Wednesday, October 17, 2018

DRAW THE WORLD: LINES



Laertus: so you really don't want to talk about it?

Dirg: let me ease into it, bra.

the two find their friendship firming with each passing day, as if the seasons all melt into and drip onto one another like layers of hot-buttered lassitude. they should always be on opposite sides, but even they recognize they are but two dies, and more often than not when they begin talking it's like riding a bike, they blissfully forget for these brief moments that they're warriors, they sense they are instead two boys the same age who do their best to hide their geekdom in public and privately haven't figured it all out yet.

Dirg: i figured everything out like a clean-pressed iron in high school. ironed on my skateboard. so what do i need college for?

Laertus: these days it's mostly to get a job. to make your family crest sparkle with spit. if it were most about swallowing the totem of pure knowledge that's why one wears one's Pear Watch upside down on one's wrist, a tiny little screen filled with all the world's internets. you can become smart with the touch of a button owned by google.

Dirg: yes, wear that watch upside down on your sensitive veins to save you from yourself when you encounter a desperate moment.

after the boat trip, on the Titanic, Laertus realized it was silly to live exactly one-floor-up from his best friend Dirg, especially after that big revelation, even with the knowledge that the shipliner they were on wasn't doomed to fail anymore. Laertus needed to be close somewhere. so Laertus---he of his own volition---skipped a semester, well he dropped out for two quarters---about 6 months---to tend to and try to heal the injured soul of Dirg.

Laertus: but i needed a place to call home, to pull up some hay from the moist ground of bed-leafed floor. i was desperate to make a hearth for us. we were banned from the dorms and the lecture halls and any hostels on campus full of hostiles and those not of our political stripe.

Dirg: or completely naked with big boobs and bush and b-u-t-t and painted in the stripes of the red white and blue. foreign-exchange babes are especially vulnerable in this current country climate now with papers waved in their pretty faces as foreplay.

Laertus: so i was hiking one morn on this grassy knoll which led into an area of orange leaves that should have been a clearing but this particular trail was unmarked on any map. i prayed to the Anime God for a sign and thought i found one cos God is love is blind is Ray Charles. so i asked the blind mountain man in the corner of the 7-Eleven built out of a wood outhouse for assistance: nothing. the blind are our last hope as a people, you know, they shall guide humanity out of the darkness. the knoll upside-downded itself and the crook of my walking stick got stuck in the many holes of wood planks, it was a bridge now, a sagging bridge which looked like it couldn't carry any more weight, even my skinny ass. they say luck favors the bold so i went for it, i jumped like a new Doctor over an orange crane. and thank goddess i found this beautiful tree-mansion nestled secretly in the middle of Obec Woods abandoned! just as i was running out of time, food, arcade elongated change, water, and will. it's like breaking your bike in the desert and you stumble upon the real oasis of Disneyland in the Anaheim desert. and you find that this magical Disneyland place full of fountain-water has no lines, you're the only one there! who would leave such a lush homestead alone at the mercy of squatters? and why are WE the only squatters!?

Dirg: robbery 101: don't ask questions. that's the problem with you, you never like the answers. squatters are fine, it's the ones who keep swedish fish in their peeholes i distrust.

Laertus: i can't tell if the lights are on cos of all these birds flapping everywhere. i'm tempted to get a job at the student bookstore, too.

Dirg: they're attracted to your green hair!

Laertus gently tucks Dirg in for the night. he makes sure his fuzzy-blue Linus blanket is hospital-cornered over his ankles, he brushes his hair like a bish with his palm and blows at the electric bulb inside the pirate lantern above Dirg's head but the bulb stays on. Dirg raises his cheek against Laertus's cheek.

Laertus: *breathless* OMG....are you.........going in for the kiss? goodnight kiss? i prayed for this day!

Dirg: what's that on your ear? it's silver like pirate and has stars at the top and the shaking-hands emoji at the bottom and held together with those chains they use on ship spoons. it is quite remarkable. Bajoran in origin?

Laertus: it's the new Doctor's ear cuff. single, not on the other ear, it's the most-beautiful addition added to the Doctor ever in all its lore-breaking lore. in all the eons! it's the coolest thing the Doctor has ever done!

Dirg: i still say the dog was the best accessory. not that i'm calling Jodie Whittaker a dog, far from it. get it right and lean right: she's fit and i am desperate to cuff her. but this whole thing has become a jokikal farce. the forced diversity of the BBC, which stands for Badly Bruised Cock btw, is downright cynical in that putrid commercial where the TARDIS crashes the ceiling, i mean come on. it's just another time-honored---time see what i did there?---institution which has been ravaged by the SJW agenda despite savage overwhelming criticism not found on AV CLUB. they're taking everything away from us, dude, all that we hold dear, nostalgia is being neutered. the culture we once knew and loved and counted on and died for will pop and fall, it will be forever subsumed by MOTR mama mediocrity. it's being systemically torn down by the fury of few feminism, this corrosive crashing wave which seeks to destroy this strawman ghost of patriarchy with a capital P and take along young helpless hapless female waifs in its wake just cos they now have enough computers to do the nonblow job, more than that chick with the fish on the bicycle had. at least the '70s had style, i loved her bead necklace and green turtleneck and orange shades. we must fight warrior to warrior on the cyberstreets at all costs till the last man stands.

Laertus: what is this, a '70s tennis match? are you spitting uh spinning of SJW or SJA?, Sarah Jane Adventures, which is what NuWho is anime-goddess rest her soul. the show has finally reached its potential and learnt the power of the matriarch to combat the world's old evils. that a goddess is a much-better-looking god. you're equating culture with civilization. nostalgia will be NURTURED. yes, a mother's love is scary..............for a mother's love is the most powerful force in the universe, capable of quelling all the man-made wars. it's beautiful that. so you're sure you don't want me to call the cops?

Dirg: i told you, they'd never believe me, i'm a ghost stat, a fiction. i don't want to put the police whom i respect deeply through my charade. who would you believe, me or Santa?

Laertus: okay okay, no forced here, i'm not rushing you, when you're ready. come to me in your own time, and come messy i don't mind. these things take time, it's about time. i'll be your Olivia with the cuffs when the time's right. speaking of, did you happen to catch last week's SVU?

Dirg: uh, sure sure, i was doing uh research. shopping around for tribes, grading representation in media on my blog. this one this week will be the most-anticipated they've ever done.

Laertus: preach. it is mesmerizingly meta. Accredo. can't wait. i always imagine if Allison Mack hadn't gotten mixed up in that jack SHE would have STARRED in this very episode as the recruiter of the cult!

Dirg: she's a fake Christin. she's like those Doctor Who Roman soldiers who wanted to talk about their feelings whilst eating avocado loaf in a circle. slapping their open-toed sandals together till their soles became rubber. sitting down and laying real chicken eggs from their bums whilst training their teary eyes squarely on the womenfolk and puffing red.

*ding dong* silently, the birds don't move from their perches eyes closed

Laertus: trouble not, that's the food i ordered online anonymously. from the Chinese place that just skirts the campus limits, technically located in the city suburbs, they won't recognize us. it's that cute little quaint Chinese cabin in the middle of Cal highway, literally in the middle of the road. *opens the grass-hut door* thank you, you included the rice? yes, tons of rice. and the chopsticks? one chopstick, thank you. and plenty of soy sauce, right? that's for me.

Dirg: ha! shaking my damn head. it's okay, fam, all anime fans look alike, he won't be able to pick you out of a lineup or be sure you're not his cousin or even be sure that it wasn't he who did the nasty deed. even the white weaboos who never wash.

Laertus: so, now my summer is ruined again cos i have a lot of catching up to do on languid lectures just for Larry and cumulative coursework. say thank you for this apparent arrangement we find ourselves in where i have to go to school and you get to stay home and do nothing and not have to work.

Dirg: hey, it's the American way, fatherfucker. nuclear family and nucular bombs. victims' rights.

Laertus: because i'm so busy and swamped i'm not gonna be around much. i can only spare the lunch hour each day, so i'll come back here from campus, take off the burqa i have to wear like a baseball cap, and we can have lunch together. the Chinese food now is a sample sampler of our arrangement. this is a very non-college-fratdorm thing to do, in fact it's more of a homeowner thing to do. not eating out everyday will save on bills. bye.

Dirg: as long as you buy the groceries from anywhere but Trader Joe's.

on the bowling green on campus, Takahashi is having a spirited impromptu talk with Pete Davidson at a little white circle table at a local café. well it's more like Takahashi is tugging on Pete's arm, his Superman cape---Pete's white cutoff sleeveless white T shirt--- to sit down and have that conversation.

Takahashi: stay awhile. you really don't want to go back home, Pete.

Pete: what, Ariana must be missing me something fierce. i've been away on a long spiritual safari in Obec Woods, gaining invincible strength, off the grid. i can't wait to get back into the bed of that large silvery urban mansion we share and do the dishes again. by putting the dishes in the fridge when i take long hour-long stare and leans when i open the fridge door.

Takahashi: buddy buddy, here, try the kopi luwak. why don't we bunk together, new roomie? even tho MadTV was always better, that Asian dude and there were no bad bands. i need a stable spot to search for my missing mother in earnest, she's been gone for months.

Pete: okay but i really do need to pick up my shoes at the lovenest. my she-shoes i call them, what's mine is hers and vice. Ari's gonna be so surprised to see me come home early! we're going to a candlelit memorial service for Mac Miller, it's gonna be lit. i'm so happy i don't care if i get sent poisoned Halloween candy this year!

at Melbourne's estate plantation, invisible lines are being drawn. Mel regales some crasher guests at his table, late to the party: President Bump and Kanye. with a story about the first time he met Lewis Hamilton at the F1 Osaka Grand Prix:

Melbourne: we were all jealous of him. he knew what he wanted to do when he was five. school was a nuisance to him, Lew Ham won his first pro race when he was 12. using a ham-radio.

Bump: and when he turns 18 he gets Picabo Street the lucky bastard, and airs his dirty laundry on front street in the papers. i mean that other ski bunny.

Melbourne: i would see Lindsey run rings round me on the cocktail circuit, parties where she wouldn't drink but regale me with her tales about how she was handling the black stick for the first time, my caroline. i'm assuming she was meaning driving stick on the F1...she couldn't have meant the club, she was done with that...the golf club...the stick does have a black coat on...

Kanye: *sings "Sweet Caroline" badly* he's no hero, he's the exception, the amendment. I was driving the culture before I was born.

Melbourne: Lin-Manuel whispered to me on Opening Night behind an iron-curtain Broadway blind that his masterwork was really about Lewis. hey you and Kanye, make sure to eat lunch out here, i don't want the silk sheets getting ants. and don't bother the lady upstairs.

Bump: don't worry, i just want to use one of the upstairs rooms to get me alone with Acosta for five good minutes.

adjacent to this melee in the adjoining room is Nikki Haley lying naked on top of the silk sheets. she makes it a point to rub the yellow oil on her body herself, not doing herself any favors cos the oil is really more like beeswax. she is terrified to open her double-locked door to anyone, but relents when it's Meghan Markle smiling widely and goldenly at her front door. Meghan jumps over the stoop and makes love to Nikki firmly all night until Meghan is pregnant, Meg lost track of time they were in such a hallucinogenic reverie.

Meghan: fuck. and i was getting on so well with the Queen.

Nikki: *sweat pouring down her chin equal parts nervous and exhaustive sweat* yes we did. i can already feel the bump.

Bump: *mid-punch and then he opens up his finger to push his Pear Watch* hold on, Jim, this is me. hey, can you clean up the room? tidy it up before the help arrives? i know it's completely trashed but we can at least empty the trash in the wastepaper baskets. yes, hello? New York Times? es yous? yeah, i know where Khashoggi is, i saw him lookin' like Shaggy sharing a room in a beach shack with Newly-Confirmed Judge Mark Judge. no on the other side of the shoreline. don't trust those turkeys, it ain't Thanksgiving yet! oh and can you remove that headline you were going with for next morn's paper? yeah, the MBS BS one. me? in hiding? nah, my brother Jamal's in hiding, not me. you can find me whenever and wherever you want. no the Royal Family never knows what's going on, their only duty is to attend weddings and weedings. i agree, here's to updating the tired institution of marriage to include strong independent women who don't need no man. yeah, it was rogue ninjas, who botched the job, YOU catch the culprit, that's what you do. they had green skin but didn't frighten the public cos they wore masks. they drank too many of those black Burger King slupees that turn your poo green. no, you misheard, it wasn't a bone saw to cut off feet, it was a ninja star to fight the Foot. the Foot Clan. what's so ghoulish about that, everyone loves Tamara Tunie!

the crones have been vacationing far too long aboard their eternal Titanic and decide it's time to find a nobby job which will fill their belly if not their desires and goals. Doryce throws up over the railing and into the banisters below. she follows her rainbow of barf and slides down it into the already-salty sea, crashing into the ocean in a wave and breaking her glasses. luckily they were near land at the time. she swims to the coast of the beach and lines up her eyeline to see a volcano-red taco truck parked in the middle of the grass.

Doryce: do you have free tostadas for senior discount? i can't make it over there on my crab legs, i'm crawling on my empty belly here, and i'm too bored to formulate direction, i'm gonna have to make the tosatada myself.

Doryce collates a bunch of grass she plucks and plops it on top of a circle of mud she corrals with her long fingers like rakes and heats up slightly with the red tip of her painted fingers.

Doryce: ahhhh, till it's lightly golden-brown. nice and crispy. and she takes a big smiling bite and...YUMMY!!!...food tastes so good when you haven't had any.

Gladyce: *from inside the Titanic's smokestack* *floating with her arms and legs crossed* that taco truck looks familiar, i've seen it somewhere before...

Madame Pons: *calling from her Pear Watch* hello sisters! what? i got a job. you're grooming? well i'm grooming a different species altogether:............*dramatic pause*...humans *laughs*. yeah i'm working at the Lush at Exodus College, as in i'm working here right now, i'm presently in a Lush Store. business is booming as you'd might expect. yeah the boutique that sells smelly soaps and nonlethal bath bombs. you want me to be one of those instagram travel photogs who make money off Instagram? i would but my camera broke. and i don't have a lot of exotic locales to snap. i'm not on a boat, i don't get invited to parties. and i can't afford to snap my one broomstick in two. in fact i'm using my broomstick as my wand. i'm looking at my present problem right now, muy fea, it's a white egg on the counter, i'm looking at it and it's staring back at me. what? i know, waving around my wand over its head frantically is not the most nonthreatening method of communication. i WILL discover what this egg is doing here and how it can help heal the world. what? my sister? oh she's fine. i haven't talked to her for months but she's going through a difficult labor.

Dirg: *on his Pear Watch* Bert? this is Ernie. the neighbors are starting to talk. they suspect we're a little too chummy to be roommates. the birds in here have been chirping up a storm. i'm hungry, where's my lunch?

Laertus: hey man, sorry but i won't be able to make lunch this morning slash afternoon.

Dirg: high noon and you've left me high and dry.

Laertus: don't get high over this. don't hate, conversate.

Dirg: did you see the commercial run constantly during the boring Kavanaugh Hearings?

Laertus: Lisa Ling with furries, nuff said. more research for you? more tribe-hopping? those Hearings enraged me so much i changed my position on horseracing just so i could see each of those old fogey crusty white-men senators get sold up the river to a farm upstate for glue. that same week, TIME Magazine had an unrelated full-page coverspread with a Playboy-centerfold of a pint of golden frothy sweating beer. it was their History of Beer Special Superbook. beer shaped culture more than anything else. now THAT was the fall of civilization. huh, maybe it was related after all. it was weird on Kavanaugh's first day. a defendant who was deemed too violent to appear on Judge Judy licked the fluted columns with the tongue of her ass and was before the Court. and there's Brett with a glass of wine on his gavel stoop wood circle as a sign he said that he was being fair. the defendant, she was in the right to complain that all of his decisions will never be taken seriously.

Dirg: Kava was a spiritual experience for me, it was my Joshua Tree. it was the right decision. a victory for the religious, it's our turn, liberal media! this one's for the boys. cheers, raise your party mug.

Laertus: you are not religious, you just love chaos. you're an agent of chaos. a chaos agent. they did Bourdain's last speech about travel heartbreak in the CNN Narrator's voice instead of Tony's voice, that was disappointing. it's his final column entry and should be all his.

Dirg: it's CNN, it will be CORRECTED. wait, i gotta go, i gotta take this. some idiot is trying to block me on the Marvel Youtube Channel comments section. they're saying my first violation is so egregious it counts as three strikes!? blasphemy!!! this is about freedom. FREEDOM, HEAR?!!! i've had it with your side for forever, at least before i was born. i've been working on my webcomic in the interim, in my head mostly but that still counts, and i finally landed on a design. i drew my first sample last night and i submitted it directly to Stan Lee for his tepid thoughts on thots and notes about how a pencil-sketch is as valuable as a painting and ultimate approval. now they're saying my picture was so obscene they deleted it and didn't even bother to lift a finger to show Stan!!! BASTARDS!!! hold up, imma deal with this guy *tap tap tap* bye

Laertus: heading out? walking away? hey you're not using my laptop, are you?

Dirg: of course i am, my laptop and desktop got "lost", remember?

Laertus: i always imagine where your computer is. i see it now, it's always the same picture in my mind, it's sitting inside a grilled SVU evidence locker in the corner with two padlocks over it.

Dirg: leaning.










Monday, October 15, 2018

TMIT: VEGETARIAN




1. do you like tattoos? do you have any tattoos? didn't used to. always thought they were the domain of the delinquent, prison wives, and those guys on motorcycles with the grey beards which would get tangled on the bike handles. but then something snapped in me in college...

...i guess i finally had the freedom and the whole 18 thing so i went for it. i went crazy for it actually, got three tattoos in one semester. four, there's one unaccounted for i know i got but it's missing on my body. this isn't a beer thing, i hate the bitter taste of beer, still don't know why beer is so popular, it tastes disgusting. (life hack: don't wear a toga while drinking beer, you're gonna do a lot of laundry later.) it's more of a coffee thing, i wanted to be refined and intellectual and a man of the people so i inked myself in accordance with the gutter i lived on. a tai-chi symbol which my fellow classmates called the Curb Circle (, dubbed me out for it, pointed at me sneeringly, and these were my friends), a brown cross that wasn't supposed to be so WIDEBOY it was supposed to be more angular and taller so that was a mistake, and a Chinese symbol on the small of my back that i have no idea what it means now after all these years. sue me, it was the early 00s still. (i have no money, i'm still technically a college student.) i wanted to stroll down the Berkeley boulangerie as if it were Sartre's Paris, wearing my beret and my newly-minted ink like a coat, these three tats no one could see under my clothes...

...i guess tho actually it came down to me proving to myself i was a man. i'm a very skinny boy so if i could survive the executioner's blood-tipped needle, i could survive life. did i scream? yes, later that night in bed...................alone into my pillows as normal.

2. how did you pick your online profile name? i used to write and compile endless lists but my priest-psychiatrist told me i had a psychosis: i was either a collector or a hoarder he couldn't tell. or an organizer, i should run for office. the phoenix is the bird of mythos who laughs---crows?---at death and rises from the ashes on its cheeks even after being killed in the ring of a disgusting cockfight for sport. but my phoenix is late to the party. or he's stuck in traffic. i'm not from Phoenix as everyone thinks.

3. what's one saying you try to live by? in order to live, you must die................i saw this on the back of a box of matches, or was it the back of the envelope? anyway, i took it to mean you must die from your old life and reincarnate anew into a new one. in the same life, not talking about past lives here, same life/different profession/wild calling. so, after that, i left my job at Cracker Barrel and became a fireman................it was my Cracker Barrel Breakthrough, otherwise known as my Cracker Barrel Croak...

4. what was the last bad meal you ate? why was it so awful? Cracker Barrel but let's not go there. it was a McDonald's plain hamburger. it seemed alright in my stomach but i came home to that Wendy's commercial about how McDonald's has always been flash-frozen from the start. now that i had thought about it, i had sensed an icicle in my McMeat which i used as a toothpick. i marched my skinny ass all the way onto the McDonald's parquet roof and asked to see the manager. the manager gave me a flash dance in the bathroom and all was well.

5. when was your last bad sexual encounter? why was it so awful? i'd say McDonald's but let's not dredge that back up again. i've been pretty lucky in my life, when you're a monk the ladies all want to be with you and the fellas all want to be you. but you have a nice built-in excuse and you just walk on by in your beret on top of your hood and your shaded eyeglasses from the '70s.

bonus: tell us something random:

where do you come down on the whole Coming to America thing? in this tribalist America we live in now we have to choose a side whether we want to or not, it's in our contract. Art Buchwald or Eddie Murphy? me? personally? it doesn't matter, it's a fine film. even John Landis who saw Murphy transform into Mr. Hyde on set and called him bacon said at the afterparty after all the pool-cleaning strife, he could still acknowledge that Eddie delivered a fine film performance. in the end, the squabbling fades, the threats hope there were none temper, and the art is what immortals.

besides, all that matters is that Eddie's progeny are members of the Spice Royal House, which is what the Zamundan government was based on.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY





Friday, October 12, 2018

SNOOP GOT OLD



notes:

* we ALL want this coupling to happen.................EVERYONE, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

* what came first, Martha Stewart's oregano or Snoop's oregano?

* father: this place isn't for me.
son: COME ON, POPS!!! make my life easier than it is now.
father: look at all these old fogies doing yoga for seniors. this is clearly a sex-free senior zone. look, dude's using the pool noodle as his balance beam! you said Martha Stewart would be here.
son: she's clearly too sexy to be lumped into this group of little old ladies with blue hair and blue cats who need to be helped across the road cos they forgot their balancing rods.
father: you said Bruce Lee would be instructing this class!
son: come on, pops! you see what happened to us there? the one dude from our tribe got strung up...
father: ...the other went on to score the most air lay-up dunks in the League!
son: they ARE doing Bruce's technique, it's just only HE can do the HI-YAH! without it sounding like a death rattle.

* father: why does your phone go off when we're having a serious, life-altering/threatening conversation?
son: my CarFox came in, i'm selling this old jalopy.
father: you're referring to me?
son: i just don't want to be ripped off.
father: you'd sell me, too. up the farm. for glue.
son: never. you're a thoroughbred. i'd never take you out back for a shot. you ain't no Old Yeller, you're Snopp Doggy Dog!
the son turns up the volume knob and that Sarah McLachlan song about ASPCA animals comes on.
father and son: *both crying together and holding hands, the father yelling to the music*

* son: that last place was pretty nice.
father: you didn't have to drive this old jalopy into the pool to make your point. fine the pool's nice i don't need to dunk my head! i don't like this whole thing.
son: why?
father: i can't swim. look at our skin, son, we tan easily!

* son: dad, what the fuck! why do we live in a run-down shack of second stories and treat it like we live in a brand-new mansion?
father: cos it's Halloween or something. i don't do all that Wiccan shit you millennials indulge in like there's no tomorrow.
son: what happened to Rosie?
father: i let her go.
son: what the fuck, dad, i paid her good money to tend to your ass.
father: i can wipe my own ass.
son: she said you called her a ho.
father: from me that's a compliment. the worst you can call a woman is a bro. i let her go.
son: why?
father: she was holding out on me, samplin' the goods. never peck at the product. she had a whole stash of bag-weed under her shirt so i checked. she was my dealer and my friend. never mix business and pleasure. i asked her where the weed was and she suddenly couldn't speak English no mo, said her name was Mary Juana.
son: dad, she's a robot! she came from the Jetsons. she was programmed to help.
father: too fancy for my blood and crip. not for the crib. she always wore that dress with the lace. called me Mr. J in that creepy Harley Quinn voice you white folk are so fond of.

* son: dad, i found your weed! it was in the trash.
father: damn, i put it in the wrong bin, i was trying to recycle it. it's a plant so it should be easily integrated back into nature, cycle of life and all that. i'm the greatest environmentalist since Smokey the Bear, who smokes while he sutras---so deep is Smokey in meditation his butt is not fully stomped out and it causes a massive raging wind-swept forest fire in the Valley. sometimes when i don't get enough weed in my belly i lie down on the grass of my front yard and let the trash pandas lick said belly of mine.
son: that sounds like what happens when you DO get weed in your belly.

* the boy jumps out of the front porch onto the lawn-grass, pushing the banging screen-door the heck back, and trips over the red wagon

* son: when you swing that hammer around, it scares me, dad.
director Chip Lynne: it's clear that this is the exact same set, there's no effort to make it look like it's from the '50s or anything, we just hired different-looking actors. that sun is so modern, it looks so 2018...

* son: A TREEHOUSE! every boy's dream!
father: yep. you know why fathers build their sons treehouses? to keep them out there eventually when they turn into teenagers. and after they turn 18.

* son as a man: i think we can do better.
female Principal agent: please get out of my chair, sir, this is my office, just cos you're grown don't mean you can boss me around, i'm my own boss.

* son: change is hard, try to keep in this jeep an open mind.
father: says the boy who never finished his supper.
son: there's only so many boiled potatoes with jelly a boy or a man can eat.
father: i wanted to have an abortion but your mother wanted to keep you.
son: *smiling* looks like we BOTH fooled mom!
they both laugh and hug in the car, narrowly missing swerving into a tree.

* father: so let's see here let me get this straight you get to keep the new stockly-refurbished Jetsons-looking modern mansion built on the futurists' dream and I get this little white WHITE shanty out in the back?!
son: no shots allowed. you're gonna have to pay for the little house. and my big house. it's cool tho we'll use your money that you get coming to you every month.
father: that's my fixed income!
son: Principal will figure it out for us. it keeps coming to me.
father: whoa, son! stop swinging around that hammer! you've never held a hammer in your life, huh? you really want your old man on the same property as you, living next to you, bothering you for sugar, in your hair when you're having relations?
son: i have a fade. sure, i want to experience the millennial lifestyle from all sides like a 360-degree lifecast. millennialism is for EVERYONE.

* father: i warn you, i throw disco parties every Saturday night. with Stu.
son: disco is just sped-up yoga for seniors. since when you have any friends???

* son: gonna need a fresh coat of white paint. *sings the jingle* Ace is the place...
father: STOP SINGING!!! you're a disgrace to the family name. we rappers.

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies, i need to dunk in a cold jacuzzi like an E.L. Fudge cookie. my Dodgers are playing as i type................that's all i'm gonna say, beer 'n brat bring out the wurst-sounding loud stadium-shouting...............remember, the black in your Burger King frozen-coke isn't coke this time..............limited-time cherry sold but NOT on Halloween Day, it looks dark and disturbing but it tastes great!





Monday, October 8, 2018

TMIT: DOCTOR WHO'S MAKING ME HUNGRY...



...and thirsty. takes time to do a proper reboot. like Regeneration it takes awhile to figure out who you really are...

1. if you had three wishes which would come true, what would they be?

* write a successful advertising tv jingle for Del Taco

* be sad as a reminder everytime i watch the music video for Carly Simon's "Let The River Run"

* grow my beard out like Michael Stipe and David Letterman. i don't feel like one of the boys, one of the monks, one of the wise men, one of the Magi Three who upload wisdom youtube videos to the masses.

2. what are your favorite things to spend money on? Boardwalk, Park Place, Pennsylvania Avenue...see where i'm going with this?...

3. if you could write a song about your life, what type of music would you use? industrial. not to be cool, but industrial achieved with just a guitar and drums and not electronica beats. think how hard that would be to do.

4. if you could choose your partner again, would you choose the same person? look, Goldie Gold taught me to love again. we would make love every morning so by the time we had to fight over gold at night, i was always too tired to argue and went to sleep. but when i started talking about my jacking with her, she would spontaneously cry and pine for her true love, Action Jack. i realized it was never meant to be and watched her as she walked out that door and i turned on the tv...

5. when it comes to discussing your sex life, whom do you confide in more than anyone else? my priest, he always has the latest tips for me in the confessional. you know the confessional booth is actually the only place in my life all week i can have a moment's peace, an hour to myself in absolute quiet. i can think for a minute. without the tv. you know those missals sure have changed since i was a kid, they're missiles now, King Missiles.

bonus: what's your definition of cheating? is there really such a thing? there has only been one recorded instance of cheating in all of human history, that episode where Joey Greco got stabbed. the details are still murky, did he get stabbed with a knife or a penknife? anyway, the main thing is that Joey survived it, at least it seems that way, there wasn't a report online or anything, so that's all that matters. tho the show seems to have quietly disappeared...

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY





Friday, October 5, 2018

IF YOU DON'T HAVE A CAR, YOU DON'T HAVE A LIFE



notes:

* Uber New Management uh Under New Management

* uncle: so before i jam you all into the car, you remembered your sandwiches for soccer practice, right?
children: yes, dad's bro. speaking of jam, they were peanut-butter sandwiches. we wish we could get ham sandwiches but ham sandwiches take too much time, we had to do the sandwiches ourselves cos you're always too busy.
uncle: did you remember the most important thing in soccer?
children: the ball?
uncle: shin guards. shin gaurds. kids are cruel.

* abuelo: okay mi nina mi corazon, we're gonna have to use that red-and-white-checkered-squared dress you have on for all of our picnic blanket if the weather starts getting rough. we only have enough money for the sandwiches. the ants live here free.
granddaughter: why do i get the feeling this is only the beginning of the treatment people like me are gonna be getting from now on? why did you have to buy a Ford La Migra?
abuelo: it's to fool them, miel, you gotta roleplay to survive.
granddaughter: i never thought i'd say this in my life, but i want an Uber instead.

* Loren Bouchard: hi, i'm the new CEO of Uber. we made some mistakes in the past, like that Wells Fargo stagecoach fiasco, but we're learning and more importantly we're listening. Arby's now has burgers...

* little girl: is daddy coming soon, mommy?
mommy: could take while. he's in an Uber.

* woman in yellow shirt: it's about a woman wearing a yellow hat. no pet monkey. stays in the country to help it out. i'm writing it now, can you please stop with all the speedbumps?
Uber driver: them's the breaks, ma'am. as in i have no brakes. those aren't speedbumps, they're potholes. we gotta wait for the Domino's guys to close them.
woman: you never know when inspiration will strike. this is my second draft. no my TENTH draft!
Lin-Manuel hits her plastic window hard with his fist and smiles at her with his Puerto-Rican profile Greek-profile mouth bearded with Grecian Formula.

* good on you, Uber. and it wasn't just a quick-as-lightning moment like Buick did to cover their flaky asses in Ginsburn panties.

* man: don't worry, my parents will love you. what they don't love is my The Weeknd hair.

* pregnant woman: what's with the unicorn bibby? do you have something to say to me?
man: ...

* old couple: so this is gonna be our first date.
man: yeah we wasted our whole lives just working. we never had any fun.
woman: what's a waterpark?
man: a park with water. like a stone Ginsburn birdbath i'm assuming.

* Uber driver: push the red hand for stop, that makes sense, i'm assuming that's not a bloody hand. and i proudly wear my BLUE hat...with the S for Slytherin, THAT's my tribe!

* pregnant woman: so we're pregnant and none of our family could make it, huh? we had to get an Uber.
man: wait, WE'RE pregnant?

* man: hey folks, this is my boyfriend. by folks i mean family in the South.
family: we love him, he's so cool and chibi and Japanimation! it's not that we don't love you, we just love your new boyfriend's Harry Potter glasses better.

* old couple: do we know how to dance?
woman: i thought the dancing was the getting out of the Uber, i'm bushed!
man: ah, the good ol' days...

* redheaded nurse: hi, get into this wheelchair, you're about to pop!
pregnant woman: don't make fun of my Donald Duck waddle-walk, i like the new DuckTales better, okay? is that okay with you?! i don't trust you, you have red hair! i'd point at you but my fingers are swollen.
reheaded nurse: you need not concern your little, uh, head, ma'am, i'm a pro.
pregnant woman: do you believe in Jesus or science?
redheaded nurse: well i'm a ginger so i believe in the soul but i have no soul so i believe in science.

* businesswoman: don't worry, i know this is a scary long grey pole i'm carrying over my back like a kalashnikov but it's just the blueprints of the building. not for any purpose other than to showcase my architectural designs for improvement! no powder in there just a portfolio and Bieber Wedding poster.

* parents: you look like that Alibaba CEO with the strange smushed face.
bespectacled boyfriend: are they? is this a test of my American citizenship?
The Weeknd man: don't worry, honey, take it from me, when they insult you it means they like you. they've insulted me my whole life. there is no such thing as American heritage anymore.
bespectacled boyfriend: Jack Ma? Jack Ma is what happens when God draws an anime character.
mother: *hugs boy with glasses* oh that is so sweet! you already refer to me as your mother!

* old woman: fuck this honky-tonk bar with salsa dancers who serve salsa and smoke coming out of a hookah fashioned from an accordion and dancing snakes! you never said there would be a dartboard! i got a dart in my spotty glass of tonic-water and my husband got a dart up his nose!
old man: cleared my sinuses.

* women: we're not lesbians, we just REALLY like antiquing together.
woman 1: you sure? i like 'em old.
woman 2: you trying to get me to reveal my age or talking about the antiques?
woman 1: that kiss on the mouth wasn't a friend kiss.
woman 2: i was wiping off all that oil from your lips when you went to kiss our yellow Victrola, its steampunk-umbrella cover has a lot of grime.
woman 1: i'm gonna need you to remove your dress and have it act as our picnic blanket, i spent all our money on the Victrola.

* man in blue hat: that's my daughter! she's gonna be in MLB someday!

* folk: are you an Uber driver or a cabbie?
George RR Martin: both, i have a scruffy gray beard.
folk: so.........
George RR Martin: not yet. think of me as the Mueller of Dragons.
folk: what does the RR stand for?
George RR Martin: Really Regretful.

* old man: i'm swinging around my new dance partner.
old woman: with my blessing. i'm just gonna stay doing the splits with my legs on this cold floor for 15 more minutes.
old man: i love you.
old woman: thank you. we've renewed our vows in spirit. and in the spirit world we will both enter anon.
old man: i don't know if my new dance partner is a girl or guy.

* warning: spoilers: Uber is not available in all areas. like it's basically just Brooklyn. and it's too expensive.

* son: daddy, can i look at the stars through a telescope?
dad: just use my hand, son.
son: daddy, are you gonna drop me off at school tomorrow morning bright 'n early?
dad: no, son, there's no point in learning about this world. this world is shit.

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. alright, Dodgers, okay, let's do this again as TOM introducing Pop Team Epic would say. it really should be TOMami, not Toonami. it's so funny, i ONLY become interested in baseball in October!





Wednesday, October 3, 2018

HEELER: HATE IS FOLLY



the airrace plane is flying smoothly yet roughly overhead of Melbourne's plantation, so high up in the sky it's barely a speck in view even with no cloud cover.

Taki: i felt something.

Melbourne: yeah that was me doing a few loop-de-loops.

Taki: no in my belly. not hunger pangs. not turbulence, either.

Melbourne: but is this the dream or the real thing?

Taki: don't you remember?

Melbourne: i thought you would for the both of us. i'm the one in need of coaching.

Taki: we're in bed together. must be. at the estate. under your covers which smell of a new breed of witchhazel. i remember now. me getting up and placing my toe on that cold ground. i have a white negligee on, frothy and fluttering in the no-wind. i raise my arms up and look at you. and i say:

Taki: right inbetween the uprights.

Taki: i make the football field-goal shape with my arms framing my face and through my chest area. that's what the raising of the arms is. it's like a bigger version of the tiny one children do at the dinner table with their fingers when there's chicken fingers. i tell you to flick the grape like a football kickoff right into my mouth. i want to be treated like Queen Sheba but i'm a tomboy, too.

Melbourne: and that's why i love you. nothing better than a chick who loves sports.

Taki: but not watersports...

at the outside table, Kanye West gets up, pushes back his chair ironclad like his alibi, without saying a word, jumps the hedges and leaves the plantation...

the other guests call out to him KANYE! KANYE! but he doesn't respond. he wears a red Phillies hat forwards and Neo long draping leather black coat and black shades.

in Kanye's seat now, without anyone noticing, Leonardo da Vinci take his place at the table. Leo got a haircut, his beard is an inch shorter though he keeps his graywhite locks in the back which blend in nicely with the bluehair-color folds of his robe.

da Vinci: he goes by Ye now, that's why he didn't respond. it's a very Biblical name, Ye. like you oldentimes. he speaks for all of us now. do you have any questions for me?

Mueller: EVERYTHING.

da Vinci: it's an honor coming from you, i will consider it an inquest. you want the code to the safe?

joining us all at the table this late afternoon are guests three: Maria Butina with a tiny dolphin in her glass, Reality Winner, and Soda Popinski downing his own bottle. the two ladies nurse their clear cups.

Reality Winner: i have the greatest name of all time, seeing as i come from Russia.

a chain links Maria's leg to Robert Mueller's leg and vice-versa through cuffs underneath the table no one sees. she stays quiet as a mouse from the Eastern Orthodox church.

Laertus: *speaking through the tiny screen of Mueller's prepared pear watch* please speak, Maria. you know your redhead made me think back to all the redheads i've admired through the ages. i really have a great deal of estimation for Jennifer Garner. i've never been too keen up on her for her acting, she's pretty MOTR, but she is a gorgeous human being with lips. do you know anyone else in Hollywood who would help their ex through his drinking like that? especially when Ben-dude is shtuping the latest brahmin bullette coquette Playboy bunny who undoubtedly hides contraband in her bushy backtail. this man will always be her childrens' father, i love her perspective, here's to reasonable ravisihing redheads i respect! brava approbation! go ahead and raise your glasses with me, in unison, it's okay, i heard Ben's problem wasn't vodka...

Ben Affleck: i lifted weights.

Ben's girlfriend wears a Neo coat spraypainted to look like Melania's jacket.

one of Soda Popinski's eyes has a red ring around it and a spark flashes from its iris.

Soda: that ain't sodawater you know. you know you Americans really are gullible. you realize that WAAAAAAAAAY back in the '80s, Mike Tyson had already turned. when that game was on fire and the only thing on the block, and you saw me swigging a bottle of swill, that was obviously vodka, not soda, Nintendo was bound not to tell kids that. my name comes from Popov vodka, not caffeine-free coke. the minute you slid me into your railroad slot and turned on your grey machine, i had already infiltrated all of America's systems and grids for a generation. I, yes ME, I was the ORIGINAL Russian spy! hacking right in front of your eyes!

Mike Pence rushes through the Old West cowboy saloon swinging-doors to the Hearing to break the tie. he is flustered and sweating but it doesn't show on his brow it shows on his tie. he wheels with him the polygraph machine with a rat's-nest of wires in his hand.

Pence: i'm here. unfortunately the drones don't seem to be working for this particular inquest so i'm gonna have to conduct the polygraph test myself. don't worry we are gonna plow right through!

Ford: do not say that again, Frankenstein. i am polite so i won't use the word i want to but let's just say you are rude. we built this city, you know, we built all the cars in the country. your voice chimes in my head and the cellular lining of my stomach area disgusts with puke.

Pence: *checks his pad* okay first question, is lodestar the strangest vocab word you've ever used in polite conversation?

Kavanaugh: *pounding the table and his chest* i've never even seen that word before, i don't know its location or the blueprint schematics! look, there is only one thing which will make this painful experience for me worth it: i want that new calendar! the new Putin calendar. don't get any ideas, media! it's not just the beefcake shirtless buff weightlifting stuff in there, there's pictures of Putin holding a kitten, showing his softer side.

we find President Bump eluding the view of the flying drones overhead getting his rumpity rump squeezed into the hole of a beachshack of piles by the angry ocean. the waves are high though there is no overcast weather. it's a very tight room of stone in there but he nestles nicely next to Mark Judge with no room for hands and feet cos of the fire bristling with licks of orange singing off both their freckles.

Bump: i'd warm my hands by the fire but i can't move my hands. brusk day we're having. the weather is not cooperating. so i liked your friend, Bart the Brat, in the golden Simpsons tradition, we fought for the misunderstood delinquent. i like a man who can cry and show his emotions. can you kindly point me in the direction of the zoo? not Washington. not the game. the boring non-dynamic board game. apparently i was told to do my research on hippos. i suggested a Wonder Woman con but my boss pointed otherwise with a pointed comment. they are hungry hungry for McDonald's like me.

Mark Judge: you like my French beret? please don't talk to me without your lawyer. i'm taking the same medicine pills as Rachel Maddow.

Bump: Rudy has flown the coop. whatcha working on there?

Mark Judge: my comic book. it's about this dude named Batman...

Bump: *eyes open* oooooh, it's my first biography of me for my library!

Bump has so much time on his hands he's able to stay there in the shack with Mark for weeks and weeks. he's able to finish reading every single one of the large stack of pile of comic books in Mark's collection.

Bump: which is weird for me cos i don't normally read. i've been that bored throughout this process.

Bump turns Mark's head around and discovers it was MUELLER all along this whole time!

Bump: Robert Bob! what are you doing here?!!

Mueller: well, since i have all this free time now.......................btw my acting has improved markedly through the years, you must grant me that in court. is this your first spy?

Bump: no i got a redhead. we all get redheaded eventually. look, Bob, don't put the cuffs on me! i swear i've changed! for the better! i was always a good little boy. i hung out with mother mostly, mother always told me not to mention i had a father, let him do his thing in the shadows, behind the scenes.

Mueller: as punishment i'm forcing you to read this New York Times article!

Bump: i knew i hated reading! you put this in back of the comic-book cover didn't you!? no, i'm melting, it's like a mirror, MY EYES MY EYES. okay, okay, i give, i'll show you. that i matter. this is what i should have done from the start of my presidency: INFRASTRUCTURE! bring the country together, heehee. literally through roads. i'll do it this time, i'll build things on my own! i'll repave all the country roads and smooth over new lanes and upright all the bridges again, make them all covered bridges like Colonial Williamsburg. there'll be so much construction all across this land people will get sick of it and complain!

Mueller: i'll let you have a head start. cos i love the hunt. the more dangerous the better.

Bump scampers away and into a ditch in the road.

Bump: now see this here is what i mean. hey, roller, what are you doing?

the Domino's Pizza guy in hardhat driving the cement roller comes to a complete stop but the roller keeps rolling. the roller pins Bump to the grey ground like a dough-roller.

Bump: stop. with my big hand, i'm taking over this operation, mobbing it from under you. all the roads are now presidential property, my responsibility to fix, i'll pour out all the cement till there's none left. I, ME, will plug up all the portholes in this country and I'll take all the credit and the free pizza you have! i'm gonna have that pizza party with me sitting on my throne from my childhood if it kills me! now who's in charge? uh, WAS in charge.

the men, all in mustaches, point to Tres Leches in an orange hardhat giving a rousing speech to the man gathered, the highway troops.

Tres Leches: men, and the one chick who likes sports, you are all heroes and hoes to me! this construction project is a project of the heart, a job well done that exceeds a job, it's more of a project. you took these empty barren grey streets and made them sing again! it was such a LONG project that i stopped counting the days. it ruined the summer to ensure that the winter the roads would be driveable again. take a step back and pat yourselves on the back the New England Swayze way! i mean this was a GARGANTUAN task! you took rubble literal rubble, and stoned it into fucking roads! and complicated rat's-nests of wiring for double-streetsigns and sexy poles and diagonal divisions for all the new diamond streetlamps and posts with purpose cameras. like one wrong wire and the whole thing explodes. you did this while all those fucking citizens were driving over your work! i commend your fighting spirit and courageous valor. i bet you never thought when you went to traffic school you'd end up here! this ain't no math test, this is a man test!

Bump: huh. all of these workers have brown skin.

Tres Leches: from working long hours in the sun, senor.

and with that, Tres Leches disappears from his makeshift dais addressing the street soldiers on a pile of crumpled black asphalt. a shovel remains in his wake and stead, half-smoothing over a tub of grey liquid concrete.

Bump: so as always it rests on my broad '80s-padded shoulders to finish the job. i liked your initial displays of masculinity, i agree with that expression of its definition, it's very SVU season-premiere and definitive.

Bump waves his little finger and all the potholes in America instantly get paved-over. the yellow from the yellow-dotted lines of the lanes reflect off his mustache.

Bump: see? i was worth it. good deeds, Christmastime nears. and now for the important part. who should i invite to my pizza party? i got this ridonkulous pile of greasy, nonrecyclable pizza boxes here. China's gonna be so mad when they receive all this trash that could have been recyclables!

Laertus from the wrath of Mueller's watch: what kind of country do we want to be?

Bump: not now, kid. let's see, the golfers started a fight with each other, that's finally very Bumpian, invite them. i love it when boring bros brawl.

The Mooch: they're standing up to you manly and not taking your calls.

Bump: huh too bad, i need to be more strategic in my insults. the baseball players are busy, the basketball players hate me, that just leaves the football players.

the two Bills, Nye and Gates: Colin Kaep is available...

Bump: *big smile* HI TIGER!!! you like pizza? pineapple, right?

Tiger Woods: oh. um. hi.

Tiger is followed by a sea of humanity behind him, still in a tight formation even after leaving the grounds of the golf course. a couple of those streetlights were a gamble to cross.

Geoffrey Owens: Tiger, man, not cool. i was up for that role of Moses you got. that should have been MY Moses on CBS, my jones! i mean i grew out this beard just for that to catch all the bread crumbs. if Falstaff fell through in parentheses.

Tiger: i got my jones back. the Moses (malone) magic mojo. i'm no longer just a black dude, my brother.

Tiger rips off his red shirt to show how much he's weightlifted in the interim to a gasping crowd and places the shirt inbetween the middle dividing line of the sea of people, slowly cresting the two sides apart.

Tiger: LET MY WAITRESSES GO!

Tiger takes out the red Batphone from out of his front pants-pocket and calls up friend Federer.

Federer: how does it feel, friend? after all this time. i haven't had that feeling of winning in a while, you're closer to it. i've lost that winnin' feelin'...that lovin' feelin'...

Tiger: is that a fondue fork in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

Roger: i can't see you, we're on a coiled landline. i'm still having fun, though. all that construction and asphalt paving-over hit us, too. at the Laver Cup. did you see how beautiful and different those grey-colored courts were? too gorgeous-looking to play on. i was happy to beat up on the ass of Kyrgios again, that seems to be the only thing i'm good at now.

Tiger: look Geoffrey, i gave you a ride to Nawlins, i'm done with you.

Geoffrey: i still gots toys. what about what happened in the Ryder Cup?

Tiger: i don't care about that, i'm a dynamic human being. this is the i-generation, the individualism-generation, and i talk like a robot. that's just Europe, who cares about Europe? ain't that right, exactly Mr. Bump?

Bump has long since disappeared.

on the Titanic, Laertus and Dirg are in separate hotel rooms directly above and below one another on separate decks. this is making for a most fraught relationship.

Laertus: *on the phone* this is silly. want me to come down? say you love me.

Dirg: you stay right there. up here, where i can see you.

Laertus: we can't see each other, these are coiled landlines. they're so cool, huh? love the dusty-green color. so Titanic and antique.

Dirg: so that's the problem with an accusation, he will be stained with this forever even if it's completely untrue.

Laertus: sometimes there is just one incident. eh, don't be so sore and looking for revenge. this is just for the Merrick Garland thing. we're even now, we're square.

Dirg: yes we are squares. he was loud and obnoxious but it wasn't his fault, Bill O'Reilly cut his mic. so did you FINALLY finish The Last Jedi with commentary?

Laertus: why yes! i managed to squeeze it in! okay, here's my takeaway, the one scene which will leave a shiny shint impression on my hippocampus forever. i watched it on campus but the mark is indelible.

Dirg: Wideboy? i've been inspired to lift weights to achieve that look.

Laertus: Kylo Ren has Rey down on her knees with his lightsaber. across that Lynchian red room is a sniveling sneering Snoke. he tells Kylo to twist the lightknife and finish the job on poor precious pretty Rey's head. this is how that scene should have gone: Snoke says you cannot turn the boy, you cannot enter his mind, his is a destiny he took on long before he was born, to be completed at this very moment, this very juncture in space time, his destiny will be fulsome and fulfilled, when he takes the next step and kills what's been tempting him, KILLS the block in his head!!! 

and then Kylo merely mumbles mmm-hmmm in agreement with a slight nod of his head and downcast eyes. and then Kylo lifts his finger and maneuvers the lightsaber across the way next to Snoke's throne to slice him in exactly mathematical division in half before he slumps over like a sack of unwanted potatoes funnily and puppetly as a reference to Adventure Time i guess. 

see it's the same scene only with Kylo's nod and mmm-hmmm. and Rey concludes with a line about needing to bathe in the Light and just needing to bathe in general which makes the male and female fans happy as he remains shirtless.

Dirg: and then Luke Null enters the room swinging his unwieldy yellow lightsaber drunkenly and shouting at Kylo the SNL host "I NEVER HAD A CHANCE!!!" trying to kill Kylo with a lemon slice and Melissa Villasenor in her Owen Wilson voice to funny the serious mood and Chris Redd in a red hat come out and take Null by the arms and calm him down and drag him away. Adam's all, "dude, this is just cosplay, no real murder, think of it as the Venture Bros.." and Chris is all, "i'll take him, i know Luke the best and the most here, we came up together on some sort of comedy circuit in some city, i'll talk him down, he just wanted to be a Skywalker."

Laertus: why must you always interrupt a vulnerable moment with your Null noise? you're afraid of emotion.

Dirg: i'm a survivor.

Laertus: what?

Laertus decides in the moment to come downstairs on the sweeping staircase. Laertus flunks out the rest of his finals and that semester in order to take a semester off to be with his friend.

below, the crones are having a last meal. before the Titanic departs again on the open seas.

Doryce: i knew the pain of the Titanic for you, love. you were a small child then and thought your burgeoning powers caused the ship to sink, your baby hands swirled right when they should have swirled left you thought and harbored. there is no safe harbor for baby guilt. so i got us two tickets and with MY burgeoning magic---i'd been practicing---resurrected the Grand Ol' Ladyboat from the bottom of the ocean with no help from James Cameron and refurbished her anew as if she had her first paintjob. all the gilds are there in all the mirrors. no one is dead, none of the passengers anyway, the manifest is manifest, everyone's just swallowed up in their feathers and buttons and maybe some are still in steerage. the wallpaper returns to being its original gloriously tacky.

Gladyce: i thought it was I breathing on YOU while YOU slept as a small'n in that small cabin room, but it was actually YOU breathing on ME lullabying me the child to sleep. before i ever met you, knew your name! that's the sign that we were meant to be together! when we complete each others' dreams.

the two fly up and hug each other upside-down.

Doryce: now just relax. the Titanic will sail forth and never crash and burn and sink and not float. i didn't have enough money for the both of us so i thought i'd have to stow away in the smokestacks pipes funnels of the ship. those funnels make me funny. i wasn't gonna let ANYTHING stand in the way of your peace of mind. bon voyage to our long journey together!

Gladyce: i got you a going-away gift. this bottle of Yuban INSTANT coffee grounds that looks like a pancake-syrup bottle. we need to fix that Indonesian volcano, those poor folk have been through enough. Jill was asleep at the switch again, one glass of wine in her and she's quoting urbandictionary on MSNBC. she is so proud of her pet project Mahomes, calls him her Black Brady. nobody was looking at Mahomes while she worked on him. this is what happens when you stop drinking awhile.

at the MSNBC Studios, Mueller dressed in a Santa outfit and white cotton beard drags a heavy bulky tan-brown rutger potato sack across the showroom floor into the lights. Katy Tur and Gordon Chang are there together dressed in black.

Mueller: MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! why all the glum faces and the black dress? you should be wearing the plaid clothes you wear when you drink egg nog!

out bumbles and stumbles from the sack a bummed bruised Bump. the bright lights hit his eyes but he can't cover them with his hands.

there's a drone-camera closeup of Mueller as he opens his mouth and shows his yellow teeth. one of his teeth jingles.

at The Weather Channel, Goody Paul is wishing a tearful adieu to a crying Maria LaRosa in front of the drone-camera. he holds her shoulder shovedly and dips his drippy nose into her blouse breasts. she wears a gold chain which gleams through the fabric. there is not a dry eye in the house nor a glint in his eye:

Goody: we're i mean I'M gonna miss you so much, Maria, you were a true scooby-doo professional on-tv-on-air-personality meterorologist, you did it right! btw Pumpkin-Spice-Spaghetti Cantore sends his love. you weren't like the other witches which inhabit this set! but you went out on your own terms, which is nice and hardly happens. something was tugging at you to spend more time with your kids. don't worry, that feeling won't be regret later on down the road and line when you're 150. i wanted to add to your kid collection but it wasn't to be. this ain't goodbye, it's just such a shame! goodbye my darling, goodbye my love, goodbye my would-be husband-kept-in-the-dark hotel-lover, fucking only when we both predicted shadows that night, nobody on Earth will now know what the weather is cos no one will care anymore cos nobody will watch The Weather Channel no mo!

at that moment, a stray thunderstorm (which is a tricky thing to define) showers the newly-asphalted black roads of America and undoes them all again into a watery mess of small stones.

Taki: honey, do a couple more loop-de-loops in the plane to loosen the baby out. envision it. see all the Formula 1s lined up at the starting line, you can't se the checkered flag, only the immense sound of all the engines rumbling tearing ramping up at once, there is no sound your eardrums are shot, enough to only see silently the sidelined streetlamp go from yellow to yellow to green. that sound is the sound of death, rubber transitioning back to its origin volcano.

Taki's stomach goes from 0 to 60 in a hurry, her belly grows from 0 months to 9 months in 5 seconds.

Taki: i'm late. i mean it's late. it's dark out. will you catch the baby when it comes, not let it slide over the railing of the plane? i trust you.

Melbourne reaches out his hand in the bolted back carriage while keeping no hands on the steering wheel which Taki still wheels. the loop-de-loops loop, which buzz off any remaining hair Melbourne ever had on his bald head, revealing a glinting with cloud cover yellow circle lapband permanent tattoo all the way around over his temples above his cut ears. the baby has a Boston birth which is any birth that is a revolution. he is born in the sky in a plane. and he's not a baby. he is a fully-grown boy of Mexican descent having about 11 or 12 or so years. the boy is Tres Leches. and her watery grey placenta greases the skids of the plane wheels. Tres buries his head in Taki's bosom and says softly:

Tres Leches: i did what I had to to stay. in this specific space. you two are my country. i love you mommy. i'm legal!

Taki: what the fuck!!? thank you, my man, you've given me the greatest gift. you've given me something to write about. i can't keep living, keep continuing, without a mystery.

Melbourne: this is a devils triangle of sorts, the Bermuda Triangle. you can see the edges of it from my house.

Taki: so what was with all the lifesize dolls?

Melbourne: i was practicing on them till i found the one, you.

Taki: and your previous sports psychologist. Vicky Benzing, right? i figured that one out with her therapy notes.

Melbourne: close. your sister Madame Pons transformed into Vicky Benzing. your sister really has those morphing spells down pat already.

they try to kiss but Tres Leches's head gets in the way.

****************************************EPILOGUE

Senator Flake is troubled and gets up sweating from the blue linen of his bed, his wife sound asleep hanging with one frazzled hair by the other sideedge and his children downstairs and upstairs with cools on their faces. an oil portrait of Joseph Ducreux hangs above the hot marital bed in Arizona. Flake takes the in-house elevator downstairs to the kitchen icebox for some warm milk and then he makes that disarming smile with his Frankenstein head he always does whenever he talks about anything. like The Munsters. then back up the large lift, he settles back down to sleep in the bed.

Ducreux steps out of his own fly portrait and lands his feet digging on Flake's stomach and his back-coat flytails on Flake's ticklish nose. Flake doesn't wake up cos he's sound asleep like his wife despite the heavy pawing of the prints left by Ducreux's pennyloafers which have a wood nickel inserted in them. Ducreux smiles like he do and talks with John McCain who's perched at and pinning Flake's feet like a gargoyle.

Ducreux: i was born in the wrong time! i should have been born in the selfie age! it's funny, i always thought the pic of me with the pandiculation would catch on more like sun for followers.

McCain: it's time for Jeffie to pandiculate early!

McCain startles Flake up like a Murphy bed by rousing him with a scary loud noise as McCain makes the Ducreux fingergun-salute with his hand pointed at Flake and one eye open and his tongue sticking out with an Irish yell:

McCain: WHO LOVES YA, BABY!!! PROUD OF YOU, FLAKEY!!!

Flake, once snoring, now bug-eyed: fuck!!!













Monday, October 1, 2018

TMIT: ALEX COMFORT'S COMFORTS







i love that picture of him in the plaid pre-grunge shirt, makes him look like if Isaac Asimov were a hippie professor on a radical campus in the '60s. sure, there are other sex manuals: Aristotle's no-taboos one and the Vedas come to mind, the Vedas which is wisdom so old it's older than the invention of paper so not all the wisdom is there, but for my pet rock The Joy of Sex is the grooviest sex manual of all time. i mean it was published in the '70s, man, y'know, it's sex for shaggies.

1. what is the most annoying thing to you during foreplay or sex? going straight into the sex without any foreplay, do you know how difficult that is?! like not even a kiss before. it's impossible.

2. tell us something you really wanted to do but let someone talk you out of when deep down you wanted to do it?

become an actor. i was so close. i was in that line in Encino when i was 6 with all the other Hollywood child actors. but i got out of that line when the original Annie on Broadway, well the local broadway production at our town, dropped some knowledge in my ear. she whispered to me that i was doomed if i continued onward down this road line and forward in this line and life, my life would never be manageable. it would consist of beatings in my dressing room with stool legs and pee running down my leg in the hot circular lights of my mirror.

i am the only person who ever lived who WANTED to be a child actor! i didn't care about the burnout later, i simply wanted to be IN the television shows i was currently watching. i wanted people to laugh at me as i recited written jokes.

3. during sex are you more orgasm-centered or going for an all-out enjoyable experience with connection? i've never orgasmed. i know that may seem strange. all that cum on the walls? mayonnaise. even having "Mayonaise" by the Smashing Pumpkins playing in the background didn't help. that Iha is so cool he doesn't need an extra n. i do my best to try to make the woman cum but i guess i'm not a good lover. i actually like to read during sex. yeah i'm so busy sex is the only free time i have to read my books. my Foucault and Stu articles from the SNL Newsletter and some cold-pressed berry juice. we should all be making the male/female connection through books anyway, right? leave the sex out of it till way later.

4. when was the last time you sought to introduce new activities in the bedroom? what did you want to introduce? did you and your lover do the new sexual activity? Pete Davidson. not in a threesome, just having him on the couch chair in the corner there watching us. Pete with his hair dyed back brown tossing back green tic-tacs as he stares at us...

5. finish the sentence: i would enjoy spending an entire day alone_______

what, i don't get it. what do you mean, this is my life. this is how i've spent my entire life from day one of incarnation one. there has never been anything enjoyable about this. loneliness is crisp clean depression.

bonus: if you had to sum up the internet in one word, what would it be? regrettable

go Cubbies! win one for the Gipper, for the Vedder, and for Bill Murray!

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY





Friday, September 28, 2018

TIME TO STAND AND BE COUNTED



notes:

* only Barbra Streisand has the Jewish-motherly power of warmth to turn something which has been hotly debated and hotly contested by the greatest science-fiction minds of this or any generation that has lived in any dimension of space, this thing which most agree isn't such a rosy idea, could lead to scary consequences and the robot takeover of Man and Wives taking a Step down: cloning. Babs makes cloning fun n' cuddly.

* and only Babs can spell Barbara Barbra and not be laughed at (cos y'know bra)

* Alicia Vikander: this is my doing, i got myself one Fassbender for each season. in my native Sweden, we have two extra seasons of cold...

* dude actually looks like my friend Chad with the Canadian beard

* there's nothing in that Aztec stone coffee cup...it's tea, the Aztecs never knew what tea was, they went straight from coffee to chocolate.

* clone 1: am i the Original?
clone 2: there is no more Original, we killed the Original, remember?
clone 1: i do not remember this occurring.
clone 2: this must mean it was you and you are dead.

* clone 1: this watch screen is too small, can i get it in an ipad size?

* clone 1: what are you doing in my house?
clone 3: i'm not in your house, this is my house.
clone 1: it's technically my house once you cross that sidewalk outside.

* woman: don't mind me, i'm that old Japanese agony aunt from Paranoia Agent. you never saw me...

* clone 3: why are you following me?
clones 1 and 2: you're following us.
clone 3: is your girlfriend Sofia, too?
clones: this is not the time to talk about a Devils Triangle.

* clone 4: see? you were too distracted looking at me you missed the last payphone on Earth outside. the world is too distracted now, always on their phones to see the payphone.

* Rachel Maddow in Hawaiian shirt: you can't juke me, fellas, i'm Rachel Maddow. i'm only interested if this so-called Market has quinoa. do not talk to me till after the Midterms. if things don't go my way i'm liable to grow a beard and become an ol' salty sea captain, living out the rest of my days on lonely big waves. i got my boat and my sideboy and my parrot. i even went to another commercial which i know you're not allowed to do once you're in this commercial to check out ancestry.com. turns out my relative was also a sea captain with blue eyes like me. when i wear contacts.

* jogging clone: i'm running, well walking fast, in order to appear in the same frame as that UPS Brinks truck that will be the scene shortly of a robbery gone bad. i won't stop the robbery mind you, i'm running to be involved in the frame.

* running clone: excuse me, is this the Pizza Place?
attractive woman on the street: yes...
running clone: you didn't answer fast enough, gotta go, now i have to eat quinoa pizza.

* clone 1: why is it only I have sweat running down my front?
clones: it's a feature, not a bug.

* swimming clone: i look good with tan metal.
clones: remember, don't swim all the way out unless you plan on never coming back cos you're saving your brother.
swimming clone: the shark?
clones: Michael Phelps ate him.

* clone 1: but where do i come from?
clones: believe us, you really don't want to know how the sausage is made.

* clone 1: it's just that, well, if i draw a brown cow how do i know it's really me drawing?
clones: your drawing of the brown cow is the brown cow drawing herself. this is how God functions. God is a shrewd operator.

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. what is the Los Angeles Dodgers' Magic Number? don't tell me, i want to be surprised.................sigh...............maybe it's better to only have that one shining Dodgers memory cut in my gut where the cotton candy used to be. those 1988 Dodgers are fading from my memory like eating chili in a wheat forest on a hot summer day, like Pedro Martinez's tiny mustache and jheri curl...





Wednesday, September 26, 2018

HEELER: SMOKE BUBBLES


there's a rumble in the grass of the lawn of the circle table with all the guests around at Melbourne's estate. which is unusual, normally the pastures are quite pastoral. so microscopic you can see the individual yellow seeds jumping up and down on the blades of grass like Mexican jumping beans. soon it reaches a Jurassic Park crescendo baseball-fever on the cricket pitch.

it's Melbourne racing with a purpose past his outer edge hedge and into the main pavilion of plants that looks like a well-manicured golf course just starting to breed its seeds. each footstep he makes makes a print in the soft soil.

Doryce: he looks like a new man staring at us as he walks steadily towards us.

Gladyce: he's marching into a new phase of his life.

Melbourne: it's not that i'm transitioning to another life, i'm entering my first one.

Madame Pons: hey, witches!

she hugs her new friends and in the tradition gives a peck at their tits.

Madame Pons: when did you get to town?! and how did you know i'd be here? in this specific town.

Gladyce: what matters, love, is for us to hear you talking like that. it brings such bushies to our faces! you're realizing that you have a town now. and it's not your hometown.

Doryce: you're needed here, love. your love is fierce and will be the secret stalwart when this town goes through the crisis. i've seen it. you will be the anchor when the waters rise. the Academy will always exist. in some place. maybe not bodily but it will exst in the known realms at one point in time or another. it will be there to greet you and guide you when you are ready. or when your next life is ready. and it will be like you never left. even if you've never enrolled.

Gladyce: thank you for saving my love, love.

Madame Pons: i can't tell you what your words mean to me! words are powerful. like spells. the right words at the right time can change a life. like magic. you get the feeling that you lived your entire life to be at this precise moment to hear these exact words so the decision can be made for you. i'm blaming you if all of this goes to pearshaped hell and i end up dead or work at Lush one year too long past retirement. *laughing*

Doryce: hehe, death is funny. well it's better than being alone, take it from me that is shit that tastes like pears. that's why we chant the words, incant our spells, use our throats like an instrument front to back palate like Dee Bradley Baker, who has a humongous forehead cos like Nietzsche he holds more human knowledge than the rest of us like a cranial canteen. so we got a few specks to spare, moments to mess, while we wait for the mooring of the ship to take place. the process takes awhile, it's stationed in the middle pool of two huge icebergs on either end to keep it in place and prevent it from drifting off. like bumpercars!

Melbourne: hello, my friends, so gladly to see your smiling faces this eve! you, there, couple on top of the roof, please come down and join us.

Pete Davidson and Ariana Grande: no we good.

Melbourne: okay it's just that it's a fluted roof, you might slide down and break the gold chain on your ankles. friends, Ancient Romans, and worldmen, don't do the van Gogh thing with your ears i know you are all artists in your way. my honey is with child! wait that sounded porn. i mean my bride will bust a baby! i'm gonna continue in this world!

Taki: wait, we're getting married, too?

Melbourne: yeah that's how it works. fuck, torn condom which acts like the Trojan Horse, i become the Trojan Man, sperm, egg, baby, forced wedding so the baby will survive, poppin mcmuffin. i got a shotgun in the back...

Taki: i knew it.

Melbourne: just kidding. hey Tres Leches! i was just talking about you! devil, eh? have you secured the bib on all the garden hoses?

Tres Leches: si senor. i'm off now to my second job. got a job for a very special senor.

Melbourne: please one and all! join me for a celebration around the circle! i'm gonna be a Papa Smurf! we will be serving NON-alcoholic vodka!

Taki: so basically water.

Melbourne: i will prepare Taki's bedroom in the central suite upstairs. if it's one thing i know it's preparing mattresses. i'll sprinkle the sheets with rosepetals and spread a liberal amount of tempura-batter tonic all throughout each line of sheet to each four corner like a thick slice of rye bread.

Melbourne raises his arms into the air in a certain way.

Melbourne: COME AND KNOCK ON OUR DOOR

Ariana: so it's just so sad about Mac Miller. are you listening to me?

Pete: babe i'm using your laptop foldin thing to write my first SNL script of the season. or maybe ever, none of my stuff gets onair. at least i'm not like that guy writer who had an affair with Cecily then was never heard from again, disappeared away, secreted like he was Fan Bingbing.

Ariana: it's just as well, they say such hateful hurtful things about me online i don't want to look at a computer. normally my assistant is my filter, i had no idea what the truth was! is twitter really this vile?

Pete: i'm working hard on this skit script about this guy who wants wheat toast instead of white toast even though he's from the projects. i need to be funny right now in my set mind and not think of sad things.

Ariana: they're blaming me for Mac's death! saying if i didn't break up with him for you he'd have had a reason to live and keep continuing and going. that's not fair!

Pete: well we were cheating on him. maybe if it was a clean break he would have reconsidered.

Ariana: no, he'd still not have me. cheating is not why people break up, the cheating is a symptom of a larger problem. everyone's yearning for something out there they don't already own.

Pete: i thought he was black for the longest...which is weird cos we come from the same social strata...............in fact, now that i think about it and view his pic online, he LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE ME!!! WAIT HOLD UP, this whole thing, THIS ENTIRE THING, you with me, you are only with me cos i look like Mac Miller!

Ariana: let's not speak upon it no mo..........but yes it's some sort of deep-seeded way for me to preserve his memory but let's stop talking.........don't look at me with your sad autoimmune-deficiency puppy-dog eyes like that! it's so sad how much he drank.

Pete: i'm all for drinking the koolaid, just not the Grape Koolaid, that stuff sticks to your ribs. looking back, we were both of that generation that missed McDonaldland growing up. the white urban neighborhoods were decimated and McDonald's changed its tactics just as we were born. we were yearning for something missing in our lives. we both missed out on the grandeurous glory that is Grimace.

Ariana: who's got the keys to the Lorne Lambo this week?

Pete: Premiere Week we got Ariana Grande as host and Ariana Grande as the musical guest.

at the MSNBC Studios:

Katy Tur: so we're all just waiting for Mueller to show up at this studio...
Gordon Chang: i like your blouse, Katy.
Katy: hey buddy! my eyes are up here. i don't like that you wear glasses! do you ever get confused for Gordon Ramsay? y'know, cos you're both Gordon?
Gordon Chang: uh, no, can't say that i have. we don't all look alike.
Katy: i'm sorry, Gordy, but it seems we only meet when there's a nuclear disaster about to lemon. i wish we could meet under different cheerier circumstances. like a banquet hall just after the bell lights up and you push me out of the way of the falling radiator water full of radiation from the heavy grey two-ton square air-conditioner above so i don't get wet but you get wet but at least the banquet potatoes don't get wet and you slip on the slick basketball court but say you were just trying to prove gravity exists and you save the day and i pull out the joke cuecards i had in my dress pockets that i was gonna use to break the banquet ice.
Gordon: ...
Gordon: i'm sorry, Katy, i promise not to show up the next time i'm scheduled so there won't be any more bad news. i will do that, too. i've been known to do that.
Katy: sorry, i'm known as the awkward one here at MSNBC...
Katy: ...
Katy: are you upset?
Gordon: i am not upset. but i thought there was something between us. like we had that taboo racemixing Future War 198x romance thing going.

President Bump is conducting a very important interview locked in one of the many rooms upstairs in the mansion of Melbourne's plantation. the padlock has been painted over and there's a black sheet hung up on the far wall and it very much looks like a hostage video.

Bump: i get the distinct impression that this room smells of death and avocado toast. so, Jack Dorsey, we don't have much in common, you not in my bloc, but i get you cos you're a CEO. i envy your scruffy beard and Casual Fridays and Casual Days and general laissez-faire business practices. you look like some quinoa guy who ran a bike shop on a cliff in San Francisco, a shipshape shop with no cars allowed and the only way to get to the shop is a narrow road that only fits one bike tire. when you get to the shop you see billions and billions of bike frame structures mounted on the wall like endangered mongoose heads but no tires. you look like you'd rather be out surfing than here. which is why i offered pre-interview for you to go out surfing with me as a way to break the melted ice. i even flew out my Bermuda shorts so you wouldn't have to see my legs.

Dorsey: *awkward silence* yeah i don't want to ignite the wave of controversy. it's like with twitter. this was meant to be a forum to cheerily discuss K-pop with those in remote caves around the world. but you have to be smart with it like any technology. you have to know that when you're having a conversation that is slowly circling your eyes with toxic bubbles---and you so want to keep typing cos hacking is an addiction---that *dramatically* this is a conversation you walk away from...

Bump: like the twitter thing just fell into your lap or you hit it with the nose of your board when you were surfing one day at night. you're like those boring golf champions we have now, frathouse-boy ciphers with no personality who only eat meat and remain anonymous. don't mock me, i see that arch tattoo that covers the length of your pipecleaner arm, it's a violin symbol, don't play your tiny violin at me!

Dorsey: *awkward silence*

Bump: *ringing in* sorry, bud, gotta take this, business you know. gotta walk away from this conversation, it was getting too toxic. shit, i'm gonna have to do a twoway here. i CAN think of two things in my head at once. put em on speakerphone. how can i be on speakerphone but you aren't? okay Rod, thank you. for plugging in the cable rod. okay, questions from the audience. go.

Laertus stands up, looking like a mouse in a sea of humanity.

Laertus: sir, have you seen Future War 198x?

Bump on big screen: sure. i think. i have a tape of my nanny. watching it together with me when i was a tot. eating tater tots. these things take time, allow me to ease the tensions.

Dirg: don't take the bait, sir, you don't have to prove that you're a real fan to him. i know deep in my seated heart that you are a nerd.

Laertus: that anime classic spells out in stark fashion the destruction and horror of a World War III. the speed at which the Earth disintegrates is brutal and seared a lasting slice of salmon on my brain. i NEVER want to see that happen in real life! it was so realistic, the animation is so human, the justifications are so profoundly potent, that it really wouldn't take a lot to see a series of unfortunate events like this which would decimate three-quarters of the population and leave the rest of the Earthlings to walk across barren deserts like alien preachers. the mouth-flap movements are so good i felt i was watching a documentary by Ken Burns about war burns. i cried, they were still able to play the piano so well at the party knowing a nuke was the next guest come and knock on our door with cherry pie. that takes concentration. it's a chain of events that seems so cold and calculating and callous and yet so confidently clear. like this is what humans WOULD do to each other, they'd know it was stupid but do it anyway. they'd fight aboard a leaking red-colored inside submarine because they want so badly to hold the shiny two keys. let's PLEASE confine this sort of thing to the celluloid of imagination. let's not let the anime community give you any ideas!

Bump: ...

Laertus: do you know what an honor flight is? that's what you have to think about years down the road when you make your decisions now. make it a priority to give Melbourne an honor flight one day. it's a simple question: what kind of society do we want to live in? we must build it for ourselves. will it be built upon the totems of all people regardless of their chromosome config? or will we let lazy laxy laws define our energy, pen in our colorful constitutions, react to illness with our knees rather than try to solve it, as if the country was sick with cold and everything had a catch.

a donkey strolls across the stage, no one chases after it.

Bump: okay okay enough i get it. is that for the Dems?

Laertus: for the circus. these things take time, allow them to ratchet up the tensions.

Bump: so i've set up Kavanaugh and his accuser inches from each other. only the one buzzer red button between them. all on the same table. each contestant has five minutes to buzz in. if you win the car you have to pay the insurance. if no one answers in the five minutes, i get the car to break the ice of the awkward silence. one-time appearance fee, no refunds, i don't want to be late for the sex crimes on the Law & Order: SVU two-hour season premiere, i love that show. we'll use drone cameras if they both touch hands at the same time. i was wrong i can admit this. i was waiting for Saturday to occur before the massacre. i was waiting for October to happen before the surprise. calendars are slow.

Bump: i asked for a female to do the inquisition but The Pope refused. i love women popes.

Senator Grassley: *smoking grass* what do we call them? these men who have legs and arms and hair but aren't men? aliens?

Agent Scully: ... ... ... women.

Grassley: first question: who was the first MeToo...

Bump: *buzzers in* George Washington, he had bad teeth like Elton John and all Elton Johns. and allow me to do the pre-interview now and break the ice with some standup. wow, haven't done standup since college.

the Senate courtroom becomes a tapestry room. the lights dim and the spotlight trains. the law room is a ballroom.

Bump: so i like to fire people from job interviews...

stony silence from the audience and crowd

Bump: *passes the mic* here's my friend Rod Rosenstein! we were chuckle buddies on the comedy circuit together in the early '90s in L.A. when everyone drank and no one gave a shit.

polite clapping

Rod: *takes the mic* i used to play football...

audience and crowd: *stony silence* no way you played football. you look like the quintessential nerd.

only one person in the crowd laughs. Kawhi Leonard, and he laughs very strangely. like someone who has never laughed before in his life, doesn't know how to laugh.

First Take ESPN studio:

Stephen A Smith: now you see there! that is not a normal laugh! there is something wrong with this brother, check Kawhi for the nuts and bolts, brother's an android. that is a robot boy learning how to laugh for the first time from an exercise program. if it walks like a duck, and laughs like a duck, it ain't no damn mongoose.

Molly Q claps in Stephen A's face.

Stephen: oh, i get it, you black now huh.

Max Kellerman: i love you, Qerim. uh, Molly Rose. you're like those girls who take a few weeks off and don't tell nobody nothing and everyone wonders what happened to them and they come back with a ring on their finger and the whole wedding was so secret not even People Magazine nor MAGA knew where it was. and you never speak of it again, you are simply a baller's wife and never talk about your marriage. you don't mention his name when asked if you have a boyfriend, you stay in stony silence. now that's TRULY being a baller!!!

Molly Q: *wearing yellow lipstick* i gots the moves.

Max: and we're like those dudes who take a few weeks off and suddenly reappear magically in New York City, our poor parents back home in Connecticut having no idea where we disappeared to. Stephen A and i did it to be closer to you, Molly.

outside the Senate hearing, The Pope checks her phone alone by the three stone steps to the banquet hall. a parakeet perches on the lap of her shoulder. she finds out Rod has been fired and begins to cry.

Kavanaugh: i swear i never touched a woman. a woman never touched me. not even my wife. Renate? that was a real club. Renate Club, Debate Club. the only friend i ever had was when i was a tot, a girl named Talky Tina.

Bump: imma look into that. yeah, bro, but you did mention in your papers that you wouldn't watch the new Twilight Zone cos it was from that GET OUT guy who isn't our voting bloc. don't worry, i blacked that out for you.

in the back of the MSNBC Studios, Avenatti is practicing on the heavy bag with no punching gloves just his fists. he even headbutts it cos he can with his artificial bald. he hits the bag so hard it becomes a speed bag. which rips open and out pops a plastic baggie of shaving cream and razor shivs.

Mueller: slow down, my apprentice, you're burning the wick at both ends. and cameras don't have candles inside them anymore. you look like you're on speed, in the eyes. why are you on tv so much? i need you rested soon. to box for me.

Avenatti: the Dems need a fighter in kind, they've forgotten how to fight dirty in their quest to be the civil one. i do my most damage with my headbutt, people don't realize how lethal a headbutt can be. i go on tv a lot cos i want to earn my SAG card the way Bump earned his running for President. do you think i have a chance?

Mueller: afraid not. you're not old enough. you ned to be Biden's age to make an impact in Hollywood.

at the table, a blue sad fish with dead eyes is swimming struggling in the confined water glass which scares poor Gladyce half to death. she blushes brokenly into her chest and screams AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO. Doryce comforts her with a hug of the pelvis. Gladyce's eyes are bloodshot with fear.

Gladyce: I'M TERRIFIED OF FISH!!!

Doryce: we'll get through this, babe, i'm with you every step of the way. i will cure you with my love.

in the mistress bedroom:

Melbourne: you know about my dream, right, wifey?

Taki: sure. it's the linchpin. the key to uncovering where the bodies are if we ever decipher the symbolism of it.

Melbourne: no bodies, mannequins.

Taki: this dream is your block. to achieving a happy life.

Melbourne: not so fast. we are going too fast in our Formula 1 car to see the forest or the trees. there's a gap in my memory, i have the recurring dream where i'm up in the air in my airrace plane and i only have a POV view of the cockpit. a set of hands are on the steering wheel. well you've allowed me to fill in the gaps and i can see more out now, get a broader view. i can see my head in this larger frame slumped over on the stick. provides context. but the plane is not careening out of control.

Taki: you're unconscious? fascinating. what would that experience be? being unconscious in your own dream.

Melbourne: no, i'm sleeping, and dreaming a dream within a dream. it's of an angel in white with her hands up in a certain way. at least i always thought it was an angel. it is difficult to make her out at first she's so bright, just a ball of radiating white light, she looks like one of my all-white mannequins with their arms bent up at the broken joints. but my eyes focus and adjust and i begin to make out her white negligee. and then her face. her face is..............YOUR FACE! you're in my bedroom just as you are now, except standing up with your nonswollen arms up. you're staring at me directly in a POV view angle.

Taki: knew it. it's your gun trained on me. i got my hands up. i figured you out and you mad.

Melbourne: the airrace plane chugs along in the sky, giving out white smoke but never black. it's your steady hand, YOU'RE the one driving. you're in back of me in the back seat but you're no passenger, your hands come across my shoulders in a vise grip doing the steering of the plane with my head blocking your view, you can't see the controls or tiny clocks. but you don't panic, you're nice and easy and instinctive with the sky's road of clouds. the plane stays upright and turns and curves and completes the course. do you happen to catch the letters on the sidepaneling of the plane?

Taki: yes. they're a Spanish company, right?

Melbourne: wrong. it's Mexican. the side of my dream plane says TRES LECHES.