Monday, March 25, 2019


you all know the story of Doonesbury by now, right? it was all inspired by my dad. had to be. Garry Trudeau and my dad were in the same year at Princeton. imagine if they had been roommates! we'd be talking turkey and looking at a Facebook situation here. none of this would have happened if my dad hadn't made an impression on the man sometime during school. or perhaps afterschool. i'm picturing, i'm conjuring up some fateful vignette where Garry and my dad's eyes lock and meet across the '50s Russian sci-fi hallway of the clear-orange-glass ocular tile of the university caf one night. i mean look at the 4th picture, the one of this character here with the sandy brown hair, glasses, and light-vine-color vest. the character's name is Mike Doonesbury, that's EXACTLY ALMOST my father's exact name! he looks EXACTLY like my dad! we made it, dad, we made the big time!!!

1. when you have experienced sexual difficulty, how have you overcome it? taken a pill. sometimes red pill, sometimes blue pill. when it was red i wanted it to be blue. when it was blue i wanted it to be red. sometimes i cheated and took the blue pill in the red world cos my balls were feeling extra scratchy and i wanted to love. never had a problem again, got married four times. to the same person. Keanu assured me when we were surfing together that any world i choose is fine but be mindful not to touch any pink clouds...

2. how do you like to reconnect with your significant other? DNA test on Maury.

3. "it isn't what you do, it's the way that you do it." how do you like to be done? on a spitroast. looking over and seeing Yoda and Obi-Wan and Carrie Fisher in gauzy blue hologram gas projections clapping at me for trying a new maneuver.

4. if you are married, were you ready for marriage? this is a trick question, nobody is ready for marriage. except one couple: Sid and Cassie from Skins. i have never been married but want desperately to be. i don't want to get divorced, i want us to work it out even if we have to become psychiatrists to do it. we'll study together and get our joint PhDs and supplementary degrees in sports medicine and be roommates at Princeton.

5. if you are not married, are you ready for it? what makes you say that? yes, definitely. i will encounter no problems whatsoever, i am prepared for all possible scenarios. not a rocky road at all along our path save for ice cream which tends to make roads slippery. love will conquer any minor squabbles we have. i know we will make it and be successful because i am crazy...…...but everyone in this world is crazy...

BONUS: "it's complicated". in what way does this describe your current (or most recent) relationship?

well, it's been a long time coming, but it seems we're gonna get regulated by the government after all. we knew we couldn't escape this way forever, there are only so many free lunches a company can pay for its insanely-smart-and-cunning employees. hello, my name is Mark Zuckerberg. have you met my robot boss? the only interviews i do now are online reddits...


Friday, March 22, 2019



* which one of the three should i do? ah, do 'em all. you know the older i get, the more fascinated i become with commercials

* you know there's a deli shoppe somewhere out there that's called the Hold The Mayo Clinic. serves comics with your cucumber sandwiches, sliced triangularly on unleavened dough with a cherry on top

* brunette woman who will wear hat: why do i have to clean up after the rager? i didn't even get to sample any of the pizza you swatted ordered.
blonde woman: why do they make chips so goddamn spicy? i like dill-flavored, i ike chile, but why must it start a fire in your mouth? that kind of atrocious hot is simply obnoxious. i've been sad days ever since i found out my fam was sick. haven't gotten out of couch.
woman in hat: yeah, that fam is me. and no matter how long you stare at that painting, it's not gonna turn into Jesus.

* blonde: here's your lucky hat. wear it and never take it off so men won't know what color your hair is and prejudge you.
woman in hat: this lucky hat got me sick.

* couch potato: what'd i miss?
blonde: shut up, mom, you don't pay rent. we're just two fams hugging, that's all.
woman in hat: thank you. the only person who hugs me now is my doctor.
blonde: why you cryin'? listening to Aerosmith or something?
woman in hat: no i'm crying cos you owe me 300 bucks for that ball you wanted to try and i know i'm never getting that back.

* couch potato: what's with the lens flare? is JJ directing this?
woman in hat: it's this thing called the sun that's doing that. you wouldn't know about that cos you've never gone outside.
couch potato: YOU'VE GOT THIS!!!......can i watch porn and 7-Eleven commercials on your tv while you're away?

* blonde: why you screamin'? is it a exultation of triumph that you're gonna conquer this?
woman in hat: no i'm just in a lot of pain. what does the Mayo Clinic treat anyway?
blonde: we're trying to determine how it is that you're my daughter. i mean i got blonde hair.
woman in hat: hey, don't truck away leaving me here alone with no papers, that's dangerous in these times.
blonde: you'll find your way in this new world, you'll see. it's one of those offices up there in that skyscraper building. you got the key, right?
woman in hat: i only have the key to the executive washroom.

* husband: catch any fish with your big feet?
wife: time for me to leave.

* husband: i'm sick.
wife: well i'm sick of you so let's go.
husband: just forcing my beehive into the back of this TransAm and we're off. whoa! i saw the sliding doors and thought we were at Mayo already, what train station has sliding grocery-store doors?

* husband: why are we taking the train? isn't it longer?
wife: i'm having myself the honeymoon you were too cheap to afford me on our wedding night. don't worry, the train is all run with AI it's 100% safe.

* wife: what are you reading?
husband: my ipad. what's a five-letter-word for science?
wife: WHIZZ. how's your McDonalds Sausage and Egg McMuffin?
husband: i can feel it clogging my arteries as i eat it. why doesn't McDonalds have all-day breakfast already? i had to jump this train onto another train to make it in time. how's your McCafe coffee?
wife: it tastes like coffee.
husband: ahhhhh, my leg is dead, i can't move it! i gotta get up out of my seat and jump around.
wife: nah, you just gotta take a whizz.

* husband: i can't believe the conductor didn't look at our tickets!
wife: we're black, honey, we're the invisibles of society.

* wife: i keep our wedding photograph in a locket on a necklace that touches my chest and heart.
cabdriver: can i see? i mean the locket, not your chest. hey, have you seen Michael Cohen? he owes me 300 bucks or one Olympic gold medal on the black market.

* wife: you feel better, dear?
husband: yes, thank you for holding my hand and calming me. i am so nervous. well, goodbye, love.
wife: wait, why are YOU dropping ME off? i'm not the one who's sick!

son: dad, come on. it's just the two of us, i'm not embarrassed of you but we are going to the Mayo clinic, this is a somber occasion, not a cause for celebration.

* son: are you the ocean?
father: i'm the sea.
son: do you SEA my middle finger, dad? are you edible?
father: the only thing i ever ate was your mother's underwear.
son: gross.
father: they weren't edible underwear btw. your mother always smells like peaches that have been on the sill too long.

* father: son, see all those rays of sun filtering down through the clouds like light touches of light spears? that proves God exists.
son: or it means God is trying to kill us with light spears.

* father: oh, you're a cute hotelier!
counter clerk: sir, not all red neon lights mean the same thing. why you boys out so late? causing generalized mischief and raising hell?
son: please, ma'am, don't mention Hell around me, i'm dying...
counter clerk: okay, you guys can do whatever you want here EXCEPT play late-night basketball.

* son at bathroom mirror: dad, i'm scared. i can't sleep. i'm sweating profusely through my facial pores.
father: do you see Bloody Mary in the mirror?
son: no.
father: okay, that's a good sign at least. don't down that half-opened NyQuil bottle by the bible in the drawer all at once. want me to read you a bedtime story?
son: the one about the giraffe?
father: no the one about the hippo.

* son: dad, i appreciate you playing b-ball with me at 3AM pitch-black on a spooky haunted court like this, but why did you have to cheat? this will likely be out last sport together.
father: hey if you die, you die, you know, son? sorry, in all the fun and confusion i forgot how to spell H-O-R-S-E.

* son: you sure it's okay to be drinking these beers then joyriding?
father: yeah, we'll just drive that speedboat in the grass there a few crop-circles, it's our last trip together.

 father: what was that for? i liked it.
son: see my plaid shirt? i was gonna be Kurt Cobain in the off-off-Broadway play Courtney's Song. i wanted to be an actor, dad, now that dream is dashed. i feel down. there's a general malaise in the air, can you feel it, dad? a wave of overpowering disappointment overtaking human consciousness.
father: hey son, don't put your unsocked feet in the water here, see all those electrical poles in the water? that's the price for clean green water energy: electrocution of flesh.

* father: *slaps his son's back softly* got your backpack with you, son? you're gonna be here a VERY LONG time.


happy weekend, my babies. The Mueller Report dropped on my birthday, what are the chances? that's popcorn-psychedelic.

Wednesday, March 20, 2019


Laertus clears his bobbing throat and attempts to stand up to the class. by standing himself up by his knuckle on the wood corner of his steel desk to address the large assembly of class all staring at him through their peeper eyes. it's dark but not so dark that he can't see their mealing faces. he can smell their breaths. it's been two years but he still can't break the habit of sitting in the way back of the auditorium.

class: hey! why do you always sit in the way back of the auditorium!? we all have to crane our necks to listen to you! that's not far, it hurts!

Laertus: but this is the first time i've spoken. like this with any conviction. i'm still nervous, i still get nervous public-speaking large crowded classrooms. cos i've never done it. and speaking in general. that's why i'm online. all the time. that's the point of all this. no online. but i'm gonna power through, i'm gonna drink my own flopsweat. this is too important to pass up like a four-point shot. college is not about honing one's identity---about becoming an individualism organism---it's about joining things, joining groups and weird clubs and heavily-slanted questionable political cabals, to see where you won't go. being a part of something bigger, a voice for the larger cause. that's what i plan to do as speaker here today, young folk, and old folk trying college for the first time, godspeed, hope you get wet. i'm but one man, well man-boy, but i represent a big contingent of humans, in fact i represent ALL humans!!!

class *turning their watches over to stare. at their watches. well, their large ipads rather* we're waiting...get on with it...

Laertus: i'm not a speech, i mean speaker. i am a man, manboy. folks, citizens, whatever, you must heed me. i am the messenger with goat legs. don't shoot me! i bring urgent news! we are dying. we are dying as a race. as a people. it's not a one-term four years of separation, this has been going on for centuries, it's just that the gatekeeper has never been known before to fit the key up his ass. after he locked us all OUT. if we don't come together soon humanity will perish the way the Earth will perish in ten years. we've got to start talking to each other again, face-to-face, not online, the internet has destroyed society and culture. hasn't helped at all, given us the illusion of interconnectedness while driving us so apart we don't know the damage we're causing everytime we elect to type rather than talk. follow the lead of the deaf and blind, they understand what true communication is, a healthy exchange of ideas not laced with vitriol, fossil-fuel gas to power your old hunks of carpiles, of not prejudging people.

Larry is losing the audience. they are beginning to REALLY stare at their ipad clocks.

the Professor in the front of the room is but a black speck to Laertus. he goes by Title because he's earned that right, he's one of those folk who seems to have been at the venerable institution forever but actually only applied off a damp index card last week. seniority is not a measurable thing anymore. he has always been known to brood, that is a requirement, he learned how to brood by watching the chickens in his backyard and through CliffsNotes. with his black skivvies and black madras shorts made electronically in an Indian cyberpunk factory and black ankle socks and black untied boots with the soles cut out. he wants to trip over himself but he never seems to. even when he's lecturing. he holds his book in front of his face so the class has never gotten a good look at him. plus he has insanely long black hair which he shampoos with stringy soapropes. he's a skinny man who wears ill-formfitting black T shirt series yet somehow strangely always incorporates weird shoulderpads into his shoulderwear. the one distinguishing characteristic Laertus will never get out of his nostril was when Larry had to walk the one mile to the front of teach's desk to drop off a pop quiz. Laertus took a large whiff when Prof wasn't looking or smelling and came away with the distinct smell of Big Computer.

Laertus: are you?, couldn't be...*and Laertus walked on without speaking*

Prof: young man, you in the back there, speak up or forever hold your war so the whole class can pick apart your spelling when they blog about this later.

the prof's hands wave magically on top of the lit ceiling from the glare of the glowing projector-screen on the stage. Professor Title sounds like if Snape were played by Rowan Atkinson. one time he let his hair down, to show his face, but his hair had formed two black circles around his eyes for a pair of indoor shades. his mouth looked like it had been eating corn-on-the-cob since childhood.

the Prof always had an interesting lecture to say, each day, that's why Laertus stayed.

this week Prof was contemplating the NCAA College Basketball Tournament Brackets. how so many people eagerly filled out these brackets such that their pencils whittled down to nubs the size of their respective peanut penises and peanut vulvas. and yet this was the perfect time to do away with the Electoral College. instead of deciding ONE person to President-vote, why not put all EIGHT of your choices into brackets on your ballot so as to say "okay, if my FIRST CHOICE doesn't win, give me my second-place guy. or girl."

Laertus: look, i know all of you are itching to get back to Fulldive Fantasy---i will be, too, after this---but do this one thing in the real world. i mean this is getting ridiculous. i'm scared to live, i'm afraid to be me! i am terrified everytime i log onto YouTube and see all those 1000s of comments under a video of a VW car commercial featuring two WW empowered loving lesbians---one black, one generally-unvisibly-asian ethnic---leaving their hapless white video-game-playing doofus boyfriend in an empty cleared-out-save-for-the-brown-boxes apartment they used to share together to begin their new adventure as free women finally. remember, cuckold comes from the root word cock. the boyfriend looks like PewDiePie if PDP shaved. or the one featuring all wheelchair-bound actresses racing. or the Pakistani Muslim man and the Kansas Christian whitebread woman in an apron having 20 babies all going to Lowe's. the comments stare at me, beckon me to enter their blackhole vortex of hate speech and attacks on weak-wristed SJWs and correct speech correctified and cancel culture and femme-zation not done the right third way. i share that weak wrist, my finger shakes, but i have to push the button cos i can't resist, i'm too curious to see what they have to say, i read them and instantly regret reading them. and then i feel bad the rest of the day. wherever there's another othering, another fly inside me dies.

Laertus slumbers slowly with an affected gimp-leg over to the new coffeeshop across from where he usually meets his soul mate---for better or worse---for coffee after class in place of a rushed lunch. Dirg is there by the window seat cracking open a fizzy can of Bang soda. Star Blast flavor.

Dirg: whoa! i'd wave but i was busy, you almost got run over crossing the street! something on your mind? how'd it go? this actually isn't a new klatch on campus, it's just our usual haunt is undergoing new construction, and new management, manager guy was a freak. should only take all semester to complete. move from The Magical Fruit to The Human Bean. coffee is coffee, tastes the same, all coffee tastes like coffee. hey, guess what color my Bang soda will be. i'll put it into my copper cup that was once used for a mule drink. i call it my Drawing Cup, but if you put your wrong lips to it it's your Writing Cup. working on a new script?

Laertus: are you working on a new webcomic? design is key. moreso than story for a four-panel weekly.

Dirg: you said penal. oh i always have some doodlesnacks up my asshole at any given moment.

Paris Jackson slops herself into the Red Circle Table pretzel-chair from exhaustion.

Paris: i don't know if i'm black enough to sit here, but i REALLY need someone to talk to. i feel isolated from everyone in the universe, especially my family, and my extended family, and they are the only ones who could POSSIBLY understand what i'm going through. can i go and leave my bros? for a wrist tattoo? and this is the exact moment that Marilyn Manson decides to start recording that long-awaited new album in ten years. wretched timing!!!

Dirg: sure, toots. if you'll let me get lost in your ocean eyes.

Laertus: busy? well, judging from the can, it's red, white, and blue, your three favorite colors. it's either gonna be blueberry, poisonberry, or, like, clear flavor.

Dirg pours.

Laertus: aww, it's white, that's disappointing. Captain America? yeah right, no such thing anymore. Superman, your after-death favorite. what manner of musclebuilding toxin chemicals are in this? Super-Creatine? what, Regular Creatine wasn't enough? you know that kryptonite creatine stuff stunts creativity and will make the muscles in your eyes shrink. hey Taka! how's your mom?

Takahashi: too soon, it's been a year. anyway i'm trying to get my drone-racing league started up. on campus it's a bitch. to get all the papers. but it's my dream. gonna be doing two very important interviews. and one from the grave. to secure funds and get this paper. i need that one glowing Illuminati brick-pyramid triangle to be the first hole for the drones to fly through or it's just not real to me, you know?

Laertus: allow me to orate my PhD dissertation on how so-called "eSports" aren't a thing. esports aren't real sports. playing video-games is not like playing tennis. is hammering a nail a sport? i hope i've hammered that nail into your sacred palms.

Taka: mama didn't raise no fool. i go where the money follows. i investigate. i'm the most levelheaded gamer you'll ever meet. get it? level.

Paris: but i've already met you. and you came across. hey were you the one who was in my Instagram DMs all night last night?

Dirg: but hammering Chris Evert IS a sport. i mean online on twitter. Jeopardy All Stars was a sport, it was the greatest sport ever invented. this year. i mean this thing had a fantasy league. a fucking Fantasy League!

Laertus: please, this really is too soon...i can't even think about Alex Trebek wthout my one tear turning to two ...i'd pray for him if i thought it'd help...i'd willingly cede my heart for his so he could be healthy again. the heart can replace any organ, the pancreas and especially the brain. this is multiple-stage levels of depressing, not just your standard testtaking depression. i mean how do you go on playing a silly little pub quiz game which has shaped the leading minds of the world and led to game-changing inventions and growing intellectualism? do you still taste the salt of the pretzel or is all the salt you feel inside you now? i mean how do you live like this? when you're not able to fall asleep on your bed and wake up the next day and push the RESET button.

the university is undergoing an evaluation and reevaluation of applicants. a reeval. a cleansing, a purge if you will, but a Good Purge. unfortunately---and the Regents have all concluded this---all of the cheaters are, like, already seniors, so there's no point. the Bach class was slashed for budget cuts but that was it. Professor Title is helping out the administration with this, mostly it's easy cos Obec College doesn't really have any real sports---mostly video-game sports but that's it---so those are easy to weed out. and as for Photoshop, the Prof has a photographic memory when it comes to photoshop, he's seen EVERY SINGLE picture that has ever existed, seen the original of every picture, so there's no fooling him. copy at your own peril.

President Bump: this is why i won. elitism has become too elite. hey, cancel SNL, it's cold garbage! *waving around his remote control menacingly*

Pence: *glancing at the tv* that's a repeat episode of SNL, sir, the episode you hosted.

Steve King: i'm King, it's in the name, so i can say anything and it goes. when the Holy War begins, some on the Right and some on the Left will be felled by bullets, that's just how bullets go. and if all else fails, and the indiscriminate gods don't get me, i drew these two lovely red and blue big mecha robots on twitter that i'll get into and move to Japan to draw anime.

Dirg: i would have given Ilhan Omar more credit if she had just come out and said America was a stupid country, you know she wanted to. see, you're not allowed to REALLY say what you feel and think.

Bump: i mean hey. i was a bad test-taker, too, doesn't mean i'm not smart. i'm crazy smart. i don't care about college as you all know. just parties, if i ever got invited to one. i'm a hard-partying lampshade. ask me, don't ask Curly from The Three Stooges with hair. like anybody who grew up in my generation, i turned to Uncle Jessy for help out with my homework. but then this talk of proctors and i'm like nobody's gonna touch my ass. to the two young hot daughters, my message to you is clear:

Row Row Row Your Boat Gently Down The Stream...

i'll post the lyrics on twitter.

Laertus: it's always the wholesome ones. but don't pile on the two innocent children, sins don't bleed down. you know you'd be on that boat, too, if you could. the real tragedy of all this is that i'm never gonna find out who stole the bakery bread, i was VERY invested in the Hallmark movie mystery which spanned four films.

Laertus: *calling from the coiled coffeeshop phone in the back* so who won? Pew or T Series?

Taka: T Series

Laertus: thank you. i don't know what that is. and why this is so important. why does the Wikipedia article on this have, like, 30 edits?

Takahashi: don't fuck with Bollywood, you'll lose every time! Bollywood doesn't have the luxury to be racist after getting famous.

Dirg: so are we going or what?

Laertus: yep, just let me get my things. i sent out a group email, a deliberate good group email i wanted to send purposely, to let everyone know where we'd be meeting.

Laertus: *in circles* huh. i thought the next block would be sunny. wasn't it a sunny day? next to the real estate? i seem to have forgotten the exact location point, is this the place?

Laertus looks around to see a sea of green. grass and trees and fallen bloodied spears without their diamond casing. brown trunks cut awkwardly on a slant dot the landscape. he's lost his bearings in the twirl.

Laertus: this reality...or the video game? i can't tell anymore. oh, i'm so glad i bumped in to you ladies.

the crones are busily arranging pink and blue petals over and under a well dressing they're performing in the middle of the meadow. it's hard work and Doryce is starting to complain.

Doryce: ugh, my back! how many fucking flowers are there!? i feel we've been here all day. or, like, three days.

Gladyce: it's alright, dear, we're almost done, we'll rest at the tavern haybeds soon. the one with the wooden sign like a flag creaking in the wind.

Doryce: i'm so thirsty i could drink a horse!

Doryce looks down below, and with her divining rod, but there's no water in the well.

Doryce: well what's the point then! this is where we go to get water! who cares if the well is pretty!? quick, fill the hole with iced-tea powder until it latches onto some trace water molecules and we start to see a little wave action down there.

Maria: *softly* no, please, stop, i'm with child! thank you for making my vag dazzle. and yes, it's his.

the well was actually giant Titan Maria LaRosa.

Maria: my water broke. sorry.

Doryce: no need to apologize, love, i am all for it. racemixing and cross-breeding is the wave of the future, we won't survive as a species without it, everyone knows that.

a creature emerges from the bush.

creature: *with a soft-tone smooth honey voice* oh hello. should i be here? i feel that this isn't my time. my timing's off.

Laertus is instantly struck.

Laertus: *shooketh* well...hello...hello...gorgeous.

Doryce: dibs.

the creature turns around. it is a combination of three elements: it is an animal consisting of the lower body of a centaur with two hind legs and the upperbody torso of a naked-hairless-chest cleanshaven Orlando Bloom with one ear longer than the other that his long purple hair can't cover. overall this specimen looks like as if imagine Yoshi the dinosaur with the Gene Simmons tongue were a human male.

Pence: do you like to play Legos? you are a lass, right?

Madame Pons is shaken by this sight as well. she stirs inside herself with her inner wand, a protective shield comes over the area and gently on top of the creature blocking the sun's still-there rays despite the grey sky. she is looking only at the bottom half of the bodacious beast, and from that moment on she plucks and eats the grass surrounding her till she times out.

Eye Luggage: *anime eyes* wow, amazing. i am LOVING that long staff you got by your elbow there, man.

creature: oh, my hoe you mean? i use it to garden. these fields. these fields i till till i'm satisfied. i need to eat. i'm alive.

Eye: yeah, that is one hot hoe. but i'm wondering the humping situation here you know? i mean how does Katy Perry go doggystyle on a horse? or 69? what happens when her huge tits align with your horse buttocks in the back and your back legs kick up and knock her head unconscious? or is she into that?

Laertus: …………………….uh, i hate Instagram.

creature: *laughs horsely* me, too. go back to chronological, i mean who decides which posts are important? i mean how are you supposed to tell your followers what day your birthday is? you have to come out and say it in a post: HELLO! IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! that's so awkward, that's not how it works in real life, your real friends just know. *laughs* this fits into my broader theory. i am supposed to only reveal myself to you on my birthday, one day a year for just a short amount of time, i'm a rare creature not meant to be photographed or known. but i forgot when that was. i'm supposed to immediately jump out of a bush then scamper away. to the frustration of hunters everywhere. *laughs hoarsely*

Laertus: *eyes open and wide and deep breath* o you clever boy! what to do? i feel i've been wandering for a long time...

creature: i suppose you could write your birthday date on your profile so everyone sees it. so it remains unspoken and instinctual like it should be. let's continue this conversation by the bush, let's continue talking about the pitfalls of being online.

Laertus: *smiling while staring* follow you. i mean, lead the way.

Laertus has lost all track of time...

Monday, March 18, 2019


1. what qualities do you like or dislike about yourself? i like that i read...but i dislike that i read damp supermarket tabloids. it's just it's always next to the cube gum with the crystals so i get sucked in. i only get out of my room and forage for food once every two weeks, it's an event. this is TMIT, not TMZ, i gotta be the best version of myself.

2. if you had the chance to rename yourself, would you? if yes, what would be your new name?

Bogie. after my parakeet Bacall rest his soul. those two stars had the best partnership, they were King and Queen of their Royal Court in the '40s. in a time way back when when celluloid was pure magic. see that pic up there? that is the only known picture of Humphrey Bogart smiling. they had a Golden Whistle between them as you can see in the above pic, not the Golden Whistle of Drea Blackwell of KSBW, i miss Drea, wish she would return to instagram. Bogie & Bacall were a team, of lovers and trendsetters, they both could pull off skinny ties. it's weird cos in To Have And Have Not Bogie calls her Slim but HE'S the one who's unusually skinny in the picture. did she call him Hump in bed? i want a love where it's destiny and film magic and stardust and we don't have to say a word to each other, we don't even have to kiss, we simply blow whistles in each other's faces.

3. tell us one thing you wished had not happened in your life. what's the deal with the poop? you feel me? i had to go No. 2 JUST as Teen Titans Go waa starting this evening. i decided to hold it in cos, well, it's TTG. the episode ends on a song about poop. and then the commercial afterward is a board game where the object is to step in poop. not sure if that poop was plastic...

4. have you ever been in a secret relationship? why was it secret? yes, i'm in an ongoing clandestine relationship with Vicodin. problem is, it hurts my teeth. oh, and remind me, never take a Vanquish before you eat breakfast. my head is currently on fire, but if i hadn't take it this morning, my head would currently be on fire from having a splitting headache...

5. you must create a rumor about yourself. what is the rumor? Walt Disney created Spongebob right before he died. Patrick ate Spongebob…

BONUS: what would you do if you had 1 million U.S. dollars? immediately convert it to 111306000 yen and buy ALL the anime.

or give it all back to Wayne Brady in an effort to get Whose Line Is It Anyway? back on ABC. i did finally watch the pilot episode of Holby City, "Whose Heart Is It Anyway?". sure, it's British ER but it was good, British telly is always better than global tv. so good i had to look away, i'd be that way that patient was, too, the more i thought about death, i'd get all panicky and nervous and agitated and jumping and bargaining and loving and dramatic-soliloquy and regretful with my loved ones and soapy and hard to swallow.


Friday, March 15, 2019



* is it a duck or is it a rabbit? or is it a both? or is it a neither? no, it is Nordy the Nordstrom Mascot you never knew you knew.

* gauzy: that was the number-one word scribbled on the lined index cards to describe this longform commercial of everyone who participated at the focus group behind closed windows and see-through doors. Management was pleased with the test results, and gave each a Nordy plush at the end of it. interestingly everyone used just the lead part of the pencil, no wood.

* okay, i've officially switched allegiances from Macy's to Nordstrom. don't tell Cory.

* sorry, i wasn't listening to you, i was looking at you.

* okay i'm feeling sad now. i should be at an auduiton and not doing this...

* pro-tip: go to an acting class that takes place during the DAY. you'll encounter more interesting people...

* E.T.: i want to have a human experience...i actually hate chocolate but i played along...

* reading a book outside makes the book better-written. horses HATE having to take a bath just to make the cowboy look cool.

* teacher: who are you in this sculpture?
Michelangelo: i'm the block of granite. it's not a block of Ivory soap i checked and ate some of it. thank god my leader didn't do infrastructure first or i couldn't do my art.
Elliott: looking back, i should never have worn that red hoodie, really made me spotable to police.

* swim instructor: stay with the backstroke, liability and such.
swimmer: 23, 24...
swim instructor: so i don't know how to swim but i know how to teach.

* student: okay, if i roll snake-eyes, i'm going to USC...

* mother: is that a big fashion-bag purse you're taking to class?
daughter: it's a basketball, mom, a basketball on a strng. i'm a Varsity athlete.
mother: nothing to do with Varsity Blues i promise.
daughter: why do you always sign to me?
mother: cos i cry everytime i start to speak.

* here, in this class, passing notes is encouraged. necessary even to connect us all.

* dramaturg: i know these look like pews but this is a nondenominational acting class.
actors: hello, we are Name and we are an alcoholic.
dramaturg: yes, actors, same thing. coffee and donuts will be served in those pews after.

* that feather had an arrowtip on it!!!

* bro: why you nervous?
bowtie: if i don't get this audition, i have to live in this neighborhood with you forever. no offense.
bro: homeboys for life. literally.

* Grandma: don't steal my sunglasses, grandson! i wasn't sleeping!!! i don't sleep anymore! i need these sunglasses for inside the mansion you know that!

* Grandpa: shouldn't you be cutting grass, young sprout?
sprout: my sunglasses are cooler than yours, old man. because your generation didn't do anything about the environment and climate change, we can't make any more new cars and have to strut around on lawnmower cars. great for picking up awkward promposals tho.

* teacher: that's it, growl like a lion.
student: i'm growling ike a Hobbit.
teacher: oh no, i thought we had weeded all you guys out.
student: you will never stop the weed.
teacher: don't be a strident student. i'm a dramaturg, i went to Harvard. before there was photoshop. i never thought my destiny would be to prepare young people for cosplay cons.

* --can i borrow your red dress?
---can i borrow your red wine?

* i went to Kappa. not a fraternity, the Mario Turtle thing, where i learned to karate like a Power Ranger.

* never wear headphones on a bus, you miss interesting and wacky human conversations.

* the ballet step is only learned after pointing your toes down on public-bathroom tile.

* mirror? or clone?

* black punkette who reads graphic novels: is that a rodeo lariat or are you pervy like me?
cowboy: big fan of Wonder Woman, ma'am.

* pastor: i don't know what this means, but the atheist in our group had the best church-choir voice. most heavenly reverb carried in that honey voice.
drummer: it's still weird to have a drums set in a church choir. my idol was Anne Murray not John Bonham.


* theatre group: can we move now? can we move again? are we unstuck?
dramaturg: UNFUCK YOURSELF. that's always a good life hack.

* Louis Armstrong: i admit it, the fat Hawaiian dude with the ukulele's cover is better than my original.

* i'm that really old lady who only became famous in her 80s and can now wear pink feather boas down New York City streets and sashay without cracking my bones all fall apart. i wear sunglasses only inside mansions and i design Groucho-glasses for Great Danes. you don't know who i am, you never did all throughout my career, but you should. get to know me, i'm one of the eccentrics.

* dramaturg: YEAH! *clap* that was a great battle.
Hobbit: *puts PokeBall away in his back jeans pocket* hey, do you guys want to go see the Tolkien movie with me tonight?
troupe: is it a LOTR movie?
Hobbit: no, it's about the life of the writer himself, JRR.
troupe: nah.

* dramaturg: an open mind is the best look.
Pinhead: i tried that...
dramaturg: that's not what i meant, Pinhead!!!
Pinhead: mate...classmate...umbrella...i'm not acting here...

* drama teach: you blinked, your scholarship is rescinded.
acting-class student: but i'm 80 years old!!!


happy weekend, my babies. i returned my strawberry shake from Carl's Jr.'s cos it didn't make me shake.

Monday, March 11, 2019


1. what curse word do you use the most? AZARATH METRION ZINTHOS!!!

2. would you rather take a picture or be in a picture?

i want to take a picture of me that shows me when i was older. thanks, Mitch, we'll never forget you, you were the thinking man's comedian.

3.  has anyone ever called you lazy? no. i'm a prime candidate for it don't get me wrong, they would have but they were too lazy to call me that. they had their condemnation of me all ready in a long long-worded email that was ripe to be sent, but they fell asleep before they could push the send key button...

4. have you ever dated or slept with a neighbor? how did things turn out?

i'm not proud of this but yes. he was a cool bro i hung out with---not that hung---we went to baseball games together, even played on the same baseball team with, Minor League.

well his mom actually, i slept with his mom. she was anything but, she was major leagues. all the neighborhood wanted to sleep with her, she was very popular. the neighborly thing to do as you know is of course to knock on the vented door in the morning breakfast to exchange pies, it's a nice way to introduce yourself and keep things civil, especially if there are no fences, so a different war doesn't break out every week. keep sending those pies over for world peace. but after he found out, my friend sent me a pie with a suspicious hole indentation in it down the center.

i asked him once, why is your name Stifler? he said cos everyone who visited his mom got one, even the women. i asked him if he thought everyone was piling on and making fun of him, taunting him with that nickname. he shrugged it off superconfidently and chose to view it as a badge of honor. Stifler's mom was such a nice woman.

5. have you ever broken up with a significant other then "cheated" with that same person while they were in a relationship with someone else?

is that considered cheating, technically? or is that legal revenge? that's how people interact these days, that's how people meet. i remember my aunt who wore a headdress even inside the roof of her beige rainbow flaming unicorn hippie van she used to drive me around Yuma with, around every single cactus in the state. she called herself a polyamorous free spirit who didn't want to be tied down, but i was too young then to understand the bearing of that descriptor word free. also it turns out she actually DID like to be tied down. i miss her. while i was sleeping one night, she flew into the sky on her butter wings and became a Goddess...

BONUS: tell us something good.

well Apple is no longer in the business of making iphones, the next iphone will be the last. Apple has moved on to making it possible for we humans to communicate telepathically. involves an earbud that looks like an apple seed with the Apple logo on it microscopically put on with a soldering iron. Tim Apple designed the tech one day when he got fed up and frustrated playing hoops with Christian Laettner on his apple farm, Tim wanted a way in to finally understand what the U.S. and China were REALLY doing.


Friday, March 8, 2019



* Ebert would have liked this. Siskel not so much.

* Super Bowl whaaaa?...

* Keir Dullea: eyes so blue they had to invent a new kind of film to hold them. 420mm. unfortunately that also led to the beginnings of the genre of mumblecore.

* never mind the music, folks, The Ramones really didn't want their music used like this, they wanted to remain indie just playing small clubs in New York and Dubai.

* HAL: your eyes are a dull shade of blue.
Keir: i take care of them, two drops every night before my bowl of Fruity Lucky Charms. open the fucking pod-bay doors, HAL! i need to go pee!
HAL: what color is my eye, Keir?
Keir: do you want me to pee in your eye, HAL!!?

* George Lucas: can i use that outside-space shot for Star Wars?
Kubrick: which one?
George: the Space Baby one.
Kubrick: oh hell no! it's not my fault that you decided to blow up the Death Star thinking there would be no sequels!
George: fine. but give me back my charcoal pencil you stole from me!
Kubrick: i need it for the Monolith.

* foggy man: i have a picture of a tiger on my phone but i don't know how.
Zach Galifianakis: you were in that commercial with the loving dad and his daughter dressed in that tiger costume, remember?
foggy man: right right. i have a daughter?

* mother in car: what are your plans for the future?
daughter in car: i'm gonna go to city college then to jail.
mother: i am so proud of you, honey! that shows real work ethic! you're actually gonna leave the house!
daughter: and i'm gonna leave the car.
mother: what?
daughter: nothing. Uber or Lyft?
mother: none, both companies are full of perverts, it's safer with me driving.
mother: why'd you do that!!? were you trying to kill yourself!!?
daughter: no, it was to show you you were speeding, i'm worried about you, mom.
mom: thank you. i got this daughter who gives me stress…

* Drew Barrymore: i filmed this Scream scene in the two minutes i was married to Tom Green.
Tom Green: that was back when you were still cool.
Ghostface: what door am i at? and is that World Book Encyclopedia set from 1979?
Drew: patio door. the po-lice are on their way. see ya. you know this cream scratchy sweater i have on went for a million Banksy bucks at auction.
Ghostface: okay okay i'll leave, i'm backing away. just don't ring the Video Doorbell alarm, it's so embarrassing when you have to run away from a house in broad daylight like that cos it's too loud.
Tom: who are you, Ghostface?
Ghostface: your cancer.
Tom: i am NOT cancer.
Ghostface: i'm a famous rapper. what's your favorite scary movie?
Drew: The Emoji Movie.

* Tom Cruise: what's with your shirt? it should say LIFE MATTERS.
Cuba: not this again, you will never get it. show me the money. i represent Cuba.
Tom Cruise: Apple stocks are down ever since Tim Apple announced. but Dianetics stocks have remained at a steady 35% since the 1930s.
Bill Gates: *at conference* so i was walking down the street and the President and Steve Jobs come toward me and i'm, like, stay the fuck away from me!!!
*crowd laughs*

* Deadpool: Google, what's on my schedule today?
Google: you missed everything oversleeping. your favorite inside-robe got wet cos you forgot to go to the bathroom. your Civil War reenactment was at noon sharp and all your fake war buddies went out for beer and a pack of cigarettes afterwards and were never seen again.
Deadpool: they're at my house holed up in my bedroom. they're all deserters. not cos they went to Desert Storm. that is grounds for court-martial and impeachment. i called Nixon on your asses, he's coming with his police.
war buddies: we know we deserted you. we deserted our friendship. good, we'll wait right here, Nixon will give us all pardons.
Nixon: hello, we've got you surrounded. is this Slade's house?
Deadpool: damn it.

random Hitchcock Blonde driving: any motels near by? i need new windshield wipers.
Google: Bates Motel. it's complicated. it's a 0/5 but a 1/10. shall i book you?
blonde: is there a bath? i really want to take a bath.
Google: i'll give you the room...… long as you're not Elizabeth Warren.
landlord: yes?
blonde: Google gave me a room.
landlord: i know your secret. i know your secret. i know your secret.
blonde: you're really creepy. what do you mean?


happy weekend, my babies. me at Taco Bell this weekend:

me: so the fries are made from rattlesnakes?...…

Wednesday, March 6, 2019


there's a knock at the door of the House.

Puck: come on, Pedro, you're not fooling anyone. want me to dangle your restraining order in the face of the flappy glass door like a pardon?

Pedro: please, Puck, i want to make amends. i am a changed man. i have seen the light. even on this rainy day.

Puck wipes the tears from his eyes with his plaid sleeve.

Puck: it's my wedding day and i'm getting emotional. it's good luck when it rains on your wedding day, right? i never thought this day would come. most bike messengers don't see their 30th birthday.

Pedro: *smiling* just don't get any on the carpet.

Puck smiles and turns the knob.

Puck: don't be a knob no more. you've done a lot of stuff.

Pedro: i brought chips ansd salsa. cos everyone thinks i'm Mexican. where's the blushing bride? can i see her?

Puck: she's getting ready upstairs. it's bad luck to view the bride before the ceremony, Viewtiful Joe.

Pedro: i've already viewed Rachel as you put it. saw everything. i fucked her even though i'm gay. in her butt.

the ceremony is about to begin, and the crowd inside the House is intimate and small-gathering despite the large public interest in the event. Bunim calculates and estimates and finally determines that at one time during the two hours EVERYONE in the world with a tv watched at least a portion of it. the stair bannisters are festooned with pink bells and green holly. because of various death lawsuits there was no money for a proper church wedding or grand microphones or food so there's a small tray of stale cheese widgets and soggy Ritzs and coffee cube cake with icing like a paste brick and a box of day-old wine that tastes like vinegar that was taken out of the trunk of her ice-blue Subaru Forester parked by her apartment suffocated by streetlights.

Bunim: hey what can i say. vinegar is holy. it cleanses. extra virgin.

Rachel slowly and methodically parades down step by 12-inch-high-heel step, glowingly and gracefully like a human swan, her already-prettiness accented by rushed-red spraypaint on her cheeks and orchid garlic bulbs around her neck. her dress is dirty-white Courtney Love grunge chic with ripped tatters as coattails and a see-through aesthetic of clear glue. there wasn't time so her bouquet also acts as her headdress of flowers. despite all she is beaming and her smile reaches side to side the room. music provided by Mohammed who plays a kazoo.

the happy couple exchange wedding bands by poking each other in the bellybutton with them under their dresses. Puck sneezes on impact, letting loose a full-grown golden-nugget of a soggy mucusy snot-rocket for all time right into Rachel's unsuspecting mouth, the extra debris waters the hanging plants.

Puck: sorry i get nervous at weddings. shit, the wallpaper is peeling off all the walls which are soaked cos of me that's my fault sorry. that wasn't my vows, it's not Whitesnake i promise, i got better ones i wrote down, in my pocket, but my pockets are all wet so the paper has turned into a spit-rocket. fuck it, you know i love you, Rachel, poetry is a luxury, campaign in poetry, govern in prose. our marriage is not gonna end in divorce, not like my parents i think, i'll make sure of it.

Rachel: that is so romantic, honey! just making sure you're not a nuts-n-bolts robot, that you have a bellybutton down there not a red buttom.

they kiss in front of 100 billion people. China withheld its numbers.

the wedding bands are those bottle-rocket popup caps all the Congressmen wear these days.

President Bump: what are those golden pins all the Members in Congress wear now on their lapels? i want one. where is MINE?

Bush, the Father: i should ask the same thing, who's in charge here? they look like miniature portraits from the Haunted Mansion ride. hey, is there still a line to get into the Haunted Mansion like there is in my time?

Pedro: Puck, my new friend, after you get married, what say why don't you go back to Miami with me and live with me there?

Puck: um, no, i'm from San Francisco. i'm native here. i'm a wild native. Rachel's parents in Arizona have agreed to let their daughter stay here, tho admittedly when i last called them they were muffled, like their sound was curtailed by a cloth around their mouths or something.

Pedro: STOP THE PRESSES!!! and the ceremony! i've just received an answering-machine message, i'll play it now once i move it to the center table. *push*

message: uh, hello, this is, uh, Alex Escarno. this is not a threat. imma blow up the House. with my own party, i'm crashing this sham of a commitment ceremony with my own civil ceremony which will be more civil. America doesn't want to match or watch your garbage, they want to see two committed people get married, two men, that is real commitment, i mean imagine the sharing-of-the- bathroom situation between two men!!! WE keep civilization together, we've been through the fire so we'll keep each other, not some floozy bimbo dithead sorority sister and a weedwacker weeded-out pale smelly token hauler with big lips and donut eyes. America is tired of this, they want new horizons, new united states.

Cory: Alex? i'm praying for you. i've never heard you speak like this to us before. do you still have your mustache?

Alex: i'm standing right outside the House, but i won't be forced in, i'll keep my distance, i just want you to know, to inform you, i'm completely concealed under a bush. yeah, so it's what we call in the biz counter-programming. while you revel in your stupid straight affair, a current affair, we'll be showcasing on a media-sharing site i invented called YouTube a four-hour concert that came after Pedro's commitment ceremony with Sean. their wedding bands were revolutionary, chiseled made from Himalayan pink salt found only in the mucus of the nostril of Olmec.

Pedro: hey, i can't control my cunado.

Bunim: YouTube you say? look into that for me, babe, i want the first shares as soon as the Stock Market opens again. this sounds like it's gonna have an office building in Downtown SF.

Alex: Oprah will be hosting the after-show.

Oprah at the Red Circle table: i've weighed my options---i used to weigh heavier---and i've decided i don't want to be hated anymore...hey remember that interview i did with Michael on ABC that time ago that was, like, more watched than the M*A*S*H finale or the Beatles on Sullivan? back when people still talked about things over watercoolers? well hope y'all forgot about all that cos now i'm light enough to ride the Ferris Wheel at Neverland Ranch! secretly running for President burns off the pounds more than any Weight Watchers ever could. and i'm not talking about running.

Alex: we'll see who America believes in more. see you in Cuba i mean so goodbye, i'm getting off the phone before i say something i'll regret.

Pedro takes Puck aside at his own ceremony and has a heart-to-heart with him by the hushed bannister.

Pedro: come on, man, let's take a walk you and i just the two of us. down the street. i got your engagement gift at my old haunt. Macy's. i'll show you, let's go.

Pedro leads Puck past down the parking-lot escarpment to a deep disturbing unknown underground tunnel with a shaft but no elevator. they rockclimb till they reach the very bottom cellar of the Macy's shrouded in cobwebs and a big silver disc that may have acted as a stone sundial in a previous century. dusty pictures of Bull Durham hang on the ceded moist grey spotty walls.

Pedro: Puck, meet my lab. well my lab-away-from-home. make yourself comfortable, try the veal.

Puck: there's nowhere to sit.

Pedro: lie down on the white table i just want to try something.

he does and Pedro instantly socks Puck in the nose.

Pedro: come on, bitch, give up your snot, your liquid gold. let me have it, fight me! you want me to go get the lightsabers locked up in the storage unit over there? they're crystalline now, new look. just have to pet a few rats in there to get them out of the way.

Puck: no man, i'm not gonna fight you. i'm all about peace and harmonious non-tainted love. my namesake is a mischievous imp who just wants humans to blow. i'm crying cos i'm hurt, Pedro, more specifically my feelings are hurt. will we EVER be true friends? take whatever you want from me, it's yours! my shedding skin, my blood in units, my loyalty!!! rape me and take all my worth! i am sub-human in your eyes, nothing can change that. i'm but a pawn in your ultimate evil scheming goal.

Pedro: well that was anticlimactic. never matter and never you mind.

Pedro pours Puck's snot-rocket viscous into a bottle he already had on hand, a Specialty Smurf bottle that comes in a glass case and purple mini-jewel pouch with gold string exclusively from Macy's---when LUSH came to Macy's. and chippings off a purple crystal he got from earlier before.

Pedro: and voila! i just combine the ingredients to form a more bluer potion and...drink it and...slug it and...IT WORKS!!! IT FUCKING WORKS!!! i can already feel the illness in my stomach and heart killing off!


Pedro: oh, yeah, whatever, have a nice life. i get to HAVE a life now!!! MUAHHAHAHAHAHA. imma outta here!

Pedro gives the V Victory sign with his forked penis on the way out.

it's the Big Day, the other Big Day. Puck preps himself at the top of the Crookedest Street on the famous Hill which has seen many a cool-guy Eldorado Steve guy become the real Queen and ride off into the sunset by jumping into the sun.

Bump: Steve McQueen, he was cool cos he made McDonald's.

Puck squeezes his crankshaft and does his laces and latches his fixes and tightens the screws platonically with a screwdriver and fastens the bolts and lacquers one last time onto his wooden steed before the big race. with his tongue. he touches the tip of the green feather in his derby crash helmet.

Bump: i would never treat Dana Plato platonically.

Puck: i was in a rush to get married cos from this point on, i don't want to get divorced. my soapbox derby car is all cherried and ready to ride! it took extreme work and i have no money again but it was all worth it. when this thing goes down that hill, well street, and i'm in it with my bomber-jacket tails flapping behind my back in the crazy wind and my tongue hanging and wagging out, sunglasses split from sheer G-force, my smile will be so wide all of San Francisco will be gay. gay for me, happy for me, that i accomplished my goals when so many do not even bother to try. no need for seatbelt buckles here, it's a tight fit. i'll self-push me down and away we go! finally. this is for the record! everything is stable, including the wheel frame and my mindset's sanity. the steering wheel has a big knob in it. i want to feel the wind in my spiky hair! ready, everyone!!? thanks all for coming out, it's a big crowd.

Rachel: *on phone* no it's not it's just me, honey, member you said you wanted this to be our honeymoon instead?

Rachel waves her painted hand from way on the other side of town at Fisherman's Wharf. she's jostling through her purse and doing some afternoon sightseeing. of swole shoals.

Puck: i am naked before you with my naked bike. it was raining furiously and fastly earlier but i took a deep breath and it's sunny now. no excuses. *he slaps himself in the face* come on, gotta be clutch in this moment, gotta have muscles like Carrot Top even though i'm skinny as a bike rail. performing in dives. and GO!!!

Puck wheels down the first corner with ease, colliding only a plant and unsuspecting pedestrian. but the second turn is where things get dicey and the wheels come off. the plan. it's so tricky that all the crooks of the crookedest come crashing into his face all at once, he's gliding grossly, he's unable to steer cos he's lost his manhood and moral compass being in that reality-show House for four months. he screams in the spin and pain of not gonna do it, not gon dut, not gonna make it!

Puck makes one last push to stop himself. he reverses his ass so it goes high so he can put the brakes on the thing and abort. but it's too late. the soapbox hits a large boulder Steve is climbing and flies into the air uncontrollably, careening into clouds. it's here Puck sees his family, his dad and mom and sister forever together who loom and look like the same person but with imperceptibly-differently-cut gold hairstyles.

Puck: you're not Aaron. i don't remember your face, none of you's faces.

dad: i'm your father, Puck. we're all dead now, good job. you left the family, remember? that one day you went crazy with the aspirin and climbed our screen door like a monkey with no tail and sniffed the entire aspirin bottle and vowed never to return, you made your family worried sick. so much so we died from worry. but you never called after that, you carried on with your crazy travel plans. you said you'd swim to San Fran if need be, live on the folding Folsom bridge. you were just a block away from the water. you're dead, son. i see your bloodied body scattered in pieces all over Lombard Street.

Puck: this is a blessing. it took death for all of us to finally come together as a family.


Puck's derby car with Puck in it flies until it can fly no more, as it hits Fisherman's Wharf and the ledge Rachel is on on the other side of town, Puck goes to wave at Rachel but at that exact moment Rachel turns away to try the new sugary crabfish and misses the whole show. as Puck is flung into the ocean and Bay, a huge salty wave knocks him back the other direction antigravity onto Lombard Street with a deadening thud.

Puck: i died.

President Bump is on the phone with Kim in the Oval Office square. he puts his feet up and cracks open and smokes a cigar.

Bump: baby, baby, i got you, you want all the trains and cigarettes in the world all to yourself. you say trains are romantic and you're nothing if not romantic. and it's not sexual this train. got it, done, deal. America doesn't manufacture trains anymore, those were the good ol' days. not as a means of escape to blow up bridges, got it. just don't ever get on a train with my boss Codrus let me tell you, that is NOT a train ride! *hands up*

he goes to hug the American flag by his desk.

Melania: *her arms crossed and she cross* i wish you'd hug me like that, Mickey!

Bump: Melania, didn't hear you come in. that's the problem. you're a robot, right?

Melania: robots experience love, Mickey. let me tell ya about it sometime, inquire about my lovers. not a bot my lovers. ask your son, i tell him everything.

Bump: i'm down. i see Lawrence O'Donnell on tv saying that check i wrote out is gonna be the new Nixon tapes, the smoking gun, that image of the check with my signature is gonna end up on red caps and toilet paper sold from now on in all the gift shops in America. i wanted my legacy to be i was the first President to have 100-dollar-bills as my toilet paper, not personal checks! cash is always more impressive and balla, checks are weak! let's see how Roger is doing *click*

Judge Berman: anything to say this time?

Roger Stone: Judge Doom is the real hero of Who Framed Roger Rabbit. i'm known as the Missouri Huckster.

Judge Berman: Missoura. more like Messyri. Messy Journey. are you from Missouri?

Stone: no.

Judge Berman: another lie told in my court.

Roger: sorry, judge, but i've been down lately. David Gergen called me a dandy, a fancyboy. i respect Gergen, he was okay with Nixon, so this is tough to take.

at Inverness, a sleeping beauty is waking up, a sleeping giantess. Maria LaRosa moves her formidable backside and mountains form from the rumble. she is eating those Froot Loops donuts from Carl's Jr. and making a mess in her mouth.

Goody Paul: can i have some? i love it when you chinwag.

Maria: no.

Goody Paul: yes, Jesusa. we need you back on air doing these kind of things, eating food and dancing the fool and acting around and hijinxing.

Maria rolls the eyes to the back of her head in ecstasy.

Maria: oh my GODDESS these are so good! heavenly you might say, except you can't distinguish one color from another, they all taste the same.

at the SNL studios, John Mulaney is making final preps and reps for his showcase of all the scripts he wrote as an SNL writer which were burned and rejected before he became famous.

Mulaney: have you ever heard of a famous writer? you ready for the big live show tonight, Pete? you memorized all your lines?

Pete Davidson: i was born ready, you can tell it in my eyes.

Mulaney: i moved the Froot Loops donuts from out of your dressing room, i know for an E guy like u they look too much like colorful club pills you used to rave on about, that's too much overstimulation for your mind which you can't handle, your brain will explode with all those colors. you need to be concentrating with your brain, burn out on higher thoughts of wisdom found buried like gems in the script i wrote, not in your onair improvised ramblings.

Kate Beckinsale places a call from her hanging hotel suite overlooking the SNL stage. at night.

Kate: hello. you got my intel? no, Beck is not for sale he's just going through a hard time so his music reflects that. okay, thank you, just making sure, just checking. in on Pete. this has gotta work out, i can't get divorced again, i'm starting to tarnish my image, people are whispering i'm a difficult partner. the age difference is such that i am sure not to be a widow. yes i know i'm a vampire and a werewolf and i consulted all the tribes on both sides and they said i was immortal.

Robert Mueller is wearing ashes on his forehead. he puts on his priest stole and prepares to apply ashes with his priestly puncture of a pointer finger on President Bump's forehead but it doesn't take. Bob has laid out his briefcase all the piles of paper on the couch, he is at the Oprah show being interviewed.

Bump: for the record, it didn't take on Oprah's forehead, either...

Bob gets up on the couch and jumps on it, he is ecstatic on his face and begins to toss all the papers everywhere, like white birds filling the air of the studio ceiling to all corners of the studio audience, who eat all this stuff up with glee, collecting any flying paper they can, kissing the papers and crumbling them into their pocket as a keepsake momento worth millions.

Oprah: Bob, i thought you were gonna keep things quiet.

Mueller: YOU GET A REPORT AND YOU GET A REPORT AND YOU GET A REPORT! look at my cracked thumbs, i don't care anymore. the only way America will believe in me is if i trot my behind right up to Congress to testify. 24 straight hours, live tv only on CSPAN.

Bump: no, Bob! everyone in America is sick of hearing your voice!

Bob Barr: the Barrs and the Muellers will be friends after this, right? i can't lose this friendship!

Mueller: after this? my ex-friend, you fail to realize: like Neverland, this will never end...

Laertus: why haven't you thrown out all your Michael Jackson records by now? even the vintage ones. i thought YOU of all people would do it. the treehouse is filthy and needs to be fumigated!

Dirg: hey, he's still the King of Pop. *pops bubblegum bubble* oh you mean like a spring cleaning? i guess i could do that. after finals or whatever.

Laertus: you don't go to school. only i do.

Eye Luggage: speaking of, with us today is a special healer who works at the LUSH on campus. she's known by all, in the underground resistance movement anyway, as the wild witness. Ms. Madame Pons!

Pons: thank you thank you, is this mic hot? come on over to LUSH and let's have a chat. discounts for students and janitors alike! you know i'd just like to say to all my girls out there that come in and ring the twinklebell at the top of my door that it's not all rainbows puppies and unicorns out there JUST cos you bought our latest purple divining crystal. yeah, i know from experience and essence, that crystal isn't gonna immediately point you to your dream man, thank you for your time.

Dirg: Queen were wrong, if it wasn't for Wayne and Garth NO ONE would have known about "Bohemian Rhapsody". no one EVER cited that song before Wayne's World came out, it was completely forgotten.

Laertus: Selma Blair was a true hero. made me cry, she was MS Oscars, as in the classy Ms. Oscars out on that runway!

Dirg: i need that pimp cane. she's a real hero, unlike say a certain Kardashian. i was there at Selma last weekend, locking hand in hand with my brothas and sistas, commemorating the pressure of water-pressure.

Eye: well, i got my schedule cleared and freed up the rest of the week. you know what that means, everything we missed last week, we're doing Oscars FASHION!!! you, Dirg, will dissect each and every dress that came up.

Dirg: NO NO NO!!!!!! VERY NO!

Eye: hey, member i've got leverage over you, you do what i say or sing like a pig. you want a fate worse than death? see these tapes here? imma gonna FORCE you to watch Tropical Cop Tales.

Dirg: *head in his shoulders* *meekly* anything but that.

things are heated up at this morning's ESPN First Take:

Molly Qerim: *frantically* why are you guys talking about sports like it was College English? at a time like this? this is a crisis in America that goes unreported. or worse, underreported. human trafficking, um, hello!!? here's the number i put it up on screen if you suspect human trafficking at your local nail salon. this is ridiculous, why are we talking sports like it's some fun thing? i went into the wrong field, i'm gonna follow Kaylee Hartung's lead and after this show blows up when my tits start to sag imma moving to hard news and CNN. i gotta hard tongue, i'm an ethnic girl, i tell it like it is.

at the Hotel Theresa, the Red Circle table has set up shop. hot filling in The Breakfast Club takes over MC podcast duties from Jada.

Trevor Noah: it's so fun to bamboozle white people with foreign languages. i feel like Noah before the Flood and during Babel. we're due like the Big One in California for another one of those Floods. i want to host the Oscars next year!

Kevin Hart: don't do it, brah, have a heart, you don't have to to have an in with the gatekeepers, you're whiteskinned enough.

the crones are at that famous Rock McDonald's in Chicagoland. Doryce is cooking up fries with a latticed-basket deep-fat fry-cooker bath with hot hot hot wax and oil and grease in that basket. knob turned to 100.

Gladyce: don't burn your fingers, dear! you need those to cast spells! and for good fingering sex!

Doryce: they're not cooling right, do you guys have spaghetti?

R Kelly: McDonald's Spaghetti? maybe.

Doryce: how much was it again, dear?

Gladyce: remember? two minutes, two minutes to heat any water.

Doryce: *stirring the pot* undercooked is worse than overcooked. the water is not bubbling and boiling, needs a witch's touch. you know i tried this trick with my latest spaghetti, filled the pot up with hot boiling water to start, so it would cook faster, but it didn't cook faster, still took 12 minutes to cook. you still have bacon on all your products?

R Kelly: you're too old for me so i'll answer you. no, that was a limited time offer.

Doryce: but The Year Of The Pig is all year! where can i get some bacon around the corner?

the pair of eternal lovers finally broom their way to the Hotel Theresa and the galley of heat lamps out front in the lobby. a slab of meat is featured in the center. Spike Lee is trying to slice it with a knife.

Spike Lee: screw this, it's too much work.

Doryce: screwing takes time, and a gentle hand.

Spike: you have to cut this slab of meat with a knife to form the bacon slices. are you kidding me? ain't nobody got time for dat! no wonder this slab of meat was free! i'm too old for this shit. this meat is too hard and marbled. this slab of meat is gonna go uncut, uneaten, smelly and wasted.

Gladyce: wait two minutes for it to melt, dear.

the show ends with a final trip to Obec Woods for the cast. and the Reunion Special on MTV the  night after. Obec Woods unfortunately is closed for loud summer-long construction of a new two-lane highway down the middle of the sleepy village, so the trip and any subsequent last-minute bonding is scrapped. Pedro comes into the studio with his tats all blazing on his open one-hair chest and arms and elbows scaring the female MTV reporter.

Pedro: Allison Something, right? don't worry, i don't bite. are you black? i mean really black like Sean. Sean works for me now. you seem timid, do you even know anything about music? now, anyone in the audience have any questions for me?

crowd: yes why are you a hologram?

Pedro: pero i'm not dead. in fact i've been more alive recently than i could ever have imagined. i'm speaking to you from a projection cos i'm not really here. i'm in Cuba currently. i have taken over that country, military coup was successful and swimming, i have installed myself as King For Life and there was much rejoicing and rejoindering and the throwing of bananas in the streets. i get money by kidnapping and rekidnapping Rachel across the border once a month. she has developed an appetite to cope. the stupid Americans really love their sex symbols safe. i've introduced Cuban Capitalism into the bloodstream, a form of Keynesian and Adam with my own unique spin on it called Pedroism. basically consists of me selling my patented potent blue potion which cures AIDS to the masses. all trucks allowed to pass through the bridges. do you like my pointy crown? it's part of my head.

crowd: wait. if you're there, then who's the Pedro here?

Pedro in the studio puts on his rubbery mustache to reveal himself to be Alex Escarno this whole time!

Alex: i'm a good actor, huh. needed on a reality show.

it was Alex Escarno pretending to be Pedro in that famous last group picture of the cast hugging under a rainbow taken in the waiting room of the hospital where Puck lay broken bruised and near-death, taken just hours before Puck's death. that pic was turned into an oil painting and sold at auction for a million Banksy dollars. bank.

Bunim: got the shot. bonus! bingo!

the audience claps.

Alex: i brought the answering machine with me so you can hear all the disgusting messages to each and every one of the cast members left by Pedro in Cuba during one of his free-time periods he seems to enjoy after he had his T-cell count rise like his rise to power. i can't control Pedro, i can only love him. *push*

the tape plays, it's swear word after swear word in all the languages of the world, one after the other. said fiercely loudly and profanely by Pedro over the loudspeaker mic of the answering machine. the cast and audience assembled on couches don't know quite how to react to this since no one understands it, but they ooh and ahh and gasp in hushed tones all the same.

Pedro: bringing the world together, one language, one swear word at a time.

President Bump: hello. Judd? i want you to do a comic where Superman wears the American Flag as his cape.

Judd: no, sir, this is where i draw the line---get it? draw---i thought it would be a wet dream of mine to get a call from the President, but i thought he would be more like Bush, never dreamed it would be someone like you. you know i'm gonna assert for the first time my...creative privilege or something whatever i the work i want, you can't stain Superman's legacy with your rulebreaking, some things still are sacred. you can't get out stains on a cape by eating Tide. i did a show about diversity. and mathematical feminine Russian inequality. simple math. i'm putting my foot down on the Nam sand. i will print, edit, conceive of the dialogue bubbles, draw and yes even ink myself a tribute graphic novel about Puck entitled Puck & Me: My Best Friend Is Dead, it will sell in all stores, not just the alt-right stores, cos i need the money. out in paperback always. but i'm not doing this for the money, this is about what an icon Puck has become for our world.

Judd travels to Vietnam to work on his graphic novel. there he falls stricken to an unknown strain of dengue fever and is close to death. he gets fixed up with white bandages all over his body which provide him comfort no brown bandages could. no more sickness in him. he is warm inside and out. his mind was muddled thoughout the whole cot process and he doesn't even remember being taken out of Nam on the M*A*S*H helicopter. Judd could have sworn the face of that nurse who tended his psychological wounds was Pam's face, but it was all gauzy. and he tells himself they all look the same, to avoid having to deal with his feelings. he also had a dream where he was being interviewed by Ed Sullivan…

Mo has that same interview dream with Ed Sullivan for his debut reggae album coming out. Ed is not into black music except for The Beatles.

Cory urges Mo to break-and-enter for her, to break into the Macy's and steal all the perfumes. Cory explains that her parents back home in Fresno are lily-white and boring, and atheists, but not the asshole kind of atheist, they're nice people to boot. that's why she booted herself outta there. nice and boring, Cory thus wanted excitement in her life so she turned to crime.

Cory: otherwise i'm just the white girl from Fresno, you know?

Mo: girl i get it, but i've turned over a new leaf in Hell. i want to do good now. i want to be a beacon of hope, a symbol representative of my religion Islam, i will make Islam the religion of peace known the world over starting today, it all starts with me, good works...

Jo and Rachel grow closer. like, really closer. Jo discovers a brand new mineral on one of her nature hikes from drilling down on the Earth's core for hours with her pickax for oil and names it after herself, a new gemstone which bleeds blue and purple she calls BritBox. she puts it on the internet on her own webpage so that makes it official. Jo's nose starts to flatten as she ages, which proves her ultimate theory. the two girls yuck it up after marriage and permanent granting of restraining orders and giggle and have a good ol' time around town. the two are inseparable, lock arm in arm, and do something together which not many twentysomething pretty young thang girls do these days: chow down every chance they get at McDonald's. yet somehow, through the magic miracle of television, these two remain young and pretty and slim. and accented.

btw, Jo's ex-husband Steve has completed his rock journey and now works in residence at the Rock N Roll McDonald's in Chicago.

Aaron, Mo's girlfriend, Rachel's parents, the two other roommate auditioners, Dom, Dom's grandpa, Sean, Geoff, Randy Shilts, Jack Kemp, and Christopher Hitchens: whereabouts unknown.

Pedro: and now you come to me, you end with Pedro. i beat it. every night. i beat AIDS. throughout i never hid my HIV, i was proud of it, wore it like a sword. i never cried myself to sleep, i screamed myself to sleep. i cured myself with my immense power of will and volition. i directed my body to quit carrying it. i can love the way i want to now. forever. and the way i love, well, i hate when i love. everyone's got their own slant on things, right? left? some call me a trailblazer, others say i was a scorched-earther. but i was never a flat-earther. all of you blamed us for starting AIDS, before it was a mysterious harmless local disease entering the consciousness and stream and blood, one which nobody paid any mind to. not until it jumped. then it started to slip into your bloodline and you took notice, now suddenly it was a scourge on the Earth and capable of wiping away an entire population. courage for the scourge. well my plan didn't work. it would have been funny if it ended up wiping away all you bigots. all of the discrimination and savagery and hate and homophobia and podunkness, eliminated and laminated with fire. you blamed us, called us the bad guys, wanted our people to die off, our skin to suffer and drop, to collect our hides we had hidden, not knowing the virus had jumped off the island over water. it was a matter of hygiene for all of us now. but we're not the bad guys, you are the bad guys. you who would dare judge me. judge me for living, judge me for loving, like lice there will be a reckoning, and i shall lead it. it will spread from Cuba into the farthest corners. your systems are too slippery not to tumble and crumble. like a snake in the night. i will strike when you least suspect it, i will get you with my kiss.

i live. I LIVE!!! so now i'm trying something new, to achieve my ends. mark my words, i was the first, but i shall not be the last. down the road, in some years time, there will be a 2nd person who is cured of AIDS...

Monday, March 4, 2019


love this picture of him, he's measured, relaxed, way beyond the bad-boy days but still sharp in a grunge shirt, a stable father and husband, full of wisdom growth on the wrinkles of that kind bearded face.

as you can imagine, i wasn't a big 90210 guy, being an uncoordinated tetherball nerd who could never join such a cool high-school clique. but we did one afternoon somehow miraculously watch 8 Seconds as a school thing. looking back, was it for a bullriding book report? no, more likely the teacher just wanted to buck regulations and go out for a smoke on school time. i was slow on the uptake in those days cos of too much lettuce so i didn't get what the title meant. my friend, who i assume now was playing a prank on me, said the title referred to why Luke Perry is so popular with the ladies. i should have called bull but i didn't know. i'll never forget the lasting image which sticks in my mind from that film even today: at the very end, i still see Luke today, in his dusty chaps after having bested time itself, he raises both his hands and closes both his palms in a strange ducky way to say goodbye to the audience. fade to black credits, wonderful. hey, we all fade to black eventually…

1. the first time i looked into your eyes, i cried...


2. the last time i had a good sex session i wasn't eating pizza. it all involved a neti pot. allow me to explain. so i go to the town doctor, who also happens to be the town jester, move the large boulder myself which nearly cripples me, and sit down on the trunk for a talk. he informs me that i'm having issues. i tell him i'm having issues. my nose is always stopped up even though i don't have a cold. he says i have a fever. do i eat or starve a fever? he tells me if i starve, i could die. then again i could eat some bad lettuce and die, too. he steals the pretty neti pot on his desk---the one with the elephant on it---and tells me to get to work at home, homework, fun homework. i return a week later completely cured. i tell him i used the neti pot on my penis, stuck it right in there for a nice jacuzzi steam bath, really opened up my pores, especially the big pore that is my peehole. "that's not for your cock" the doctor screams holding a sock on his lance. a lance which btw does not lance boils. "this is not dick cream. the vapor is supposed to unblock your nasal pathways and clear out your sinsues." "but it worked, doc!" i enjoinder, "after lodging my cock up and down the neti-pot kettle spout, all the backed-up cum left my body and i was able to have healthy sex again! and i was able to breathe again, psychologically! now that's spilling my hot tea. and the tea tastes great! we're having a baby!"

3. the only time i danced to a techno song, i breathed, starting a fire using flint in the neighbor's backyard, it was a BBQ bonfire everyone invited, not a Wicca thing. and i smacked my synthesizer up when i started to cover a Prodigy song, was tasked with providing the entertainment and liquid entertainment.

4. my best...frenemy taught me everything i know. she let loose all her secrets about life, love, and litheness on my face, we'd snuggle under one scratchy blanket and watch Chris Matthews. but then there was that week that Chris Matthews wasn't on mysteriously even though it was a consequential news week what with the hearing coverage and all. this sweet mystery of life was left unsolved, was Chris sick? that's the only explanation, he wouldn't miss this otherwise. she said she couldn't do it to the substitute teacher anchor in the glasses...

5. my worst...friend was still a friend. i call him up one day in his office tower high up in the clouds. to see how he was doing. he proceeds to deliver over the phone a 2-and-a-half-hour-long rant on how white-collar crime wasn't that big of a deal. he ends with the capper that by white-collar crime he meant the priesthood. "those collars signal BDSM, right?" i asked him if he had had sex lately to ease tensions in his temples instead of the office Peloton gym. he said he had, that's why his building was all white, and why he had a white collar round his neck.

BONUS no one, no matter how much experienced, still has some unfulfilled desires. what is at the top of your yet-to-do list?

the mystery of where Chris went haunted me. then Chris came back and explained it himself:

Chris Matthews: i'm a Catholic so i leave a lot of sexual desires on the nightstand table if you catch my drift. i wanted to explore, get out there, get after it, and travel to see where my wind energy landed me. i had a burning desire in my formidable belly---you know how much i love film---i just, well, i just wanted to do the Farscape reboot, you know? i mean how long has that supposed film script been worked on now, a decade? i know Jim Henson died and everything but still.

Chris Matthews: excuse me, the President wants to ask me a question, i mean the other way around.
Chris Matthews: answer the question now!
President: don't ask me uncomfortable stuff when i'm entertaining sports teams.

Chris Matthews: so i set out to New Zealand and started filming. on my ipad mini. i play Ben Browder---btw, what the hell happened to Ben Browder? you would think those crystal blue eyes and brows and chowder and acting chops straight form the farms of Tennessee would have landed him the next Burt Reynolds by now. and of course Denise Crosby plays that Black bond girl love interest of mine. what the hell happened to Denise Crosby?


Friday, March 1, 2019



* Steve Jobs's final demonstration of genderlessness

* reporter: why are you crying? did you find out your fingerless gloves weren't goth enough?
bicyclist: this was my last chance to get the Olympic Gold for my mom dying of cancer.
reporter: is it because Sheryl Crow broke up with Lance?
bicyclist: no, it's cos Lance let all of us down. and stop crowing into your mic.

* thanks to this great ad, i'm on good terms with Victoria Azarenka again on Instagram, i'd just like to thank her for that. stay strong, Vika. she's had a rough go of it lately what with the custody and her depression, meditations and prayers.

* football itself is nuts.

* go on, take a knee, it's on shin guards so it's okay. that's the best haircut, not just soccer haircut. it's so New Wave, so That's So Raven.

* oh. i miss Li Na SO MUCH. she TRULY was able to bridge the barrier with her sense of humor, it was cutting in English you could only imagine what she was really saying in her native tongue with all the Chinese swear words intact. no lost in translation here. we're gonna need more Li Nas in the world if the U.S. and China aren't gonna destroy each other.

* don't know about you but an angry Sue Bird is hot. sup bird.

* let EVERYONE compete in the Olympics, and i mean EVERYONE. if you can win using enhancements, why not? let everyone have enhancements. men vs. women, illegal equipment. free-for-all battle royale like in Dragon Ball Super. what if countries didn't have to hide anymore under sealed indictments in secret court and just came out in a press conference and admitted their long sordid planned drug regimes and histories of paying off the judges for decades? what would a fully-corrupt Olympics look like on tv? where anybody could take anything and see who's the druggiest. would they even hand out medals? there'd be hella lot of wrongful-death lawsuits, that's for sure. and the Velodrome? let everyone use those Tron scooters.

* i'm wth you, girl, that jacket was ugly anyway

* yeah that was pretty brutal. a smashed racquet somehow led to a female tennis player having to take off her shirt and be disqualified for time

* wife: why did you hit me?
husband: we didn't get Bryce Harper.
wife: that's no fucking excuse!!!

* i GUARANTEE a woman would beat all the men in a marathon eventually

* women boxing...…...happens every Friday night in the parking lot of the club i go to...

* has anyone ever flipped, done a complete all-the-way-around forward flip then dunked an NBA basketball before? like during a live game?

* Candace the height of hotness.

* i would perform better if i were coached by a woman. i have a teacher thing, i know. got a teacher jones.

* it's not called fencing, in my country it's called survival.

* why couldn't Ryan Lochte have had a surprise like that? a good surprise.

* that Chloe Kim age joke on Family Guy was uncalled for. even though everyone was thinking it.

* everyone has completely forgotten about Kim Zmeskal...

* LATER, at the Millionth X Games in 2030, held on the Moon Owned By Ukraine:
Phoenix: sup bird. i can say that cos i'm a phoenix.
skateboarder: have you seen I'm A Phoenix, Bitch! at the West End? i hear it's quite good.
Phoenix: yeah i heard about that. on Instagram.
skateboarder: i'm Tony Hawk's daughter.
Phoenix: yeah i know. sup hawk.

* Serena, we're all waiting with baited breath till you win that first Major as a mother. the Mama Major.


happy weekend, my babies. Millennial Seinfeld on tap, i wonder if his SNL monologue will be about those Froot Loop donuts. Mulaney and Seinfeld apparently both have a thing for cereal. OH and Power Rangers are back!!! this is the one that's actually supposed to be GOOD this time!!!