Friday, October 9, 2015



* groom: HABOOB!
bride: oh no, my dress is showing?! nipslip?!
groom: no, HABOOB!

* bride: HABOOB!
groom: you're marrying a boob? that's not very nice, especially on our wedding day.
bride: no, HABOOB!

* bride and groom: seriously? we still have to do the sand ceremony?

* officiant: dust to dust...
bride and groom offer dirty looks.
officiant: sorry...if there's anyone here that objects to this union...
haboob hits.
officiant: ...nevermind. y'know what, let's forego all of your long-winded vows you wrote yourselves and just say this: do you love him?
bride: yes.
officiant: you love her?
groom: yes.
officiant: great. mazel tov. i'm outtie 5000.
bride and groom: thank you, that was very efficient.
officiant: i'm an efficient officiant.

* the two kiss.
bride: your breath is all hot and dusty.
groom: i took a breath mint before, i swear!


happy weekend

Wednesday, October 7, 2015


the Pope: does the Pope shit in the woods? i mean is the Pope Catholic? yes and yes. Everyone Poops, it's what connects all genders, sexes, races, classes, and orientations together into one religion of humanity. the human is the only class we all take. the homework there is brutal. never stop learning. until the aliens come. we are all part of the human race, though some are annoying human marathoners and others prefer to walk. sometimes you are forced by a bull or a bear to move finally, whether it's Pamplona or a Wall Street window. or Jordan inspires you to lace em up one last time. or Cutler inspires you to quit smoking. sometimes the bear eats you and sometimes...well most of the time the bear eats you...

crowd: PREACHER!

the Pope: ...but you make yourself the best person you can be with the thickest skin so when you get et that bear has the hardest time digesting your old bones.


Mickey Bump: i'm not gonna lie. i'm not gonna lie to you folks, i'm getting scared. i'm slipping. and i'm not talking about my poll numbers. i saw a greasy sickly moon last night, it was unreal, it was like the moon had been spray-painted with salmonella food coloring.

crowd (wearily): it was the Blood Moon, you dunce. don't you read the papers?

Bump: no, it wanted to be amber but it was chartreuse, i'm not red/yellow-colorblind but i admit it's all green to me. it's a sign. an omen. i have a lot of energy, bless my beloved parents for that, but even i'm in need of a Fox News sabbatical. i can't do this anymore...but i can't stop. the future is bleak...but i must continue...for beloved...she was there for me when my parents were on separate business trips. i must codify all this bleakness for you folks so i become a symbol upon which you design your final choices. we all must make hard choices, but it's the final choice that counts. i'm scared...not of all the shootings...but of the zombies we're becoming. we have nothing to fear but fear of the unknown itself. the eternal fear of the unknown...


Uvula: so i ran into my first love at a monastery...

Fuerza: what did i always tell you, mijo, bars are for bangin', church is for hangin'.

Uvula:...and you were there all goofy-lookin' with your wide-eyed grin and teeth that had only ever chewed greasy fast-food processed meat, you were eager to cleanse your body and soul with the bodywrap of nature. i had sworn to myself i'd never fall in love or get married but attraction seems to come from the stars. and i was sick of living with animals. i remember it as if it were yesterday...

*Lost flashback sound prompt*

Cotard: yes, it's all coming back to me now. i was brushing my teeth in front of the monastery mirror naked like you do, checking out my flabby six-pack, okay twelve-pack, realizing i had this bangin' bod for nothing, especially not banging. that got me depressed. i tried to pray but it was never quiet enough, no matter how far away i got from the other rowdy monks i could never quiet the voices in my head. then i had sex for the first time.

Uvula: um, let me tell it. so i broke the ice with talking about travel and how precious that was to me, the ability to move anywhere at any time when the seas got rough, usually by sea.

*the flashback is in full effect now, no more disembodied narration*

Cotard: yeah, i've always wanted to, that's not true, i'm just saying that to impress you. i never gave it much thought actually till now that you've brought it up. i was always in my own world, lived in my head, traveled in all that empty space up there....huh, yeah that would be pretty awesome to i see in those travel magazines...imagine writing for one of those magazines...globe-trotting and getting paid for it! that's a dream come true! i'd live like that for free! what the fuck am i doing in a monastery!? i need to get out there! i am so fucked!

Uvula (laughing): you're funny. and good-looking.

Cotard: i know, i'm funny-looking. wait, i'm good?

Uvula: yeah i think so. you're harmless, which is a change of pace from what i've been dealing with my whole life.

Cotard: what's your ex-boyfriend's name?

Uvula: society. do you mind if i kiss you?

Cotard: i don't think.

Uvula kisses Cotard's finger and sniffs around his face.

Uvula: we'll see how the night goes, mister, and you might get a suck.

Cotard: i suck at this. i can't relate to people. i need a screen. i don't know how to sex. i think i'm a porn addict.

Uvula: oh god, please tell me you didn't look at any of those Fappening pictures. what a destruction of privacy. this is what i'm saying. this is why i live in a cave. society is doomed. a lack of decency demands secrecy. no courtesy=cages, we block ourselves from each other cos the other thinks the other is a wild bear ready to pounce all the time. we don't talk anymore, we evade. and now that you've seen your favorite silver-screen stars naked, they can be thrown away like the tissue you used to see them, right? i'm sure you don't want to know their position on global warming or the pipeline after your pipes got warmed and cleaned. ashes to ashes, dust to dust, commodity to commodity. and this is me we're talking about, i despise celebrities. for the first time i felt sorry for them, something other than envy. were they ever human? were they people? did they live?

Cotard: the high life. but that's just it, it's life high, not life sober. i understand what you're saying and it's affected me. i'm starting to like you for more than your body. i don't know what it is but i feel good. i feel that i'm good. i'm a good person, damnit, no matter what anyone says about me, even me. i dunno but there's an innate sense of nobility in me, i want to do the right thing, i don't want to fall into the morally-bankrupt, relativistic morass everyone else is wading in. somehow that's lazy. it's easy to be bad, hard to be good, and harder to do good when you're hard all the time. i want to do good, be good, respect everyone, lift up the downtrodden, but i don't want to lead.

Uvula (getting misty): that's the sign of the best leaders. i feel you, i'm the same way, it doesn't come from us, it comes from before, it's our parents' genes spilling onto our tongues whenever we eat and drink and pee and poo, we leave a certain smell around us, the odor of our descendants, and we pray to Christ or Uma that they were good, didn't kill anybody illegitimately or had any illegitimate babies they threw away. then when we talk, we speak with our lineage lining our tongues, we can't help but be who we are, and we pray everyday on a stone or a scapular, a monastic or a layman's scapular, that we will never end up a psychopath, or worse, a sociopath.

the two hug, crashing noses.

Cotard: yes, yes, it's okay, it's gonna be okay, we're gonna be okay, we're gonna make it, but i'm not sure how'd we do alone caged in our own thoughts. praying all the time was getting boring for me, i never want to be comfortable again. the debate must always be fierce and opposite, we must not be afraid of the dark, the only way to break the mold is to break out of the mold. we humans must talk with one another, exchange not expunge, connect not contain, conversate not eliminate. we must build, always build, build up others, be a LeBron, we must form the human chain which holds up the weight of the wrecking ball.

Uvula: so no more porn? look at me, look at my face, touch me but not in that way, hold me, feel me, i am skin and bones and blood like you, when i bleed i bleed purple cos i'm of a royal lineage.

Cotard: you're royalty? what's Kate Middleton really like?

Uvula: no, i'm of woman, all women. my veins are your veins, i'll get them on my legs later, yours will clog with cholesterol later. i'm not an image on a screen to be deleted, a video to be hidden. i'm not a gif, i'm a gift.

Cotard: same. i mean i agree. sorry for the internet speak.

Uvula: there's nothing sexier than a feminist man. i feel close to you.

Cotard: we're still touching noses.

Uvula: butterfly kiss?

Cotard: i'm sure they do.

the two humans disrobe. Cotard is naked except for his belt which hangs around his penis. Uvula leaves her hoodie on.

Cotard: i'm a novice. beginner-level. naughty noob. where do i place this? is this the part where i pull your hair? eating cum, when does that discussion take place? is this where i call you bitch? all five holes at once?

Uvula: must be the deep web. you have a hole in your head. never call me bitch. or witch. unless it's Halloween and i'm in costume. or it's not Halloween and we're role-playing. let me take the lead, i saw two grizzly bears doing it once one morning just outside my cave entrance, i picked up a few pointers, that's a scene that permanently burns into your psyche. getting on all fours comes naturally for me. oh, and before we begin, think of this as vespers and


Cotard: you can borrow all my extra prayers, don't tell Boss Abbot but i've been slacking in the vespers department, i don't do it anymore, i get sleepy after dinner, i go to my cell and watch movies instead.

Cotard inserts awkwardly and starts moving up-and-down before getting more into the flow sideways up-and-down. he slaps his own ass the whole time.

Uvula: i hope this doesn't hurt.

Cotard: i think it's supposed to hurt good. are you feeling anything? am i ravishing you yet?

Uvula: i think so. or maybe it's just gas. i drank too much of your lakewater. you should really get that swill tested.

Cotard: no plumber is willing to climb all the way up here. where's Mario when you need him? or Marcio? that agua is prolly riddled with bacteria.

Uvula fake-moans.

Cotard: i don't think i'm cumming from this.

Uvula: that's a good thing. look at the waterfall over there, it'll induce you.

Cotard: you're right, it's working. it's all the same system of pipes, right? pee, cum, poo, liquids, fluid, we're all water, we fly through the fluidity of space, we're all connected through infrastructure. i think i'm cumming. nature calls, and the calling to nature. i'm coming, nature!

Cotard races to the tip of the waterfall that spills into the lake and cums into the rushing spray of the falls. his o face is obscured.

Uvula: ohhhhhhhkay. how was it for you?

Cotard: i feel at one with the universe.

Uvula: so hot. tingling waves rolling across my body. it's the hot flashes, i get hot flashes.

Cotard: have a drink. oh yeah, right. wait, i've got the perfect thing. where's my robe? i've got deep pockets.

Cotard takes out two mugs and two cans from his robepockets. with a devilish grin and tongue gently bit, he pours out the two cans of LeBron's Mix Sprite into one overflowing mug and tosses the other mug into the lake.

Cotard: hide the evidence, first thing you learn in the monastery. this is very special, this Sprite is very rare, a pain in the ass to get, the nearest store that carries it is next to the only plumber store in town. but this is a special occasion, this calls for something special, you're worth it, the mutual laying of the foundation for a friendship of fire. virgins no more. 40 is just a number.

the two sip from the same rim.

Uvula: awww, you're cute. and better, sweet. you deserve a treat. don't worry, i won't tell the Abbot you should be drinking wine instead.

Cotard: you're a top bird. the bee's knees.

Uvula: you really are good-looking you know.

Cotard: thank you. no one has ever said that to me before. not even my mom.

*sound prompt, back to the present reality*

Bridge and the rest of the crew are stunned into rapt attention, eating their pasteis de nata with mouths agape. mama Fuerza dips hers circularly in the egg yolk collecting collectively on the one communal plate and closes her agape mouth to eat.

Uvula: after that we kinda drifted apart. actually the Abbot was jealous of our love and banned me from the monastery forever. the last time i saw you you were swigging the fuck outta that lakewater. i returned to my becoming the Animal Queen. anyway, i just want you to know you were so much more to me than a one-night stand.

Cotard holds Uvula's hoodied head tight in his embrace, making the sign of the cross on her forehead.

Cotard: bless you, my child.

Uvula (losing oxygen): .......................


he hugs her properly.


Wolf is still in his daughter's room. he slept in her bed.

Cub (getting back from junior college): you haven't moved a muscle. does this mean i can have my own apartment?

Wolf (yawning): um, ask your mother.

Cub: i would but you're always hogging my instagram.

Wolf: hey have you ever noticed that no big news happens on the weekends? if there's a monumental event, it always waits for the weekdays to happen, it wants to make sure everyone has sobered up and is paying attention. who's this boy? he's everywhere on the internets. is he a meme or something? see? i'm learning the internet leet speak.

Cub: just don't start using bae unless you're referring to mom. this boy has become a symbol of hope, a nonpolitical all-inclusive one. his pictures have been plastered all over the world. who knows? maybe some other planets, too. he is such the face of innocence. his cheeks are rosy, he smiles and gives the thumbs up, he's wearing the jersey of his favorite soccer player that week. his feed is all about soccer, the beautiful game, his shoe collection, his attempts at the Rooney bicycle kick, and his adulation of his older brother who taught him the game. he's a lake of calm in our modern waterfall of rushing. he's a moment savored instead of a moment branded. and rebranded.

Wolf: that thumbs up of his and his utterly genuine smile make me happy. feel-good. a good feel. vibing. i wish i were a kid again.

Cub: i wish i had kids.

Wolf: i'm pregnant.

Cub: what?

Wolf: i'm pregnant with purpose. i know what i must do. i must save the world, i must protect the kids like him from the bad-seed kids.

Cub: so you're gonna start reporting on good news?

Wolf: no, our ratings would go in the gutter.

Monday, October 5, 2015



1. at your best friend's wedding you definitely know his/her spouse-to-be is having an affair with the best man/maid of honor. you see secret disheveled hair and everything. what do you do? ruin the big day or prevent him/her marrying a cheater? a) spill b) don't snitch c) confrontation with the cheater d) when the officiant says, "if anyone has a beef with this union, sing like a canary now or else snitches get stitches," you sing like a canary. this happened to me. i lost the cheater who was my best friend, the best friend who was my best friend, his wife-to-be who was my best friend, and the officiant who was my best friend and took me round back and demanded to know where his donuts were he sent me out to get. one bright spot: all the disheveled hair inspired me to open up my own hair salon.

2. if you saw someone shoplifting, what would you do? CLICK HERE

3. a train is barreling down the tracks towards five people. long story short, the only way to stop the train is to push the heavy man next to you over the bridge and onto the track, killing him but saving the five people. what do you do? this is the type of stuff that Batman has to wrestle with everyday whenever the Joker gets in one of his moods. Doctor Who with Davros. would you kill child Hitler? i probably would but then the episode would end with me actually being the man who is pushed over the bridge. then Rod Serling would come out and sum up the proceedings in his philosophical way...and then he'd try to sell you a pack of smokes.

4. if you knew no one would ever find out, would you fool around with your attractive in-law? what would you do? a) make it clear: not interested b) continue just flirting c) fuel up your sexual fantasies starring them d) let's get physical, physical this happened to me. i made it clear: not interested. then we fucked. my high fantasy turned into a low fantasy. no one ever knew, but i knew. i picked up a new pet bunny and a copy of The Tell-Tale Heart on my way home...

5. would you rather have one year off at your current rate of pay OR work your current job for a year at double your current rate of pay? that's a double negative.

bonus: why should anyone care what consenting adults do in private? exactly. who was it that said that a human being ceases to be a human being if said human being has no privacy? Socrates, right? did you know that Socrates's last name was Snowden?


Friday, October 2, 2015




* sneaky pan there.


* dinner with Joe Namath, fine. drinks? not so much.


* the 4 most common typing mistakes:
1) teh for the
2) poor posture
3) running out of correction fluid cos you inhaled it all
4) taking a hammer and chisel to your typewriter (this most often occurs after getting high on the white-out.)


* no, the men in your office noticed you before you became an Olivetti girl, they were just shy. "dress sloppy" means naked, right?


* i want to go to Chicago.

* conclusion: i want to be an Olivetti girl.

happy weekend

Wednesday, September 30, 2015


the Pope: the Pope. think about it. when you say that name and think of me, you smile, right? that's my mission. that's all that really matters. i'm a symbol, not a person. it's about a coming together, my Body is a rejection refuge, a pill when you're sick, an eye on you when you are marginalized. when you pray, it's a solitary thing, it's in your head, but you're not crazy, your prayers have just joined the largest community in the world. we're not a religion, we're a gang, and who doesn't want to join a gang? everyone wants the power of belonging, of mattering. we're not just matter. there are gonna be a lot of scary times coming up, a central collection of power, and you're gonna feel isolated and neutered again. you must keep the faith, we'll get through it. i am here. i represent the vocal minority, the guy in the room who stands up for what's not right in his perception. there must always be an opposition, there can never be just one answer, that's too easy. life is hard, that much is obvious, it deserves a complex answer, it demands one. this isn't a sex thing. i love all of you cute little sheep in my flock. i'll love you always. and the next life, too, whatever the hell that is.

the Pope climbs to the top of the highest point in Vatican City, a television antenna pole that allows the Pontiffess to get HBO and Showtime. the overcrowded crowds bustle and trample their way onto others' heads to get a better look at her Royal Majesty the Conduit of Heavenly Power Overtaking our World with a Blessed Bath of Light. normally this blessing is understood silently, but you can see the actual power crackling yellow then white from the points on the Pope's crown made of the Stones.


the Pope perches there for what seems like hours, waving furiously and blowing so many kisses to the masses she loses her spit.


the final scene of the Vicious Season 10 finale, which is the series finale. there is no dialogue:

(Freddie sits down on the couch he shared with Stuart for 50 years. at least they got to get married before, he thinks to himself. there is no more appetite for a quick quip or deliberately hurtful insult, somewhere along the way all that love masquerading as hate turned to just love. oh how deeply Freddie misses his life and joke partner, and it's only been an hour since the funeral ended. this show has a wonderfully mood-whiplash way of ending on a scene of great pathos, for all of its usual bold bluster and biting remarks. the camera pans to the center of Freddie's dead-eyed face. Freddie doesn't know what to do from now on, how to move again, there are times when another cutting comment doesn't cut it. fade to black. kinda like the Dexter ending.)

Sir Ian McKellen (thinking to himself): i'll use these feelings right now for when i undoubtedly play Magneto again.............but i REALLY don't want to wear that horrible helmet anymore.


Bridge pushes Kenyatta into the ocean at the tip of their island.

Kenyatta: hey!

Bridge: love tap. if i don't motivate you, who will?

Kenyatta: this plan has zero chance of succeeding. we'll drown before we make it to Brazil.

Bridge: all plans fail, that's the nature of plans, they fail upon first contact by a wave, human or water.

the women sidle-swim along each other but their weight is dragging them down. they're not making much progress, slow ants cresting ever so forward before the first big crest hits them.

Kenyatta: we're sitting ducks out here! now we're gonna die when i don't want to anymore. what is your last testament?

Bridge: you're not in the will. i don't believe in wills. i left all my money to the refugees for we are all refugees on this planet. did you ever love me or should i have changed my name to "work"?

Kenyatta: hey some of us work for a living and don't get a cheque handed to them each month. mine was forced labor but i eventually turned the system in on itself and imploded it. while i was spying for others i used my little eye to locate this paradise place. it's amazing what you can include in business expenses, i am so happy every country thinks globally now. i didn't love you for your money but i do love money. you made the incredibly magnanimous decision to spread your wealth not miser it, that must have been very difficult, i wouldn't have had the fortitude growing up in the work projects.

Bridge: easy. there was so much bankruptcy everywhere it was starting to get uncomfortable. i had to help to feel comfortable again.

a helicopter swooshes in and the ladies close their eyes and remain motionless. but it's not a Codrus drone or a warship, it's Cucumber in his rescue copter! he with some difficuly raises the two ladies up a slippery rope and onboard.

Kenyatta: yeah i think i remember you, it's been so long.

Bridge: sometimes you gotta trust a snake. not you, the rope. is that really your name?

Cucumber: i wouldn't make that up. and now you're really gonna hate me but my mama told me to tell the truth at all times. it was really difficult for me to pull you gals up and i'm a big strong man. you were really heavy.

Bridge: i know, i was packing some supplies in my bra, like a couple of whole chickens and other foodstuffs for the trip. gotta eat.

Kenyatta: well that explains the discrepancy when we make love. bae i love you for just who you are, you don't need padding.

the two kiss their mouths passionately to a delighted Cucumber in the background spectating.

Kenyatta: wait, you're not Team Codrus, are you? sorry if i'm paranoid, i'm a spy.

Cucumber: check my heart, it bleeds. i'm on the good side, always will be. i had the best mother in the world. i know what Codrus is trying to do, he doesn't fool me. my eyes are clear, i don't do Stones, he reminds me of those kings i read about in my Bible. Yayray told me your coordinates, he knows all about your place.

Bridge: but he remains strangely silent about it. and we're still alive. the power of a crush.

Kenyatta: please, that boy will always be that boy to me, i'll crush him alright if he thinks his positional power grants him the ability to be rude to me or toss me out with the rest of the garbage. that boy always needed so much work, thankfully for him i was a worker.

Cucumber: where to?

the chopper, obviously plated with some material invisible to the drones' detection, flies nonstop on some newly-developed Stones-infused efficient clean-burning fuel that gets good miles all the way to Brazil and where Cotard is at in no time flat.

there's a knock at the gate.

Erneste: you gotta be kidding me.

Kenyatta: i know this is not in the nature of monks, but open up!

Bridge: we got to da choppa!

Cucumber: hehe, well sort of.

Cotard: it is in the nature of Cotard tho. Kenyatta? long time no meat chat. hold on i'm having an important conversation with my dead mother and Little Red Riding Hood.

Uvula: it's more a strawberry hood than red.

Bridge (shakes hands with everyone): nice to meet you, i've never met a true bonafide monk before.

Cotard: you still haven't. Uvula, Bridge is it?, Bridge, Uvula.

Bridge: that cannot be your real name. which brings me to the urgent matter at hand. why are you so popular, girl? you must have one hell of a youtube partner. but first, food. i'm starving. i brought some chickens. (she pulls them out of her still-drying blouse.)

Erneste (screams and looks outside): no, not Sherlock and Moriarty my prized pets!!!

Bridge: no man, i brought these from my private island paradise, we only have one store but you'd be surprised what they stock in there. what do you think i am, a heartless witch?

Erneste (hyperventilating): okay, okay, my pets keep me company when the world won't. it's not them, they are sleeping in my room, they are clucking in their REM-state sleep, thinking about how it felt to be an egg, and what came first. those chickens look good, so juicy and tasty and seasoned with the ocean salt. i love chicken. that's my problem, i love chicken too much. you don't have any exploding candy bars in there, do you?, i'm always scared i'll bite down on one one day.

with a smile full of "this is the funny type of crazy", Bridge takes out the rest of the meal she brought, all manner of tropical fruits and banyan-strained tonics and spongy chocolate cake and cheeseballs.

Erneste: oh pao de quiejo! my favorite! how did you know!?

Bridge: idunno.

Kenyatta: you know she's with me, right?

Erneste: i did not hear that part, i have a bad ear for things, and people. woman i want to eat your cheese balls!

the gathering gathers at a small but strong stone table and chows down.

Kenyatta: so how did Miss Thang get so ting ting?

Uvula (chewing on a hard cucumber): it's another tale of woe i'm afraid. it's a sad backstory but this ain't no reality show, it's my reality po. ever since i could remember i remember being forgettable. no one ever met me, they'd meet past me to the next person, no one knew i was alive, i blended into every background like lead paint. i was young for my age so i was never taken seriously. as a fully-grown 21-year-old woman i stood inches and still looked like a girl. dates? none, and because of that i hate eating dates. i had nowhere to go so i traveled and before i knew it i found myself at the door of a mental institution. Lysander the doctor there was hesitant at first cos he thought i was seven years old. life in the nut farm was long, drawn-out and painfully boring. and i still felt pain. and i hated eating nuts ever since. nothing changed, i could never get a word in edgewise, a hello much less a wise word, cos all the nurses thought i had discharged and was no longer there and Lysander was always off on some spiritual journey or something. the charts always got mixed up, i never got the right medicine, which was any medicine. finally i went out the front door and realized i was an adult and alone. no friends, no future, no fire. the world had shun me,


i set up space in the woods but i couldn't quite give up the modern world, i had my pocket tv which kept the light on when my campfires went out. from that vantage point i saw all manner of trash tv, numbers, late gadgets, hookups, streams (the bad kind), reality shows, gaudy celebrity worship, no denominator, fake alternatives instead of genuine alts, escape, and just general emptiness consuming a consumer culture. there was no worth anymore, especially for young girls, which i looked like. i mean for a woman the only thing that mattered was her relation to sex. how in the grand scheme of fucking was she gonna be inserted? what she did, who she was, no, who was her boyfriend?, that's it. did she grow up into a beautiful, kind, generous young lady?, no, did she get her tits and ass in?, was her body voluptuous yet?, was her body stick-thin-Milan-model yet? sex not sense. getting laid not getting paid.......sometimes the two were one. i was angry. yes i was jealous. i was happy to leave this filth behind and start off with the fresh air of unspoilt nature. there aren't a lot of protected parks anymore but i found one near a monastery so hidden i thought it was some old kook's Revelations survivalist shack or something.

Cotard: you aren't far off, our founder was booted from the Vatican for teaching that the Apostles were really dinosaurs and that all dinosaurs talked. hey we'll never really know if dinosaurs could talk. at least he was trying to bring religion and science together. at least he was trying.

Uvula: speaking of animals, i decided that i would be forever alone and took up residence in a cave. a bear cave as it turned out. at first i was fine with this, the bear was never home, and i loved the whole concept of hibernation. i willed myself to sleep for months, i had nothing else going on. i tried to walk on all fours, i wanted desperately to be an animal, to shed my human form and embrace my animal instinct. i dreamt this, obsessed this, and then the fateful night the grizzly bear came back. i had forgotten what i was taught about what to do when a bear confronts you, cos i was never taught that: do you stand still and adopt a stance of strength, arms up, maybe growl, to show your dominance, assert your area? or do you run? the grizzly took one look at my face and ran away out the cave's entrance. i wasn't making a scary face tho. *sigh* i turned around and saw a fissure in the cave wall glowing yellow. what was this strange terrifyingly calming substance? i needed a strong force to break the wall down to see what was inside so i called the bear back. that's a long, drawn-out side story, very frustrating, i didn't know what to do to call a bear back, do you whistle or pretend you're a lady bear or what? anyway, the thirsty bear finally came back and charged at me and i jumped and it crushed the wall down. inside was a bright room full of loads and loads of gold bars, pirate treasure. i later came to know this booty as the Stones. i saw two skeletons in the middle of the piles, i hoped they were not my parents. i never knew my parents, don't know if they planted all this stuff here for me to find later knowing my personality. they were explorers, maybe they knew me better than i knew myself. long story short, the unlimited Stones essence in the cave gave me the power to communicate with and control all the animals on Earth. luckily, i use this power for good, i don't screw people. despite all the nurture i've been through, i have an innateness of good. blame my parents, they must have been good-natured people. and speaking of booty...(she glances at Cotard)

Cotard: what?

Uvula: you don't recognize me? wait, let me take off my hood. it's me, your first girlfriend. and mine. first boyfriend. and your first. and my first. remember about a week later i bumped into you as you gathered water from the same pont i gathered water for my cave upkeep, the ficuses (plural ficus or ficii?), the goldfish, and the cave paintings, not ancient paintings etched on the wall but modern paintings i found swimming in the streams (the good kind) i hung on my cave wall? i was sick of eating only berries so i was forced to venture out. we were pont buddies who became more. it couldn't have been more rom-com (i every so often still checked in with my handheld television). despite my past, i thought you were cute. hope springs eternal. i thought you were crazy, but i was crazy, i was living the tv show Land of the Lost for real. we did it awkwardly on the first date right there on the monastery grounds. so much flopsweat. there is nothing more desperate than two virgins finally fucking.

Cotard: that was you? i don't remember you.

Spirit Fuerza, who has been with everyone at the table but asleep this whole time, finally opens her eyes.

Fuerza: did i hear that my son fucked?

Monday, September 28, 2015


1. autumn or fall, which do you say? winter is coming

2. pumpkin spice, love it or hate it? what is pumpkin spice? is that like Hell Dust? (edit: yes it is.)

3. apples: seasonal treat or eat them all year? all year cos you never know when the occasion will present itself to tell off some asshole "how do you like them apples?!" (so you gotta always carry apples with you, in your pocket or something, not to eat, not for the health benefits, for the joke.)

4. where you live, do tree leaves change color in the fall? there is nothing more beautiful on this green earth than the autumn leaf color. it's like a motivational quote i saw just this morning on instagram: autumn leaves remind us that looking at dead things is cool.

5. in autumn truffles are popular in Italy, seafood is popular in Ireland, crayfish popular in Stockholm. what is a popular autumn food where you live? pumpkins. we scrape out all that sticky junk from their insides and then we pray for the spirits to inhabit these hollow rotting smelly gourds. that's what creates jack-o'-lanterns, everyone knows the legend, it's not the flickering candles you put inside them that breathe life into them, it's actual spirits. the spirits really appreciate being trapped in there all night, they told me so in a dream i had after some bad pumpkin pie.

6. scientists observed that the further a country is away from the equator, the more its residents are affected by the seasons. how do you feel in autumn/fall? depressed, rejuvenated, or some other emotion? depressed. there are other emotions?

7. strolls amid fall foliage are: a) romantic b) allergy-inducing c) dirty d) prime-time to "rustle the leaves" if you know what i mean *wink wink*: all of the above. nobody said love was easy.

8. what is your favorite autumn holiday, celebration, or activity? TPing. tomato-picking. we quietly wait for the neighborhood punks to toilet-paper our beautiful grand oak tree and say nor do nothing save for jotting down their names in a green notebook. then we gather the tomatoes (our oak produces tomatoes, it's a very special tree). then we go with our bushel of tomatoes to the annual Fall Festival where the punks are on the stage performing. we wait for the performance to end and then we stand up and...

bonus: do you go apple-picking in autumn? ever made out in an apple orchard? of course, i need to be prepared for bullies. everyone makes out in an apple orchard, that's how hot apple cider is made.


Friday, September 25, 2015




* this was just Pete reflecting on the fact that he gets paid to bowl.

* this wasn't about this particular strike or berating this particular crowd, this was a cumulative thing for Pete, this was really about that art teacher in the third grade who told him he'd never amount to anything cos all he did was crayon inside the lines. see, it takes discipline to continuously color inside the lines.

* Pete's wife: please don't turn the camera toward me, i don't know who this crazy man is, i love you, honey, you the man!!!

* Pete to the crowd: you get free chicken wings, YOU get free chicken wings, you get an economy-sized spraycan of shoe-sanitizer...

* Pete sent this tape to the WWE as his audition and Vince McMahon rejected it for being too crazy.

* Pete sent this tape to his shrink and this was his shrink's notes: "you are not crazy, Pete, the world is crazy. you are making the world crazy."

* Pete sent this tape to the Pope and Pope Francis smiled.


happy weekend

Wednesday, September 23, 2015


the Pope is walking alone down the street to her canonization mass. the masses flock to her distressing their last bit of courage, strength, and identity in order to touch her. she doesn't need security, the strut in her step and her cold stare brings man to its knees.

the Pope: and i'm not even wearing my usual princess crown made of the Stones. this is all real, folks.

a girl in a Space Pope costume wrangles her way over to the Holy Mother and manages to get a selfie of the two of them. the girl gives the hang-loose sign and says "chille tid" instead of "cheese" as she smiles. the girl later threatens online not to release the picture until Futurama gets another season.

Anderson: Madam Pope, Madam Pope, please describe today. how does it feel to have


the Pope: you see it, what a scene! everyone should experience this sort of power once in their lives, it's intoxicating! all the nations. all the grapes. i'd just like to thank my agent Morty for NOT getting me all those bits parts in that dragon epic show, i'd still be an L.A. kook night-waitressing at the crack of crack and my crack hoping for my next tooth gargle commercial, they never wanted me to spit it out. being a failed actress was the best thing to happen to my spiritual life.

the Pope sashays her nice round butt to and fro down the street. the altar boys all line up with their saliva-stained tongues hangin and waggin. the priests put their fingers in their mouths and wolfwhistle. she removes her nine-inch heels, which are really two small swords, and raises them up in triumph.


everyone cheers.

the Pope: two granny smith apples.

Anderson: your butt?

the Pope: no, lunch. come with? hey silver fox cutie would you hold this knife for me while i slip into my vestments? come on, i don't bite unless you want me to. join me, we got the best smokes in there.


Bump: OMFG folks i am SO happy it's finally Fall. my Fall, this is my weather. i've been waiting forever for the freaking season to change. i can't stand the heat. see it's tricky because summer doesn't actually end until the end of September with that equinox thing but school and works start up at the beginning of the month. you've been jipped of your summer vacation this whole time, didn't even know it till now, huh. not when i'm elected. i'm more electable than pumpkin spice. i love that autumnal chill in the air: the seasons change, finally, you walk your dog past huge piles of orange leaves, you play a little pick-up football with the neighborhood watch and their kids in the yard---they have the time cos none of them are in school or have a job anymore---enjoy some cold cider mixed with illegal backyard moonshine that will never be regulated again, this is the way America used to be. and can be again. and yes, i did hire new writers, i don't have time for this flowery shit, i gotta get back to twitter. so i humbly ask you to join me and the very vocal silent majority, join us. i wanna build a snowman with you. you know what life is like? i'll share a little story to humanize me, happened to me just this morning: i was carrying so much summer sweat on my hefty person i gained ten pounds, mostly water weight. my underpants had grafted onto the skin of my legs. i kept checking the calendar on my wall, my real wall not my facebook wall, and today was the day, time for a nice cool breeze. i crack my window and it's TOO FUCKING COLD!!! i can't stand it, i immediately put on my Snoopy mittens and start dancing to conserve body heat. i mean you just can't win. it's fucking hard to be a saint in this world, people are just too complicated.


in the kitchen, Bridge is stirring the pot.

Bridge: i am getting you back on the sauce, darlin. *licks wooden spoon* mmm mmm mmm! that's the good shit! oh baby the oregano hints are strong in this one! look at that rich red color, the color of life pumping, of vitality.

Kenyatta: where are we going today? the hits on the Minority Board are going off the chain. all for this one fascinating hooded woman, she's suddenly become the most popular underground operative in the world, it's like she's got an entire kingdom at her foot. i wanted to let Cotard know but he's been off the grid for awhile. that always worries me, hope everything's okay.

Bridge: yeah we're gonna take a little side-rendezvous over to Brazil to turn her. how's your Portuguese?

Kenyatta: as broken as my soul. but i'm better with you. i don't know where we're going or how we'll get there, but just being with you makes the adventure exciting. you make the mundane magic. going to the store or to church is exciting when we're together. i love helping you with the heavy laundry basket down the two steps of our illegal den, i love being the strong one for once.

Bridge: thanks, babe, back atcha. i'd teach you about saudade but you have me. that reminds me, got the tamed jalapenos?

Kenyatta: yep. packed the almond milk in that leftover wine box i fished out of the ocean?

Bridge signals from outside and the girls race each other and eventually reach the edge of the shore of their private island and stop.

Kenyatta: where's the sub?

Bridge: i packed it.

Kenyatta: no, the boat. surely you can grind up some Stones to make the bottom detection-proof invisible glass or something.

Bridge: that's just silly. there aren't any Stones on this island. we can't risk it, we're swimming.


Cub: dad, shouldn't you be covering all of the Pope's firsts?

Wolf: nah i don't care about that stuff anymore. i'm crafting carefully in my head exactly a very special comment for Baleen's latest insta pic, have you seen it?

Cub: nah, actually i'm kinda losing interest in insta...

Wolf: there's Baleen there in his hospital bed. his neck cast is battered and bruised but he still manages to give the thumbs up. this is very inspiring. i'm writing now:

thank god it wasn't successful. take this as a sign from above, or maybe just here in America. there are higher forces looking out for you, and some on the same level as you. i'm praying for you and i'm not religious. you have no excuse now, you must live live live, always live. never give up. never never never give up. live for your kids, your kids will bring a smile to your face when you cannot muster one. you don't need to be a rock god, just a god to your children.

Wolf: and SEND. did not hesitate to send that one, usually i'm nervous about sending, i read it back ten times and make little changes and wait to see if i should or not, but i'm proud to post this comment. i didn't add emojis to this one cos this is serious. hey daughter, why is your feed filled with spam of some woman in a strawberry hoodie selling all of her various pink wares? i mean everything she's got is strawberry!: strawberry keychains, strawberry diapers, strawberry shortcake, both meanings, strawberry chicken, strawberry bugatti. it smells atrocious! i'm sorry, i'm trying not to judge anymore, i'm trying not to be media dad, maybe i'm not the best person to judge, i have an allergy to cute fruit with achenes. your achene dream is my nightmare. when i see those achene, i achoo.


meanwhile back at the rancho:

Erneste: how did you sleep, my mondo monk?

Cotard: too well. such that you want to remain in dreams. i dreamt of her again. at the end she always used to leave lights on when she left rooms. i was so depressed whenever i saw the kitchen or the living room or our illegal den in our garage with the lights on. sometimes they'd be on all night. her senility cost us pennies. i wouldn't say anything cos she was a proud, dignified woman, i'd just quietly turn off the lights myself and sigh to myself. she continues to leave the lights on in our dreams together, but she chuckles cos she knows all about it now. in death, all secrets die.

Erneste: well she will always be a part of you, more so now that she's actually inside of you.

*wavy dream lines*

Cotard: mama, we have to stop meeting like this.

Fuerza: one day, my stunted son. so have you met any women at the monastery? don't, not the porn stuff, let us never speak of that again. i always wanted you to get married. y'know it's not just for the sex, it's for the life.

Cotard: sex is life......literally. there were a coupla hot nuns who visited on retreat. one with blue hair was very powerful. but they weren't interested. i wish i had the secret to talk to women. i'm all about secrets, secret societies, circle jerks, i'm into all that stuff.

Fuerza: no, that Secret stuff doesn't work with women, either. there was early evidence that the Stones had been created by a pick-up artist as a way to get a date with a model. but it turned out to be bigger than that.

Cotard: i wonder what's bigger than that.

Erneste: what?

JUST THEN there's a clamoring knock at the gate.

Erneste unspools a telescope and takes a peek.

Erneste: oh no, not again, another strange woman at our door...

Tuesday, September 22, 2015


1. my favorite part of my current daily routine is___________ i have a confession to make....i do leg day twice instead of leg day and then arm day. my legs are fucking buff.

2. __________ toilet paper is okay. brown and smelly. that's just the new pumpkin-spice-scented toilet paper.

3. _________ is my nervous habit. despite everything that's happened, i signed up for the Cloud.

4. today i am thankful for ___________ an Update i downloaded that's been downloading for a month now...

5. i cannot wait to _______ fuck.

6. three things i'm looking forward to this Fall are _________ jumping into a big pile of orange leaves, football, and the Fall of Satan.

7. i want to dress in _________ for __________. my werewolf costume when i go see that new Goosebumps movie. which is to say i won't be wearing a shirt. i was thinking more modern werewolves.

8. my best friend is _________ lemonade.

bonus: would you take advice from a porn star? if yes, what would you want to hear? of course, they know the ways of the world better than anyone else. Sasha Grey actually responded to my comment on instagram once, that was the greatest day of my life.


Friday, September 18, 2015



* foot fault. this entire point doesn't count.

* oh come on, they're pushing the ball! they're pushers! Brad Gilbert is loving this.

* oh you see that? the ball was out there but there's no replay on this court. or there is but Monfils used up all of his challenges. and the chair umpire is related to Simon. there is literally nothing Monfils can do but continue playing this point for infinity.

* Monfils's guns-out neon-yellow shirt: he's going to the rave after the match.

* i don't remember Neighbours being like THIS, CLICK HERE.


happy weekend