white screen. my huge head ominously-looking, looking straight at the camera, at YOU with my wide eyes, not saying anything from my frog mouth, as the image on that screen. it's like the inside of a DMV during test day but drearier. sigh.

Mueller slides off the clear sheet used for math with markers on the projector screen, the one on top of the projector machine itself, the clear hollow one that has that huge light bulb screwed on so big and so tight you can see fluttering in waves of light, too bright to look at up close directly. Mueller squeezes and squees back to man-size and climbs the gym ladder to the very top of the last ledge which hangs below the large slit windows filtering dusty particles of grey-blue light from the outside. Mueller stares out into the greeny DC streets saddled with large trucks of high-minded high finance, the swampy Potomac River full of pink whirlwinds, to the furthest point of distance, the tip of the Washington Monument. his arms are in his backpockets, messying his hands with a greasy mechanic's mini-towel and bulby wrench in the other buttcheek. daypocket and nightpocket.

President Bump is strolling along and notices Bob in the high window looking out and forlorn. he decides to pay him a visit and opens the revolving door to the Y.

Bump: i saw you on the ledge. you were a silhouette of the moon, caused by the moon.

Mueller: thank you, friend, that was very poetic. i love you.

Bump: can we do the summit here? it's just as good a place as any.

Mueller: sure. just move the projector.

Bump: can i borrow it? let's go, Kim. oh yeah wait first.

Bump kneels at the U.S. flag on the flagpole in the corner while the National Anthem is being played.

Bump: okay, go. let's summitize.

Kim: summarize? like read the minutes? nothing has happened yet.

the two iron out and force themselves to do a fistbump after an arm-wrestling match of fists and cry and sweat and tear and tear their hairs out---each other's hairs, they wouldn't dare touch their own hairs---and negotiate and yell in the same language until finally FINALLY after roughly 8 rough hours both ways day and night, three days later, they hammer out the final details:

Bump: okay, that's it we decided on the design of the coin. done? i'm just biding my time here waiting for lunch so i can feel good and not gross again for an hour.

in Hawaii those damn volacnaoes continue to churn without end, putting on a hot-water show of dancing lines of shoot like you see in Vegas with the colored multi lights. except there's only hissing, not cheering and yeahing. and the only colors are orange-red. and drab for the rocks. Gladyce rushes to get the honeymooners reserved at the Lupin Lodge before it books out.

Gladyce: don't ignore me, dear! why are you reading a book while i'm speaking with you? that's an ugly face.

Doryce: huh did you talk something? i'm reading a book. of Lupin manga. i'm learning. these volcanoes are acting like they own the place. i thought it was a Jeep commercial. i was setting up to watch on a lounge chair with my fig coffee.

Doryce wears her Maui Jims to block the saving-grace light. she's lugging around a sack of Maui Brand potatoes by her vagina.

Doryce: okay, i'm ready. where are these famed Maui and Sons? i want to fuck Maui first to get a taste of the father then i'll be ready for the sons.

Gladyce: what's that on your lap?

Doryce: oh?!! oh it's just my salad from lunch.

Gladyce: why is it more brown than green? and molty and munchy instead of crisp and watery? the bad arugula again?

Doryce: THIS ISN'T SALAD. that's all i'm gonna say. women go to the bathroom on their breaks.

Gladyce: on a plate tho?

Doryce: that's how dirty the bathrooms are here.

Gladyce: i'm gonna check the Shit Chart online to see what shape yours are in and if i should be worried. of all the things i thought i'd ever see online, i really didn't want to see that chart.

Doryce checks the scores and other things on her watch, Gladyce the weather. Doryce pricks an ice cube on a skewer left by the dust road and begins roasting it over the volcano.

Doryce: melted instantly. gotta check again i'm not doing it right.

Laertus: hey you! yes you! Doryce and Gladyce! why did you post an image of poo on a plate with the caption underneath

Accidental Salad

that's not cool. you makin' fun of me? i will not be bullied any longer. i'm dropping you as followers.

Doryce: you followed us, kid.

Laertus: i know, i needed Quidditch tips. what's that smell?

Doryce: a lady never tells. twice.

Laertus: a gentleman never asks. for nudes. no i mean that smell of burny gooey glue that's been pasted into taffy?

Jay Furr: it's me.

Laertus: get off my feed, DUDE! no one wants your stinky marshmallows!!!

Gladyce: i was surpised at your virality.

Jay Furr: my number of mentions if you put them on a chart go up and reach a peak it's shaped like a volcano.

at the house full of haunts and surprises:

Dirg: *papering* who is this? i haven't seen this character before.

Alan: new this week. popped into my head like an electric bolt.

Laertus: looks like from the famed anime book Destroyer of Worlds.

Alan: that's a character. and not a god-damn anime character! fuck anime! fuck anime adaptation! not everything is anime you know! there was a comic industry that was American which in turn was British. long ago, forgotten and shamed. like where the characters animals and humans alike all looked like, well they had normal eyes and were Hanna-Barbera and stuff. men had muscles. writers weren't afraid to make their main-men protagonists musclebound and honorbound. and dutybound, men who took huge risks and huge shits in the toilet, big big doodies. not genderless geeks. you youth have to decide what kind of world you want to live in: the one designed by Marvel or DC.

Laertus: i applaud Marvel. just turn off the comments and they'll be fine.

Dirg: what a travesty going on over there at Marvel. i'm shaking my head that you can see cos it's not spraypainted.

Alan: see how they're force-feminizing Thor into a character who doesn't need a breastplate anymore? the solution is simple and clear: just create female characters. new ones, don't SJW-strip the living life of the old ones like you have a time machine or something. don't turn Mowgli into a girl despite his long hair, racism was charming back then. okay, world, i got a compromise for you: you leave Thor as is and i promise to create a brand spanking new female character who kicks ass and takes it in the ass but has small breasts, deal?

Dirg: *clasping a pencil inbetween his fingers* NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Alan: let's just step back a moment here and breathe, shall we? i mean this is crazy. a woman taps a few keys from the privacy of her keyboard and suddenly she is responsible for millions of jobs lost. the President has her beat on that one! twitter is deadlier than cancer. i'd get shut down for saying that on twitter. twitter is cancer. Coach Colangelo has to resort to using a burner twitter to insult his players cos he can't insult them i mean discipline them to their face. there's got to be a better way for us to communicate. nobody goes outside anymore, even coworkers and friends in bars would rather type to each other than meet at work or play. we've got to start talking to each other, we've got to start knowing what color eyes our circle of people have. we must go outside, for fuck sake GO OUTSIDE!!! the reason i stay indoors behind this spiritual screen is i don't want to meet my younger fans and end up like John K.

Laertus: what's that rumbling?

Alan: it's not rumbling. it's rustling.