Monday, July 24, 2017


1. pilates or HIIT? why? pilates sounds weird to me, it always has. when i sound out this word i see in my head images of pirates, pirates using their cutlass swords as piledrivers to hew the rocky coast. i see their parrots scowling in disgust as the pirates proceed to place the pieces of rock which could not be chopped into their mouths and mashed with their gold teeth into smooth shaped stone. classic gentlemen rockeaters. oh, no hitmen for me, i detest violence of any sort.

2. spouse or significant other-lover? they're the same thing. we have an active role-play life.

3. go clubbing or entertain friends at home? they say the oldest age you can go clubbing is 37...

4. Maybach sedan or Mercedes G-class SUV? bus

5. soccer or golf? soccer. golf is boring. soccer has biting. golf has Jordan. not Michael. Jordan should have gotten up in front of those bank of mics yesterday and said, "hell yeah i took 20 minutes to hit that shot, i'm Jordan Motherfucking Spieth!"

6. basketball or baseball? regular-season baseball is in a word, Hell. i'll only watch basketball if LeBron joins the Warriors...


8. office with a view or work at home? office. the only view i have at home is of my perv next-door neighbor who is also my dentist.

9. early bird or night owl? one word: Denny's.

10. boyfriend or girlfriend? i wish i were one of those oily gladiators from Ancient Rome who took female and male lovers without batting an eyelash, where it was actually considered strange for an emperor to ONLY have female consorts. but alas i am no soldier, i am but boring and hetero.

11. ice cream or gelato? gelato. i'm in the throes of the brilliant Blue Jacket Lupin series set in Italy on Toonami that no one watches but everyone agrees is critically acclaimed.

12. silver or gold? drinking silver cures depression or something, right?

bonus: money or fame? why? mo' money, mo' problems. at least you can use your fame for good. if i touch one person, ONE person through this blog, all the decades of endlessly typing on this board were worth it. the skipping meals, the lonely Friday nights, the getting called into my dentist's office at midnight cos it's the only time he has free till he goes on vacation. at least his office has a view of the moon...


Friday, July 21, 2017



* nothing to do with Charlie Sheen. or Charles Schwab. or those annoying pizza commercials with the mouse. Pasqually should be doing those commercials. i want a Pasqually plush.

* don't stare at me, stare at the burning palm tree.

* Snoop wants his Emmy.

* this commercial feels uncomfortable.

* young Ace Ventura contemplating an Olympic diving career. to which he gives his gold medal to Dan Marino. Dan deserves something. Miami Dolphins fan army forever!

* basketball player: i want to try to make it here.
me: City of Industry isn't a real city. it's a series of white mall parking lots on top of each other.

* i want to be rich...for more eye tats. don't worry, no tears.

* the new 911 song

* okay, it's still City of Industry, but the mall parking lots house the Hanging Gardens of Babylon! i'd live there. i love plants. i love the smell of nature and the verdant vines choking your every move. and Poison Ivy is your girlfriend.

* Babylon tour guide: want the answers?
me: yes. finally.
Babylon tour guide: the answers only lead to more questions.
me: but why can you smoke in here?

* should be the other way around, the Converse canvas shoes should be made of that psychedelic carpet and the carpet should be white to absorb all the makeout cum.

* freckles are beautiful. flowers, not so much.

* driver: what's the point? robots, you know? it's all robots from now on.
me: like drones?
driver: no, like that Sphero Spider-Man robot. i talk to that thing for hours.

* modern rap. or a seizure.

* i'm gonna eat that banana later. it's on top of my head to remind myself.

* i want to change the world. but first, tea.

* i hold the world in my hands. it's a hologram but still.

* i got generalized anxiety disorder. but i got my Chucks.

* chips or fries? crisps or chips? Alvin and the Chipmunks or Chippendale's?

* i'm yellow. but i ain't afraid.

* Arya Stark: there's a role for everyone. everyone wears masks.

* okay my eyes are turning yellow. i think that's enough plants.

* parrot: this is just the beginning. of your drug trip. i'm not a parrot. this is the pile of cocaine on your desk talking to you.


happy weekend, my babies. R.I.P. Chester. and your voice. that voice of yours of gorgeous shrieking pain. that voice which never went hoarse when all of ours trying to copy it did.



Wednesday, July 19, 2017


these days the boy is taking the lead, as youth often does over experience. the two huddle most of the time together tightly under the stone awning of the cave, rarely going out for fear of the sun, whom even in their early stages of development realize is unusually grand and terrifying.

boy: hug me.

man: we do this for warmth?

boy: no, because we are one. is Yellow Monster gone?

man: almost. the sky is injured from its wrath. pink skin with red splotches. then royal purple as befits a maniacal ruler.

boy: any help from the wind?

man: for days now the wind has been angry with us. nowhere to be seen. or rather felt. we have dishonored it by our cowardice.

boy: we'll just have to change into stars ourselves. i fear our god is fickle and shows when he wants.

man: there's no pleasing the wind. it just blows.

boy: perhaps we can do something to get in its good graces. it will come for us in our time of succor.

the boy begins to cry.

man: what is the water eyes?

boy: crying. i am happy. my middle is not crying out.

man: ah yes, food, just recently learned that word. we have sampled all the plants in the area.

boy: even the poisonous ones. but we are still not stars.

man: by the grace of the wind. we still have much to learn.

boy: there is nothing more to eat. food is boring.

man: unless we venture further than our immediate circle. legend speaks of other beings like ourselves, lesser yet greater. we will have to battle them. winner makes a meal out of the other.

boy: how disgusting and powerful. i choose to be...vegan.

man: but i am so weak. we are surely Yellow Food soon.

boy: where did you hear of such a legend?

man: in the wind.

boy: when you are there, in that space, can you explain to me what you meant by barren wasteland?

man: it's actually quite the opposite. the land is filled with wastes and shiny objects and trinkets. all of which have more weight than the wind. but it's a trick. these things are tied to the rock, not the rock music. they are weighed down by gravity. it's not the wind.

boy: ah, i see. gravity is the anti-wind. good lookin' out.

man: everything is in opposites. the duality of not being a star. while we are one.

boy: yes, i am beginning to see this. i tire quite easily of this body. there's nothing left to do in this body. it's excruciatingly limiting. i want out.

man: more to go. and more to come. always.

boy: i cry because of the duality. i can summon the water if i think about it enough, which is belief. remember, our inside is our outside. soon the water will fall here on the outside. sleep now.

man: sleep now.

the prehistoric pair are awakened by the sound of droplets on their protruding foreheads. a rainstorm rages in front of their little tidy home of stone, whipping around the surrounding palm trees.

boy: our prayers have been answered!

man: yes, i feel it, too!

boy: o glory! i actually HEAR the wind! rustling through the icicles at the top of our cave.

man: the water level is rising. what happens when this place floods?

boy: do you know how to swim?

man: swim?

man: go out there and fix it. you have the young legs. you'll always have the small young legs.

boy: but you have the heavier mind. okay, fine.

boy: i don't get it. the wind is guiding the water to our plants. the plants get thirsty like we do. it's easier to eat them cos they don't have eyes which can water.

man: the plants are drowning. it's too much water. the wind stayed away too long and is making up for lost time.

boy: do we pray for it to stop?

man: no, we remove the plants and keep them safe with us inside. and block our front door with a boulder or something.

boy: uprooting them will kill them, i have a feeling. it would to us.

man: then i suppose we pray.

boy: yes. pray. always pray. the wind won't give us anything in a day we can't handle. it knows when to stop. the wind knows what it's doing.

the man starts to cry.

boy: what is it? maybe i shouldn't ask it seems commonplace?

the man notices for the first time a painting on the interior wall next to the entrance. it is of a straight vertical line in red paint, elongated, crossed by another line in red paint, this line horizontal and shorter than the vertical line.

man: *still crying* the water didn't reach the level of this symbol and erase it before our eyes could see it! it didn't wash away in the storm like our crops! alleluia!

boy: *crying* yes, alleluia.

the man and the boy hug and cry with each other.


President Bump is giving an interview with the New York Times.

Bump: so you'll fire Sessions for me?

New York Times: what?

Bump: yeah just call him up and do it for me, wouldja? you have his number, right? you have all the numbers. i'm late for my son's wrestling thing.

Bump races to the amphitheatre and ducks behind a bank of metal fold-in chairs used as economy seating.

Bump: it's all economy seating.

as some women in skimpy outfits touch each other, one whose name is Jail Bait, Bump turns his massive head into that of Mueller. their heads touch and it hurts.

Bump: damn you.

Bump picks up Mueller and carries him to the arena stage and body-slams him on the spongey mat of the squared circle.

Mueller: you can't fire me! not without a messy Constitutional crisis!

Tiffany Bump in a suit has replaced Bump Jr. as ring announcer.

Tiffany: in this corner, Truth. in the opposite corner, Threat. but who is who?

Bump: i don't want you off the case, Bob, that would be unfair to the president. i want the best minds to look into the financial dealings of all my ex-wives. that's where my money is! i had to pin you down here cos you're never around.

Mueller: the truth is awesome. i love the truth. the truth is like a winding path up a mountain covered in mist. it stays there in all its glory waiting for a spelunker to uncover its secrets. the spelunker merely uses his two hands to climb each step of the mountain until what is hidden is cleared of all fog. the flashlight he carries with him is more important than his boots. no mater how S-shaped and convoluted the various turns, all roads lead to the top, the one point that is undeniable.

Bump: uh, okay Jake the Snake, shred the receipts when you get them, wouldja? got a dinner thing.

Bump sits alone at the Cream House long table all set for a state dinner. no one is there. not even the waiters. not even Melania. Bump claps a long, loud Citizen Kane clap.

Bump: the invitations went out, right? hello?

echo: hello? *clap*

at the convention, all the bigwigs from computer and entertainment are hobnobbing with Jared and Ivanka at the garden terrace in full view of drone cameras.

Bump races his way to the G20 dinner just in time for the dessert rolls.

Bump: where's my placemat? where's my card? i see i'm in between two beautiful women.

the two lovely First Ladies smile.

Bump: just like before. nothing's changed. excuse me, ladies, business, you know.

Bump: hello?

Jared: i did it, pop.

the hologram of Steve Jobs: ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Jared Son-In-Law!


Jared gets up on the dais and huge overhead-projector screen in the back, stretches the spongey foldable steel S-shaped microphone to his lips, and lets out a humongous BLACK BOLT which reverberates all throughout the amphitheatre and destroys all of Silicon Valley.

Bump: boy what'd you do that for?

Jared: you always say to destroy your enemies whenever you get the chance, pop. all of Hollywood was there.

Bump: do you know how to hack computers?

Jared: no.

Bump: me, neither. i'll ask Vlad.

Bump gets up and sits next to Putin on the other side of the long table. he stares at Putin's eyes and touches his balls.

Putin touches his own balls and nods in agreement.

Bump rejoins the Japanese Leader and his wife.

Japanese Leader: senbei?

Bump: no thanks, gives me gas.

wife: sake? rice wine?

Bump: no thanks, hun hun, rice makes me think of my weddings.

wife: is made with your wedding rice...

there is a strange hustle and bustle in a room at the tippy-top of Bump Tower. the Secret Service didn't get an invite.

Bump Jr: is everyone here?

Jared: my wife doesn't know i'm here!

Manafort: oh hey Rob. lose some weight?

Rob: no.

Black Widow: i can't wait for this! there are no ice-cream socials in Mother Russia! let me ask my interpreter did you bring the scoop?

interpreter: *turning on tape*

Black Widow: when you're done give it to me. i work at the New York Times. got a lush office with an overlooking window to Stark Tower.

Bump: oh hey Scarlett.

Black Widow: hi, boss. you were terrible last night.

Bump: that's unfair to the president. hey guys, change of plans. i know everyone was excited for the ice-cream social but that's so Americana. there's a new hipster joint on the East Side, or West Side, called Ice & Vice. strange flavors and even stranger denizens. i'm president to these Bernieheads, too.

Vlad Putin: i brought the nuts!

Bump: thanks, buddy. and i brought the cherries! yeah they got lemon-charcoal cones and a Three Little Pigs flavor, bacon ice cream! it's all very cool. you can see the cold emanate from their ovens.

Vlad: happy way for our two nation-states to get acquainted with each other again.

Bump: i think so. it's all one big Roman Empire anyway.

Vlad: before we go venture, let us all take a moment in prayer for our befallen hero, John McCain.

Bump: yes. speedy recovery. just goes to show, you make fun of a man one day and it all comes back to haunt you later when you find out how much of a jackass you are. i pledge, i promise from this day forward, scout's honor, i will never use an internet meme again.

Brian Williams: The 11th Hour starts now on a Wednesday night. Day 2921 of this still-young Bump Administration...

Ashley Parker: as i was saying...

Brian: i love your smile. it comes out the way Kirsten's does, it's all sour when you're reporting fatuous facts and serious stories but then you stop to smile and by golly that smile could melt Mars! i love it when you gals do that!................i'm sorry, but all of this reporting is quite useless. we might as well go for it while we still can...

Kirsten Powers turns her head to witness the Pope rise from her bathwaters in all her dripping, wet-haired glory.

the Pope: care for a drink?

Kirsten: uh..........

the Pope: no, i meant wine. join me in my private boudoir. tell me all about your conversion to the Faith.

Kirsten: *following* i was a hardcore atheist before...

the Pope: that's hot.

Kirsten: then i met Jesus...

the Pope: never meet your heroes.

Johanna Konta tosses and turns in her apartment she leased for the Championships. her bedsheets are dripping with sweat and worry.

a vision appears before her.

Konta: Jesus?

vision: no, it's me, your coach.

Konta: why'd you do it? you gave me so much confidence.

coach: didn't save enough for me.

Konta: i wanted to win Wimbledon for you so badly. for the country second.

coach: always do it for you, my beautiful pupil. and you are beautiful. on the inside, not just hot.

Konta: you are the wind beneath my wings.

coach: always. please don't sing that song. that's a version of Hell in some circles. i love Bette but Codrus doesn't. which country is it again? UK? Hungary?

Konta: Australia i guess.


at the spirit cave, the hooded figure holds up a poster of an Oldsmobile sedan driving on the surface of one of the moons of Saturn. the Men from the East, who have all removed their hoods, ooh and aah.

hooded figure: gentlemen, this is what we're after. this is goals. this is what we want to do with the wheel. this is evolution. we want to set our sights high. we want to set our sites to the furthest star. we want to fly. not just cars, flying cars. may nothing block us from our imaginations.

one of the Men from the East gets there late atop a new horse for him. the horse bucks him off and his saddle comes off. the Man crawls his way inside and is not scolded by the hooded figure.

Man from the East: this is why i like this church. it's not stuffy like the others.

hooded figure: i will always welcome any who come. may this flame that burns eternally in our circle guide our centers into one body. the one body which lights us on fire forever.

the hooded figure picks up a staff, which is a patriarchal cross, and lights the top of it on the campfire in the middle of the cave. the blue flame turns red. the hooded figure goes around the room offering each Man from the East to hold out his hand and let it get burned, but each politely refuses.



Monday, July 17, 2017


really excited for this. bombshell! i thought this was a moot point, with that dude who looks like a grown-up Ed Sheeran with scruffy beard and Ron Weasley devil-may-care attitude cast. well that would have been boring. when they say new and never-before-seen adventures, they mean it this time! there are changes, there are elections, but then there are paradigm shifts. that Christmas special is gonna have twice the drunk viewers. there are Regenerations and then there are generational Regenerations. wondering who the Companion is gonna be. talk about a flip of the sexual dynamics in that relationship! powerful women get me hot. it's a mommy thing. i don't have to do any of the work, i just follow orders. i'm lazy, i don't like working.

1. for you what is sexy time? CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

2. if your best friend asked, "do you think i'm sexy?", what would you say? not as sexy as my shirt

3. if your mom or dad asked, "how's your love life?", would you answer? what would you tell them? i'd asked them how their love life was. to which my mom would say she has had sex in her life exactly once, when she had me. i still remember that joke from the Married... with Children spoof in MAD magazine all those years ago when i was a child of the '80s hiding contraband under my bed. Married... with Children was such a dangerous show back then that i was scared of it, scared my little baby eyes would be exposed to those controversial adult jokes.

4. a young 8-year-old neighbor asks you, "what is the birds and the bees?". how do you reply? ask Santa

5. what would you do if your lover's turn on is your turn off? but the fact that it's your turn on would get me hot regardless. it's the whole my-dream-is-to-ruin-your-dream thing. power dynamics.

bonus: what does it mean to be a man? i wrote a story about this............a couple of years ago..............check this blog's archives...


Friday, July 14, 2017



* * night sky with stars emoji* emojis have ruined art. quick, get me to that Van Gogh of the Joker before it's too late for me.

* two giant tits underwater, man and boy emerge. dripping with symbolism.

* we come into this world needing others. except Johnny Cash. Johnny Cash didn't need a damn body.

* it's not braver to go it alone, it's easier.

* still waiting for Star Trek to be real...............i'll even take Star Wars at this point...

* that's either a droplet or a nutsac

* how many tries does it take to screw in a lightbulb? seriously i'd like to know. i've never done it. too complicated. that damn bulb breaks and bleeds into the cotton and you're left with exposed glass shards and wires that just hang there, mocking you. if i turn on the switch i'd get electrocuted so i conduct my business in darkness. not to mention i'm always deathly afraid of falling off that wobbly stepladder highchair.

* your independence wasn't free. so feel free to reject it.

* hide-and-go-seek. just don't hide in that giant nest.

* sister: i cut myself in the woods.
brother: i think it's time for the talk.

* dad: son, this is a chain-link. for a bike. never EVER answer an email chain-link.

* me: wow, look at the Aurora Borealis!
Neil deGrasse Tyson: no, that's a ring of green pollution around the Earth.

* our time here can be deep beyond measure, as long as you have kids.

* granddaughter: okay, Grandpa, so that's how you screw on a lightbulb.
Grandpa: what's light? i'm really old.

* me: i choose interdependence.
internet: filthy UN globalist. so you're saying you like paying more for gas?
me: but i'm an anarchist.
internet: name one punk band.
me: Green Day?

* Neil deGrasse Tyson: look at our beautiful sun! day the sun will explode.

* backpacking girl: MOMMA! I'M HOME! i'm back from my European hostel. it was terrible, they forced me to join their G20 cult.
mother: who are you? we have no kids.


happy weekend, my babies! go Roger Fed! i've always liked the cut of that man's meat.

Wednesday, July 12, 2017


he refreshes my soul. he guides me along the right paths for his name's sake

boy: for whose sake?

man: i don't know what wind is. but i feel it. it blows across my face and i feel we should honor that.
it's trying to get noticed. it's trying to tell us something.

boy: what's a face? what's an arm and a leg? how are we talking? how did you understand? is communication so ancient?

man: it's too much to take in all at once. we are alive.

boy: what is life?

man: i don't know. we are here. instead of not here. we can hold onto that. it is tangible, unlike the wind.

boy: i feel great anguish in my middle.

man: we are to go to the top. never the bottom. your later appendages hurt, too, no?

boy: feet?

man: sure. mine, too. i felt the pang earlier when the Yellow Monster tried to cook us to death. we all have the pain. good thing i hid you in the cave.

boy: i remember now though i know not what memory is. you put two white monsters into my mouth and it calmed it. you still feel the uncomfortableness?

man: always.

boy: put something in your mouth.

man: how would i talk?

boy: it seems everything here is in need of sustenance. we were not put in the Yellow Monster's mouth.

man: not yet. i have a feeling he'll be back. it is either scary beyond words or sacred beyond words.

boy: ah, the sacrament, the elevation, we must strive for more than our current position.

man: i believe so. o belief. circumstance is fickle. situation is the title. but the story is slippery. and i feel we have the rocks to write it.

boy: feeling, so much warmer than thinking. one the cave, one the monster in the cave.

man: i cannot understand the rock until i understand music. and understanding. i feel my body shaking from the wind. the up is changing.

boy: color is everything. blessed orbs. blessing, that is the more. let us follow the wind, it won't lead us astray.

man: agreed. the wind is lowering us, a chill in our bodies.

boy: what are these bodies? these vessels squishy and new? i want the old, when we were up.

man: i remember those times. vaguely. but not anymore. we didn't need to question. question. we were the answer.

the man takes his first step into a damp mound of dirt. he looks up to find the boy already at the mouth of the cave. it's a nice night so the two don't huddle together inside the crevasse like before. instead they stay up all night. the man follows the boy's lead. the boy has been looking straight up into the night sky bathed in stars. the boy points up and the man sucks the boy's thumb.

man: we need that light. we were that light. we must get back there. somehow we fell off the up. we were on a cliff, a ledge of forbidden knowledge, and the wind blew us off. the wind is testing us. our resolve to get back.

boy: what is light? and how are we to know it?

man: what is knowledge? and how are we to see it? i feel we are missing a piece, an aspect of our aspect, something we desperately crave. without it we are like the wind, powerful but lonely. find it and we shall be free. we search for our soul.

boy: power?

man: i fear it.

boy: freedom?

man: i fear it more.

boy: fear?

man: when the wind doesn't blow.

boy: soul?

man: our guide. without it it's just an empty wasteland.

boy: barren wasteland? you should be a poet.

man: look i don't know, okay? i don't know what's out there. all i know is we are sheltered in this cave. and we are blessed with the gift of the word.

the boy lowers his head to meet the white circles of the man.

boy: why do we have to do this? why do we have to do this at all?

man: it's either a cruel game. or the most beautiful thing in the universe.


at the Vatican, Shia LaBeouf crashes down the private drawing-room door. The Pope is in her element, naked as a jaybird in her massive tub, with President Mickey Bump looking on. Shia stubs his toe on the paw feet of the bathtub.

Shia: OW! i hate my life!

The Pope: boy what you on about? you're too talented of an actor to go the tortured artist route.

Bump: really like that performance art you did on me, kid. this one in the water here is getting me into art more, says i'll be the better presider for it.

Shia: thank you, Mr. President. i am here to serve the people. if i have to make myself the jackass i'll gladly do it.

The Pope: where's the wife? that hot little number.

Shia: got too goth for me. which is why i'm here. besides hiding from the cops. i need you to teach me how to be Christian. i'm new at all this.

The Pope: so you want sanctuary?

Shia: basically.

Bump: i fucked Sia. it was that blonde wig. i just can't help myself around blondes.

The Pope: why did you pull out of the Paris Accords? especially after our extensive bath talks?

Bump: always pull out, my father taught me that old chestnut. really removes a lot of problems from your docket. though i appreciate the liquid diplomacy.

Jared: sir the burgers you ordered have arrived.

Bump: don't talk anymore, kid. or you'll end up like your father. like don't talk on camera or anywhere else in any other meeting room.


at the Bucolic Burger, the wide screens are tuned to the only game in town.

after an emotional fifth set, Venus Williams wins Wimbledon and dedicates all of her prize money to the victim's family. no dancing.

after an emotional fifth set, Sam Querrey wins Wimbledon and reporters are rushing to find out about that awkward smile of his.

Sam: i don't know, i have teeth i guess.

Wolf: have you talked to Andy?

Sam: who's Andy?

Bump: i did Andy's wife. and Sam's. love and love.

a week later the NBA Finals conclude. and it's not what LeBron wanted. Kevin Durant wins the deciding set of who's better and the hearts of all Americans when he Crip Walks LeBron to the basket for the slam-dunk at the buzzer. the Warriors win, get revenge for what should have been theirs last year, MJ smiles, and LeBron has to be escorted off the court by Ivanka.

at the press conference:

LeBron: i'm not mad about the affiliation of the dance. the Crips are a powerful political force in this country. whom a man chooses to vote for in the Election is everybody's business. what i am mad at is that dancing itself is allowed. this isn't the NFL, that should be an automatic foul.

a week later, the main event, the championships of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling tournament. the round robin was brutal and hot, just as the fans wanted. now we come to the final round, with Mickey Bump Jr, wrestling name Junior Jollies, the creator, CEO, and referee.

Bump Jr: gentlemen, the GLOW ladies are about to come! let's everyone in the stands stand and recognize how great this country is. dance awkwardly everybody!

but before the lights go up, Bump Jr. is handed the telephone in the middle of the ring.

Bump Jr: hello?

voice: the President wants to see you.


in a hot North Korean bunker, the Leader is chafing under all the makeup he has to wear when he's on camera.

Leader: can you shut the cameras off? i can't take it anymore. what did people do before lifecasting?

army generals: we lost these pages of the script, sorry.

Leader: i always wanted to be an actor. that's why i got into politics. don't worry, i'm not as brutal as my father. i'm brutaler. when they don't see you on camera anymore, that's when they'll forget you. there is nothing worse for an actor than to be forgotten. it's like you're dead.

army generals: we don't want to be forgotten. heehee, we want to be on camera all the time! we want to participate in this play!

Leader: that's good. there are a few lines left for you. and for me to take.

army generals: but you're already famous, Almighty Leader! you were in that Seth Rogen movie!

Leader: maybe i'm famous enough to finally muster up the courage to call my crush?

Leader: *calling* hello? Sarah? Sarah Palin?

Sarah: what do you want, Kim?

Leader: *blushes* oh sorry, it's just...i think you're cute! that's why i pointed my missiles at Alaska. so you'd notice me.

Sarah: how'd you get this number? this is a new phone.


at the NBC Studios:

Brian Williams: The 11th Hour starts now.

Brian Williams storms off the set in a huff.

Brian Williams: WHAT THE FUCK. NO SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING IN THE WORLD. i can't do this anymore. my talent for the turn of phrase and wonderful whimsical wordplay is lost on this drivel. i didn't go to school for this! i'm off to complete my novel. i'm not joking. i know i did Late Night but i'm not joking.

Eric Bump: okay, next man up. Rucker.

Brian: can't be Rucker. he has a lisp.

Rucker: what are you implying?

Brian: not THAT. it's just America wants a dashing man.

Rucker: you already dashed out of here.

Eric: get it done. win. next man up. Nicolle Wallace...

Brian: no, she's mine.

President Bump: Kirsten Powers. get Kirsten Powers. believe me, once you see her...

Brian, both Bumps, and Rucker all wag their tongues in approval when Kirsten walks into the studio.

President Bump: right? right? got that Mrs. Robinson thing goin' on. she has that sour face but when she smiles she lights up the universe believe me.

Brian: fine, hand me the copy, we'll do it taped. audio only. today, thanks to our glorious leader President Bump, all of the roads and bridges in this country have been paved with gold. infrastructure done. checkmark. gold star. happy? but we still don't have as yet the unlimited power source necessary to make use of these grand glittering throughways...

Kirsten mock-smiles in disbelief.


Bump: where's the clown? did he go to you?

Jared: he had to take a last-minute detour to the MSNBC studios to film a McDonald's commercial to fund his little rinky-dink soft-core porn operation afloat. you know sponsors, never patient.

Bump: ah yes, that ring ring. i tivo it all the time.

Jared: people still tivo?

Bump: i thought i told you to shut your trap. go control the newspapers. yous can do that in a dimly-lit room in the back, right?

Bump Jr: *holding a hamburger* i'm loving it.

Bump Jr. is escorted, well dragged, from the studio by the yellow-and-black guards and is crashed into the one private Vatican door.

The Pope: does my door have a lock?

Bump: where's the food? take him away. you are to be the fall guy, okay? the rest of us wash our hands clean. America elected me cos they wanted a slippery man who could get out of the tightest jams. that weird-looking wife of yours is interesting though.

Bump Jr: but dad, i'm your son!

Bump: i have a son? sorry, kid, just business.

Shia: the Earth is flat.

The Pope: the Earth isn't flat, you dolt, you're just mad you're having woman problems so you blame the world instead of taking personal responsibility.

Shia: you're right, you're right.

The Pope: let me put you in touch with a like mind. uh, do you have the North Korean Leader's number?

Bump: Leader the Lizard, that wild and crazy guy! no i don't.


in a dimly-lit section of the sunroof opening of a monastery main praying hall made of stone, a hooded figure processions into the center of the ring of fire. two orderly lines of men from the East follow behind, sashaying into the formation of the outer circle.

the fire is blue and shoots up a


the men all undulate at the strange warbly intonations of this choice of concert chant. the confused incantation swells to a hush as the figure holds up a wheel made of stone into the light.

the figure: it's a start.

Monday, July 10, 2017



1. you have 3 days to live:
a) what will you stop doing? stop complaining. and join the ATP Tour.
b) what will you do before your time runs out? get a new computer...

2. "true wealth is the ability to truly experience life"---Henry David Thoreau
a) are you truly experiencing life? does cyber count?
b) are you truly experiencing a full sex life? does porn count?
btw Thoreau was jealous of Nietzsche his whole life. and Nietzsche wanted to go to Walden Pond but his visa expired. i read that on the internet.

3. during sex, what is something that usually distracts you? huge eyes

4. because you are busy busy busy you have now been ordered to have a scheduled down time of two hours.
a) what time of day do you take your down time? whenever my body collapses face-down into a ditch
b) what do you do in your down time? drink. you have to stay hydrated. drink doesn't necessarily mean alcohol. then again hydrated doesn't necessarily mean water.

5. thinking about your sex life,
a) what are the positives? i'm alive. but is one truly alive without love?
b) negatives? i'm alone. but isn't it true you can't really know yourself unless you're alone? i swung by Walden Pond this morning for my meditations. it's a muni pool now. concrete and a chain-link fence. it's all green. and not from leaves.

bonus: in question 5, how can you change the negatives to positives, or even eliminate them altogether? you need both positive and negative. you can't see the positive unless it's against the backdrop of the negative. your batteries won't work without both. and that means the vibrator i just got in the mail won't work. i'm so excited, i'm gonna do my first unboxing video................................................update: it was just a flashlight.


Monday, June 5, 2017


1. given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest? Cogsworth. Live-action Lumiere is the stuff of nightmares.

2. what would constitute a "perfect day" for you? CLICK HERE

3. how much do you like your personality? (choose but once) a) a lot b) a little c) it needs work d) i am annoying sometimes e) i am difficult, and people have told me so


4. if you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?

that's like choosing between THIS or THIS

but i think i'd go with Hawking cos i dig his ride more.

5. if you could wake up tomorrow having gained any ability, what would it be? sleep

bonus: how do you think you will die? in your arms


Friday, June 2, 2017



* Grandma Cyborg is canon.

* what can i say, Volkswagen brings the juice.

* the comments say this has a Pink Moon vibe to it. y'know, revoke my hipster card if you wish but i never got into the Nicks, Drake or Cave. they say i look like Drake tho...

* grandma: your grandfather spoke and i dictated this letter. your grandpa wasn't sexist, just of his time. isn't my penmanship beautiful?
kids: penmanship? the only pen we have is a stylus. you mean typing with ink?
grandma: no that's something else. handwriting?
kids: we need our other hand free...

* grandpa: i wanted to see this great country. gas up the getaway car, i was a bank robber...

* grandma: who the hell are you, little girl?
girl: i'm your granddaughter.
grandma: just don't kick the back of my seat, this is gonna be a LOOOOOOOONGGGGGG thing.

* grandma: let's make the most of it.
kids: we need to pee!
grandma: that's my line!

* father: put your seatbelt on, Grannie.
grandma: don't tell me what to do, son, you should have been a doctor.

* grandma: WILL THIS BRIDGE HOLD!!!?
father: we're on a road.
grandma: WILL THIS ROAD HOLD!!!?
father: for now. the Earth will implode into its molten core someday.

* mother: America is known for its butterflies and abandoned barns.
girl: just butterfly stickers. whoa, i found a stash in the abandoned barn!
mother: WHAT!!!?
girl: of snacks.

* older girl: Dad, stop the car, it's golden hour and i want to take a selfie with those buffalo before they go the way of the buffalo.
father: i'm not stopping this car! do you want me to stop this car? have your buffalo sandwiches when we get to Seattle.
mother: there is no food in Seattle...

* older girl: how did you and Grandpa meet?
grandma: blind date.
everyone laughs.
grandma: yesterday.
older girl: huh?
grandma: Tinder.

* father: son, let's have a talk while the two of us are alone in this abandoned car. see that bird over there? see that bee over there?
son: yes.
father: cool animals. now i will teach you how to use stick.
son: but this is an automatic.

* grandma: i wish he was on the trip with us.
father: Dad taught me how to rob banks.

* older girl: patty-cake, patty-cake...
girl: where's this food you promised?
older girl: i spy with my little eye...
girl: dust. Grandpa's dust.

* girl: i've never been to a desert that wasn't painted...

* father: this country is known for its massively-tall trees.
girl: taller than you, Daddy?

* father: didn't we have one other boy in the family?
boy: i left him spinning on that playground roundabout.
father: this isn't like when we're at home!

* the family at the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean.
girl: why are you crying, Grandma?
grandma: i can't swim.

* father: don't do it!
grandma: what?!
father: Dad said he wanted to be buried, not cremated!

* mother: why do you have an Irish accent?
grandma: i've always had this Irish accent.
mother: it's strange cos only you have it. nobody else in the family has it.

* y'know Garfunkel wrote all the songs. Simon gets all the credit cos he's the smaller man.

* grandma: wait just a darned minute! this letter is addressed to someone named Regina Flanders aka RF aka Road Floozy.
Federer: aka Roger Federer. i am your father.


happy weekend. can you believe there isn't a one Carrabba's in all of California? i guess it's Applebee's again. sigh

Wednesday, May 31, 2017


the insides of all rooms are blue. President Comey is directing the world's finest military with his feet in the oval white office. there are three joysticks but he only has two feet. his assistants are chiding him, telling him to use both feet but he feels like hot-dogging it and uses one.

Comey: send all the tanks, planes, and boats. empty the load, there's gonna be a fresh batch after i testify next week. my bro Mueller told me it was okay. y'know Bob and i go way back, we're congenital twins but i got all the tall genes.

in swerving the joysticks all the way to the right Comey breaks his large leg and has large pain.

Comey: (muted) fuck i ain't goin out like this. is he on the line?

assistant: Putin? always. you mean Bump?

Comey: hey buddy, gonna watch my show next week? what the heck are you drinking i can smell your breath over the phone in your response to me? i thought i'd call you to get some pointers, you're the reality king. what makeup do you use?

Bump: sparkle shimmer.

Comey: nice. okay. just wanted to touch marine bases. say hi to Joan for me.

and Comey hangs up on his shattered knee.

Comey: Joan was my ex-wife.............well, that's all i can do.


the insides of all rooms are blue. inside the residence of Ari, her family is sitting down for one last meal.

Ari: i've set the plates and i feel the bump.

her husband: let me get that for you.

Ari: too late. is spaghetti okay, gang?

the children are silent.

husband: always was.

Ari: it's missing something. cheese?

husband: pistum. purchased a shipment from that hip new barcade that opened up.

Mike Manley enters the house. although it seems in slow motion it's in real time. Mike lunges for the husband's head. the husband gets in between Mike and his wife. Mike punches the husband upside the head and he goes flying into the supper table.

husband: please, she's pregnant! i was protecting the baby.

Mike: i see.

the children are silent cos they've each eaten a scoop of spaghetti and it was so spicy it permanently sealed their mouths.

Ari: i have to go to the bathroom. a lot lately.

Ari shuts the bathroom door but the cats start scratching it.

Ari: i get it now. the cats don't recognize the act of going to the bathroom as private. they are baffled why you'd shield yourself from your loved ones doing this. they just see a family member in trouble and want to come in to help. or at least to see.

the cats nod to each other in agreement.

the cats: and while we're on the subject, contrary to popular belief, the smell of the cat litter is actually worse than the smell of the shit.

the husband puts a piece of Canadian bacon on his bruised eye and eats it.

husband: come to my garden with me.

Mike: no hard feelings, eh? what's your name, bro?

husband: i am but a simple farmer. and these are my peppers. my beautiful red peppers. this is what food needs. what life needs. these are my babies, my life's work, what i am most proud of.

the husband gets down and removes his farmer's mittens and sticks his nose in the blacktop soil. he inhales deeply and his eyes glaze over in ejaculative pleasure.


at the Vatican Bump is meeting for a third time with the Pope. Pope Joan.

Joan: so i was trying to forget you and i had it all set up. so this girl at Lush i knew was a witch in her off-hours. she was plump and tatted and had a fierce pride to her, i dug her. she goes for the sell-sell. she offers me a plain white bath ball but gussies it up by calling it Unicorn Bone.

Joan: that's horrible!

girl: sorry i mean Unicorn Horn.

Joan: that's worse!

girl: right, no animal testing. no fighting between any animals. um, it's called Snowcake.

Joan: i see, repurposing the insult so we can reclaim it again. brilliant. i'll take one. is the cute brown bag extra?

Joan: then my girl goes for the under-sell.

girl: these peach balls represent our anti-death penalty stance. 31 states still have the death penalty.

Joan: i mean i had to get one of those. you can't really refuse such a thing when it's offered to you in that way. and i thought about the death penalty all the while taking my bath. it was a stark washing. thinking about all those poor souls who are no longer with us and would never bath-bomb themselves. the prisons really can't allow any perfume. fellow humans who never had a chance at redemption or to prove their innocence. i thought about you as all that orange bathwater swirled down my drain.

Bump: heehee, cool. like a Tootsie Roll pop. the orange ones are always the best. or a creamsicle.

Joan: that has to be the stance of the Pope. i can't allow any death. from the born baby to the boogeyman, i have to save everyone everywhere, it's the only way to remain square. it's not political. or maybe everything is political. which is insufferable. everything should be religious.

Joan: and then my girl finishes with the over-sell.

girl: yeah, these big-ass balls are blue with purple and coruscating stripes and feel elegantly erotic, like your skin is being molested by mohair. and you'll smell afterbath of dank desire.

Joan: so yeah i got that one cos it was the biggest show.

Bump: feeling better?

Joan: i dunk my head and can feel the vibrations of the whole earth. it's a very vulnerable position to be in. the damn phone can ring while you're in there, with the latest robo-call telling you you owe millions to the IRS and they'll garnish your wages if they ever find any and you can't curse back at the lady cos she's an automated message. a Cardinal can come in at any time. usually telling me i'm late for Mass.

Bump: why is your nose red? you've been sneezing hard throughout this whole telling of this story. concussive, earth-shattering sneezes. have a covfefe.

Joan: what the fuck is a covfefe?

Bump: coffee and tea mixed together.

Joan: i wanted to turn my bathroom into my own private Lush store. i wanted to live the life of a pope! you know, rich and famous! i had altar tables set up all around my gaudy tub stacked upon stacked with soaps of every color and shape. it was a washing wonderland, bathing bonanza, clean Christmas!

Bump: why are you starting to cry?

Joan: i have a little black-and-white tv facing my tub, we removed a brick and slid it in. i see one morning that you signed a billion-dollar deal with the Saudis. for some reason that was the scariest thing you've ever done. the way it was presented in the early news, the tone, it wasn't like the other red-banners, there was something quite sinister about that act, like you were driving off in your limo after signing away a billion souls.

Bump: it'll be okay. weapons are just toys in the end.

Joan: (starts to cry openly) I'M CRYING COS I'M ALLERGIC TO THE BATH BALLS! i can't have beautiful things! i can't be beautiful! i can't embrace beauty!

Bump: aw, get the Gentlemen out here to ferry you away.

Joan: (crying and wiping) i don't know where they are! i haven't seen them. the worse part is i have to now take a regular shower to wash away this sickness.

Bump: oh yeah, it's Saturday. their day off. they need a day off to get off.


at the house Ari makes sure to set the right number of placemats for her spaghetti surprise.

the husband: this spaghetti is too fucking hot! don't placemats represent bourgeois society?

Ari: does it matter? is something missing?

husband: pholourie, got a shipment of this trendy tasty food from the new barcade down the street.

Mike storms into the house. everything, from the antiquated paintings to the Mickey Mouse phone to the table and furniture and rugs and sofas and rugs under sofas and rugs on top of sofas and food and drink and lamps and hatrack and coatrack and swirling stair-railing, is blue with no stars. Mike flies out of his blue-jacket cape looking like Superman as he delivers the punch to the husband's soft chin.

before you can see those ripplings, Ari stops the men dead in their tracks. she punches Mike under the chin with her one wrist and blocks the back of her husband's head with her other wrist.

Ari: not the head, i need my husband's mind.

Ari: i'm pregnant, you idiots! it's further along than you think.


Goody Paul: okay we're here with a naked man in a pink hat, pink bowtie, and pink boots. you, let's see the card, you paint with your penis, balls, and butt. why?

Pricasso: i guess i wasn't potty-trained properly or something. my arse is like a dried apricot i have too many commissions.

Goody: okay and i'm out. you are a pleasant fellow but i can't do this anymore.

Pricasso: but i am a true artist, the definition of a soul who branches out from the pack of billions and blazes an own path. i am an original.

Goody: i know, and that's why i quit. i can never be like you. i can never be like me.

Goody hugs Pricasso between the legs and something special is born.

Goody: okay, next. oh hello Andre Agassi. so you've been out of the spotlight for awhile. why return now?

Agassi: have you seen my wife? i did it so Djoker could complete the Slam. not the Grand Slam, the Slam of having all the former known players as coaches just for show. not being serious.

Goody: want to comment on the news of the day?

Agassi: um, that was sick. she was a good player but the Australian Open is dead. we better end this interview before...

Goody: Tiger Woods? *low-five* ma brother, how are you? turn around let me get a good look atcha.

Tiger: the ABCs should always be sung. if i were winning my 19th Major that mugshot would have been sought out and shot. people would have protected me.

Federer: hey buddy, how are you?

Tiger: security get Roger out of here i don't want to speak to him anymore!

Goody: security? i guess that's me now.


at the stage Dr. Greg Ghostell speaks for the first time in a long time his last time.

Greg: i discovered a way to predict the weather a year out. a year ago...


at the mountain Chris Cornell shares his peek with Jared Kushner.

Chris: money won't help you up here.

Kurt Cobain: nor luck. beauty is in the eye.

Chris shouts. Jared opens his mouth and his voice is heard for the first time:

Jared: BLACK BOLT....................

and his voice sends a devastating shockwave all over the world, crushing all of Canada, where everyone was swimming to.

Kurt: y'know i still think your line, Chris, is she lived like a mother...


the first fighter jet at the head of the oncoming joined army of all the platoons and pontoons in the world crosses its nose into the city limit and blows its nose. it fires. but it was merely inhaling. the silence is strong. the last ripples touch lightly the surfaces of all the resigned rain drops.

at the center of the town square the whirlpools converge to form a massive watery screen where is projected the NBA Finals thanks to a bored Zard. LeBron blocks the last lay-up attempt by KD which the Warriors were supposed to win. LeBron declares himself the greatest and Michael agrees, joining him on center court for a special trophyless ceremony. LeBron decides to run for President of the World with Jordan as his Vice President of the Universe. Michael doesn't run for anything. together they work to stamp out racism throughout the galaxy, so all browns, reds, and blues can live in harmony as long as there is breath in the blue.

the Earth is one big globe, one giant globule of whirling water, eternally eddying. most say it looks like a small quiet ball. from a further distance, however, it is said to take the shape of a teardrop.


the Zard is almost done, almost complete. he turns his magic staff off like a garden-hose wheel and sheaths the Sword of Saad for another time.

the Zard: you know why i am here? why every word i say is hung by everyone? it's because i can be seen. i think i'll take a jaunter over to the Sun and hop on that NASA probe. i want a Sun Sword! it's time for my vacation.


at Ari's house, the woman places a large bowl of pasta out in the center of her doilied desk. and calls her family over to eat.

the red Ferrari parked outside on the curb turns blue. as does the red dress Mike Manley is wearing.

from the studio Mike lays out his last report. in a blue dress and blue heels.

Mike: let's see if we can turn around that tape. remember, when you hear the roar, get indoors! Jackie Kennedy, signing off.

he races out the studio down the hill but you can only go so fast without a car. walking on heels.

Goody: hey, that was Jackie's favorite miniskirt! you sound just like her, man.

Ari: hot pasta. save the rest for me. i'm eating for two.

the little girl and two brothers and cats and Mike and the husband are all sitting equidistant to each other on the small square table. in the center the spaghetti bowl turns into a flame. they all stare at it and ignore each other. they roll a bag of rancid bleu cheese from hand to hand. the husband eats a stale piece of Jewish Rye bread. the red flame burns brightly against the blue backdrop of the world.


there's a ding at the door.

Ari opens up, Mike answers.

a man stands staring in a plumber's shirt too short to hide his asscrack with NO SUB FOR SUBBAN on the back. his asscrack is one big straight black line. he wears a Kevin Durant headband with a P that could be Pirates or Phillies or...

Phil: i'm Phil. are you the lady of the house? here for the breaker. how bout them Predators, huh? P.K. will surely bring Nashville together. N'Ville is alive again!

Phil gets low to the sub-ground to hear but to really show his asscrack. he tramples over some beets in the garden to get to the outside power-switch display.

Phil: yeah see there's a trick to this. you have to pinch with your fingers at the same time the 4th and the 13th breaker.

Phil: so getting ready for some posh nosh i see. Breizh. is that a cola or a beer? looks stolen. sweet-potato chips, love those on salad. huh. yeah. yep yep good stuff.

no one in the room speaks.

Ari's stomach glows. inside her stomach a little lady in a red dress begins to dance the flamenco.

baby: babies can never name themselves. well i will. i want to be called Martina, like the tennis player.

the power outage is over. all the lights come back on. the city dances in the dew of dawn.

the morning is unusually sunny. there is no Zard.