Monday, January 21, 2019


1. what was your favorite part of yesterday? today

2. if you could make your own porn movie, what would you call it? would you write it, direct and/or star in the movie?

all of the above, in true Trent auteur fashion. Sex, Cereal, and Ants. the crusade of softcore legend Bambi, an ant who strives to have all sex workers tested and condomed and healthy in the workplace. when all hope is lost and it just seems like sexual harassment, the status quo, and injustice will be forever rampant and pervasive and unchecked in society, Bambi shuts down all picnics in this country, threatening to invade all picnic blankets and baskets with her ant-activist friends until an agreement is reached.....the Government agrees on nutrition labels on cereal boxes, it's not anywhere near what they were fighting for but for Government that's a huge baby step.

3. what do you like the least about sex? the lack of clothes. i like to look fashonable in all things i do. i like to wear tennis shoes and socks. i like to display my new Keto Diet body. people take one look at my shoes and socks and wonder about my feet. the Keto Diet is basically a lot of jogging, right? i've made so many friends on those Keto Diet messageboards…

4. so, now what are you planning to do? make deadline...

5. if you were a box of cereal, what would you be and why? ladies and gentlemen, i present to you the road company of the first-ever off-to-the-infinity-power-Broadway production of

Sex, Cereal, and Ants

starring the rarest of theatre actors, those you thought had died or OD'd or something cos you never saw them around anymore. i rehabilitate these hidden forgotten gems and prove to the public what made you fall in love with them in the first place lo those many years ago, their fierce talent and brisk pace and viability with advertisers:

Fruit Brute/Yummy Mummy/Banana Frosted Flakes/Grins&Smiles&Giggles&Laughs/Pink Panther Flakes/Freakies/Buc Wheats/Dino Pebbles/Vanilly Crunch/Punch Crunch/Sir Grapefellow/Baron Von Redberry/Cocoa Hoots/Crazy Cow/Mr. Wonderfull's Surprize/OK/Quake/Mud & Bugs/Moonstones/Bigg Mixx/Waffelos/Bill & Ted's Excellent  Cereal/Monopoly Ceeral/Croonchy Stars/Morning Funnies/OJs/Body Buddies/Jets/Choco Crack

every night right on the plankboards we have a knock-down-drag-out hair-pulling between Wilma the Winsome White Whale and Crazy Cow to see who's the ingenue and who's the understudy. Crazy Cow usually wins with her catchphrase How Now Brown Cow which kills with audiences if she gets a chance to speak with her lips and doesn't get eaten by Wilma's ruby lips first, which tests well with our unique crowds, it's all very entertaining. most of the audience leaves before the opening curtain cos they think that was the show...

bonus: if you could shrink down to ant-sized, what would you do? marry Evangeline Lilly


Friday, January 18, 2019



* one sun, many moons ago

* Jansport still exists in this universe, but there's no more time for cutsey duffel bags which house Hollywood teacup pets. the pets are fighting this war with us, there is no more atmosphere, those duffel bags contain the last oxygen our species, boh species, need to survive...

* woman: the old South African Crags, my mother used to lullaby them to me to sleep me.
man: the envy of the world. except for the White Cliffs of Dover who have seen many a flyer. too bad what's happened to them.
woman: i'd count the sheep......wait, what happened to the Crags?
man: those aren't sheep, those are graveyards...

* man: nervous?
woman: yeah, you're driving on the wrong side of the road. and i think i married the wrong man.
man: hey, i fell in love with your freckles, you fell in love with my asshole. my asshole qualities. they aren't gonna leave without you. *smiles*
woman: then why did my wake-up call ring late on my phone this morning?
man: you don't got the new iPhoneXXX!!?
woman: i'm qualified. overqualified. they're scared that i'm the first woman.
man: or first man.
woman: you didn't need to crash the candy-cane barrier, the pole was starting to go up.
man: like my love life. are you kidding?! we're in a VOLVO! this thing's a fucking tank!!! it can withstand ANYTHING!!!

* man: parking for the mall?
pimply-faced teenager: the mezzanine, it will always be on the mezzanine.
man: where's the Sbarro?
pft: in space. it had so much grease in it it rocketed there on its own.

* man: this place strangely looks like a Volvo dealership...
woman: open the door or i can't get my stuff and this mission halts forever.
man: i can't get the latch! i can't open the back door on the VOLVO!
woman: am i nervous? i do get nervous. it's only human. and i'm an android. of course i'm an android, i'm too pretty to be a real human. what do people think, all women on Earth are glam supermodels from their native Denmark or something?

* Steve Irwin: right, bonny. fancy a lift in my dune buggy?

* woman: the night is night. little did any human know then there would never be light again. it's pretty on the Crags tho. comfort zone? i never had a zone of personal space when i trained with the boys.

* woman: look at this press conference! nobody's here! what a Johannesburg joke! and the steps are even made of stone like this is the Roman Coliseum from a few years back! clearly not designed for a woman. i do appreciate the unisex togas tho. why did youtube have to interfere with virtual reality!? nobody wants an influencer in their own private VR experience! very funny putting this bank of mics to my mouth. no i will NOT wrestle in mud right now before you all.

* man: be scared, feel your scared, but never run away from things you don't know.
woman: okay but can you finally sign these papers? it would really put my mind at ease. i'm really itching to run away presently, i feel like a cheetah who's just chewed through her leash.

* woman: my mom taught me these lessons.
man: i know, i stalked your mom to gather intel on you.
woman: she always believed in me. and dad as all dads do put up the money. that's how dads show love, with a credit card. it's just a shame how they died on that first fight into space.

* FLASHBACK *hazy curtain*
woman: mom, do you believe in me?
mom: remember, the greatest ability is availability. capability? don't let NO ONE put a cap in the ass of your dreams.
dad: i'm handicapped. by my love for you.
woman: do you believe in me, dad?
dad: no, but here's 30 dollars.

* woman: mom, you promise not to laugh when i tell you what i want to become?
mom: but what if you want to become a comedienne?
woman: it's just comic now, mom, comic, get with the times.

* woman: i want to be the First Space Person.
TMNT: then why are you peering gazingly over inside the stormdrain portal of a sewer?
woman: cos that's where all the water on this planet is now, drips from underwater caves.

* woman: why are these sprawling flags tightly hung pole-shaped on the UN ceiling so big? we don't have countries anymore. please take me out of this viewing area, i don't want to be reminded again......this was the last room ever to have central heating...there are no more earplugs, all the cork had to be used for our wine bottles...

* man: i can't hear you, i'm driving under a tunnel.
woman: very funny, all of our roads are one big tunnel. it's so beautiful up here, the clouds are cotton they really are actually cotton candy, i've been eating them, they're my only food source…
man: describe the beauty you see up there.
woman: they should have brought a poet. not a port. i am a poet but i'm no Jodie Foster, who had her first book published when she was a little girl. it's so beautiful up here, it defies words and's celestial and ceremony...are you jotting all this down? for my book. cos i can't breathe...
man: breathe, babe, breathe.
woman: no the air tank's not working...24,000 miles an hour...
man: that's what out VOLVO goes.
woman: i just wished NASA had spent all those billions of dollars on more than my wristwatch.

* woman: the universe is big, but we're bigger......nevermind, blot out that last thought, i just saw a goldfish the size of Jupiter swim by me in outer space...
man: it's going good.
woman: fuck the maid yet?
man: what? i mean Laika misses you......this is the same Laika dog from that previous mission into space, right?
woman: fraid not. those flying dogtags in zero grav you saw? i'm not really in the Atlas Aerial Armed Forces, or Night Navy, our planet has been stripped of all natural resources, there's no more need for war. yep, those dog tags are Laika's...

* woman: Miles, you ever think how we got here? this moment in time.
man: miles and miles and miles.
woman: we're incredibly fortunate and lucky.
man: luck had nothing to do with it. you were good. in bed.
woman: no, i had a good pair of...glasses.
man: you screen-tested well.
woman: no i tested well.
man: you were incredibly smart to be the first test-tube baby.
woman: how bout i was just smart.
man: you chased ghosts for a living.
woman: i chased the unknown.
man: you bought a door.
woman: i knocked down the door.
man: yes, that's why you had to buy a door.

* woman: can we change the song? i don't like this song, it's too Sixties Scottish. they're like Mumford & Sons, they're trying too hard.
man: can't. this VOLVO only has automatic shuffle.

* woman: there are two types of people in this world: Type A Personality and Type B Personality...

* a bolt of lightning hits the ocean, and the Earth is no more…


happy weekend, my babies. the AFC Championship. everything happens during the AFC Championship. remember when Johnny Carson died in the middle of the AFC Championship?...

Wednesday, January 16, 2019


Bunim: don't Bump me.

Judd: so the main reason i decided to do this particular season of Real World was cos i missed the Los Angeles season. lots of production companies down there in the L.A. swamp bayou.

Pedro: woo woo, remember David the rapper? he loved his mother. i loved that muscular rapper freak of nature, all natural. he had muscular beats, too. i love my black men to look like the Hulk.

Judd: i will never succumb and let any liberal rags here denigrate my comics. will not submit. truth is, without this exposure, i'd be just another hackneyed cartoonist on the street foced to do "street art" looking for a handout.

Pam: it's not too bad.

Puck: i loved last season. i loved the synergy, the symbioticness. i loved how they aligned the Hollwood premiere opening of Magnolia with the Los Angeles season.

Pedro: yeah but you missed the best part, that film Magnolia reignited all of our love for the greatest city in the world, Los Angeles. i'd give you a flower emoji cos they take less time to water. see people overlook the actual filmic cinematic nature of Los Angeles itself, they just see that ALL films are made there and don't appreciate the city for what it glisteningly is. how the foggy forest suburbs sway with the palm trees. the downtown streets bathed in rainwater, how the pool at The Beverly Hilton looks poked to death with raindrops framing classic unsolved murder deaths, falling from beige top stories and unpublished beige stories in the papers, wretched ink stains on thumbs, under a unique grey sky, the continuation of one cloud. so here's something you will appreciate, Puck, the raining frogs scene. you bike messengers who wear nike are into all that weird crazy shit you do behind Irish baseball backstops, right? not raining men alleluia, but it's something.

Puck: Storm of Frogs, i was gonna copyright that for my bike label but that needed me to go to court. and then it got rejected for some reason. you read the papers i mean have papers?

Pedro pulls out a frog from his backpocket. the frog ribbits.

Pedro: take a long lick off this sucker's bumpy forehead and you'll experience an ecstasy few save for a few Haight Hippies have.

Puck does and his eyes turn into two black x's.

Puck: OMG! i've never felt this way before! i'm scared! i'm savory! don't know if i like it or i fear it!

Pedro: yeah but what secretions are you having? you have to go to the bathroom? collect the sample in this bud pipe.

Puck is so disoriented he proves useless. his nose stocks back up with mucus tho.

Pedro: useless! i've licked this frog myself but there's no change in me, i'm immune! i still don't have the completed potion parts! the recipe for my rejuvenation! blast!

Puck: i'm feelin' it now. get Mohammed in here! i want to have a strongly-worded chat with him!

Mohammed: bro, i'm recording the deep cuts of my album in the basement, whilst watching the KC Chiefs, i gots no time for all that you noise.

Puck: it's just, i don't get you, Mo. i'm supportive of your work but i wish it were a little edgier. a little more rap that spoke street stories scared suburban whites don't get a chance to live. the truth, you know? it's not all love and roses, it's hard out there for a messenger. hip hop of hate from those that are systematically oppressed silently, not from another gun war. heartache. you are not the black men i love that i read about in the rapper papers.

Mo begins to cry hard, his tears are heavy and laden and come out as two blue speedboats which stain the carpet with blue seed and skiff off.

Mohammed: *crying and beating his chest* what you want from me, Pimp Puck!!? i've given you my heart yo, my music is my soul! i'm trying to be the best a man can get!

Puck: *eyes reddening* shit, don't cry, i'll cry. my head hair is messed up from all the crying i mean rain, so i decided to shave it all off bald and start again anew and afresh. there's no point in going brown once you've already gone blond. not to mention flat from spiky. i bought this Gillette razor today with the last of my savings. not the electric one, the brutal primitive plastic one, old-skool. your shave is my example, teach me your ways, your ancient custom. it was perfect before, you were growing. i trust you, Mo, i trust you as a man, you looka like a man, i see you, i want you to shave my head with this original stick razor. it's a dick razor. for your balls.

the two weeping men are up close and personal, touching sobbing cheeks, as Mo lightly dances over Puck's head with a smooth stroke, caressing the crude inside of the razor to fit the slippery glacial curve. Puck grabs Mo's muscular wrists to stop.

Puck: thank you, my friend, we did it, together. this is what it means to be a man. to feel. to express through poerty which makes sense. to cry. with spoken word, not nods and whistles. leave the whistles for bikes and bags on bikes. please return to your hip-hop roots, my friend Mo, we're all counting on you to be the best gardener you can be.

Mo: just you watch, just you tune in next week, i'll grant you backstage passes, come to my show next week, i'm gonna do something revolutionary on that stage, you'll see. something talked about for millennia by millennials, debated discoursely and discursively. no one will ever understand me and what i did.

Judd: okay, enough of this, clear the area, and the one dining room carpet, we've got Christopher coming over, Pam's long long-lost boyfriend she's been long-distancing for eight years now. do you even know what Christopher Hitchens looks like anymore?

Pam: i hear he's developed a rather distinguished sprout of gray hair on his head and chin and the poof of his tail since last i sought, i've been watching him on the news at the streetcorner tv bank. he never once mentions me in interviews and he always takes his glasses off. i love my boyfriend.

Judd: i'm not jealous but i'm getting the flava itch down my spine.

Pam: he's always been so gentle with me, despite his stature and satire. he always wears white coats with me. i have been struggling for some time now, and Christopher would ladle all the soup i could eat at all the soup kitchens in the city, i visited every single one. my heart and tummy is so ever full when i'm with him. when he was off in Boston pursuing a master's degree in constructing soup kitchens, he made sure to redirect all the construction runoff into his backyard, his backyard was a mess he messaged me a photo of it. he'd make sure every Mardi Gras to purchase a full chicken from Boston Market and send it to me priority-mail on the midnight horse express route. the horses had a hard time navigating the crooked street.

Christopher: *ding a ling* hello, all. anybody home? i do not speak with my words but by my actions.

Judd: Christopher and play in da House! hey buddy, can i borrow your white coat? it's so stylish. Pedro is forcing me to wear a black suit for this, i hate being formal in my speech. i had to spraypaint black on my naked body using my best friend Puck's leftover spray cans in the garage which is illegally built on our House cantilever cos of all the slants.

Christopher: do not speak of my future wife like that manner! let's get on with the game.

at the Cream House, only the dimmer lights are on. President Bump is serving the Nat Champ Clemson Tigers one tray of forty McDonald's hamburgers with no cheese, with seriousness.

President Bump: right, men. right, men? this is what you play for! your diet is over with the die is cast. you won more than the game, you won your freedom back! this is why you struggle and toil and lift those silly weights and jump rope which is silly and deny yoself greasy foods during the summer! for this meat! dig in! you can relax now, you're a cheater like a Hollywood actess right after the Oscars Fix when she pigs out at In N Out Burger all night long with the statuette lost the next morning from the burger booth. when was the last time you boys had a good ol' fashioned Southern warm-cooked home meal from mama?

Dabo: prolly recruitment in players' homes, the moms do all the cooking. everybody has a base.

Bump: go ahead and take the birther burgers with the romaine lettuce on it.

Pence: *whispers bitterly* still banned sir, the Shutdown has halted food inspection.

the team pigs out all night and feel so terrible in the morning their heads ache, their tummies are on fire, and they are forced to sleep it off in the smelly Lincoln Bedroom. they never return to their championship form again, the next year they collapse from heat exhaustion in the snow at Michigan and never can keep down a healthy meal again their stomach linings are forever melted. they lose every football game they play from there after and never regain their invincible lustre.

Bump high-fives Nick Saban in the Oval Office.

Bump: always thinking bout dat base, my Alabama base. those South Carolinians are suspicious ever since that hot dark broad took down the flag. Nikki Cage something?, some porn name.

Saban: the only way they'd let me through to see you was if in the car i was wedged in between by two twee women on either side of me, sorry. sir, presenting without further delay Ms. Nikki Haley and Nancy.

Nancy: sir, i've been everything but impatient, but i will not allow you to proceed until you improve your penmanship! peremptory penmanship! you're gonna have to give me a nickname eventually.

Bump: Nikki, you're a Dem now. makes male sense. i can't reopen, i can't allow you Dems to actually get to work, that would be disastrous for me.

at the Biltmore Estates, the crones are enjoying lush green valleys which stretch for miles from beige high towers. they can still see past them with their old eyes. Doryce is eyeing up and down every last Baltimore Raven on a Super Bowl field trip, the Ravens have the time for a field trip cos they crashed out of the Super Bowl Chance.

Gladyce: up for another round of croquet?

Doryce: knitting is old woman's work. i thought that sport involved horses, but it's like polo without the horses, no fun. i'll just sit here on my duff on this green iconic grass and think about my favorite kind of union onion salt.

Gladyce: yes i know, don't remind me, i had to broom all the aisles of The Store finding it for you, you only eat the onion salt with the oregano in it!

Eye Luggage turns to camera to look right at her pendulous breasts. then she adjusts the camera, her knockers covered neatly with an NYU purple-wool robe. she unzips the slider slightly and bounces when she gets excited commenting on the latest cartoon episode and her tits hits go up and down accordingly in sequence to the rhythm of her bosoms.

Eye: i'm trying to be studious here folks, i'm wearing my glasses, i'm a married woman now, i'm honest, i'm a kept bitch, i don't do that cheap stuff anymore. don't you see all the overdue library books behind me? i'm in a kitchenette space but the bed is too small for me and my breasts and my hammer. what of the Transformer Acid Storm? this is the ultimate design, she is a he and he is a she. the first truly trans Trans. i love them! one scene he's a he and the other she's a she, same body, different face, that is truly transforming! society.

Dirg: Brian Windhorst, Winny, uh Windy, love this guy, he makes white fat pasty short men cool again. you notice nobody makes fun of his weight? cos he knows his ball. and he can't find his balls.

Laertus: i mean what of Michael Weatherly? that must have been one awkward return to work day back. like Pete Davidson's first day of work back. you still alive, buddy? does he just say let's ignore everything and jump right into the new script?

Dirg: he was hot a few years back. he was chewing on a mistletoe for the TV Guide Calendar. they've since had to disinfect that mistletoe with toxic spray. and pick at it for samples sent to the disgraced FBI Crime Lab. well they would if they were open like his mouth.

Laertus: Ariana Grande has finally discovered Pokémon Go after getting enough time to be bored post-Pete.

Chibnall: i wanted it to be on New Year's Day, cos this would be the only show for 2019...

Piers Morgan: i won't be cleanshaven anymore! the ladies will love my beard. PC guff! look, i know all you out there want to rid the world of us crotchety old white men, but we were once crochety old white boys! who were raised. i can only talk to strong muscular black men through twitter. look, i'm not doing this for me. i have two black friends, i'm trying to get my friend Tavis Smiley's job back, the world misses his vital voice. and my other black best friend is R Kelly.

R Kelly turns the Red Circle table back up. there is nobody else to talk to at the roundtable.

R Kelly: i'm looking for a job. i don't do interviews, my past life as R Jelly is over, i'm more of a weatherman. i make it rain on people...

at Inverness, Goody Paul has reached a zenith, a giant pink cave. he goes spelunking into its wide crack. with ropes and pulleys and a hardhat. little does he know that this is the giant butt of a giant buck naked Maria LaRosa sleeping peacefully like a Titan on the soft foggy grass of the mystery magic hills. her beautiful eyes closed.

Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez puts on her brown headband and dances the first hip-hop dance on the roof of a Boston Market. she takes ahold of the metal rod sticking out of the roof, lightning crashes onto the rod, and she feels no pain, she is filled with yellow power, her body blossoms. a black penguin-looking bird named Bobble perches falls from the rod and starts mimicking the dance AOC started, the two shadow-dance in front of each other.

AOC: you got the moves! you're a natural! i love how your head bobs.

Bobble: nah it's all you.

AOC: i feel your pain/ we're alike you and me/ we're the same/ we've come a long way from home/ to a strange and brutal land/ where joking is seen as arrogance/ arro-can can?/ can you understand?

Bobble: yeah. and the thing is, i'm not so much black as Puerto Rican. i'm a Puerto penguin, fleeing my familiars.

AOC dances over to the local doughnut shop. then the skate shop next door to the Beto Bodega where he hangs a skateboard over his shoulder and slings his toothpaste tube up. he spreads the worm of toothpaste all over his face and blends it in till shiny.

Beto: i really wish i hadn't razored my long skater hair. you're only cool on a skateboard if you wear long hair instead of a helmet.

at the local bar one block over Elizabeth Warren is having a beer. she is talking over a bar stool to Carol Channing, who has recently been looking slightly blue. the gabbers are drinking each other's raspberry-coconut shandy.

Carol: honey, you did it wrong. always check with your mother, not the village elders. i mean don't you live in a library? i'm not sad, i'm not choking, i'm black. i'm actually black. how do you think i danced so well in my career? unlike you pols, i wouldn't be scared of having a surprise black baby.

Warren: yeah no wonder i could never get into the Red Circle and have a seat at the table despite my great desire to meet my voters. Carol, i speak like my head is on a string but YOU, you my dear are one wonderful weirdo.

Andy Murray is crying at his press conference, tipping his ballcap among other things.

Andy: *crying* it's just...i never knew my father...all i've ever known is Carlos Moya taking my bed away! it was horrible hearing those sounds in the middle of the night, like the house among other people settling. but settling with cats on the roof. my mom orgasmed with a Spanish Scottish accent, si aye si aye si aye. the two saw eye to eye.

Judy Murray: actually, aye si aye si aye si, IcyHot on our private parts. i'm a pushy mum. apparently. i push it real good. there is no British word for daddy. but there's a Scottish one!

Andy plays doubles at Wimbledon with his brother for his final encore. there isn't a dry eye in the house, mostly cos everyone has had Chipotle and is getting the runs but are not allowed to leave their seats. the brothers celebrated with Chipotle after as always.

Andy: i'm not retired yet! one more match! me versus YOU, mother!

Judy: don't be silly, boy, you can't beat me! i taught you everything you know.

Andy: right here on Centre Court, eat the beer-fed grass, mom! best first to four points, Aussie rules. if the serve hits the net, you have to play it, no lets. and no letups.

Judy: *taunting from the other side of the net, showing her taint through her skirt* why didn't you marry that Wozniacki woman while she was still young and dirty? you were due to be a lucky lad. now she's gone Christian, you'll never get her back in bed. that's why you did the whole feminist farce, right? to get chicks? why'd you go secure the services of Amelie Mauresmo? it was cos she baked you fine French cuisine for breakfast and i could only offer you British barley oatmeal, is that it? you did it to shame me. it's all an act.

Andy: damn you mom! don't you see my interviews? i can't be an actor! first point, you shave off Moya's luxurious locks. second point, Carlos shaves YOUR head! third he moves out, fourth YOU move out!

Andy gives it his all in his final pro serve, it hoists up all his power and hits hard the tape and lips over, causing Judy to make a sudden jerk move.

Judy: ah my back! you screwed up my back, son! by being born! security! i need secureation. IcyHot! there's no more IcyHot?! this is my fucking back! my back used for fucking!

Andy: retiring, mum? i like roller coasters, not emotional roller coasters!

Judy: you're so lucky i can't play you right now! and that i'm your mum! just cramps, folks, i'll recover. doesn't count, it's traction, not loss of conditioning, i'm fit. i will go home and condition my hair and soon once again gain traction in my bed...

Andy later that night lies down on a bed, his new betrothed Caroline Wozniacki heals his stem with her icy cold hands. Wozniacki is a Christian Healer. later later that night Andy and Caroline wed in a secret destination wedding ceremony. the lovebirds slow-dance cheek to cheek the rest of the night. Andy's hip is healed and he can dance the salsa at his own wedding with his new bride. the Chipotle salsa.

Judd hooks his collar with his finger and cold comes out.

Judd: i feel like a monkey in this suit! it's so uncomfortable to be in public like this! okay okay, Christopher, THIS IS YOUR LIFE!!!

a gaggle of Rachel's white school chums from college have come to visit her at the House at the same time this show is going on. sorority sisters all wearing the same pink short shorts. they inadvertently end up acting in this play as the couple's future Chinese children. they try to remain seen and not heard---they're good-looking enough to do this---but they just can't help themselves and giggle and laugh and gossip a fest away into their short shorts and tell dirty nasty hateful hurtful slurrilous jokes about Christians under their breaths.

Pedro: do you remember your kids, Christopher? do you remember how they were made?

Christopher: *sweating* uh, yeah, sure, i remember these are just more mouths i'll have to feed, with soup ladles.

Pedro: maybe this will jog your memory, don't run away. come gather round, guys, dolls, and you Pam, everyone on the spectrum, all welcome. i'm gonna tell you a ghost story. this active fireplace in the middle of the darkened dark dining room sets the mood, there are no sprinklers inside domestic homes in the '90s. the fire alarm is on silent so everyone can hear me. long ago, in a mystical place known as the '80s, the place where i come from, there lived a man who wore a kangol and drove a taxicab through the City. each night he'd traverse the Crooked Street and get stuck. helping the homeless on the Crooked. he'd take the giant soup ladle from out his locked taxi trunk and fill all hungry muddy mouths with broken barley broth, fast-food roast chicken was too expensive at the time, still recovering from that '70s inflation. noodles were an Asian thing not yet invented. the homeless would thank his charity by writing on his cab with paint and promising to rent from him in the future. and on moonless nights when the moon is full, some say you can still see that cab driving, edging those corners of the Crooked, familiarly, slowly, like a wispy wagon. and in bright red letters, not blue or black or white or yellow letters, but in red letters, on the cab is a word scholars through the ages have tried and failed to decipher and translate and tome out but to no avail. the word, the magic word, the incantation, the spell, the curse, remains a mystery:


the sorority sisters all scream.

Christopher: uh yeah, that man was my father.

Pedro: and he's here with us tonight!

Christopher: but he's dead!

Pedro moves Pam and palm by the shoulders right up to Christopher's face.

Pedro: exactly. he is here with you in spirit, Christopher, through Pam here. are you ready to marry here and now on this show? this is not a drill, it's real. i'm the first ordained online minister, i can do this in five minutes. don't you remember how you made your kids?

Judd starts fucking Pam in her butt right there on the carpet.

Pam: *getting thrusted and dusted* let's get married, Christopher, let's get hitched. i know you're chicken but i will be your noodle.

Pedro waves his two hands in the air bravadoly like a showman without a tophat but with a glitter cape.

Pedro: THIS IS YOUR LIFE!!! remember now what happened? Christopher is it coming to you now? hey Judd and Pam, remember to collect the samples from the both of you. and take them to my office in the basement. and scrape off any white or clear from Christopher's coat.

Christopher: okay but i want a church wedding. and i'm thinking of going back for my doctorate.

Pedro: Christopher and Pam, you're married, you're gonna be married forever, this is all legal.

Monday, January 14, 2019


i don't care what nobody says, softcore does it better

1. who has a tendency to hold a grunge---you or your SO? my ex from Japan, who comes out of the tv every night when i'm having my tv dinner of broccoli and cheese powder alone on the tray watching major-league European lacrosse from Hungary to make sure i'm not lonely and cold. she has the most beautiful eyes, you can't see them on account of her extraordinarily long hair, which i also cherish. i appreciate all she does to ease my self-doubts post-breakup but the thing is, SHE broke up with ME...

2. the last time you had sex, was it meaningful (making love) or trivial (getting a much needed fuck)? for me, a fuck is meaningful. i mean it's like a sugar rush, right? you simply must fuck now, sometimes i don't even take off my pants. when it's meaningful for us, we always play John Davidson trivial pursuit after, that's how we know. the man is now a silver fox and plays the guitar with Yanni---whose last name is Laurel---in a clear cave full of silver crystals. there is one difference which separates lovemaking from a hard letting-your-end-out fuck: one less lash. from the whip. and the eyelash brush.

3. do you have sex with your eyes open or closed? why close your eyes? takes all the fun and money and hard work to get there and sweat equity and equity out of it. just makes life harder on yourself. you don't see who the person is, you need to for many reasons, even if only for safety concerns. you have to see where you're putting the thing in which hole. or you might accidentally put it in your flower vase and get it stuck there...…………………...oh, i didn't know i was at the Solar Cookers International convention, carry on...

4. when arguing with a loved one, who is most likely to "hit below the belt" first?, attacking your partner's character or something personal about them.

it went down like this:

me: Mike, it's time to go.
Mike Tyson: where?
me: no, it's over between us.
Mike: you have low moral fiber. i use more fiber to feed my pigeons than you have morally.
me: Mike, it's just, well, i'm scared of you.
Mike: you confiscated all my belts!
me: those were your underwear linings, they're all stretched out beyond repair, the belt of your briefs. ironically i wear the boxers and you wear the briefs.
Mike: did you sell them on Craigslist? Craigslist is still a thing? Cus always told me if he ever disappeared, to find him there. in the classifieds. under "Desperately Seeking Susan".
me: Mike, i feel for you, you're grieving and you've taken one too many shots to the head. so have i, in jello shots. you see? we're not helping each other out in a synergy cycle, we're simply feeding on the other's depression like two piranha.
Mike: i had a pet piranha, but he was so blue being alone he turned gold and swam on his back relaxedly the rest of his life.
me: no that's Nemo. actually got a happy ending until the sequel.
Mike: up your nose with a rubber hose.
me: your underwear linings look like little rubber belts. you don't have to wear a thong to have panty line.
Mike: party line? i've been blocked from calling those, they only work at night.

5. is sex with your best friend a dream come true or the worst nightmare? i've been wrestling more than boxing with this. what is the best outcome? to remain a best friend with your member of the opposite sex for life with no sex to screw it up? or is every platonic relationship destined to be bound for hot and heavy waters, at least to test the ship in those shaky bubbling waves? the sex will undoubtedly ruin the friendship, but what if it launchpads you two to something much more meaningful? and hot n fuzzy rather than warm n fuzzy. my friend and i have had many a knock-down-drag-out over this. there wasn't much damage left in my room after cos my friend is imaginary.

bonus: share with us your best tip for making your online dating profile stand out: no photos...


Friday, January 11, 2019



* disclaimer on front street: this is not an endorsement of Walmart. i've never been to a Walmart. they're not allowed to build Walmart in my neighborhood, i live in Paradise and the permit to build that parking lot closed when an acoustic guitar was tied to a tree with a yellow ribbon. now i know why Billy Corgan and Paris Hilton are such good friends. btw, what the hell happened to Paris Hilton, where is she!!? i need her father-in-law to ring the 24/5 Bell.

* this is the same thoroughfare they used when Dick Cheney and Anne Hathaway were getting it on...btw, where's Anne Hathaway? i know this is the age of the Disney princess but apparently only if you're animated....

* watch for incoming parkourists falling down that sunlit slit. follow the orange cones...up, you melted them all with your back-fire

* why does the Ghostbusters stationwagon have scuba tanks? the Marshmallow Man needed to be roasted, not drowned. and that tiny ladder is useless, it's cute but it's useless.

*  KITT was Rudolph before Rudolph. do you know why i love the '80s? cos you're never gonna see a desert that pristine ever again in the 21st century...

* i never watched the Disney Cars films franchise. cos i've never been into cars though i am into Disney. talking cars seems a stretch, i mean what do they drink? gas? now talking planes makes sense cos their propellers are natural noses.

* that's why you didn't get any business, Cutts is spelled wrong. people still get their fingers dirty scanning classifieds, right? and Rhode Island is so small it's not on any map. dog-grooming is a hard job, especially if you're a cat person. that van is like if Rowlf were a car.

* i'm ashamed to admit i still have yet to see Vacation, i hear that's the best one of the trilogy. Lou Glutz not to be confused with Lou Holtz or Lou Gehrig. i'm afraid of driving cars (why did i do this commercial?) but i will admit it'd be safer on the road if your two front headlights were eight lights like a spider's eyes. it's just, how do you top Chevy Chase's "na na na na na" superhero sound from Caddyshack? update: Chevy Chase is not difficult, Chevy Chase is an asshole.

* greeter: i'm not on strike, i live paycheck to paycheck, i've been reduced to eating dog food.
Scooby: it's not so bad. but don't believe the hype, sista, Scooby Snacks do NOT taste like cereal. i'm worried about my boy Shaggy, he told me once he's never eaten human food. that struggling scraggling shaggling beard on his chin? that's fur…

* Slimer's greeter: i'm trying to be nice and pleasant here, but all the green goo in my face i'm not used to. i'm not your girlfriend.

* baby raptors: Xiyung?
Xiyung: omg! you actually read my nameplate! nobody reads my nameplate, i'm just the nameless crazy rich ethnic Walmart greeter everyone passes by in the lit hall and treats like dirt. *touches her chest* i'm honored that you consider me a person.
baby raptors: we consider you a threat to the world. we have really good eyesight, can read tiny print.
Xiyung: you hungry? i mean for groceries...

* Fairy Godmother: i'm the fairy godmother, give me that pumpkin!
Walmart greeter: no I'M people's fairy godmother in modern times, this pumpkin is mine!!!

* Fred Flintstone: this is a load, but not as much as Wilma...

* Slimer: THAT's what you get for what you did, Becky With The Good Hair!!!

* Bumblebee: i finally made a good Transformers movie! i finally get my own parking space! honey, direct-deposit those groceries into my mouth, i took out my motor, i have to stay skinny for my mounting roles and job offers...

* KITT voice: it's the future, Michael.
greeter: he calls everyone Michael.
KITT voice: i trained at Juilliard, you think i'm dumb?! i was referring to Michael J. Fox obviously.

* Disney Proudly Presents: "Planes", the second single from Gary Numan…...this song didn't chart...

* there, now you don't have to watch the Super Bowl.

* speaking of, CLICK HERE

Cody Parkey drinks Coke. hey at least this kicker actually missed it, it wasn't tipped. what do you call that sound after drinking a soda longly and lovingly down your throat, refreshive sigh? Cody now works as a meter maid in the greater Chicagoland area. when he's not selling butter. his roommate is Bartman. they don't do interviews, but at least we now all know where The Simpsons is located.


happy weekend, my babies. i'm rooting for the Bears! well i'm rooting for Bears weather, i want all the games to be determined by heavy snow! football looks so pretty in the snow. my eyes will be darting between dueling dual screens, i'm gonna dig up the attic for my collection of Trackdown episodes for a rewatch binge. CBS Television is so good when it comes to delivering their old DVDs on time...

Wednesday, January 9, 2019


Mohammed: 42nd Street Moon, this is my home. i don't feel at home anywhere else in society, even in San Fran.

Cory: even on Lombard Street?

Mohammed: what are you implying? don't you see my girl Stephanie in the back row all to herself in a small red circle table in the corner of the club chugging the water from the flower vase?

Cory: that's yo girl? son, i am disappoint. so no, Mo. she's black like you. racemixing is the way to go, any good perfume scientist knows that, the strongest potion comes from the most different strains coming together. the more they don't blend, the more you force it, the more vicious the scent cos it's made out of pain and struggle. haven't you ever fancied me as a sack mate?

Mohammed: i mean you're cute'n'all...with the green freckles i see you...but just cute, not sexy. i dunno, it's not that she's black, it's that i love her.

Cory: after three weeks? there? fetuses die in three weeks! i want to learn how to fuck San Franciscan style. come with me, i'm lonely, i'm still new to the city and i get lost easily. i want to go to Macy's and eat there.

Mohammed: um, if you haven't noticed, i'm about to perform. but you're welcome to stay, girlie, you'll be a welcome distraction, i'm nervous.

Cory: nah, i'd just be a welcome subtraction.

Mohammed gets up on stage and crawls on all fours, pounding his huge He-Man Hulk Pre-Black Panther Wakandan fists into the plankboards and cursing at the spotlight, howling like a hirsute hound despite his newly-shaved bald head. he doesn't so much sing as shout, spitting into his microphone, glacing the mic line, hurling hateful loud invective at the audience, with indecipherable tones and unpronounceable words in short bursts of power that a poetic stanza they do not make, no rhythm to be had here, felt freely and maddeningly like a shiver down a crowd whose backbones were all tattooed with a black backbone. Mo cursing himself and his state by looking down and at the audience. the performance leaves the audience shook, some clap, some's hands are too shaken to clap but they clap involuntarily out of being in a shaken state.

Cory: what was that, man?! i couldn't understand it. i don't know about art life in San Fran, i'm completely overwhelmed and swallowed by it.

but Cory did understand it, at least subconsciously, and that scared her, she was getting nervous in her head and knew she needed to act soon or it'd all blow.

Mohammed: that was my poetry. my high-level poetry, it got levels. it's all about loving yourself. the modern black man loves himself and people are scared of that. but we need more self-love in this world. i'm screaming my lungs out of agony that i want the world to love! i'm desperate for this! to happen, to occur. of course you didn't understand my sung poetry, girlie, i use vocab words in my lyrics. it's the exact same thing as a breezy reggae song with a light touch and barely-decipherable beat, same sentiment, same lyrics, only not soft-spoken word, done in the style of death metal. perhaps you'd understand it more if you weren't high on ganja gangsta life all the time.

Cory: you're kinda scary, Mo. like it seems you're liable to go off at any minute, do something drastic right on stage there.

Mohammed wraps his big bear arms around Cory, swallowing her.

Mohammed: come outside with me, girlie, i want to show you something. cash me outside.

Cory: i don't know what that means but i'm intrigued. like three-drink minimum or something? standing-room only? i still don't know what that means, that seating chart, it's very complicated.

Mohammed: look at the moon tonight, bathed in blue, crying out to us for help, crying for us to save it, dripping its silent light onto the roof of my joint.

Cory: your marijuana cigarette or you mean your club?

Mohammed: but see it's not blue. if you turn at this angle, you see that the moon is actually black.

Cory: it's half and half, half white and half black. like the Black and White Cookie, that new Seinfeld everyone's talking about and letting sink into society.

Mohammed: yes, this is our new normal. this is our last chance to save the world before it's too late and it all dissolves into race riots forever. there's a deterioratingness to this decade. look up, always look up for your guide/ it won't chide. and always remember, the moon is actually black, not white. understand?

Cory: *nodding forcefully forcedly* i think i get it.

while Mohammed leaves to set up for his second set, including covers of Whodini's "Freaks Come Out At Night" and Sam Cooke's "That's All I Need To Know" done in doom metal, Cory takes Stephanie aside outside to talk with her.

Cory: i want you to steal perfume from Macy's. for me. no, just so i can learn from you, it's a compliment. you're gonna be my San Francisco sensei like you see in those old '70s kung-fu flicks. why do you have a beaded curtain on your head? is that the style here? are you emulating all the beaded curtains in those San Fran swinging shacks of the '60s?

Stephanie: did you only ask me to do this cos i'm black?

Cory: Steph Steph it's just...i don't get you guys' relationship. i mean all black men want a white woman, right? i mean is there actually such a thing as a black skinhead?

Dabo Swinney is at the mic:

Dabo: yee-haw! i mean what'd you expect? my last name is the utterance of a pig, i'm as South as they come! and proud of it! football will be relegated to the South soon after all the regulations. i'm just a typical country boy, typical Georgian dog, my wife was the Bassett hound as i followed and swallowed her tail's scent down every shrimp sidewalk. thank god jesus she took me in, i wouldn't be where i am now without her faith, i'd be in a gutter. who'd play me in the movie? well i kinda sorta look like Bruce Jenner. well you gotta start with Matthew McConaughey and those abs, right?

Dirg: MM, or M Squared as i call him only to him, makes playing pool and pushing the button of a car seem life-or-death. this guy's onto something.

Dabo: i invented the dab you know. my wife? this is tricky and tough, i have to be careful and delicate with what comes out of my mouth at this very moment, don't want to get in trouble with her. dog in the doghouse. well she sorta kinda looks like Bruce Jenner. the Princess. no the old one. yes, Kate Middleton, the one with the shoe line, i love those shoes! and of course our quarterback's gotta be played by Sunshine from Titans. you wouldn't believe little ol' Clemson's story, no Hollywood producer could ever write it. only God can write books, ultimately.

Laertus: you know i'm really liking this guy now, taken a shine, spitting from a fox, he's cute, he's infectious, like The Shining. he saved college football, well not really, but at least this is actually a rivalry now, not a Roddick Federer situation. still needs an 8-team playoff. i mean those are some convincing casting choices, he'd make a great casting director. this fits into my theory that all folk from the South really deep down want to run away to Hollywood to experience the good life. i would have chosen Ridgemont Sean Penn. or even Kurt Cobain if you want to get hot for this particular time period we're focusing on now.

Dirg: Kurt was the greatest actor of all time.

President Bump is at his own private yardsale where he's selling nothing. he sits down on a rainbow-slatted lawn chair in front of the Cream House and pets his pet plastic flamingo. he tries to interlock his hands and put them to the back of his head but they get swallowed by his hair.

Bump: ahhhh, this is the good life. relaxing, not working. why can't the President go buck naked? is that Nanchuck on the phone again? i'm hearing things, thought i heard a ring or invasion alert. got '70s kung-fu flicks on the brain. i work too hard. this Shutdown will last forever! i'll even make it my last Executive Order to keep the US Govt shut down for life! that'll show the elites, fiat the elites! permanent vacation! isn't that how the song goes? they want a Wall, it's very Medieval, the good old days, and my party is protecting me, keeping me surrounded by a moat. the people will pay for it, i hate being in that stuffy stilted room, it's like the old Mad Magazine office room in New York City, the one with the vault in the back of the family photos on stilts in the back desk, too musty, you gotta get out and smell the fresh toxic air. i broke the tiny red Emergency glass box with that ball-penis hammer and got the hell outta there! the Wall will be made from see-through concrete, how is this possible you ask? well the concrete is clear. clear-colored, it looks grey, and it'll have a big beautiful door which will be so see-through it'll be like there's no door at all, just air. the concrete mixed by my own toy collection of those mint-green Transformers robots that transform into those circular mixer trucks. i see all this green around me, the grass not money, and it inspires me, i want to drink a green drink...…*looking straight into the camera* folks, i just had a Bang Sour Heads Creatine Cola...creative but it gave me diarrhea...turned my pee green...i'm watering the South least it's not those college football games where they water the field with beer...

at the Super Bowl, right before the Chargers win against the Cowboys (the last year not played with cowbots) with that ballet move, all the networks turn away from the live broadcast for a special breaking report. no, not Heidi. at that exact moment, before the bettors have a chance to calculate and cheat and FanDuel cos no one at Vegas knows who won the game, THIS SECOND is when Bob Mueller decides to drop his report...

no one in the world knows who won the Super Bowl. the coaches, players, and audience in the stadium are sworn to secrecy by the FBI, who storm into the stadium, crashing the stadium steel slat up-down sliding doors like a Brooklyn bodega, shutting everybody up. it's a National Emergency phoned in by FanDuel. "Dammit Jim" Comey and "Stream On" Fox Mulder place their fingers to their mouths. those are their new top-secret FBI codenames.

Bump: as in he's dropping this whole witchhunt thing, right? dropping the case? no evidence. i will soon have Bob's work Barred.

Pence: sir, we should immediately close the Northern Border. did you know pornhub is a Canadian company!!? i watch it all day, nothing but bootyholes! bootyholes everywhere! wall-to-wall bootyholes!

the crones are at the quite quaint quiet village of Helen.

Doryce: this place amazingly is in the heart of Georgia! what is an alpine village full of alpacas doing in a place like this? as if dropped from ancient Europe! i think i misjudged the South...

Gladyce: think about this irony: CNN: Georgia, Fox News: New York. don't get discouraged, babe, Helen of Troy's got nuttin' on you! ready for finally some skiing, babe?

Doryce: before we ski we have to learn how to skate. how to skate on unfrozen water. do you know the precise amount to heat water? time i mean.

Gladyce: if you're asking if you heat my insides, you already do, babe, don't feel self-conscious.

Doryce: like in the microwave, how many minutes. you know the microwave was invented expressly to heat up water. like food wasn't even in the consideration, it was a box designed for making tea instantly materialize. garcon! who do i have to fuck to get some service in this gingerbread house!?

Geoffrey Owens shaved beard as The Mooch: me?

Doryce: hard-right pass swipe. anybody else in the kitchen back there? Gordon maybe? the goth guy? for an unpopular second-season go-round?

Kevin Spacey walks out in a watermelon apron. the watermelon apron is immediately savaged online by subredditors who are saying---well, typing---it was an insult to fans.

Kevin Spacey: TWO MINUTES. two minutes for water is the correct timed answer, and my final answer.

Dirg: *bowing* you are my hero, sir.

Gladyce: are you acting or acting creepy?

Kevin Spacey: *looking directly at the camera* look at my eyes! they are anything but spacey! they are serious! they are intense! you know that long monologue i gave in my kitchen? that was all done in one take, from memory the first time, no script, not even one cold reading of a script, in fact there was no script, that was all off-the-cuff improvised from whole cloth, straight from my head, no video manipulation splices breaking in to cut, that's how good of an actor i am.

Laertus: let's not encourage him, fam.

Kevin Spacey: the audience of crowded people are always fascinated by stars and their cars. flying cars uh private planes over cut island clouds. Nantucket wouldn't exist without me, they'd be like Netflix. Nantucket Netflix, like BETflix, Netflix only for blacks. you name me the last thing in the world which generated interest. for the first time, the sleepy island village of Nantucket had to hire paparazzi for its Chamber of Commerce brochure.

Spacey recites: there once was an old woman from Nantucket/
who woke up one day and said fuck it/
she loved who she loved/
the way few had done/
and told the whole wide world to suck it.

Spacey: that old woman......she was portrayed by yours truly. with no makeup.

Dirg: *applauding with irregular clapped hands* he just wanted to love the way everyone wants to love.

Eye Luggage: great, the breaking news dug into all i wanted to talk about today. i'm back, folks, send me DMs and food. questions only, no pics. man marriage is going great! i feel like i've won all the Olympic Gold Medals like Meg Griffin! before we go, well before my mic gets cut, your predictions for Masked Singer?

Dirg: are you kidding me with that mask!? the masked singer was revealed, dude took off his furry helmet head, and it's Antonio Brown! from the Steelers! he was THERE instead of helping the Steelers win that playoff game they never got to play! he was there the whole time! that's why he was missing from practice. another one goes Hollywood and loses his soul! the coach should not be fired, he's a cool dude, he reminds me of my father if my father had been a black man.

Antonio Brown tries to talk about it at the red-circle table at 42nd Club but it's too small. and upturned.

the cast go to Washington, DC. for various activities, there's not much to do since it's shut down, so Pedro enjoys a few drinks at a local gathering club. Pedro scans the place up-and-down suspiciously and sinisterly. but not left-to-right.

Pedro: scams, everywhere i look. wall-to-wall scams. this club is full of holes. wet holes. watering holes. wall-to-wall watering holes. would you mind if i peed in your butt?

Sasser: *napkin stuck to his forehad with gin* exsqueeze me?

Pedro: i noticed your napkin doesn't say KICK ME. so i just assumed. hello, young buck. how are you surviving the shitdown?

Sasser: hello, i'm Sean. i own Stussy, the first startup company ever, skateboards and skatebirds and shirt shit. our shirts are good, they're the best, i mean shit as in stuff. and shorts. Stussy stuff. we got the best caps, they're non-sports-related, designed to be rally caps turned around on the head. the shirt and short tags in the back are always inverted upside-down and scratchy, too. i drew the first Cool S, that's where the Cool S comes from.

Judd: THAT WAS ME!!! I drew the first Cool S! Superman, you know. i was shut out here! i hate this fucking DC place! Mo was telling me about AC DC. i was all set to present my presentation, i had my portfolio of my comics all ready on posterboard stands. and they said the stage was set for another band, another group of animators working on an early pilot for Regular Show for adult swim, what the hell even is that!!? the main guy had hippie long hair. we don't need regular we need revolution!

Rachel: *tigress sounds and cat-swipe with her dainty hand* rawr! your incipient anger is getting me all bot and bothered uh hot and bothered. i think i need a milk bath. Puck should bathe, too. i was bored. and boring, i signed up for the Peace Corps as you might've imagined and decided not to actually do the Peace Corps as everyone does, everyone chickens out at the last minute, they just want their resume to look cool to jobs. to go through with all that travel??! only if MTV pays for it, thank you, ma'am! don't make fun of me, i'm the pretty one, not the funny one.

Pedro: i love your sass. so you're intimating you're rich? your Stussy is giving me a stiffy.

Sasser: i skate. i'm a marcher.

Pedro: well march your black butt up the stairs to my room, then, mister. i'm an activist and i'm bout to activate you.

Sasser: where's your room?

Pedro: San Francisco. the backwash of San Francisco. from Wash it's gonna be a looooooong strange trip.

the two finally get to the House.

Sasser: sir i'm kinda tired form the trip. i mean we took ten planes.

Pedro: *slanted eyes, furrowed eyebrows* come on baby. everyone! everyone in the house! i want you to meet my future husband!

Sasser: wait, what? i don't even know your name is Pedro.

Pedro: i have a keen sense about these things, honed from being acutely aware of how precious life is because i can die at any second. i'm a positive person, not just an HIV-positive person. come on, everyone, join us in my bed. it's my birthday, you said i could have anything i wanted! all 8 of us, let's fuck. it'll go quicker if we do it in orgy form. 8 is enough, 8 is great. nothing forced here, it's all fun. and in fun, cos science is fun. you know, Sean, i haven't even asked if you're gay cos it doesn't matter here. here we do it San Franciscan style, in the butt. everyone, in the butt. gay, straight, or other along this nascent rainbow known as the spectrum. cos there are no virgins in life, everyone gets fucked in the butt. please, sweet Sasser, turn your head to the headboard. no, face the headboard...

but two are missing from the orgy. Rachel spies from the second storie Puck in the drenching rain right outside the House by the front chandelier door, he is looking up but not looking up. the torrents have long since turned his blond porcupine-spikes dyejob back brown and straight lines. Rachel climbs down the chandelier stairs to greet him.

Rachel: Puck, where have you been?

Puck: i love the rain. it cleanses my dirtiness. and calms me with cold. i want to drive in the rain, thrive in the rain. and succeed in the rain. and win in the rain. and beat the rain, like i beat myself.

Rachel: you look like an apparition, like the ghost who's haunting the House. lightning flashes illuminate your essence just for the moment of the trident. and the thunder comes from your wheels.

Puck: you know where i've been all day uh week? the time you were away at DC Comics? i was in court, traffic court. they gave me a traffic ticket, hit my cheeks with it hard, ignobly issued. i couldn't just pay it in the mail, the internet hasn't been invented yet, i had to travel all the way to court, but my bike got stolen. by the Government, the Govt *air quotes with his fingers* commandeered it and stuffed it in some government icebox facility for storage, never to be seen again. that was the bike of my childhood, i have no idea where it is, it's gone forever. they spotted Pedro's car in the bike zone, he is the illegal one, but they don't tow Pedro's car, instead they get me for my bike, chained legally and properly in that spot! a vicious violation. no justice, no peace. my spotless record is forever spotted!

Rachel: oh yeah, i think i saw Pedro riding your bike. he was doing wheelies with it in the rain down Lombard Street. he was in a rush, he said he had to hurry to do his taxes on time.

Puck: he could have just mailed his taxes in from home, sent them snail. he's early like a pregnancy. this day won't be a total waste of time if you agree to help me construct my soapbox derby. watch me ride it down Lombard Street, it's meant for wet.

Rachel: but is it meant for curves? see i don't myself know, cars and weird machinations with bolts and rods scare me, they ick me out, they're creepy. they're like robots or something, not human, therefore i can't care for them. you smell weird, clean, i can't spot you. please don't come any closer! don't approach me with your screwdriver! or hammer! or anything that wrenches! and that weird triangular oilcan you see in cartoons that you open-carry in your pocket!

Puck: i thought it cute, it's Illuminati-shaped i would have thought you'd be into it. no, not the club here, the other club. it's okay, i have a license. please, Rachel, let me drive you to Inverness. Inverness is the magic place, my magic place, i want to show you the world, my world, the magic world. we'll drive just the two of us along the Redwood Coast, see actual Sacramento mountain lions, go to Patrick's Point, explore Granite Island, flip the Channel Islands National Park, till we reach our secret sacred destination not found on any map. okay, we'll walk all these things.

right now at Inverness there's a tiny brown speck in large swaths of foggy sparkly emerald-isle green of rolling hills. it's Goody Paul, traveling, with purpose but aimlessly...

Rachel: Pedro says we need a granite island, in the kitchen of the House. a hard flat space for better orgies.

Laertus: i feel for Pedro. he just wants to love like everyone else. like Grandpa Simpson denied himself and only realized very late in life.

on the granite island table in the kitchen in the dead of night after everyone has gone down to sleep in their rooms, Pedro's shifty eyes scan back and forth with his two beads like an evil calculator, determined to decipher the orgy's results. crunching the numbers on his tiny box computer with tiny white curved paper slithering out of it like a snake's tongue. truly crib notes. like a medieval tax collector traveling on a dirt highway, it's tax season soon.

Pedro: drat. i don't think it's here. needs more testing. i'm hungry. i'm always hungry this time of night. i wonder if ice cream made with caged eggs tastes better? i've now fucked everyone associated with the show: cast, crew, and management. already. deductibles? well i broke that dude's bike, shattered it in a nanomillion pieces and bolts. that thing is destroyed. so that cost is gone. saved. defray, don't delay. do you know where a man such as i can get a roll of ticker-tape in the city at this hour?

Bunim: i'm not here.

Monday, January 7, 2019


1. i want to repeat 6th Grade. not cos i flunked it or anything---in fact i got a 100 on it---but that was a turning point for me. Ms. Krause my 6th grade English teacher, who was really more suited for college freshmen with her icy demeanor, who was my first glorious encounter with true Wiccan magic, read all about it at my Instagram Stories...there's a lurid taboo affair and everything, it's juicy...

2. i want to lose 200 pounds. then i'd be off to the Dream World where i can finally get some work done...

3. i want to gain employment. but God said to me when i last prayed that the real work only starts once you reach Heaven. the one-sided conversation at the bodega streetcorner went something like this:

God: do you have insurance?
me: no. of course not. i'm an atheist artist.
God: i can sell you a policy that will be lifetime benefits. don't you trust my Alex Trebek mustache? okay how about the Alex Trebek beard? see you only know about lifetime benefits on Earth, that's a dearth! we're talking REAL lifetime benefits here in Heaven.
me: i'm hungry, will you buy my wine in a styrofoam cup at this bodega here?
God: you hungry? for the spirit? how bout i buy you all-you-can-eat mint-green pancakes at this burger joint IHOP.
me: all i can eat?
God: no, you. i don't eat anymore, it's disgusting. you realize what i just did to you? all you can Heaven...

4. i want to enjoy the finer things in life, but after Robin Leach died, there was just no point.

5. i want to savor salad dressing, salad dressing is the only thing that's savory anymore. and i want to savor that CNN Gilda Radner documentary i taped on New Year's Day. yeah i was KINDA busy on New Year's Day! just getting to my beloved Gilda now...i didn't erase it afterwards, i deliberately didn't watch the last five minutes, just so I'd have an excuse, so i'd always have that incentive never to be done with Gilda's story, to never let her light die, to never shut the lights out at a Gilda Club where laughter is the best medicine...the club in Seattle serves coffee rescued from the sea...she taught me that you have to dedicate your life to your craft, you can't do art for two months then move on to fencing...

6. i need more The Rock. i asked God about this the last time i saw Him:

me: what's the deal with The Rock? why'd you make him so perfect?
God: he's getting old, soon Momoa will replace him. like the whole Brady/Garoppolo transition was supposed to smooth, and then Kaepernick would replace St. Nick at Philly and Nick Foles would go to New England. but no, forces beyond my control fucked that all up.
me: is The Rock one of the Original Twelve Titans?
God: yes, he's getting so big i don't know if i can stop him anymore. Ellen DeGeneres is a fellow Female Titan, both are power-hungry and looking to replace their previous popular counterparts. The Rock with President and Ellen with Oprah, who will be President.
me: i'd do anything The Rock says. his chiseled smile is uncounterable.
God: that's why i'm fearful so of a coup of me. and that Ellen, you see that sinister smile she beams when she's game-show host. she likes messing with those contestants, those poor people hung up on bungee cords wondering if they're gonna fall, she enjoys that a little bit too much, it's slightly sadistic.
me: game show hosts have all the power.
God: i asked my brother Satan about it. he massaged my fears. Satan, what sayeth you?
Christian Bale: it's gonna be okay. trust me, i'm a Christian. inspiration is good. greed is good. power is necessary. status is not sinful. you like my triangular pointy beard?

BONUS: i will succeed in my Super Bowl picks. i need the money, papa needs a new pair of shoes...for mama...and a margarita for me, papa. St. Nick Foles with his magic and warm kind niceness has restored kids' belief in Santa Claus. i aked him once as i passed him in the hall:

me: *star music playing in the background* Nick Foles, you just won the Super Bowl! again! when everyone said you were ridged toast! what are you gonna do now?
Nick Foles: i'm going to...…!......hey who are you? you got a hall pass?
me: my media pass?
Nick Foles: that's not good in hallways! security! take him away! *points at his chest with his thumbs* you don't want this smoke!

please direct all further inquiries to my milk bowl, i have successfully turned myself into my own grandfather cat.


Friday, January 4, 2019



* non-holiday winter special...

* candy cane blowjob

* dad: no, red crayon......okay, a Putin missile...

* first there was the Tech Bubble, then the Housing Bubble, then there was the Apple Bubble...

* son: daddy, what are stars?
dad: stars no longer exist, son, those are cold Christmas trees. cold Christmas trees which are strategically covering up my reflection fail. i'm recording this with my Apple phone and the bubble reflection shows my exposed cock. i had to fit this in with a shower today.
son: that's okay, daddy, mommy's cock vibrator on the table is showing, too.

* girl: WINTER is cool (get it?) but i'm trapped under the skate pond here, isn't that more of a priority?

* Ultima Thule is already being called Snowman I

* God: is it true fish have no souls?
me, Phoenix: i thought that was they couldn't blink.
God: oh yeah, i'm confused. i think it's frozen fish have no souls.

* Bigfoot: hey Gloria.
Gloria: hey big guy.
Bigfoot: come on, i learned your name. make an effort, woman. cold one today.
Gloria: it's December.
Bigfoot: but it's not February. February is when it's really cold.
Gloria: so you're like Chewbacca but a talking arsehole, right? i'm gonna call you Cheeky Chewy. is that a styrofoam cup you're drinking out of?
Bigfoot: i'm not a cup connoisseur.
Gloria: yeah but you drink wine out of a styrofoam cup, only homeless people do that. i'm just wondering where's the Starbucks in these woods you got that from?
Bigfoot: i thought Starbucks was a green company then bam! there it was in my face, the styrofoam cups by the counter, i was like, whaaaaat? so ugly in white. at least bring back the red cups.
Gloria: that styrofoam's gonna be in the Earth forever. like your mom in me.
Bigfoot: let's ask Earth if he gives a fuck.
Earth: don't care. give me that tire to eat, i need three more and maybe then i can finally get out of here. the Earth's got bigger problems, *vomits* yeah, like the Glowing Ball from Big Trouble in Little China. and racism.
Gloria: so what happened to all the Christmas trees this year?
Earth: you're looking at them. i'm a big ugly Christmas tree with reindeer antlers, that's what happens. fires and mudslides, the training twins i call them. you two will be in me soon enough.
Bigfoot: how's my mom?
Earth: she's a tire.

* weatherman: hello, i'm The Nerd from Robot Chicken if he had an Asian father. or rather i am The Nerd's Asian father. i know you insist on tits and ass here, but i'm made out of thin paper, i'm a puppet. of corporate interests. the weather is controlled by the Government…
Government: that's enough of that, you're fired.
The Nerd: wait, stay woke, people! permanent winter...
Govt: yes it's permanent winter, but it's not permanent nuclear winter or anything...
The Nerd: i am so pissed i can only use one emoji!
Govt: you've been selected for this top-secret mission. cos you're the only one left. defeat the Big Bad and save the day! defeat the corporate interests. sidescroll through all the levels of all the failed video games offered at Games. they were good games but we offered them all for free, that was our mistake.
The Nerd: can i use my big banana condom in battle?
Govt: that's a yellow umbrella.
The Nerd: suck on this!...……….weeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!......i'm Mary Poppins, bitch!!!
Govt: S&P says you can't say "Mary Poppins", copyrighted.
The Nerd: since i control the weather, does that make me God?
Govt: no it makes you the Government.

* white wolf: winter is coming. no, it really is. i hate Game of Thrones, took too long to end. overstayed its welcome, the Red Wedding should have been the series finale.
white wolf: so as you can see, viewer, you're getting nauseous watching me jump up and attack my prey in a hole. when they splice the video nanosecond by nanosecond like this your senses don't have time to settle on the film so you start to experience disorientation and delusions, imagine how my prey feels.
white wolf: wouldn't it be more clever if i didn't jump up high first and announce myself like this? on the plus side, the frozen tundra is getting me excited for the NFL Playoffs. and the twigs all around the white landscape remind me of musical-notation notes on sheets. i caught a harmonica...

* man in bed: i need to close that window, it's letting in the mound of snow. what a draft! i was picked last in the NFL Draft and told to take my ball and go home. i'll catch my death! then again i have no dick so i'm already dead.
man: does it matter if i walk if i can already see my butt?
man: this is why Escher never exercised. all the stairs he drew were actually his exercise plan.
man: what?
DON'T TOUCH THEM: your balls.
man: i won the marathon!
crowd: you cheated. you had your clones at the waystations with styrofoam cups of water.
man: cloning will finally render the Olympics useless. that's the one drug that can't be tested for.
man: icicles are only dangerous if they're on top of you. my eye is actually my ear and my ear is my eye. ready, Rudolph?
Rudolph: it's snowing and i'm sweating, that's how nervous i am.
Rudolph: so why didn't you want to be Santa this year, Santa?
man: ashamed of my lack of facial hair.

* me: blue balls streaking across the galaxy?
God: nothing to do with my insecurity. they're UFOs, that's all. blue indicates freezing temperatures. on a weather map and in space.
me: i thought there was no color in space.
God: let me put on my glasses, i can't hear you without my glasses.
me: and now we see a beautiful blue comet hurtling down.
God: that Elon Musk, he never learns.
me: what happened to our oceans, God?
God: they became one sea of runny ice cream swirl like Trump wanted. but this is Putin's work, his newest missiles' work, Putin simply attached his weapons to Elon underground subway trains. what Putin fears most is a popular Dinosaur Uprising. Putin hates that dinosaurs are more popular than him. Putin will convince the T-rex in the interrogation room that it has red hair and it stole a sensitive flash-drive even though the T-rex can't hold a flash-drive with its tiny arms.

* Gundam Unicorn opening. starry-eyed and beautiful with the wonderful music and hopeful startrail. not Melancholia, let's keep this positive while we can.

* God: amazing, isn't it!? wondrous! once-in-a-lifetime, i can say that, you can't. the ending of a cancer cell. and the beginning of a new one. the blood vessels in space feeding blood to healthify it. information superhighway at work.
me: and by cancer you mean...?
God: the universe.
me: why is it called a Spider Universe?
God: cos one day a spider will eat it. X-ray of the Big Bang in which you can see the Human Eye. no reflection fail there. way better technology than the iPhone X hence the sales slump.

* only people with blue eyes can see the whole of the universe. the rest need glasses to see Ultima Thule.

* swimming shark: i've always wanted to settle down and start a fireplace...

* robots: we are the new humans! what do we do for Christmas?
God: how about a firelog?
robots: great! we can watch the fire log for a thousand years! log about it! we see a face in the fire! strangely, a human face. is this fire real or synthetic? we can't feel any warmth.
God: you'd overheat if you really felt it.
robots: oh. so what's the point of our existence then?
God: God, not this again!

* gold squishy melty Pokemon blob attempting the final level of Pac-Man...

* God: don't read into it too much, that's just an ax. those are red rays of the sun but that's it.
robots: so we don't have taste? we wanted to eat our fire logs!
God: that's not the function of the KFC firelog. it was all going well when the licking flames looked like Rudolph's antlers but now they look like people.
robots: those are real people. real human souls are trapped in the flames! wait, are these OUR souls?!
God:'re just gonna have to wait till the next Ice Age...sorry, closed for business.
robots: we can wait...


happy weekend, my babies. go get yourself that Super Bowl Philip Rivers

Wednesday, January 2, 2019


it was the seminal question Bunim wrestled with all throughout the casting process, who was gonna be the star? Pedro or Puck?

Puck: why do you say Pedro's name first?

Bunim: i was the first queenpin in television. nobody knows who Murray is. even Andy is more famous. i'm still pissed off my shoe-in show-in choice of Cara or whatever from Alaska who never experienced a day without snow blowing in her face and those cute orange fish gloves she always wore HAD to be in one of these shows. as the princess part, the main girl, the genteel Julie Gentry. the bumpkin whose eyes were wide as the city. but NO, MTV men got in the way of my dream! fuck em. i'll take her and her live-in Bama and her pretty dog of a son named Noah, too. Simpleton Sally we were calling her in the booth, she of the of course Yukon stock and harsh upbringing in the harsh elements, noble outdoorswoman who followed by wolf instinct and bear intimacy rather than street lights. the scripts wrote themselves, such as reality-show scripts are written and go. a real study in contrasts. i'm still sore over this, so for revenge i've granted myself access to all the locked hidden doors in the house this year so i can finally make the show i want! i'm the executive producer, woman writer, and CEO of this bitch!

Puck: whaddaya say, Mary-Ellen, who was the better lay, me or Pedro? that's easy in the Big City.

Bunim: it's hard cos you were the more thoughtful lover, Pedro was the aggressive hard fuck. but Pedro did remember my first name has a hyphen, so that just makes you dumb, Puck. dumb as a puck.

Pedro: with me, her bum was humming.

on that careful fateful day the Samurai Seven---the cast which would change reality tv into a force for good---took their spots in the famous house.

Bunim: this house, which is really a cantilever apartment with trolley wires, was famous the moment you stepped in it. it will be an icon location forever. there will be tours. paid tours on hover-trolleys, with Rice-A-Roni passed around in drug baggies on the deck of the trolley. people in the future, say 2030, will point to it and tug on their pops to ask him when did reality tv stop being educational television which rivaled PBS? PBS headquartered here in San Fran had to start their own reality show to counter our show, something about soggy bottoms.

Joanna: i'm from London, where it always rains. i don't speak Russian. hi.

Cory: i'm from Fresno where everything is free. i've been in jail this whole time during the focus-group trials of the casting process, i stole a bunch of clothes and skateboard sweatshirts whatever. they didn't have those bonemeal tags on them, i had to rip them off.

Puck: i like you.

Cory: i'm gonna be the perfume queen! i never knew my mother, she abandoned me, and my dad abused me, that's not the usual combination. they said i was born as a drop on a Murphy bed and left for dead. my mom's seed. whatever, i'm angry now, adult angry, poised at the world and pissed at it, and i became a Christian soldier. if it costs me my life i will wage the war on Christmas to get Christmas back in the stores! i want my mall full of Mary! i'm gonna be the queenpin of suburban subdivisions! my time at Nordstrom was not suspicious...

Bunim: and that's why I like her.

Judd: i'm from New York and i always win. no, not the cool New York of the '70s, the sissy gentrified one. i'm an alt-right comic-book creator and artist and writer and drawer. and inker. penciler.

Puck: alt-right? what the fuck is that?

Judd: you'll see. i'm way ahead of my time with what i do. my comics are so important they speak to the very nature of free speech itself. and million-dollar clean water for all, no more extreme pipe exchanges. it's time for the conservative voices to have their own Simpsons before all of our brothers and sisters on the right side get silenced forever.

Rachel: you're cute. i'm ready to set up camp. i guess i'm this season's babe. sorry, Cory in the San Fran house.

Cory: stuff it, SF sister. bitch. i said that out loud, i don't care. that's what MTV told me they wanted. MTV told me to tone it down, but fuck em.

Rachel: i'm excitedly and extremely liberal so i guess i came to the right city. i'm terrified of skateboards and other motor-functional devices with strange silvery axels and bolts and weird waxy wheels on them. George Bush was a mistake, it should have been and i voted twice for Dukakis, i don't want to see Dukakis riding down a lonely crooked road some time in the future on CNN bumping into strangers nobody knowing who he is cos he never made President.

Judd: you're making me wet my pants, Rachel.

Pedro: we live on the Crookedest Street In The World. guess who made it so crooked?...

Puck: hello, all, so pleased to meet each and every one of your acquaintance. i'm Puck. that's Puck, not Punk. and certainly not Fuck. i want to be called David but Bunim says no. i'm extremely well-mannered and soft-spoken, never uttered a word of hate toward anyone until i was in this toxic environment. i follow all traffic rules, never been issued even a parking ticket. my dream is to build the ultimate soapbox-derby car, one that is waterproof. when i win the Big Race i want to cry tears of joy in the rain and the adoring cheering crowd to be able to distinguish the two.

Mohammed: King Mohammed, bow down. my father was pretty famous but petty, he was part of the original Wailers. take a good look at these antsy grimey fullon blowdried scruffy dreads i have on, you tap them and dust falls out, they're being shorn in short order. i'm gonna form my own depressive-metal band. we open for Billie Joe Armstrong who ditched Green Day in favor of darker punk, more if Black Flag was hardcore. Billie only wears black ill-fitting T shirts now. it's still novel to be a black rocker in the '90s, still, just barely. we play at the 42nd Street Moon stage next to the locked theatre room where PBS is experimenting with softcore, baby steps. i gotta get all that ridiculous reggae from my youth outta my system, make it a more downward system. all that bubbly peace love unity ganja gravity was making my Mother Earth Soul Glow from thoughtful sex.

Pam: Pam here, gang. fam? i dunno. i get sick all the time and i don't know what to do. i'm a C student so obviously my parents disowned me long ago. hey, maybe i need more Vitamin C as a C student? i wander the streets looking for shelter soup. my eyes widen when i pass a bank of windows and i see all that yummy froufrou elite expensive extensive country-club food i can never have in my tummy. my goals in life are to work my way up from the student section of the Shun Fat Supermaket to the Taco Bell Live Mas Student Section even tho i despise sport to a Mollie Stone's Markets and maybe finally to the promised land: the deli of a Bristol Farms. to make ends meet i cosplay as a fondling female Smithsonian panda in that one club in the far corner of the city for sick Japanese businessmen diplomats who come to town, a panda they can reach through the gate to "pet". i tell them i need more Vitamin C and they talk about Vitamin Me...

Judd: you have really wide eyes, Pam. like you're a battle angel or something.

Pedro is last to introduce. he sways into the room like a Phantom Count howler monkey, his eyes darting all the edges of the punch bowl, his eyebrows with that Jim Carrey Mask look of creepy archness, his jagged eyeballs slanting down to skirts and belts, his smile triangular and to the side showing teeth. he jumps onto the hanging fern without it moving to a swing in the slightest, no noise from its chain link.

Pedro: well well well. my subjects. *waving* come on into the living room, everyone, i wanna show you somethin'...

all season long the residents in the regal residence will take shots together and bowl while on bowls together and pass by a bank of tvs showing through the open-air huge screen of window of the Radioshack down the block. everyone will be able to see these windows unto the world, not just the houseguests. you can see Pam most days walking aimlessly to her next meal scouting and shivering, or Puck riding cassette tapes taped together like a skateboard down that street with the tech shop.

in the world today, President Bump is holding a council meeting in the wrong room. he receives a phone call from Vlad Putin who sings Bump sneeringly a version of "Home For The Holidays" in a broken Russian-tinged English accent:

Bump: very funny, Vlad. i hate being stuck here in cold snowy Washington for the holidays. while my son is on a paradise beach all by himself. like i wanted to be as a kid, maybe then my bones would have healed on that beach. did you see my new blueprints for the Wall? it has those Game of Thrones pointy arrow things on the poles, very medieval.

Putin: that looks exactly like the gate fence whatever that had George Bush's head stuck on a pole like a stuck pig. very controversial, i don't like that.

Bump: ah Bush, everyone's first President, the one where you first were cognizant of what the President did, he was your Second Father protecting you from outside invaders. much like Mean Gene, there would be no wrestling without Mean Gene's dulcet velvet tones, he was the one who gatewayed all us kids into that world in the first place, to the ring stirrups, the ring suspenders, he was our introducer. without an introducer there is no life, no thug life, no Junkyard Dog. it just was never the same when the F turned to a E and they became that panda-saving organization. ironically, Mean was the nicest man who ever lived.

Putin attacks the Bermuda field of green of the National Championship of College Football with his AVANGARD missiles which blow a dirt hole open in the centre cut grass but none of the players or the ref move a muscle and continue studiously with the game.

Urban Meyer: where are the missile inventors?
Putin: nevermind Urban, they were too avant-garde for Russia, i gave them each a work-study visa to America. i scotch-guarded their mouths so they wouldn't reveal their secrets so they could make it big in America and get lots of money for their invention.

Kirk Herbstreit: i know what you're thinking but it's untrue. look at me, i'm the very embodiment of All-American. i lived on your street. why wasn't i chosen for The Bachelor? i never took any marijuana, only greens, i'm an athlete. college football is the greatest game of all time, and the greatest iteration of football, cos when you think about how young these players are, you can't help but think to yourself that all of this must be illegal.

Eye Luggage: miss me, nerds? on the show? we had an extended honeymoon my hammer and i. extended honeymoon crushed it. i know what you're thinking but it's untrue. i don't let her walk all over me, she wants to stomp my little toes but that hurts and not in the good way. i'm the him in this relationship. how about that Jackie Fuchs, huh!?

Dirg: from Hell's Kitchen?

Eye: no, the one from the Pretenders! i mean from Jeopardy! what a fox that Jackie Fox! and what a revolution! i don't mean the all-girl thing, i mean that she was a sexual-assault survivor and stayed brave in the face of it even against her own bandmates' faulty "recollections". this puts the dimmer for me on Joan Jett's jet rockets which sucks. Jackie's show success highlit it. maybe she'll be believed now that it's on tv.

Dirg: but it didn't. only the google scholars who learn everything from wikipedia know.

Laertus: what a refined woman all around. that is true power, the power of overcoming.

Dirg: speaking of fox, The Masked Singer? that is veering dangerously close to making furry acceptable and mainstream. btw speaking of, who is your mystery furry?

Laertus: in due time. he's not a furry or a CG character in the classic sense. even best buds need to keep secrets or they won't be best buds for long. kibosh on the bud and bud, marijuana and beer.

Dirg: so never?

Laertus: i've been so busy with school i've missed the latest Star Wars cartoon. was it any good?

Dirg: i want to say yes. the voice of Princess Leia on it made fun of the voice of Christine Blasey Ford.

Laertus: oh, so there's my built-in excuse. as Leia? for shame, Blasey should do Leia's voice as the true champion of women's rights.

Dirg: Christine should do it in a blasé crazy voice to rub it in. psychological voice. hey it's all comedy, all comedienne with an enne and an end, right Louis CK? young upstart male bald comic with a mustache starting in the San Fran underground this weekend that Louis...

Laertus: whatever happened to freedom of speech? i mean the right to speak freely and not have your voice made to sound like it's a weird voice. how was the funeral?

Dirg: i wasn't allowed in the room but i heard Stan Lee's final song through the mouse cheesehole screen to send Stan on his way to the great beyond: "Spiderman '79" by Veruca Salt.

Eye: why does everyone say Louise is hotter than Nina?, that's just not true, it's the opposite. speaking of rooms, remember i can call the cops on you at any time, Dirg, i've got the goods on you forever for that incident you pulled pulling your penis on my purple eyes and displaying it as art rather than science. it's burned in my retinas after i wash all the purple off.

Dirg: she knows my name! *clutches his hands in a bouquet of palms and twinkles his eyes* when the clock struck midnight i wanted to fuck you in the pouring rain. i needed to heat up, it wasn't cold. no not you, Laertus, her, Eye!

at the Super Bowl, it's the San Diego Chargers and the Texas Cowboys down to the wire as the remaining seconds melt away like sharp sand glass. Rivers the family man tosses a delicately-prepared and blueprinted throw to the wide receiver left wide open in the endzone by the design of an uncounterable play. the infamous 2-point conversion. this is the lithe balletique pass that wins the Super Bowl for the Chargers, so perfect and matter-of-fact and the perfect throw to end the brutal year on a soft chess move. served with soft cheese and wine.

Doryce is eating Gladyce. out of house and home. the younger crone literally eats the entire aisle at the SF Shun Fat and doesn't gain a pound. Doryce flies on her side up and down the aisle as if on a broom but she is broomless.

Gladyce: you lucky bastard! how much is all this gonna cost me uh us? always us.

Doryce: it's just microwave popcorn.

Gladyce: you can get that anywhere! why are we in this specialty Store? it's the ballet, right? still inspiring. popcorn scares me, i push the POPCORN button on our microwave and it burns the damn bag thing down like i'm a bag or something. we need a new microwave.

Dirg: Ryan's dad Idris Elba, he's a cool dude. good representative of a freed man.

Doryce: rule of thumb: cook all popcorn bags for 2 Minutes on HIGH. the time it takes a colleged Bama to tucker out from sex with me. now suck my thumb, babe. not you, Dirg, Gladyce.

Pedro: i fell in love with The Real World after watching the L.A. season. where the Los Angeles Chargers come from. that Aaron with those Republican blond hair locks, he was special.

Puck: wait, so you're gay? i think you're swell, Pedro, but i'm scared of you.

Rachel: yeah i'm scared of you, Pedro, you're rough. you're nice but you're mean.

Pedro punches Rachel in the shoulders to loosen her up and has Puck look down as he pokes Puck's eyes Three Stooges-style.

Pedro: what? i'm just being playful. Punch and Judy. Puck, i think you need glasses, that would cut down on your bike-messenger accidents. of course i'm gay. i'm HIV-positive.

Cory: i hope you die, deserved, serves you right for your tortured laissez-faire beliefs.

Pedro: yes i was into BDSM while it was still new, i was an early adopter. ask the one club before there were clubs. oh but you're gonna help me out, Cory, you all will. see i'm concocting a formula, a purple potion, a certain amalgam of bubbles and ingredients and herbs and spices which will cure the AIDS i have and herald in a new revolution in science in which i will be its mad king. i'm already angry having contracted this disease simply because i wanted to love like everyone else. that is my single focus in life, to heal myself that i may heal others and the world and we can all go back to again loving. i'm an educator, and my classes are the talk of the town, i am very permissive. wanna see my scrapbook? i'm not a scientist, i'm a survivor.

Rachel: *flipping through Pedro's scrapbook* these are all Polaroids of various men and women with their butts turned toward the camera, you can't see any of their naked chests. and you pin various cloth scraps of their clothes to the corners of the pages.

Pedro: victims? test subjects? hardly. these are my friends, you are all my friends. i need everyone's fluids to match against my database so i eventually discover just the right combination. see in San Francisco we do sex San Franciscan style, which is really Cuban style, always in the butt, to extract the fluid, regardless of your sexual orientation. i need your fluids findings.

Rachel: i don't know about all this, seems a little solemn and Sodom.

Pedro: please don't reject my sex, sweet Rachel, i take it as a rejection of me. and i've already tried experimental theatre here down the block but they said i was too into experiments. and you reject my scrapbook, i worked hard on that book. and my studies. my school is the classroom of life, that expression hasn't become hackneyed yet. please, Rachel, i need your help or this experiment of humanity is a real failure. it increases the chances of success when we all come together. now everyone let us recongregate at my bedroom's bed.

Puck: the rain gets my dander up and i have horrible hay fever, i sneeze for days nonstop, all my blond hair coloring comes out, building up a mountain of mucus in my nose. it's so embarrassing not to have tissue at the ready in my shirtpocket. the snot just makes my acne worse.

Pedro smiles chilly and puts his arm tight around Puck's shoulder to reach Puck's neck to squeeze hard.

Pedro: i knew there was a reason they set this thing up right at Valentine's Day, those sneaky reality-show bastards, i know what they were driving at, what they wanted us to do! well, i give in, i knew there was a reason i liked you, Puck. i like you, Puck, but i love you, Puck. let the rain wash away all of your foul body grime.

Puck: you know in the van parked out back the producers nickname you AIDS Andy.

Puck sees in front of him the cameraman with the bushy mustache covering his mouth and bald spotted head peeking through his black MTV cap change out tapes and begin filming again. at least he wasn't peeing this time. this is the part in the script where the cast goes all together to their first dinner out in the city but in reality the cast and crew are filmed when they hung out at the refrigerator and talked cos everyone had forgotten to buy food for the house cos the premiere date was coming up looming. later, before prep and broadcast, this part is spliced with that sizzle-reel of that long 5-minute All-American Sizzler commercial with the people's faces and salad-bar nameplates blurred pretending those people are our cast so it looks like the cast went out to some fancy downtown restaurant.

Puck: *smiles mockingly* huh. the real world, ay?

Bunim: you're right, this isn't the real world. from now on, NO MORE TAPES!!!