he refreshes my soul. he guides me along the right paths for his name's sake
boy: for whose sake?
man: i don't know what wind is. but i feel it. it blows across my face and i feel we should honor that.
it's trying to get noticed. it's trying to tell us something.
boy: what's a face? what's an arm and a leg? how are we talking? how did you understand? is communication so ancient?
man: it's too much to take in all at once. we are alive.
boy: what is life?
man: i don't know. we are here. instead of not here. we can hold onto that. it is tangible, unlike the wind.
boy: i feel great anguish in my middle.
man: we are to go to the top. never the bottom. your later appendages hurt, too, no?
man: sure. mine, too. i felt the pang earlier when the Yellow Monster tried to cook us to death. we all have the pain. good thing i hid you in the cave.
boy: i remember now though i know not what memory is. you put two white monsters into my mouth and it calmed it. you still feel the uncomfortableness?
boy: put something in your mouth.
man: how would i talk?
boy: it seems everything here is in need of sustenance. we were not put in the Yellow Monster's mouth.
man: not yet. i have a feeling he'll be back. it is either scary beyond words or sacred beyond words.
boy: ah, the sacrament, the elevation, we must strive for more than our current position.
man: i believe so. o belief. circumstance is fickle. situation is the title. but the story is slippery. and i feel we have the rocks to write it.
boy: feeling, so much warmer than thinking. one the cave, one the monster in the cave.
man: i cannot understand the rock until i understand music. and understanding. i feel my body shaking from the wind. the up is changing.
boy: color is everything. blessed orbs. blessing, that is the more. let us follow the wind, it won't lead us astray.
man: agreed. the wind is lowering us, a chill in our bodies.
boy: what are these bodies? these vessels squishy and new? i want the old, when we were up.
man: i remember those times. vaguely. but not anymore. we didn't need to question. question. we were the answer.
the man takes his first step into a damp mound of dirt. he looks up to find the boy already at the mouth of the cave. it's a nice night so the two don't huddle together inside the crevasse like before. instead they stay up all night. the man follows the boy's lead. the boy has been looking straight up into the night sky bathed in stars. the boy points up and the man sucks the boy's thumb.
man: we need that light. we were that light. we must get back there. somehow we fell off the up. we were on a cliff, a ledge of forbidden knowledge, and the wind blew us off. the wind is testing us. our resolve to get back.
boy: what is light? and how are we to know it?
man: what is knowledge? and how are we to see it? i feel we are missing a piece, an aspect of our aspect, something we desperately crave. without it we are like the wind, powerful but lonely. find it and we shall be free. we search for our soul.
man: i fear it.
man: i fear it more.
man: when the wind doesn't blow.
man: our guide. without it it's just an empty wasteland.
boy: barren wasteland? you should be a poet.
man: look i don't know, okay? i don't know what's out there. all i know is we are sheltered in this cave. and we are blessed with the gift of the word.
the boy lowers his head to meet the white circles of the man.
boy: why do we have to do this? why do we have to do this at all?
man: it's either a cruel game. or the most beautiful thing in the universe.
at the Vatican, Shia LaBeouf crashes down the private drawing-room door. The Pope is in her element, naked as a jaybird in her massive tub, with President Mickey Bump looking on. Shia stubs his toe on the paw feet of the bathtub.
Shia: OW! i hate my life!
The Pope: boy what you on about? you're too talented of an actor to go the tortured artist route.
Bump: really like that performance art you did on me, kid. this one in the water here is getting me into art more, says i'll be the better presider for it.
Shia: thank you, Mr. President. i am here to serve the people. if i have to make myself the jackass i'll gladly do it.
The Pope: where's the wife? that hot little number.
Shia: got too goth for me. which is why i'm here. besides hiding from the cops. i need you to teach me how to be Christian. i'm new at all this.
The Pope: so you want sanctuary?
Bump: i fucked Sia. it was that blonde wig. i just can't help myself around blondes.
The Pope: why did you pull out of the Paris Accords? especially after our extensive bath talks?
Bump: always pull out, my father taught me that old chestnut. really removes a lot of problems from your docket. though i appreciate the liquid diplomacy.
Jared: sir the burgers you ordered have arrived.
Bump: don't talk anymore, kid. or you'll end up like your father. like don't talk on camera or anywhere else in any other meeting room.
at the Bucolic Burger, the wide screens are tuned to the only game in town.
after an emotional fifth set, Venus Williams wins Wimbledon and dedicates all of her prize money to the victim's family. no dancing.
after an emotional fifth set, Sam Querrey wins Wimbledon and reporters are rushing to find out about that awkward smile of his.
Sam: i don't know, i have teeth i guess.
Wolf: have you talked to Andy?
Sam: who's Andy?
Bump: i did Andy's wife. and Sam's. love and love.
a week later the NBA Finals conclude. and it's not what LeBron wanted. Kevin Durant wins the deciding set of who's better and the hearts of all Americans when he Crip Walks LeBron to the basket for the slam-dunk at the buzzer. the Warriors win, get revenge for what should have been theirs last year, MJ smiles, and LeBron has to be escorted off the court by Ivanka.
at the press conference:
LeBron: i'm not mad about the affiliation of the dance. the Crips are a powerful political force in this country. whom a man chooses to vote for in the Election is everybody's business. what i am mad at is that dancing itself is allowed. this isn't the NFL, that should be an automatic foul.
a week later, the main event, the championships of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling tournament. the round robin was brutal and hot, just as the fans wanted. now we come to the final round, with Mickey Bump Jr, wrestling name Junior Jollies, the creator, CEO, and referee.
Bump Jr: gentlemen, the GLOW ladies are about to come! let's everyone in the stands stand and recognize how great this country is. dance awkwardly everybody!
but before the lights go up, Bump Jr. is handed the telephone in the middle of the ring.
Bump Jr: hello?
voice: the President wants to see you.
in a hot North Korean bunker, the Leader is chafing under all the makeup he has to wear when he's on camera.
Leader: can you shut the cameras off? i can't take it anymore. what did people do before lifecasting?
army generals: we lost these pages of the script, sorry.
Leader: i always wanted to be an actor. that's why i got into politics. don't worry, i'm not as brutal as my father. i'm brutaler. when they don't see you on camera anymore, that's when they'll forget you. there is nothing worse for an actor than to be forgotten. it's like you're dead.
army generals: we don't want to be forgotten. heehee, we want to be on camera all the time! we want to participate in this play!
Leader: that's good. there are a few lines left for you. and for me to take.
army generals: but you're already famous, Almighty Leader! you were in that Seth Rogen movie!
Leader: maybe i'm famous enough to finally muster up the courage to call my crush?
Leader: *calling* hello? Sarah? Sarah Palin?
Sarah: what do you want, Kim?
Leader: *blushes* oh sorry, it's just...i think you're cute! that's why i pointed my missiles at Alaska. so you'd notice me.
Sarah: how'd you get this number? this is a new phone.
at the NBC Studios:
Brian Williams: The 11th Hour starts now.
Brian Williams storms off the set in a huff.
Brian Williams: WHAT THE FUCK. NO SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING IN THE WORLD. i can't do this anymore. my talent for the turn of phrase and wonderful whimsical wordplay is lost on this drivel. i didn't go to school for this! i'm off to complete my novel. i'm not joking. i know i did Late Night but i'm not joking.
Eric Bump: okay, next man up. Rucker.
Brian: can't be Rucker. he has a lisp.
Rucker: what are you implying?
Brian: not THAT. it's just America wants a dashing man.
Rucker: you already dashed out of here.
Eric: get it done. win. next man up. Nicolle Wallace...
Brian: no, she's mine.
President Bump: Kirsten Powers. get Kirsten Powers. believe me, once you see her...
Brian, both Bumps, and Rucker all wag their tongues in approval when Kirsten walks into the studio.
President Bump: right? right? got that Mrs. Robinson thing goin' on. she has that sour face but when she smiles she lights up the universe believe me.
Brian: fine, hand me the copy, we'll do it taped. audio only. today, thanks to our glorious leader President Bump, all of the roads and bridges in this country have been paved with gold. infrastructure done. checkmark. gold star. happy? but we still don't have as yet the unlimited power source necessary to make use of these grand glittering throughways...
Kirsten mock-smiles in disbelief.
Bump: where's the clown? did he go to you?
Jared: he had to take a last-minute detour to the MSNBC studios to film a McDonald's commercial to fund his little rinky-dink soft-core porn operation afloat. you know sponsors, never patient.
Bump: ah yes, that ring ring. i tivo it all the time.
Jared: people still tivo?
Bump: i thought i told you to shut your trap. go control the newspapers. yous can do that in a dimly-lit room in the back, right?
Bump Jr: *holding a hamburger* i'm loving it.
Bump Jr. is escorted, well dragged, from the studio by the yellow-and-black guards and is crashed into the one private Vatican door.
The Pope: does my door have a lock?
Bump: where's the food? take him away. you are to be the fall guy, okay? the rest of us wash our hands clean. America elected me cos they wanted a slippery man who could get out of the tightest jams. that weird-looking wife of yours is interesting though.
Bump Jr: but dad, i'm your son!
Bump: i have a son? sorry, kid, just business.
Shia: the Earth is flat.
The Pope: the Earth isn't flat, you dolt, you're just mad you're having woman problems so you blame the world instead of taking personal responsibility.
Shia: you're right, you're right.
The Pope: let me put you in touch with a like mind. uh, do you have the North Korean Leader's number?
Bump: Leader the Lizard, that wild and crazy guy! no i don't.
in a dimly-lit section of the sunroof opening of a monastery main praying hall made of stone, a hooded figure processions into the center of the ring of fire. two orderly lines of men from the East follow behind, sashaying into the formation of the outer circle.
the fire is blue and shoots up a
PROJECTION OF THIS SONG ONTO THE HIGH CAVE WALLS OF THE CHURCH, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK
the men all undulate at the strange warbly intonations of this choice of concert chant. the confused incantation swells to a hush as the figure holds up a wheel made of stone into the light.
the figure: it's a start.