Friday, November 17, 2017



* the world would be a better place if we all got rid of our garages and parked our tractors on our front lawns.

* landlords are people, too

* y'know eventually those monster trucks are gonna be so high up on their tires that they'll just float in the sky and not need tires. and that is how we'll finally get flying cars.

* Hamilton what hath you wrought

* taking out the trash was everyone's first job...

* i've never done the dishes in those delicate yellow rubber gloves. i like to feel the suds on my naked body.

* remember those hand lawnmowers? they weren't quite cutting the grass with a knife and they came before everyone got John Deere zambonis. they were basically just a handle with a metal lantern in the middle. and then Beck made leafblowers cool and everyone forgot. the forgotten lawnmower.

* what are we in life but God's crummy pawns? get ready for some unsourced philosophy.

* homeowner's associations are always shadowy. and landlords are always nebbish and scrawny.

* the neighborhood watch doesn't really exist. that's just a scare tactic.

* landlord: what is with this insane mountain of garbage bags? who will ever pick up all this trash?!!!
wrestler: the trashmen. they come Friday.

* wrestler: you better like my pink pants!

* landlord: white drapes only. wait, nevermind. let's talk about plants. plants are not allowed! pets are. no sax after midnight. sex is okay.

* landlord: i am lording over your land. metaphorically, you guys are taller than me.

* landlord: i know i got this to save the environment but this dainty bicycle is not a good look for me.

* Disney and heavy metal will never mix. real bird, but looks fake. whatever you do, never let go of the handlebars. he was on the hill the whole time for that shot, the camera was the one that was spinning.

* Spoonman. R.I.P. Chris.

* other wrestlers: what happened?
wrestlers: the landlord went to a barbecue! let's party!

* wrestler: i'm hungry. is the landlord back from Burger King yet?
dj: if you want the pizza there'll be no more music. is that what you want?

* wrestler: Fred Flintstone? what are you doing here?
Fred: Seth MacFarlane promises aren't worth the ink they're written in.
wrestler: how do you remember if it's Mc or Mac?
Fred: Seth is the mac daddy.

* in the wrestling world, it's not a food fight, it's practice.

* this isn't hypermasculinity, it's a cry for help. emotions don't come easy. helium is femininity.

* picture of Jesus of course

* wrestler: is that the tea kettle i'm smelling?
other wrestler: no the house is burning down.

* wrestler: what Miller is trying to convey is a contradiction...
other wrestler: whoa! Henry Miller really does look like a landlord!

* wrestler: the reader nullifies whatever the writer is trying to convey.
other wrestler: you're right. crush all the readers!
wrestler: we're wrestlers. we wrest.

* subtext was cool before subtweets.

* i suddenly had a vision of a naked Donna Reed in the bushes smashing a record.

* looks like the iconic yellow (and blue and red) Disneyland Main Street Parade record

* oh yeah, brother! i remember that judge. would like to finally know the color of his eyes before i die.

* i think that's a reference that would be funnier if i got the reference.

* hey it's not the paper's fault!

* old-timey photographer officially makes this a noir.

* wrestler: we had sons?
other wrestler: didn't you watch the biography of The Nature Boy? every wrestler has a double life.
other wrestler: btw, i really don't have a head.

* wrestlers: it's ironic you came out of the very toilet you never fixed once when you were alive.

* wrestler: are you Scooby Doo?
ghost landlord: come on, get it right. we need this Last Jedi money. it's the last time a Jedi's gonna be this loaded.

* ghost landlord: you either get a new landlord or have me haunt you for eternity or do what Paul Manafort did with his properties.

* wrestlers: are you our new daddy we mean landlord?
landlord: yes.
wrestlers: you look familiar.
landlord: you'll see in the closing segment. i did all the music for it.
wrestlers: you really let yourself go, Moby.
Moby: yeah, was riding high there with Gwen. she licked the back of my bald head and everything. but then she ran off with a cowboy leaving the world to scratch its bald head...

* there's always gotta be a guy who looks either like a burnt-out Santa or Charles Manson if he didn't go insane

* so close, John Belushi still in his toga, so close to getting that rhyme.

* y'know i never realized when i was in college just how exorbitant it is to rent. it's actually cheaper to own a house, isn't it?

* pictures not taken from rap sheets, just all old photos from the '70s, the only ones they had of themselves

* as you can tell, i'm not much of a wrestling fan. never really got into it. not even Hulk Hogan. i liked Andre the Giant for a while when i thought it was My Dinner With Andre the Giant. stopped with the Slim Jim guy after i stopped snapping unhealthy heavily-salted meatsticks in two like twigs. i have always admired The Undertaker from afar...


happy weekend, my babies. when my armpit starts to stink is when my Friday ends.

Thursday, November 16, 2017


Mr. Maldark is greeted with frantic hugs upon his return to school.

Kelechi: *on the phone* no, baby, don't go to the Gadsden Mall. you can see Star Wars anywhere, it's playing all over, not just at that theater.

Halwa is right next to her aunt on the phone.

Deen: Mr. Maldark, it's terrible. they made me build the very crane which ended up demolishing my first Domino's business with a wrecking ball. they knew i loved to build. they said it was for renovations but i never agreed to renovations. i can't afford renovations! this was my first crack at pizza. i liked its old-school charm.

Maldark: i like yours. darn, i was hoping i could stay with you there for some weeks. progress pushes forward without us. stick to me, kid, and you'll be okay. just keep at it renovating my precious Pinto. put your prodigious talents to a cause that matters. they're trying to break you until they put you down.

the school's new course is glimmering in the morning dew aching to be rode.

Maldark: *holding a clipboard* before we start, does anyone here believe in something higher than themselves?

Less: do you have to say yes? cos i'm not sure.

Maldark: nope, you just have to say something. that takes care of the religious exemption. just need to check the box here and that's that on taxes. stupid tax.

Kelechi: i'm gonna test this puppy course out.

Kelechi removes her shoes and socks and barefoots it around the track like the Roadrunner in record speed without breaking a sweat though her feet are sweating.

Kelechi: yep. should be easy with a car.

Maldark: that's it, girl! like you're the first in the neighborhood to check out that new taco tavern that just opened up. you look like you need a bath.

Kelechi: i bought you three weeks' of food. and a flora vasca for myself. i need a tub of roses to bathe in.

Maldark: forest bathing. the new trend i never knew i needed till my house was demolished and all there was left was forest. please, that's too much food. i'm used to it now, my stomach is in permanent knots. donate the food to the class, they got open mouths that still need to sigh in wonder. that need to get hungry again to complete the project. where's my car?

Halwa: still in the garage shop. almost finished. the entire class has been working on it, Mr. Maldark, day and night without breaks.

Maldark: well alright then we can pretend. class, let's everyone hop into this third-row seating and imagine we're at the steering wheel. it's our own little squeezed steering committee.

Kelechi: my feet hurt. not that.

Maldark: i got some talcum powder in the trunk?

Kelechi: can't. that gave me ovarian cancer.

Maldark hugs Kelechi rudely.

Kelechi: i knew you'd come around eventually.

Maldark: i am so soz, dear.

Kelechi: it's a condition called POCS. and i'm particularly suspectible cos i'm a POC, person of color. i try to rub it from me like the sleep from my eyes but these red rashes pop up everywhere and turn my beautiful brown skin ruddy. i'm losing my skin to this red menace. i can't wipe-screen it away. i can't remove my spots.

Maldark: you know the arm on the yellow Arm & Hammer box? that's the arm of Rosie the Riveter.

Kelechi: thanks, Mr. Maldark.

Maldark: *smile* respec womans. now why...

there's a lot of revving. revving up and revving down. and smoke. the other cherried-out cars arrive for the race, decked out in dingy duds and pearly pipes. one in particular catches the teacher's eye and turns his brown eye blue.

Maldark: Bentley Azure.

in the cockpit of the Bentley Azure lies the driver. the driver with the hood over his head.

Maldark turns around.

Maldark: *hands on head* WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY CAR????????!!!!!!!!!!!

Wednesday, November 15, 2017



at the interview, Camera Guy is sitting beside Bryan Cranston with a nervous tigger.

Camera Guy: so Bryan, can these men ever work in this town again?

Cranston: it would have to take a devastatingly forgiving society. and they would have to show true deep abiding contrition. priest-level contrition. in front of the camera or it doesn't count. but everyone deserves a chance. look at me. i got a chance. who knew i was anything other than Malcolm's goofy dad?

Camera Guy: what about the women?

Cranston: society is reevaluating itself. which is a good thing. we need a do-over. we need to smash every last purloined pylon down and start from scratch. we must build inward. we must think back. have i ever called someone a sweetie? well it was inappropriate to call her a sweetie. don't be so sweetie all the time, act mean and keep a healthy distance from others.

Camera Guy: what's the long-term solution?

Cranston: no more extracurricular talking. just say your lines as exactly written in the script, that's the actor's job. you start adlibbing, you start trouble. never reveal yourself, don't let your personality slime its way through. simple. just never say anything ever again.

Camera Guy: how do i know you're not acting? for all i know you could turn and kill me when the cameras turn off.

Cranston: thank you, that's very kind.

Camera Guy: would you like some cranberries before your big FDR speech?

Cranston: thank you kindly. with whip cream. i love whip cream when i sex.


Kelechi is at Mr. Maldark's house, what's left of it. Intendo is spinning himself around the last toilet.

Intendo: you better win that race. you got no mo money. i checked your funds, even your secret Swiss account.

Mr. Maldark: i only use that money to pay for my love of Roger Federer.

Intendo: gotta pay for this house or it becomes official FBI property. then we'll get to the bottom.

Maldark: there's nothing here. you won't find it.

Intendo: your cats are ever the fighters. my men were tearing open the backs of all your paintings. i guess i watch too many movies. i strive to anyway. we went to the cupboard for lunch after all our hard work and your cats sprang out of an empty can of Old Potato soup and scratched our eyes out.

Kelechi: damn they both fit in there?

Maldark: my purple people eaters, ever by my side.

Intendo: we checked all your holes.

Maldark: it was painful.

Intendo: as you can see, there are no more holes. they all became the sky. your chimney's been hollowed out. you should really check out the course. it's all pretty and painted. ready for race day.

Kelechi: not a bad suggestion. but it was my idea.

Intendo puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out two tickets...

Intendo: tell you what, i got someplace i gotta be, why don't you two...

Maldark stops him midsentence with a karate chop.

Maldark: eh, take yourself.

Intendo: fine by me.


Less is slowly wrenching himself away from his consoles. he gingerly hails a cab and takes off his sweater. he takes the giant leap from the curb to sit in the frontseat of the cab instead of the back. a woman from Saudi Arabia discusses politics in soothing tones.

woman: and so we finally got the right to drive in my country. if you wait long enough, change will come.

Less: can i take the wheels? the controls? i'm training.

woman: i could get fired. but go ahead, this freedom is contagious. see? it's not so bad. go ahead, extend your spin. you sound depressed when you talk.

Less: i don't know what my trouble is. other than hating driving.

woman: that's just it. it's not depression. it's that you never drove anywhere. you were stuck this whole time. if you want to break free, you must drive away to your places. you'll feel light and airy the minute you book your first crosscountry trip, you'll see. *wags finger* just no planes, mister!

Less: thank you. i didn't catch your name. you're not wearing your nameplate by law.

the woman brakes abruptly to let a sea otter cross the road in his little lane of Sea Otter Xing that was erected after that one famous sea otter died from roadkill. the stone in the otter's memory shines the sun off sadly every time a driver passes it, like a reflector which came too late.

woman: for a reason. disappear into your ocean, little one. go ahead and take that stuffed lion with you resting in the middle of the backwindow there.

Less: but you're driving here in this country. why don't you go back to your country?

woman: *winks* it's the symbolism of the thing.



Ashley Parker hears a strange murmuring outside her bush. it's Comey! he's doing his college boy scout try darndest to ascend the vine which trickles into Ashley's apartment bay window in the dead of night.

Ashley: what are you doing here, Comeycakes? not that i'm unhappy to see you.

Comey: the circus is between towns. i volunteered to stay away from the troupe cos the traveling between locations is, well, boring. and Comey is anything but boring. that's when all the fighting and ethnic divisions break out, when us freaks are given nothing to do. as long as we're flipping and fipping and twirling we're a cohesive unit, not a congestive one. what you see before you is the latest in spy technology. Cold War era.

Ashley: my metal man.

Comey: men used to climb the walls of our dueling dual mutually-bugged embassies to search for bugs. the Russians were clever back then in more of a cartoony way. they literally baked wires into the concrete they used for building plaster.

Ashley: i would have gone with bisque porcelain myself. should be some interesting pieces at Christie's this weekend. mold them into naked Russian ladies so you'd be sure the Americans would speak directly into their mic'd breasts.

Comey: all this talk is making me hungry. mind making something for me?

Ashley: sorry, i'm working.

Comey: the ball in selectric typewriters, they transformed those into listening devices undetectable by scans.

Ashley: you know that is fascinating. i've seen an electric typewriter from afar but i never looked at the guts. had no reason to. i had no idea. dad brought home a traditional typewriter with single hammers but his next purchase was that cute square Macintosh that fit in your pocket. i saw for the first time that amazing typeball just yesterday. that thing is a miracle! it's a super-alloy golf ball of the future! something out of The Flash. some sci-fi orb you can't see whizzing by.

Comey: simply replace with another ball for ALL ITALICS.

Ashley: it's a beachball on acid! much more efficient. and fun! i really wish they had stuck around longer. computers are boring and quiet by comparison. what have i been missing all my life!

Comey: you play golf?

Ashley: always too expensive. but not anymore with your money, right honey? my G man, G for golf.

Comey: and here i thought beach volleyball was your sport. well i have on the equipment for snowboarding and skiing. how bout it? i wish i could go for real. the one time in our history that we're friends with the enemy and can look around is the one time i'm fired.

Ashley: 'tis the weather. like a nippy Moscow night of old. but i'm heating up. i am so close. you guys next set up shop in the District, right?

Comey: yes but 1300 miles away. in the heart of the heartland.

Ashley: hey is there anything suspicious happening at your circus?

Comey: no, not really. the boss always keeps an office by the peanut stand. with a glass door that says PRIVATE on the front. a subsection of the bigtop tent. i dare not ever enter it. i like having money.

Ashley: huh. you're like those Hollywood starlets who are stuck selling their souls. and is there a lock on it?

Comey: yessim. double-barreled. you need the key and the combination.

Ashley: *smiling* heh. well it looks like my rollerderby rink froze over right on cue. i have nothing to do.


at the US Trials, President Bump is enjoying some football, chili threads, and an Australian bullwhip. international football.

Bump: i know. eggs. i like them handed to me. i'm hip.

Pusilic: you've got the hips for it, sir.

Bump: now get out there on that pitch and make the country proud. shame about the United States. how could we not qualify? who's running this operation? who's your teacher? i could be a better coach. i'm a great motivator.

Pusilic: thank you for bailing me out.

Bump: i dare you not to thank me for this. would have been an international incident not to have the best new young hot rising star showcased. i mean there was a real possibility there for a while you weren't gonna become the greatest player of all time.

Pusilic: sir, which of the three countries should i play for?

Bump takes out three yellow-glowing large fingers.

Bump: well your World Cup runneth over. which three?

Pusilic: i'm from the Moving Plains. i have divided loyalties and weird citizenship with England, Germany, and Croatia.

Bump: two European, bleh. i'd go with the Croatia, they don't have much going for them these days. except war and famine like most countries on this benighted terminated rock. a big win could really lift their spirits. they live in Hell like we all do. i mean other than that singer from back in the day when the internet was still young who did that perfectly-timed sex tape with her facial on the boat bed. that sex tape was just right, not too long, not too short. i enjoyed it. i converted to Catholic on that day.

Pusilic: i won't let you down, sir. cos you can't be let down.

Bump: if you bomb out i still got this whole Kiev cake on my lap that wrests my interest. where're the drinks?

Pusilic: there's lucozade in little soccerball-shaped containers being handed out.

Bump: ogh that has such an international-flair sound to it.

Pusilic: it means loco in the international language of love.

Bump: hey kid, you got some pus in your hair. wipe it out before you descend.


Bump: oh that's my Samsung. shhhh, don't tell anybody.

Bump climbs down to the concrete bleachers.

Bump: let me check the scores on my watch. ooooohhhh. yes.

Gobunov: did you get our message?

Bump begins to sweat profusely from his pored-up cheeks.

Bump: ooooooh, no. i can't. please. i need a name. who is this ravishing redhead in the Gas-x commercial? i need to know. you guys are cruel. why are you doing this to me? is it hot in here or is it her? you're...........oh no.........i think it's've converted me. i'm into gingers now.


at the National Anthem, it's George Takei's turn. he stands up and climbs out of the dugout as he always has done throughout his career when his name is called. stiff and stern and with a sonorous stentorian speaking style.

when he sings, his voice sounds the same as when he talks. that distinctive rattle to his voice like he's just eaten raspberries with whip cream.

Takei: you people will never understand my slant. i am proud of my heritage and my struggle. there was a struggle.                     *there's an uncomfortable silence in the stands*            i will not say oh my to these claims against me to appease the cretin masses. Takei okay.

he senses that he is about to disappear.

Takei: beam me up. beat you to it!

the Enterprise screeches to a halt in the sky. its front is a bowl that looks exactly like a '50s UFO.

Takei: ha! saucer me this. i never wanted to live on this planet to begin with! there's gotta be a better place!

Takei disappears and the Enterprise warps to nothingness.

Monday, November 13, 2017


spoilers: i don't do self-care. i really should but there's no time.

1. have you ever had a professional massage? if yes, what type? if no, why not? yes. Scott Baio.............................sorry i read that as manager.

2. do you engage in the following? all that apply and how often.
a) yoga i do morning meditations but it's early and i'm asleep so i don't know for sure
b) tai chi chai tea is the best. ginseng flavor, seek out the ginseng flavor
c) float therapy i float to my ceiling everytime i sleep, does that count? i'm either an active dreamer or an active sinner.
d) run/jog i rog. past Federer's house.
e) workout---any that isn't actually training for something but is for physical fitness maintenance does fucking in a Burger King bathroom count?
f) other, what? hello. how are you?

3. how many hours of sleep do you average on a weeknight? weekend? do you think you need more or less sleep? before instagram, 8. after instagram, 0. i use the weekends to catch up on sleep. the only fun i have anymore is staying up for SNL. i've written novels on this subject...

i need to sleep so much i become awake and fully conscious in the dream world. like i know for sure i'm in the dream world because i'm not asleep and yet i'm in the dream world.

4. which of the following are you most likely to add to your self-care routine and stick with it? a) schedule in a planner daily "me time" b) acupuncture c) take a moment at the end of each day and consciously list a few good things in your life d) turn off phone and step away from computer/tablet for 4 hours a day

a) i'd have to plan to buy a planner. and pencil that into my nonexistent planner.
b) that's how Pinhead got started. did you know Pinhead was once an unassuming alternative disc jockey who worked in a quiet terraced studio in the New Jersey Plains named Matt Pinfield?
c) there is only one good thing in my life: the upcoming Hey Arnold! movie. spoilers: he didn't end it all.
d) i tried that but i had an idea for an answer. you gotta type it when you think of it or you'll forget it.

5. what do you do for self-care either physically, spiritually, or emotionally? call my mom. and talk to her for 15 hours.

bonus: today, make sure you give yourself some self-care love. this TMIT was my self-care.



pray for me. pray for us

Friday, November 10, 2017



* skip past this commercial

* we cured polio and schizophrenia, so...

* this is Sesame Street on acid (a show already on acid).

* kids, please learn your shapes elsewhere. like your parents or something. the shapes don't want you seeing them like this.

* you don't want that mime talking, he has a filthy mouth.

* that's not a golden phone. that's the Tolkien Golden Ring to Rule Them All. it's a novelty phone. no phone is circle-shaped.

* the telethon format died with Jerry Lewis.......along with all of the film camera innovations Jerry invented, everyone just uses youtube to film everything now.

* R.I.P. Jerry Lewis. spoiler: the Anonymous Donor is Jerry Lewis.

* the Anonymous Donor's name? Deus Ex Machina, Demi for short.

* if you don't close the funding gap, you won't have the thigh gap.

* where's my 20 million dollars?

* that's not a scientist, that's just a gentleman in a coat that happens to be white. it's cold out.

* Roger: you don't know me, but i've been alive since 1962. i didn't actually discover the Wet Shapes, i just made commercials for them.

* Roger: they're alive. they're interconnected. and capable of bestowing upon you the most profound love imaginable. they feed on your black soul.

* 2017 girls in '80s clothes: TAKE US BACK TO THE '80S!!! THERE'S NOTHING HERE FOR US!!!

* filmed on location at the Jimmy Carter Ranch

* Roger: i like to play around with my Wet Shapes. no lubrication required. you can't do this with a goldfish.

* 79 years. he died from happiness. life goals.

* swiss cheese. but swiss cheese tastes better than regular cheese. it's the holes.

* Mr. Bingo has a Barbie collection

* Metallica's new album. Halo 1000.

* the Anonymous Donor's voice isn't screeching, the magic phone's connection is bad.

* hostess: Lesley Sovereign is hot. did i just blurt that out?

* why do all hardened criminals come from New York?

* parole officer: i didn't recognize you without your black jumpsuit. take that garish orange thing off.

* parole officer: one more question: is that officer behind you real or a cardboard standee?

* Lesley removes the white sheet. there's nothing underneath...

* Lesley: my name is Lesley Sovereign and this is my story. i was a degenerate who liked to steal degenerative diseases. now i am free to pursue my true calling: being a goth.

* host: Lesley's boyfriend Trent Reznor coming out with the trophy. wearing his traditional bistre T shirt. this is NOT a participation trophy, folks, you have to go to jail to earn this trophy.

* mood whiplash

* host: this is dire, folks. the Wet Shapes are starting to coagulate into the Jello i ate as a kid.

* Rhea Perlman

* Cicely Tyson

* that's not pee, that's yellow liquid Jello.

* spoke too soon. or rather we spoke too soon, he didn't. remember, all she said was, "it's him." lesson learned.

* ever since the election the Anonymous Donor went underground and became Anonymous and shunned all globalist banks.

* even the mime's taking it hard. tho you can't tell.

* Emerald Capricorn: i am Emerald Capricorn. my part of Full Metal Alchemist was cut.

* Obama: where have i been? taking a long bath.

* Mask was a masterpiece. it affected me even as a small child in the '80s who didn't understand the plot or the words, i felt his face and the trauma of his life.

* it's not a cult if it works

* Busby Berkeley vibes

* Emerald: it didn't work cos the castle in the tank was upside-down.

* bring back ER. Chicago Med is just a cop-out.

* cry into your fishbowls. cry those magic anime tears.

* host and hostess: there was an explosion in the studio and the Wet Shapes are saved! the terrorists' plan backfired!........wait, i'm being told in my ear that this is simply a new set of water toys.

* mime: i like a little chocolate in my milk.

* host and hostess: wait, where's Lesley?
Lesley: i'm dead. my plan backfired.
hostess: i really wanted to kiss you. host, hip-bump me, i'm desperate.

* Metallica: sing for your supper, mime.
mime: *singing* wet love/ when a kiss just isn't enough...


happy weekend, my babies

Thursday, November 9, 2017


Maldark: i see you're doing extra. just don't have a suspicious smile on your face when you talk about insurance and stuff, that's all. don't enjoy it so much. and clean up the Pabst Blue Ribbon cans lining the crime scene at your house, they ran out of yellow tape and used your cans to mark the crime scene. with my father it was different. dad was my hero. he took me out every Sunday after Mass to get Wolfgang Puck soup in a can. it was a special flavor they only sold at specialty nutrition stores. i believe my dad was the first health nut of this country. Old Potato it was called. they discontinued the brand when i adulted but my adulation for it never ceased. until last week when i spotted one at the Store. i know i know i was agape. but when i returned with my groceries, the can wasn't there. i swore i checked it out, but apparently i subconsciously put it back onm the shelf for being too expensive. i was incensed at myself. Old Potato was the only connection i had left with my dad.

there's a rumble in the kitchen. coming from the cupboard. the other purple cat is hiding squeezed in tight inside an opened empty can of soup.

Maldark: this is a revelation, who knew cats could fit in something that small? they really love those boxed spaces huh. and also, THIS IS MY OLD POTATO!!! from long ago, this is the very can my dad served me. i am starving. but the memory in this hand will sustain me.


Rose McGowan is finishing an impassioned speech at the Weather Channel in front of a passing typhoon.

Rose: i win. cos i have a spaceship. all these years you treated me like an alien. but i now sublime into my full womanly powers. as you can see i am rising off this crooked beach. i am leaving this carcass of a rock. you are stuck here forever to eat each others' flesh till there are no more shames. you will die with the lie. you'll miss me when i'm gone. you could have had me when i was innocent. i am too special for this world. i belong amongst the stars. my body is my spaceship.

Rose floats out into space and, before disappearing, touches the hand of her fellow traveler, a flying Sinead O'Connor a bit tipsy from the weightlessness and cos she used the typhoon.

Rose: D'arcy was one of us, too, sisters of space, alien on a strange planet making noise. she should have stayed together with Jim Iha. it's easy to see that now in retrospect. make no mistake. do not be deceived. we are risen into the outer galaxy. what you mortals perceive as lightning we know to be true. it's not space lightning, it's sprites. i am with my people. i am whole and magic again.


Bump: *watching* who's on my watch? a beautiful yellow woman is trying to sell me a line.

the Mooch: that's Annette Figueroa.

Bump: figures. she's got a figure on her sure. Annette was never this funicello. where are you?

the Mooch: on the floor of the stock exchange...of the Virginia House of Delegates. sir, whatever it was you wanted me to do here, it ain't workin'.

Bump: get your ass over to our caravan. the Mall of Dubai is low prices! help me pick out an Orietntal mall rug. i want to try something.


back at class:

Maldark: what do you know? it's Art Week! i trust you all insured your A with your art projects this week? who wants to start?

Deen: i'm doing my traditional happy dance cos i got parole. i'm studying to get my pizza-truck license.

Maldark: i put in a good word with the real cops. as long as you're staying with me you're going places, kid. in my Pinto. get to work.

Less is absent.

Kelechi: i molded some clay into large blocks around my house.

Maldark: uh i believe they were made of cinder. that's the government intruding again.

Kelechi: why is there always construction? it's so constricting. i'm not much for art. but i took a picture. i'm getting into photography.

Halwa: i origami'd a number of large sanitary wipes.

Kelechi: that's my girl. we artists. it runs in the family genes.

the burly guy with the beard on his chest: i did a cosplay. as a hobbit. or the ogre who ate all the hobbits.

Maldark: don't sell yourself short, friend. you may be a regular-sized hobbit with an eating disorder. these things aren't always about the lack of impulse control.

 Maldark: Kelechi did you bring the Chocolate Peanut Butter Cheerios? they're not for the experiment, i'm just hungry. my project is this simple glass of water you see before you.

burly guy: what's so special about that?

Maldark: i'm glad you asked, Fat Hobbit. let's go outside to my car. oooh, the Pinto's new paint job is coming along nicely. simply pour the water into the gastank. turn the ignition and voila, it runs. it's water gas.

the class oohs and aahs.

Halwa: we're sure to win the race!

Maldark: this same water couldn't get out the crusty ring of bright yellow that encircles the back of my ear. i've showered for days and still nothing. it stains me like gold back there. i scratch and flakes fall off but it remains. it's painful, not itchy. don't count your chickens before they've laid eggs.


at FBI Headquarters, Intendo scours the long hall looking for a dark portal. he enters the room at the end. the one with the stained glass door and no knob.

a hooded figure is seated back turned to an oil painting of a mirror.

hooded figure: refresh.

Intendo: we think he's a Man from the West. his father certainly was.

hooded figure: and his end?

Intendo: Head, we got nothing. but it's most certainly a Death Star weapon that will wipe us and all our enemies out at the first opportunity. we could impound his car?

hooded figure: that's a bit heavyhanded. we shun notice. leave him to me. take him off your hands. i'll take him for awhile. i like to take things slow.

Intendo: if only we had the key.

hooded figure: oh but we do, my fine Fed. take the rest of the day off. enjoy yourself and secure your outermost regions. never let it be said i wasn't a compassionate boss. the last thing we need is another witness pile. it's good to be paranoid, but it's not good to be paranoid of being paranoid.

Wednesday, November 8, 2017


at the National Anthem, Wolfgang Puck does it. he sings it, nobody knew that about him, but his accent is so thick nobody knows what he's trying to say. he finishes the piece and drops the mic gently on the wet grass. the crowd is stunned silently. there's a moment of silence for one minute and then a "thank you" distants ethereally from afar. Wolfgabg disappears into thin air vut not before becoming a wolf.

Wolfgang: i turned into a lothwolf! cool! but it still would have been cooler to turn into Eddie Van Halen's son. that's the dutchboy everyone wants to be.


the two fugutives ride shotgun in the armored police car back to Maldark's bungaloo which has essentially been hollowed out. Intendo is asleep on the wheel.

Intendo: here. why is it always night?

the two purple cats are extremely agitated when Maldark returns. they never leave his side, pacing around his damaged famished legs and entering clandestine cottage holes under the floor of the home. but they quickly spring up again and race to be by his side, with a worried look on their faces, mewing and panting, concerning his every step, blocking his every move.

Maldark pours himself some apricot juice with a heavy dose of ginger into his mug already cracked with cocoa ring at the bottom.

Maldark: come, son, lay me your troubles.

Maldark: excuse me, my watch is ringing, need to get this. hello? so did you figure out what's causing that rancid fried potato vinegary smell emanating from my house? the open air does nothing to recede it.

Comey: it's your cat food. Newman's Own. smells like french fries. also, Neil Newman is hot, i checked the package.

Maldark: thanks, Jim. see? the FBI will be good again. Mulder and Scully are coming back soon. now what are your men doing! you're making a mess!

the Feds confiscate all of Maldark's Maxfield Parrish paintings off the remaining accent wall.

Intendo: what are you yellow of? us finding your plans? what do you have behind these paintings? underpaintings and overpaintings and afterpaintings? let me guess. and a compartment behind the painting whence lies the blueprints. sic 'em, boys.

the agents tear open all the art and find one of the purple cats inside. she viciously scratches their tongues out.

Intendo: that must've hurt.

Maldark: you never deserved art like that. your kind could never understand it. i am flummoxed and too tired to react. dammit get your flat feet off you're getting rub burns all over my linoleum. you've spilled my cats' water bowl! you spilled my cats' dry food all over the carpet! you're making a mess! AND YOU SAID YOU'D PICK UP MY TRASH ON FRIDAY! YOU DIDN'T! THE CANS ARE STILL THERE!!! I PAY GOOD TAXES SO I DON'T HAVE TO PICK UP MY OWN TRASH!!!

there's spooky cat screeching and muffled fighting blows. but it's coming from outside.

Intendo: we came on Friday. the green can wasn't there.

Maldark: YES IT WAS! YOU MISSED IT! PLAIN SIGHT. YOU WERE DRUNK AND LOOKING TO BLAME. hey don't drop that crate of Sun Valley eggs! those are my only eggs! do you know how much eggs cost!!!

Comey: sorry, Maldark, i got another call. yes, honey? where are you? the circus is bleeding. the bearded lady quit in protest. care to volunteer?

Ashley Parker is enjoying yellow tea with a woman in an orange camelwool sweater and beady glasses. she lies down on the ottomon.

Ashley: babe, i'm in the crowd. don't you see me? it's a circus out there. i see you. you're having a difficult show. i'm still getting a lay of the land. talk to you, do you mind if i lie down? it's been a hectic day. oooh that's comfortable. what was Jim like as a child?

Deen: excuse me, Mr. Maldark, i need to take and understand this. what up, dude?

Less: i'm really not doing well. i feel all spacey and disoriented and rudderless. where are you? my mom's in the hospital. should i visit her or let her recover first?

Deen: hey, bro, at least your parent has a chance. i'm in boilng oil over here.

Less: sure. sorry. never mind me. make sure to put on suntan lotion.

Maldark: where were we before rude interruptions? have a seat.

Deen: sir, is it weird that you have two toilets?

Maldark: i do a lot of thinking. you know you see those pictures of properties after major hurricanes and the only thing left standing is the toilet? it feels good to let it all out.

Deen: my problematic situation or my poop?

Maldark: need a laxative? it's the only pills i have left in my cupboard.

Deen: i didn't murder my pops no matter what the cops say. it was a grim coincidence. i crashed his car into the living room the moment he collapsed into his tv pizza face-first watching golf and passed away. the cart died, too. i'm not ashamed to admit i felt ashamed. because i felt good. it wasn't a sad occasion. for the first time in my life i felt truly free, unburdened and chainless to pursue my real passion, making pizzas. i had the money also not having to pay for his dialysis. i opened up my very first Domino's. i treat the circle of dough like a canvas. the sauce is saudade red paint and the cheese is chalk. the meatballs are balls, my depiction of balls.

Maldark: is pizza a sandwich?

Deen: sure. bread and meat.


Kelechi: are you sure you don't need assistance, Mr. Maldark?

Mr. Maldark: i'll be okay. just be sure to do that thing we discussed earlier. i'm hanging up the phone. thanks for letting me use your phone.

Intendo: sure. and what plan is that?

Maldark: never you mind. what have you got over the boy's head?

Intendo: my hand. oh you mean the charges? secret of course. this is the new administration.

Maldark: i'll cut you a deal. send him to my house and you can kill two birds.

Intendo: you are still illegally under house arrest. come on the both of yous.

Maldark: can i sit on the mini-moke wheel?

Intendo: *scowl* no!


Kelechi travels by bus on cover of night to the Store. luckily it's 24 Hours. she prances around the place like nobody's watching cos nobody is. just a poor schlub paying off her student loans and a glass lighting group that breaks with every bulb.

Kelechi: oooo weee! i'm gonna need one of these and one of these and one of these. it's fun shopping on someone else's dime. on a spooky night. i feel like a robber. yes, this marula oil for my hair. and this sea buckthorn for my hair, i want it to look glossy for when i go forest bathing. and this Southern Comfort Egg Nog for my hair, works better than cracking an egg over your scalp.

cashier: the Greenwich Village Halloween Parade is over, ma'am. went off without a hitch.

Kelechi: oh hush, Halwa. i look good in these!

Halwa: you're embarrassing me! and you're not even my mother! that's real embarrassment!

Kelechi tries on in front of the store her maxipads. she takes off her pants and leaves them off. she swings her butt around and does a handstand in them. she goes under a broken air-mail pipe Marilyn Monroe style.

Kelechi: i am woman. now don't you talk bout how bad i am. i look good. these are my Always Discreet Boutique maxipads. you betta learn, young woman, you got next.

Halwa: ringing up now. is that discreet or boutique?

Kelechi: look. there's an Oriental golden dragon running down my leg! these are fashionable leggings! prints of prestige and puffery! no miniskirt i own can compare to the style of this bottom tunic. they're like a slip-on butt!

Halwa: and your total is please leave and i'll see you at school.

Kelechi: oh please, child, we're both off-duty. before i go let me just snatch these pumpkin peppers and these pepper pumpkins and these leftover Harvest Hobgoblin grapes that are probably still good though old raisins, and that's it. okay the madras lentils that's it. okay the green beans.

Halwa: what variety?

Kelechi: Blue Lake.

Halwa: so blue beans.

Kelechi: fancy grade. and throw in fancy mustard. not fancy ketchup. oh come on, condiments don't count!

Halwa: your total is...

Kelechi: put it on Mr. Maldark's tab, he's good for it.

Halwa: i love how you've memorized Mr. Maldark's credit-card number...


at MSNBC, Brian Williams is pouting and putting his feet up again. cos he's been working hard long into the night uncovering the JFK Files.

Brian: so what do you think about my theories? Lee Harvey Oswald was stalking Jack Ruby. it was self-defense. liberals can have conspiracies, too.

intern: it's just can you stop hogging all the pizza? i'm the one doing all the work.

Brian: *stringy cheese connecting his cheek to his eye* i paid for these.

intern: with all due respect, sir, you're inhaling the clearcoat of this studio again. the company paid for the pizzas.

Brian: no wonder they're mini. hey you're not that lawyer from the big city who wears those colorful red bowties and looks like Robert Redford. i want him to lay hands on me to see if this past year really happened or i'm dead.

intern: i'm a girl

Brian upchucks the ten pizzas he ate all over his desk.


the artistic community is not taking too kindly to Kevin Spacey's timed revelations. especially Wanda Sykes.

Wanda: it's okay, Kevin, we support you.

Kevin: you do?

Wanda: sike! how could you conflate those two things you space case?

Kevin: what? i came out as an alcoholic. i'm a mean sober. i have a confession to make. i hated Rent. i know back then everyone loved Rent but i always found it preachy.


Gordon Ramsay: it's the Great British Baking Show! and i'm your host, i'm every host of every show, you can call me GR.

President Bump: Guns n Roses. i miss those days. men could wear white tight leather pants and it was macho. let's get back to the days of putting up dukes and showing our muscles to everyone.

Gordon: contestants, slide your marijuana into the oven when you feel you're done pruning it into cute shapes.

Bump: i rolled mine up with some sour rice.

Gordon: perfect. now place in the oven, close the door, your front door, and wait for the smoke to rise. are you getting baked?

Bump sniffs like the motherfucking dickens.

Gordon: good. that's it. nice. now get scribbling! here's your green notebook, write that screenplay! go!

Bump: mine is about a god who sends his only son to Earth. pretty incredible imagination i have huh. that's sure to win Best Original Screenplay.

Gordon: *calmly* i'm sorry, but that has already been written. please try again.

Bump: but it's a true story. it happened to me. okay get this. a monkey who learns how to write on a typewriter.

Gordon: how do you think we all got here? join us next time for the Great British Baking Show! welcome.


Monday, November 6, 2017


use these words in a story: dragging, kitchen, bedroom, sofa, albert Einstein, closet, eggbeater, olive oil, eight (8), rain

mod note: this is usually my wheelhouse. but there is no more water at the mill.

Albert Einstein should feel triumphant. he has conquered the Nazis and is the smartest person who has ever lived. but he does not. as he closes the pineapple drapes of his kitchen in the morning, a sense of profound dread enters his logical soul.

Albert: the more and more i further outward discovering the mechanics of the universe, the lonelier i get. there are no more humans anymore i can have a chat with. no one understands my thinking. no one will ever be at my level again. i am isolated. it's like i have the keys to the Ferrari but the garage door is locked.  

the sheets in his bedroom smell of stale french fries. but he hasn't had french fries since before he fled the old country. he goes upstairs to peel one grape.

Albert: i have solved the secret of the universe. i invented the formula which boils it all down to one equation. so why do i feel so empty inside? *sigh*

his neighbors think him cruel, standoffish, and aloof. but he is just shy. Albert gets no visitors to his mansion in the Hollywood Hills. no one understands his accented English. one time Buscemi hopped the gate but he claimed he was doing research for a title role. that biography was almost crowdfunded. you sometimes see Wendy Williams waving in the driveway fountain but i think she just wants to buy the property.

the doorbell rings. not much can drag Albert away from his cable news, but this is it. it's the only person who ever walks up to his entrance and gives him something, the kindly old mail lady who hands him his mail and a piece of her mind.

Albert: hello. excuse me while i enter my closet. it's just to get a sweater. there's a draft ever since you opened the door. any good stuff?

mail lady: just bills. your college loans are due.

Albert: those are never meant to be paid off, are they? they're designed that way. what is your name?

mail lady: Alberta.

Albert: see? it's fate. the fate of the stars.

Alberta: there is one mystery of the universe you have yet to solve, Mr. Einstein.

she was right. later that night Albert builds up enough gumption to give a letter back to Alberta. his pen is leaking courage.

that vinegary potato smell is really starting to haunt him. what is that? chips under the bed?

the next morning Alberta comes with his mail and Albert hands Alberta the note. it reads:

the mystery of love. look, you have nice legs in your mail-lady shorts, okay? i said it.

Albert: care to come in? i'm not much of a breakfast guy but...

Alberta: but my duty...

Albert: sorry, out of bran muffins. but there's olive oil and Eggbeaters liquid egg and 8 eggs in the fridge on the stove. help yourself. Eggbeaters, what a terrible name for a food.

Alberta: it's raining, i better go.

Albert: please, have a seat on the sofa. i'm really not rude, i'm just socially awkward cos i'm a genius.

Albert begins drawing on the back of her envelope.

Alberta: oh my! what are those? two huge as-yet-undiscovered moons?

Albert: those ain't moons...