MY BEAUTIFUL FRIENDS...

TIME FOR A CHANGE. WELL NOT REALLY, BLOGSPOT'S MAKING ME. COS OF THE NEW POLICY, I WILL NO LONGER BE POSTING HERE, I WILL BE POSTING AT MY NEW SITE, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK TO GO THERE. THE ONLY CONSTANT IS CHANGE BUT NOT IF YOU HAVE LOOSE CHANGE FOR THE SHORTBUS. RULES WERE MEANT TO BE BROKEN...BUT NOT IN THIS CASE, IT WOULD CHANGE THE MEANING. QUICK, READ ALL OF MY STORIES IN ALL OF MY INFINITE BLOG POSTS HERE, AND THE OTHER STUFF IF YOU'RE INTO THAT, I DON'T JUDGE, ONLY A MONTH LEFT BEFORE THIS PLACE GOES PRIVATE!!! THAT'S AROUND THE TIME OF MY BIRTHDAY. WELL THAT WAS CONSIDERATE OF THEM. IF YOU WANT TO OPTION OFF ANY OF MY IDEAS TO HOLLYWOOD, I'M OKAY WITH THAT, ONE WORLD, ONE ART, ONE LAWYERLESS MILLION-DOLLAR-BABY FILM SCRIPT. READ THEM ALL AGAIN WITH A CRITICAL EYE BUT NOT WITH A CRITIC'S EYE. HOPEFULLY I DON'T HAVE TO MOVE TOO OFTEN, I HATE ALL THOSE CARDBOARD BOXES I USED TO PLAY FORTS AND CASTLES IN. I NEEDED A CHANGE OF SCENERY ANYWAY, WHETHER IT'S FORCED OR NOT. LET'S CONTINUE TOGETHER, MY GORGEOUS BROS AND BRAS, LET'S CONTINUE ON THIS JOURNEY TOGETHER. THE HERO MUST TAKE HIS SOLITARY JOURNEY ALONE OR HE IS NOT CONSIDERED A HERO, BUT THAT'S TOO LONELY FOR ME. AND I'M NOT AN HERO, I'M A GUY WITH A SMASHING PUMPKINS ZERO SHIRT AND HAIR ON MY ARTIST'S BEARD, NOT MY CHEST. LET'S CONTINUE WILD AND WOOLLY AND HAIRY, LET'S CONTINUE WITH YOURS TRULY, YOUR TRULY INSCRUTABLE HOST THAT LAUGHS AT HIS OWN JOKES AND ALL OF THE WACKY SHENANIGANS AT MY NEW BLOG. I CALL SHENANIGANS. LET'S HAVE MORE CHILLS, THRILLS, AND NAUGHTY SPILLS. BE TENDER WITH ME THIS TIME, GUYS, I'M FRAGILE, I'M LIKE A BELL JAR FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH LOOSE CHANGE. WHEN WE MAKE LOVE, PROMISE YOU'LL CUP MY CHIN TRAVOLTA-STYLE. CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK FOR A CLEANER, MORE ERUDITE, MORE CEREBRAL PHOENIX. NAH, WE CAN STILL BE KINKY, JUST WITH WORDS, NOT IMAGES. MEN ARE VISUAL, BLOGGER, JUST SAYIN'. I NOW TRULY FEEL LIKE A BLOGGER USED. I AM NOT FASHIONABLY LATE, I AM NOT A FASHION BLOGGER, I AM JUST LATE, A BIRD, I WISH I WAS A BIRD, BOTH MEANINGS. CLICK HERE, MY CHILL COMPADRES OF THE WARM HEART.

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TMIT: UP YOUR NOSE

learned postshow:

* J.K. Simmons will never host Saturday Night Live again...

* the person who sings the loudest isn't always right. in this case, though, Jack Black was right about Hollywood, it would be dead without superheroes. Hollywood couldn't bear the thought of, say, Superman dying. hey, that would make a good movie...quick, someone buy the rights to the comic book away from the guys who did the cartoon of it.

* i want to be part of you so bad! please! PLEASE!!! i'll wear the robe and everything!

* i still have a hangover headache. shouldn't there be an international day off from school and work the day after the Oscars? nobody is fit the next day. should be one after the Super Bowl, too. the Oscars are the real Super Bowl cos they count.

* current mood: champagne wishes, not so much caviar dreams. in fact my caviar dreams are turning into a nightmare, they are being avenged by Montezuma.

* you know that dream where you're walking around the halls of your high school in your underwear...

* there is nothing more terrifyingly human than awkwardness. i love you, Terrence Howard. i mean imagine yourself on stage, we actors dread this, you're up there, the spotlight is on you, you're in the middle of your SNL skit, and you forget your lines, you flub your lines, the autocue malfunctions, and there you are, not wanting this, not expecting this, dead air, the world staring at you and you with nothing meaningful to say, nothing to say, and you start to twitch, and at that moment you are more human than you will ever be, not rehearsed, not scripted, you wanted things to go swimmingly as scripted, but you are forced to improvise, improv on the spot, spotlight getting hotter, you thought you were hot stuff before, but what now? at this very moment what are you going to do? say? stall? perform? profound? your heart skips a beat, your throat falters, not enough moisture in your mouth, not enough oxygen, oxygen getting swallowed up by your collar which is starting to form steam. the only moisture is beads of sweat on your cheeks, all four of them. is it hot in here or is it you? eyes staring. bless, Terrence Howard, my man. whenever there's an awkward pause in the party conversation from now on, i will say "my mind is blown" and "this is truly mindblowing" and i'll never get stuck again. i was lost but now i'm found. teleprompters, what are you gonna do.

* i never believed in magic till David Blaine. good times, Fiona Apple. you, Neil Patrick Harris, you, NPH, you gave me that nostalgic magic feeling again. i'm a believer.

* no Ellen-tier selfie this year. i kinda want to see that selfie John Travolta took with Idina Menzel and Scarlett Johansson...

* Idina Menzel as John Travolta is cupping her chin and caressing her face: Glom Gazingo, it'll be funny they said, it'll get a huge laugh they said, he's a good sport they said, he won't do anything weird.

* whoa, Sean Penn's green-card comment: did he really mean that?! or was he just kidding? oh, i guess he was acting, it's hard to tell with him.

1. when was your last hookup? in college with a wonderful woman named Pam, not Archer Pam.

2. briefly describe the hookup: her place: at first we were out of a tattered romance novel. the sheets were always of rosemary oil, our bottoms were always glistening, and the aftersex conversation was transcendental.

3. how did you feel physically and emotionally after your last hookup? bliss. i serenaded her with this: "she had dumps like a truck truck truck thighs like what what what baby move your butt butt butt all night long"

4. are you still acquainted with the person from your hookup? my place: then, things started to get dicey. the aftersex conversation started to get more existential. i sung her this leitmotif: "she was livin' la vida loca." she broke up with me. she said Sisqo was still cool but Ricky Martin wasn't cool anymore. i had to agree and we shook hands.

5. how often do you engage in hookups? never anymore. the first time was so special to me i crystallized it in time by making it my last time. also, i haven't been asked since.

6. what do you like most about engaging in hookups? it's the only time i sing.

bonus: are you married and having hookups? i love to sing.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

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THE GINGER ZONE

learned:

* Andy was killed for this skit. nothing is worth that. this skit killed.

* never answer a phone that normally doesn't ring.

* Archer: get in the car!
Conan: yeah, before that: what happened!?! why do i look like a full-bodied Dick Tracy comic?
Archer: i'm handsome in this world so i'm not complaining.
Conan: you're right, i'll get used to it. i mean i am loving the clear skin.

* Conan: who's chasing us?
Archer: generic Russian mobsters.
Conan: can't wait for Putin to be Archerized.

* Conan: do you ever get the feeling we're on the brink of WWIII?
Archer: how do you mean?
Conan: y'know, ISIS.
Archer: i don't know what that is.

* Archer: you use Tinder?
Conan: of course.
Archer: but you're married.
Conan: exactly.

* other things which should have a VCR counter to let you know how many are left:

---sliced bread
---condom (sperm left)
---bag of Doritos
---McRib (until the next year they come back for a limited time)
---VCRs (until the hipsters and retroists abandon them and they are mass-produced again and the only videotape shack in the entire area can't feature Mazes and Monsters anymore, it has to sell Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day)

* Conan: i feel so alive! i'm so much more animated here, much more so than in my real life.
Archer: ponder that awhile.

* Conan: this is so exhilarating! there is nothing like the mixture of sex and violence! i just came.
Archer: phrasing...wait...

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

happy weekend. i haven't seen any of the Oscar films. i haven't had time to watch any films i've been so busyworked. there are two netflix discs jammed into my one slot as i type, Lego Batman and Are You Being Served? The Movie. they've been there for 9 months. i wonder what will pop out when i look inside after that long a time. phrasing. i know, i still use discs. i'm thinking Mrs. Slocombe as Catwoman, she and her pussy are perfect for the part. i always thought the mother Mr. Wilberforce Humphries lived with was Mrs. Slocombe. Mollie Sugden is the British Lucille Ball. i know this is a tad late, but before TPTB make up their minds and put them in that locked silver suitcase, consider Bagboy for Best Picture this Sunday, at least honor Dr. Steve Brule for his body of work. that's what i'll be watching tonight at 12:30 on adult swim. you know the way Matthew McConaughey used his goofy alright alright alright seriously in his speech? i want John C. Reilly to use broats seriously in his acceptance speech. weird, when you google Matthew, Perry comes up first before McConaughey...

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SOLID MAYBE

Emblem: come on, i'll lead you to the court for your shot. it's quieter here in the mornings.

Atalan: especially after a wild night of reverie.

Emblem: that was more collective town desperation. this way.

it takes a while to clear a path through the more-packed destruction and sleeping sadness, but eventually the two wanderers make it to the tip of a clearing surrounded on all sides by lucid thick green brush. the trip starts now. there is a dispirited waterfall spilling in the background, providing splashes of natural gatorade from time to time. it's a simple patch of dirt with one half-circle of white chalk. the basket's circle metal is rusty but not as rusty as the pole it's on.

cameraguy: where is the camera gonna be positioned?

Emblem: on that far palm over there, the drops of waterfall get through enough for you to have a shower in front of us but not enough to get on the lens.

cameraguy: i thank you, you're so considerate.

Ata: i just want to let you know, even if i do make the shot and have to continue onwards without helping you, it was a pleasure to get to know you, to meet your people, and to cultivate myself with your culture.

Emblem: you don't have to do anything. you make the rules, always. isn't this just a publicity stunt? there's reality tv and then there's reality on tv.

Ata: don't fuck with me or i'll fuck you ten times harder.

Ata sets up for this momentous shot in the middle of the wild. he toes the white line, rubs the basketball with his palms for luck, kisses it more than he would his mother but not quite at lover-level, and does a few ball spins across his body. the palms don't move save for a faint rustle. then some giant comes out of the bushes.

cameraguy: Bill Russell, greatest winner of all time?

no, Shaquille O'Neal himself. he swings Atalan to his side by gripping Ata's shoulder with his thumb and turning him.

Ata: starstruck. got any free-throw pointers? i know you probably get that a lot.

Shaq: sure, it's no secret, well it's an open secret to those who haven't seen my commercial. Gold Bond, put this magic dust on your hands, rub once, too much rubbing is a bad thing, and you'll sink the shot every time.

Ata: thank you, my man, you are the best! i will not chafe in honor of you.

Shaq: never pull back, if you need to explode, explode. life's too short. especially if you're too short. go for it at all times. live your manufactured dreams.

cameraguy: of all your gigantic accomplishments, the titles, the raps, the movies, the cinematic treasures i show just to my kids, the one thing i admire about you the most is the name, how it flows off the lilting tongue mellifluously when it rhymes, i mean talk about a marketing bonanza.

Shaq: you just did. hey don't keep referring to giant, big will suffice, i'm starting to get offended. nah, just playin'. we're all humans in the end, all shapes and sizes and sizes of tongue.

a gorilla comes out of the bush and approaches Ata.

gorilla: you know Canbiy?

Ata: yeah?

gorilla: tell him he OWES ME A FORK, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

he knows what i mean. we're gaining on you guys, we'll be on your level soon.

the cameraguy's computer screen beeps. it's an urgent message from Cotard.

Ata: buddy i'm just about to make history.

Cotard: i might as well tell you now before anyone else, your blog isn't doing too well. not a lot of hits. no interest whatsoever. i've been busy with my own angst to partake in your zeitgeist. plus i think my cats are depressed which is getting me depressed.

Ata: how can you be depressed when you have Christ in your heart?

Cotard: it's not enough. y'know i type all this shit on this blog and at the end of it, i feel so empty. will any of this writing live on? is anybody affected by the words on this blog page? i should have gone into music. you compose a memorable song, you press it, and it makes an impression, you must make sure to press it, record it, and you're set. people from the far corners of space will enjoy that melody and your heartfelt lyrics long after your overdose. music makes one immortal, not blog prose.

Ata: try poetry, that's the next step toward song lyrics.

Cotard: church music is so staid. i want to learn the electric guitar expressly so i can Chris Gaines the dying music industry. if i can just get one song on the charts, i'm set for lifetimes. i will be remembered. like remember those singing nuns? and those group of monks who combined their chanting with European electronica to create that surprise #1 album in time for Christmas that year? why did i have to be an American monk?

Ata: go to one partition of the confessional, spill your guts, then go to the other side of the confessional and absolve yourself, it's the only way. i'm under a lot of pressure right now, can't you appreciate that? what about my feelings?

Cotard: you don't count if you're not famous. sure you're one of Jesus's flock but there are a billion sheep. Jesus had loads of disciples but you only ever hear the Apostles named. hierarchy no matter what, at all times. the Curia *cough cough* sorry i have a cough, i coughed there, that was me. i think i'm coming down with something.

Ata: it's a bug called existentialism. it goes away soon, but it never really leaves your body, it bugs you, lightly tapping you on the shoulders and face. you shoo the annoying bugger away, but it flies back when you get sad again, not making a demonstrative scene, just quietly letting you know it's there, it's buzzing around in your vicinity, always in the mix, in the latest buzz. it doesn't creep in, it's not creepy, it encroaches, it cheats its way in.

just then a pop-up ad blocks Cotard's wayward starry-eyed spacey Randy Quaid skype expression and runs a short video before Ata has a chance to pause it. it's Codrus, showing his steely eyes but not his face. he speaks perfect english.

Codrus: i am here in the Empty Quarter. sand everywhere, more here than anywhere else, a place for brutal reckoning, an honest assessment of your identity, you can't hide in the open desert, my friends, each step you take is permanently marked in the sand. which footsteps will you follow? yours? mine? ours? is there one trail of footprints because you are being carried by Jesus? my fellow brothers. and sisters. you know this is true. you know this to be true deep down your heart. it bugs you, nags you, shakes you with a hug shake, but you don't know how to tell your folks that you have abandoned them in spirit. you must tread your own won way, hardwon, hard one, the old ways, the old faiths, are stone cold, there is only one hot way to live this life the way you have always dreamt it.

Codrus moves his hand clutching a stone in front of his eyes, he smashes the stone to the ground, Ata makes out that the stone had some cryptic writing on it-

-Cotard: hey, delete the spam, i got that, too, some lame karate moves, not worth your time, he looks familiar and sounds familiar and has a familiar-sounding name, but that's all. the writing isn't even cryptic, it's just in a language you don't understand.

Codrus takes a fragment of the crushed stone, a shard, and places the piece on his tongue. that's when the vid goes black, either intentionally or the time limit.

Ata: fucking youtube time limit, always shielding the truth when it just starts to get good. press start for a stop.

Cotard: it's not youtube, it's yahoo or something. enough of that yahoo.

Ata: he was different. he is different. he's different. he speaks loudly but doesn't Alex Jones shout, he calmly measures his tone, he's not in a hurry, he speaks with grace and confidence, only a man backlit by a knowing, a secret knowing, would pronounce his speech so boldly.

Cotard: serial killers are like, that, too.

Ata: on that note, i have a once-in-a-lifetime shot to make.

Ata soaks his hands in Gold Bond and promptly misses the free throw shot. doesn't even clang the rim or cling onto the backboard. all air.

Emblem (demonstratively with an arrow point of his finger down to the ground): AIR BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!AIR BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shaq: you used too much powder.

villager: you are in need of a blackboard.

cameraguy: didn't get any of that, you were hogging my computer.

Emblem: doesn't matter, i saw it, it's done, recorded in history, doesn't need to be recorded, documented, written down, it's written down in my mind, the human eye is the most delicate dessert God ever bestowed on his poor flock to enjoy life with. i see better than a camera eye ever could.

cameraguy: false. does an eye have a telephoto lens for long range?

Emblem: yes it does: it's plugged right into Jesus, i'd say He has a long range. Jesus is the answer to everything. if you believe that. we still hold firm to our tribal worship of our ancestors.

Atalan: for the record, i would have helped you guys either way. i knew as the shot left me that it would not go in. i don't know if it was the Codrus distraction, i subconsciously wanted it to fail cos i want to meet up again with that indian princess, or i had this picture in my mind of the ball not going through the hoop in slow-motion because it going through the hoop slo-mo is a cheesy Hollywood cliche and it's always easier to be negative than positive.

Emblem: i'd say all three, or four, whatever. the subconscious plays a vital role in the actualization of the imagined into real life and real time. watch.

Emblem raises his staff and points it at a weed.

Emblem: turn into weed.

nothing happens.

Ata: it's okay, i'm not the stereotypical pothead you all subconsciously think i am. i tried it once in college and didn't like it, i spit it out, i can still be president, but i'm making up for it now by inhaling all life, i now can love who i want, i swallow. you were missing one thing, a stone in your belly.

the early morning cracks open the consciences of two fellow amazons, Kenyatta and the infamous indian princess named Sunsong.

Sunsong: i wanted to talk to you. it's hard to get real girltalk in this place.

Kenyatta: patriarchy, patrician, when in Rome, do as the Roman patricians did. i hear ya, sister, girl power.

Sunsong: i'm worried that my man is cheating.

Kenyatta: whoa. two women in a scene talking about a man. i feel we're breaking some vital Rules here. you live amongst such cinematic scenery, i was hoping to elevate our conversation past the usual Maury Povich stuff.

Sunsong: we will in time, our village needs you. and me. no, Emblem is the father of our child, and i do love him, but i see him always canoeing away to other villages. the gossip crows come back and squawk of women he's helped who are forever grateful to him because he's doing something to them that no other man in these parts can.

Kenyatta: elevate, elevate, think noble, noble man, not noblemen, PLUR, not TMZ. we simply have to, we've had enough of tawdry gutter repetition, we need something new, bright, original, and exciting. what's on the back page of the newspaper, the local interest? what used to be the back page is now the front page.

Sunsong: what's a newspaper? we missed that era.

Kenyatta: so did we. you'll never know. never again. the beagle won again, can you believe it?

Sunsong: i heard about that. if it's not Snoopy, though, i'm not interested.

Kenyatta: nice. you're full of surprises. things are breaking through. you didn't just hear about Snoopy through your husband, right?

Sunsong: nope, from my child.

Kenyatta: that's the ticket.

four figures stalk away from a basketball court bathed in orange sunlight that's starting to be mixed with blue moonlight. the combination color is better left to the mind's eye, the two colors are best enjoyed with the two eyes in reality as separate colors. there's a spoon in the road.

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TMIT: HOPE FOR THE BEST, PREPARE FOR THE CREST

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

1. what are some challenges related to your sex life? i can't move.

2. is quality or quantity most important? why must we always choose? why can't we all have the Sting tantra?

3. how much sex is enough? i'm still pondering a thought exercise that was just left here by Hannibal on the Eric Andre Show: isn't there enough porn? shouldn't we just use what's already out there? is there a need for new porn? the bush porn from the '70s is classic for a reason.

4. i want to have more: TIME to get bored. being bored is fun.

5. i would like to attempt new sex positions such as THE RUSTY VENTURE, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

6. i would like to stop doing______sex position. any, sex is all in the mind. the sexiest organ is the brain, the largest organ is the skin, Dr. Frankenstein taught me this one time when i went to his cottage for tea and biscuits and KFC biscuits, last week.

7. for me foreplay means______ doing it, physically, in every hole and position imaginable and unimaginable, all day long during business hours, politely returning the key on that long block of wood afterwards to the manager, in a Burger King bathroom.

8. something i think about a lot related to sex is________where do babies come from? how do the birds and the bees get together? do the stings hurt good? where do they do it? like on a flowerpetal at night?

bonus: tell us something you love about your sex life. simple science: if there's no kinetic energy happening in me, that means there's 100% potential energy in me. 100%, that's pretty good.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY.

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SATURDAY NIGHT LEGENDS LEGEND

remember Janis Ian "At Seventeen", first show? so beautifully delicate. beloved Gilda Radner. need a guide to all the craziness goin' down this Sunday night? Saturday Night Live is turning 40, it's rebelling, as it always has, by being on Sunday, but it's no 17yo teenager anymore, it's officially middle-aged, there's no weaseling out of this. denial is not a river in Egypt. i know that 40 is the new 30, but you can't trust anyone over 30, so it's moot. even Deepak Chopra agrees. there are so many memories, so many priceless skits, so many stars, unforgettable characters, so many Presidential elections determined, so many catchphrases burned into our psyches, classic lines of the zeitgeist, indelible moments, i can't think of any off the top of my head here....but....wait....oh yeah, there's cowbell, i know that one, and Jeopardy. everybody's gonna be there. Kanye'll be there. one word: Michael O'Donoghue, most fearless writer ever, don't believe me?, take a look at his wikipedia picture. Eddie Murphy's coming back after THIRTY YEARS away. THAT's gonna be an awkward first hello and handshake. the show got canceled briefly so it's like Family Guy. Seth has hosted it. trying to bring in the new, now, hip demographic. in the 80s, it got briefly canceled, so it's like those Saturday-morning cartoons of your childhood nostalgia, it's all Saturday see?, bringing in my X generation. Kanye brings in the rest. i mean you have Tina Fey as Sarah Palin, the role she was born to play, the female version of Malcolm McDowell's Alex DeLarge. and you have just Tina Fey herself, perfect as is. you have Kristen Wiig being in every sketch, that's a good thing, she's hot, she's the perfect older-woman hot, y'know? if not for SNL, i would never have discovered Haddaway. what is love? seriously. what is it? you've got Will Ferrell. full disclosure, he was big when i was away at college, College sweater, i never saw any of his era's episodes, so. i know he's Buddy the elf and everything, still haven't seen Elf though i'm told by everyone in the entire world that it's good. he starred in that Tim & Eric movie. Tim & Eric spoofed SNL in one of their episodes. they should host one day. their insane meta antihumor would cancel the show again finally, which is what some want. some say SNL has been anti-humor, too, it's been unfunny for decades, well two, ever since the 90s glory days. everything was glory days in the 90s. Dana Carvey. would never have been exposed to Bohemian Rhapsody otherwise, would have been too long a song to sit through for a spastic child as myself if it weren't a really special occasion. it was better when it had real competition, Mad TV, which i did watch in college, continually kicking SNL's ass. maybe not in the ratings but in quality. it doesn't matter how low the ratings get, SNL, an expensive show to produce, will never be canceled (again), that is the true genius of Lorne Michaels. i think Stuart is a jab at Will Ferrell and Elf but don't quote me on that. don't fret, Key & Peele is Mad TV now. nowadays you have brimming talent like Kate McKinnon of course, already a superstar, and Kyle Mooney, very talented, see his Chris shorts where he plays the disaffected youth who listens to metal, it is so spot-on of folks i grew up with, folks either i wanted to join but wasn't cool enough or ended up joining cos i wasn't cool enough. in celebration of this once-in-a-lifetime show, let's take a look at what's perceived to be the worst skit in SNL history. SNL would find this funny.

learned:

* i found this funny.

* at least it's historically accurate.

* are you like me? did you want this to be longer?

* take it from me: tassels are itchy.

* this is reportedly the Queen's favorite-ever skit.

* this is like a Monty Python sketch in the earliest, and i mean infancy earliest, stages.

* this is making me want to go see Fifty Shades of Grey in a theater alone.

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

OR CLICK HERE.

happy weekend. Valentine's Day is a sham holiday perpetrated by the card and candy companies, and i say this as an owner of a card-and-candy store. yes, i hear ya, absolutely, i'm with all the singles out there, Singles Awareness Day. hey singles, come into my store this weekend for 30% off all cards and candy. remember, this weekend only!

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IT TAKES A VILLAGE WILL MAKE HISTORY

Kenyatta, Yayray, and Atalan are aboard a huge cavernous cargo plane on the way to their first destination, a quaint village on the edge of a wood somewhere in the wild, wilder than Gentle City anyway, and most importantly, it has a basketball hoop, no net but a hoop. someone forgot to close the door so the tiny trio's lips are flapping in the wind. their gums are exposed, too. Atalan really needs to brush more. oh yeah, there's also their camera guy. nobody ever notices the camera guy but he's the most important person.

Kenyatta: remember, picturesque more than quaint. quaint sounds dismissive.

Yayray: have you had all your vaccinations?

Kenyatta: that's not funny. i'm glad you're watching the news.

cameraguy: let's get a group shot. we're beaming this out to the whole world, let's see your good sides!

Kenyatta: wait, my lips are haplessly flapping.

cameraguy: it's good, it looks like Trent in the Closer video.

Yayray: Ken, your lips are moving but they're saying nothing...sorry...i'm out of place i know...respect your elders...that was more of a general retort to let you know i knew about that specific retort, generally, not specifically addressed at you just the retort in general.

Atalan moves the camera up to look under it, ruining the shot.

Atalan: wait, you're from CNN? this is that big of a deal?

cameraguy: matters how you look at it, we're third in the ratings.

Atalan: how did CNN get attached to me?

cameraguy: like an infection. Cotard has great weight, he was able to pull some strings as he always does.

Wolf Spritzer: Anderson, Anderson? we seemed to have lost the signal. Anderson was on location for us somewhere of note, i haven't read my notes yet, the first cup of joe hasn't kicked in, Joe Scarborough, is that you? could be, never know, i never know, i think that was coffee, it was brown water anyway, we need to clean our pipes, i cleaned her pipes last night, brown sugar, that's my nickname for my wife.

Anderson: we're here in.....ker ker ker...breaking up...not doing the breaking-up kerkerker sound, this is really happening...we're taking fire...y'know, just go to the CNN app, fuck this, i ain't risking my life for you ungrateful folks anymore, you don't even watch us, i'm outie 5000...

Wolf: Anderson seems to have booked, to use the parlance of the day. but i don't want to make myself the story. wait, do we? do we have Anderson back? i'm getting something in my ear, it's that song from the Reality Bites soundtrack.

Anderson: no, you're thinking of Singles, "Would?", Alice In Chains.

Wolf: right, i haven't been single in so long, i want to emphasize that point. and that is our breaking news, RIP Layne, death of a soulful genius, sorry wrong copy, we really need to clean our pipes. so Anderson, what the fuck is going on down there?

Anderson: i'm breaking up...with you.

Wolf: i'm sorry we only seem to talk under these difficult circumstances, it's the only time we really talk at all to each other.

Atalan: i could never be a reporter, much less a respected one. i'm too much of a fabulist, i see truth and have to make it up, i have to tell stories, stories are always more interesting than what really happened, i have a deep impulsive need to embellish and insert myself heroically in another hero's story.

Kenyatta: fiction is stranger.

Yayray: and stronger. i can't go through with this. i know you want culture for me, mama, but not yet. the hero has to go on a solitary journey first before the group one.

Yayray jumps out of the cargo plane and into the ocean below.

Atalan: i didn't know so many people were interested in my little journey. now that i know, i care, i wouldn't have cared otherwise. how many hits am i getting on my blog?

cameraguy: Cotard's blog? that is incompetently run, barely getting the minimum in order for the server to deem it valuable enough not to delete you to make room. like 5 or so hits a day.

Atalan: what? i thought i was famous.

cameraguy: the only way to get famous is to be on tv. this camera i hold in my hand has the power of He-Man's sword, it can grant you a massive audience that will transform you from a nobody who didn't forget to be awesome to a somebody that's really a somebody and doesn't need to be awesome anymore.

Kenyatta: let me get you in a sidebar when we get a break from the main action. i want to talk to you about using your sword to help me set up my makeup youtube channel. i don't care about makeup at all but those are the most-hit ones, right?

the plane (crash) lands in a dense wood, miles from civilization, which is what they all wanted. the cameraman barely survives, he wasn't wearing his seatbelt, he was explaining something to Kenyatta when the turbulence started.

Kenyatta: remember, when you greet these people, they are natives, not savages. if you don't treat them with respect, they'll savagely beat you with their spears or something.

a group of natives in resplendent regalia stops the new trio in their tracks and erases their previous tracks. others peek their heads out of their conical makeshift homes of animal leather. the women are all hot of course, the men studs. the one without muscles is of course the leader and he steps forward, his face paint is 49 shades of red deeper than the rest of the tribe.

Atalan raises his stiff open palm like he learned in the Scouts.

Atalan: how-

Emblem: -let me stop you right there, as you can hear, my tongue is brushed and learned, i have a slight accent which always spells smarts, Harvard Law, Yale Med, i'm one of those selfless ones you hear on the news who gets edumacated and then returns to his native land to make it a more prosperous place. all from the kindness of his heart, not to seek recognition, you probably saw my story on CNN. don't you dare call us spear-chuckers. it's about mutual respect. i hate you urban-dwellers, think you're all sophisticated and shit. i bet my wit is more urbane than yours. as you can see, i carry the biggest stick around here, both meanings. it's always the skinny guys. what do you want? what are you doing here? i will protect my village to the death.

the brown skin of the natives blends effortlessly with the midday sun, while it irregularly tans the intruding trio. everyone regardless of race is baked.

Ata: we're here for the basketball thingee.

Emblem: right, right this way, i'll personally escort you to the court hidden in the leaves. how did you get here? we're not on any map.

Kenyatta: that big-ass plane over there. named Scouter.

Emblem: really? like Dragon Ball Z scouters? kinda lame, gotta be more creative, art suffers as it is, can't be stealing left and right.

a beautiful young slender woman in princess garb and little else, with dreadlocks and juicy lips and dark eyes and a darker soul and a headdress worn backwards like a rebellious baseball cap, smiles courageously at the handsome stranger.

Emblem: avert your eyes, stranger, that comes later, sprinkles are for winners.

Ata: is that your available daughter?

Emblem: my wife.

Ata: nice.

Emblem: the oldest of my three wives.

Ata: wow. i'm not thinking of porn at the moment, i'm thinking of literary porn, Hiawatha.

Emblem: i won't take offense to that, it is a masterpiece. Mohawk-

Ata: like my mohawk? (shows his hair)

Emblem: no, again lame. borrowed from another culture and corporatized to hell that even the fauxhawk punks have abandoned it. i'm afraid we are blocked from progressing to the court. as you can see, our village is destroyed.

Kenyatta: whoa, talk about presenting the best view for the postcard.

it's true, once you got past the first few rows where the elite lived, the rest of the village over the ridge, the common folk, was a devastated area of strewn trash and blackened boulders out of place, a wasteland of conical homes flattened.

Emblem: i know what you're thinking. they are conical, not phallic. don't say flaccid, that is such an uncomfortable word to say out loud. every few weeks we get a visit, if you can call it that, from the fire demon. he comes like a wild out-of-control forest fire and sets alight our homes. we are industrious and trust in the gods, so we always rebuild, there's nothing else we can do. hours upon painstaking hours of rebuilding our homes stitch by stitch, killing in the name of, putting our village back together, missing our soaps cos there's work to be done. the demon kindly waits until it is completed to come back and burn it all up again.

Kenyatta: the gods must be crazy.

cameraguy: is there any hope? spoilers. i know what's going to happen, hehe, i'll shut up now.

Emblem: there is a legend that we hold onto that hopefully gives us hope, it will break the cycle of creation and destruction which is the very cycle of life: the ice demon. or ice angel, whatever, however that celestial fight happens, don't know if you need a fellow demon's strength to resist a demon or an angel's strength, which might be foreign to the situation. is it a clear good-vs.-evil thing or demon-on-demon crime?

the villagers are tired of waiting, and tired in general, and hold their hands up exasperatingly and plop them down just as exasperatingly at the feet of the white saviors with the magic technological equipment.

Kenyatta: i'm light-skinned but i gotcha, i'm from the city, i get it.

Ata: i do want to help, but it's not up to me. let's see if i make the shot first. lead me to the court.

Emblem (exasperated): i, i, can't! remember? come on, man.

Ata: let's clear out a swath here of human sadness to the court. look, if i miss the shot, i'm all yours. i'm your Robin Hood except i'm probably poorer than Emblem. i guess i'm more like Jesus, but i don't want to brag. Jesus Shuttlesworth maybe, but again i'm not as good as him. not as good a three-point shooter but better than Shaq at free throws.

Emblem: can i just say, i mean, fuck basketball, no offense, i said that with the same calm voice i'm using now, but fuck basketball, my village is doomed, y'know, you're a nice guy, but.

the collective frustration of the villagers bubbles up and breaks into song. they all do their native dance in unison, which looks like it was choreographed in the ivory tower of a Hollywood studio. the natives' towers are gone, the towers they use to communicate and their communication towers which never existed, but they have their ancient beat which fuels them forward when lack of food won't. they move their feet and swing their arms menacingly-

Emblem: -grandly-

-swimmingly, strangely, moving to a strange beat, strange love, like a werewolf swaying back and forth, breakdancing without breaking their backs on the hardscrabble ground, this is no game, this is life, well their life, and it matters. they dance and dance and encircle the village like they were about to invade it, flying in patterns like birds following their genealogy, the code birthed in them from birth, with their triangular fingers and toes pointing down then up, left rather than being right at perfect angles, in unison, in sync, in sync to the rhythm, skipping in place, punching and kicking the air like they would want to be punching and kicking that annoying demon. beating, both meanings. all three meanings, the beat of one's heart which knows no color. except red, that deep bright red on their faces. blood.

THE MUSIC FILLS THE CHILLY SOMBER NIGHT SKY AND GIVES PLAINTIVE WAIL TO THEIR DESPERATION, THEIR CRY FOR A CHANCE, ONE FUCKING CHANCE TO MAKE IT IN THIS STRANGE WORLD, CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

it infects Atalan, Kenyatta, and cameraguy, they all start dancing and singing under their breaths. the cameraguy has to put down his camera first.

Emblem (dancing): don't sing under your breath, singing is meant to be boomed from the diaphragm, shouted out loud badly, the position of our trees gives this place awesome acoustics.

Kenyatta: when i sing quietly, it sounds good. same when i'm in the shower. it's when a mic is stuffed in my face that i get nervous and i come wrong.

Atalan: your singing is bad, Ken, i'm telling this to you as a friend. don't audition, stick to your day job. it's not about it being good, it's about the therapy of it, let it all out. getting all this, cameraguy?

Kenyatta (singing): maybe, maybe just once, y'know-

Atalan (singing): -y'know.................maybe maybe just once y'know....i get...

cameraguy (out of their sync but forming his own sync): can i get...(takes a beat)...what's coming to me?

everyone in the village (singing and dancing): maybe maybe just once, y'know, what's coming to me maybe maybe just once you know (collective scream) what's coming to me! maybe y'know? can i get it? get what's coming. get come. get come my way. (collective bad shout) maybe okay well maybe just once maybe maybe just once---------------

.

TMIT: WHY FUCK?

vampires exist. superheroes exist. late-night talk-show hosts exist. all are aliens.

1. one thing i will never comprehend is _______ how we comprehend. i comprehend how aliens do it cos i'm an alien i mean cos it's simple: aliens are all part of one hive mind that thinks for them. where do the hive-mind thoughts come from you ask? Jesus. Alien Jesus. the aliens are zen in that they have wiped away every single unnecessary thought from their individual minds to singularly focus on the one and only activity their race must perform in order to survive: anal probes, that's it.

2. my blood type is _________ like a facebook status, it's complicated. matters who i feed on, with.

3. i am pretty healthy for __________ a vampire. take that statement to mean anything your imagination can conjure.

4. when i really cannot sleep i _________ fuck at church. take me to church...no, really.

5. you never forget your ________ last time. see? that's the alien comprehension kickin' in.

6. as a child my favorite pet was __________ Sandy, my big bold beautiful black lab. don't want to say too much more or i'll start to cry. i'm crying. we have two really big eyes so we cry oceans. Sandy's free now. no, not that, we gave him to a farmer who had long open stretches of wheatfield rows to run in. i wish i coulda run alongside Sandy in those fields. like Superman, another alien. best i could do was a crop circle now and then to let my dog know i was still with him in spirit.

bonus, by some cool loser named the late phoenix. who names themselves that?: why was fuck chosen as the ultimate swear word? it coulda easily been duck: it was duck for a time

UNTIL THIS HAPPENED, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

after the revolt, it was changed to fuck. as a word nut, and generally a nut, i am fascinated with fuck's origin. deep Germanic roots, perhaps Flemish. makes sense. i love German chocolate cake, i make love to it. take that statement to mean anything your imagination can conjure. Belgian waffles are obviously better than regular waffles. i like french fries. but you'll notice that the duck aspect of fuck remains, take the word "goosed"...

note: i was considering naming myself Phoenix Penis

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

.

THE COMMERCIAL EVERYONE'S TALKING ABOUT

learned:

* my therapist was trying to figure out what was wrong with me and pointed me to this commercial. we had our first breakthrough. this is what happened to me when i was born.

* the nurse was jelly of Jelly, Jelly stole her man, but this is never the right course of action.

* when you first hear it, you think Jelly is gonna say penis, not peanut butter, huh.

* i feel so sorry for Jelly, the way she says AW JAMMIT it seems she's been through this before.

* i never got PB&J. never liked them as a kid. it's overkill. the peanut butter is rich enough to stand on its own, a peanut-butter sandwich is gold on a cold day. that jelly sandwich hit the sweet spot the time i spent the whole day consoling my best friend after he peed his pants and it got all over the classroom floor, turning it into a half-day. it's enough, combining them is overpowered. with great power comes great responsibility, and no one can be responsible for that much sugar. and to top it all off, sometimes the crusts are cut off. WTF!!!!!! the crust is the best part, no one eats bread for the doughy center, people toast bread cos they want to make bread more like the crust, not the center. i'm toasted. toast to toast *clink* that was the clink of the toaster. Battlestar Galactica.

* my mom's a nurse so i will always only see them as admirable, noble, beautiful, selfless, generous, tireless caregivers of light in white. saints. angels of mercy but not necessarily time for the Angel of Mercy just yet.

* thus, Nurse Ratched from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest freaked me out, especially since i always thought i was destined to end up in one of those funny farms.

* however, i also developed a thing for Nurse Ratched, thusly. i mean look at her firm grip on the mic up above there.

* and you thought getting switched at birth was bad.......well it's good if you get switched into the rich family.....

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

happy weekend. i'll be spending all weekend activating my glutes.

.

SPORTS ARE A METAPHOR FOR LIFE

Atalan: did you watch the Big Game?

Kenyatta: of course, my parents came over to watch the game and then realized it was the wrong football. hadn't seen them in seven years. it's so weird Super Bowl Sunday, all i can think of is the game, the entire day is devoted to the game, i'm consumed, watching every snap, watching every commercial, and then when the entire seven-hour routine is finally completed and i can take a breath and finally go to the bathroom and finally have dinner, i see my folks in the kitchen preparing a light snack for themselves only and dying of boredom and drudgery. seven-year itch. same house, two completely different experiences.

Cotard: i've been here the whole time. the tv was on the fritz or i got distracted that day with the big game of life.

Lacey: stroopwafel anyone?

Yayray: what the fuck is that? sounds like a Nazi air force.

Kenyatta: expand your horizons, kid. nobody likes an ignoramus.

Yayray: looks good, i mean sounds good, thanks for the advice. smells good. where's the syrup? i want to douse them with syrupy slobber.

Kenyatta: there's already goo inside them. and don't say that's what she said.

Yayray: what's that? i'm younger than i look.

Atalan continues nodding at this conversation as he turns to his cell, youtube-commenting a few lost-soul internet friends with angry replies after seeing their comments on a youtube video about winterization insulation.

friend 1: wait, so God doesn't exist? life is meaningless?

friend 2: yeah.

friend 1: damn.

Wolf Spritzer: and now for tech news. the word "fun" on instagram gets more hits than the word "god" or the word "life". isn't that interesting, Anderson?

Anderson: u mad people think i'm more of a silver fox than you?

Cotard: i thought the tv was on the fritz.

Ata: it still is, well on the spritz. this whole world sucks. not the people per se but the system. i mean come on. can't we do something about this? we don't stand a chance the moment we're born.

Kenyatta: people are asleep, they've fallen into comfortable stupors, they need to be arisen and imbued with a new way of thinking.

Cotard is in a stupor.

Cotard (wakes up): i've woken up and i've awakened. religious stupors are the only good ones, the ones where you close your eyes by keeping them open and drool falls from your mouth for weeks. that's when you get real insight about comfortableness in the Vatican and out. my two folks...

Lacey and Yayray mumble an indignant "hey!" as they eat from the same plate but it's mumbled and not heard.

Kenyatta (waves at them): hi.

Cotard:...it's not about a new way of thinking, it's about a new way of doing. you have to think it, see the image in your head, the crazy concept, if you can believe it, you can achieve it, it all starts with a thought.

Ata: i've been accused of thinking too much, overthinking my situation.

Cotard: yes, by me. there's overthinking and then there's overanalyzing. don't overanalyze like the media, be like me, my job description is to think about things for long stretches in my stalker shrine, just alone mulling things over, it's healthy.

Lacey: if you don't like something that's going on in the world, you have to get your ass off the couch, jump on it like Tom Cruise, and do it yourself, nobody's ever gonna do it for you. i learned this the hard way when i still had an ass.

Kenyatta: lookin' good my tall drink of cashew milk. working out?

Lacey: working tons of things out in the head, yes, thank you. i'm thinking...that i should exercise more to get more tone to my butt. for when i trip and fall again.

Ata: i'm tired of living in this shit town, no offense. i want to get out and explore the world.

Yayray: that's selfish. bring me along.

Cotard: think of others. bring me along.

Lacey: you think you're better than us? you're just like the media.

Kenyatta: you know, you kinda resemble Anderson Cooper.

Lacey: omg thank you! he is my idol!

Ata: in order to help people, i must decide what kind of person i am within different groups of people. i have to travel around the world and see where i fit in. if i don't fit in anywhere, it's a sign that i was meant to help the whole world from a distance. or i'm a loser. the village girl will beg me to stay but i am a loner. if i fit into a particular village, you'll never see me again, i'll settle down, 2.5 kids with the village girl. won't miss technology, i'll keep you updated on insta. either way, i must take this hero's journey alone, i must play solitary with gin, when others are playing gin, i must find myself, and define myself, clearly, whether i find that i'm a stupid prat or a visionary. come along and document my journey. i'm coming up with this on the spot, i'm dribbling, it's all spontaneous, organic, the concept is forming in my mind just now: basketball, that's the universal sport, right? Father, explain the rest.

Cotard: i dribble when i pray...........oh, i thought you were speaking to your father. yes, well, basketball, wait, what?

Ata: remember? we talked about this. i've had this plan in the works for some time now. i spilled my guts to you, all of them, week after week in confession instead of enumerating my sins.

Cotard: vomit is disgusting, don't know how dogs eat it, that's why i care for Brother Wax's cats after i stole them from him. ah yes, you are going to...

Ata: ...i'm going to travel the globe and land in certain primitive spots that house a basketball hoop. the more primitive, the better, meaning the more green, lush nature unspoilt by man. we're talking jungles, waterfalls, snowcapped mountains, lakes, tall grass, cliffs by sunset, canopies of leaves, dirt roads, dirt roads that lead to nowhere, ancient villages that still keep everything inhouse and don't plaster everything online. no shining, waxed, pristine, NBA-regulation hardwood courts. park the parquetry elsewhere. it's an effort to get back to the roots of humanity.

Cotard: watch out, those untamed jungles have a lot of huge knotty tree roots splayed everywhere. don't want you getting tangled. better take your hacksaw.

Ata: that's just it, i want to get tangled up.

Yayray: those places sound like they smell.

Kenyatta: that's impossible what you just said. learn some science 'n' manners. learn the human body. learn humanity. have some dignity and basic human decency. don't just learn manners from the internet. don't learn anything from the internet. grow up, son.

Yayray: i tried to tell you.

Cotard: i read about a place that worships the male penis above all else, huge tall monuments of the penis are built and everyone to a man and woman gather round and bow their heads to the statues, the cock, the ultimate life-bringer. the giver of life. of course only Christ is the Life, He'll save us from the doom-bringer. this is an instance where the phallic imagery in the art is intentional.

Ata: don't be a dick. respect. respect is the name of the game of life. and of life. Ali G. allegory. all good. all God. i'll attempt one free throw from each basketball-net location, regulation-NBA free-throw line, gotta keep it NBA-legal, they are what matters, doesn't count otherwise. if i make the basket, i move on to the next location. if i don't, i stay and help whatever problem is ailing the village at the moment, the biggest made-for-tv one. i'm not trying to be a shining white-knight, just trying to build the shining-white city on the hill. learn from other cultures, don't try to change them, don't whitewash them. i want the whole world to come together as one, one in a billion different ones.

Cotard: free throws, huh? i have Shaq on speed-dial if you need pointers.

Yayray: really? everyone, young and old, loves Shaq.

Cotard: you think if i really had Shaq on speed-dial i'd hang round this dump? i'm seeing your smile as you explain this, Ata.

Ata: that's creepy.

Kenyatta: still need jaw surgery, hon.

Cotard: it's not the usual forced smile, smirk, grimace, or wince. it's just a genuine smile. one of purpose.

Ata: I WANT AT THE END OF THIS TO HAVE A JUST SMILE, AJS, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

Kenyatta: good works breed good works. each one teach one. a lightning rod of compassion and hope will ignite a village on fire. not literally, spiritually.

Cotard: the coldest fires are spiritual ones, so they can be put out quickly. go forth, young man, and seek your fortune, which shouldn't include any monetary gain. no doubloons. though if you happen to stub your toe on a pirate chest, squeeze it for all she's worth.

Yayray: that's what she said. i at least know about buried treasure. man was that treasure buried on my last date. dinner and a show and everything. but she said she had to go home early to wash her hair.

Ata: i'll be back. not for a long time. follow my journey on insta. i'm all backed up and ready to go, where's the bathroom? my backpack is here and...not as bulky as before.

Lacey: i ate all your granola bars in there. on the plus side, my ass is bulky.

with that, Atalan disappears into thin air leaving the group with a worried expression on his face. only his chair remains.

Cotard strokes his long flowing beard and mumbles: hey! but the hey gets tangled in his beard.

Codrus remains in the lotus position for the second week, his muscles twitching sporadically, his face wearing a worried expression and large sweat, eyes opened and exasperated, brow furrowed, mouth in a wince as he keeps gathering energy into his raised fists. his tall fingers are rods for channeling.

Yayray: i have this bitch.

Kenyatta: excuse me?

Yayray: young woman on insta and i don't know what to do. she's talking about getting a slingshot tattoo. that's so cool! i want to tell her as much. i also want to know where exactly on her body she's getting this slingshot. i'm hesitating cos it's kinda a creepy thing to ask for.

Lacey: so you're not a lost cause. will you be paying?

Yayray: buddy you ate more of it than me. so i'm thinking i'll just leave things alone and wait the two months till she gets the tat to comment after i find out where it is with everyone else. but i can't wait two months! that's torture! i need to know where it's gonna be now! this is killing me! indecision is a slow death by a thousand cuts.

Kenyatta: 1461 hours to be precise. you don't always have to comment on every little thing, silence is golden, for a while. this is very compulsive behavior you're demonstrating. women aren't your playthings, this isn't the 1400s, they're not your dogs to command. i hate what the internet has become. it's consuming you. it's more about likes and not about lives. the media infiltrates the lives of celebrities, their sons and daughters, creates their sons and daughters, then laments when the children fall, they wonder what happened, they feign ignorance. if they had just left them alone. leave Britney alone. fame is a slow death, fast sudden instant shocking death sometimes. instadeath by insta. the world's troubles are troubling and impossible to fix.