Monday, June 29, 2015


1. are you privy to a secret about a famous person? do you read gossip about famous people in magazines or online? i know celebrity gossip is just meant to distract the populace from secret world events, but a conscious uncoupling will always be more interesting than a treaty. did you know that the REAL head of the Illuminati is Harvey Levin?

hey have you ever noticed that Clark Kent looks EXACTLY like Superman? like EXACTLY. i mean except for the glasses, EXACT MATCH.

Billy Corgan was the brother on Small Wonder. having a robot sister was stressful, Billy never slept again keeping watch over her, terrified she'd lose power and short-circuit and he'd get blamed. that explains the losing of all the hair. the original title of "Disarm" was "Deactivate".

Marilyn Manson was the nerd sidekick on The Wonder Years. everyone knows that, but did you know that Marilyn originally sang the opening theme song of that show before Cocker did his take on the Beatles? they had to scrap it cos it was just this weird kid screaming into a microphone.

2. is a coworker, friend, or neighbor currently having an affair? are you? of course not. remember A Current Affair? that was my jam back when there were only three channels to browse through and you turned the knob by hand when you were alone on a lazy Friday afternoon waiting for the pizza to come in thirty minutes or it's free.


i wonder whatever happened to Maury. that show got me into true crime. thanks to that show i shuttered my blinds and never stepped foot outside my house again. to this day.

3. have you ever had a secret that made you the subject of gossip? once a blonde friend of mine and i were on top of the school-fair ferris wheel with our faces smushed close together. a couple of my so-called friends saw this and started rumoring and soon it spread like wild cotton candy and the entire school designated me some sort of pimp or something for being the first one in my class to kiss. but we weren't kissing, we were just making weird faces to each other trying to get the other to laugh. come on, we were just innocent kids.

4. do you like hearing gossip? what's your bag?: sex, drugs, (rock 'n' roll), lies, betrayal: i heard a rumor that Chinese Democracy is finally gonna drop soon but only online.

5. do you pass gossip on when you hear it? for a price. three gobstoppers and not a gobstopper less. and they better be everlasting or i'm coming back for you after school and we'll settle it at that grotto area where the priests all live with the principal.

6. do you consider telling your spouse/partner consistent with your promise not to be a tattletale? is he/she trustworthy with secrets? i don't have a spouse. i wonder if this has something to do with my inability to keep secrets. i'm sorry i'm sorry but the priests raised me to never tell a lie.

BONUS: what is one private thing you'd like to know about someone? what's your sign? i mean size. i saw some cute rainbow panties the other day...


Friday, June 26, 2015



* GIVE UP                                                                                   YOUR DOUBTS

* gotta do four more of these? not feeling very motivated.

* it's true, if you let your dreams remain dreams they become nightmares.

* there is no yesterday, today, or tomorrow. time doesn't exist, there is only the Eternal Moment of Now. it's all already been done and simultaneously will never get done. there is nothing to do except build a time machine so you can finally get some sleep.

* 0:19: youtube poop

* 0:38: Naruto's like, "sheeeeet i can do a better Rasengan Ball in my sleep, which i've been getting a lot of lately, believe it!"


* 0:45: this inspired Obama.

* 1:00: Illuminaughty


happy weekend

Wednesday, June 24, 2015


four days later and the revolution is in full swing. everyone's doing their part. there's nothing like a war effort to bring people together. who is the enemy? it doesn't matter, the broader the better, the less defined the better. makes it more galactic, more like this is gonna last beyond another four-year term. this is space shit and we are the stuff of stars. just know that we battle evil, it's always bout dat evil.

Binny receives an alarming alert in the mail, made more alarming by the fact that it's on paper in this day and age and being paper can't make the sound of an alarm. but an alarm goes off in her head.

it's a simple suggestion for the two ladies of culture, the two esteemed pillars of the community---the government or someone had been after them for some infraction they committed but for the life of me i've forgotten what that was, seems so small now in comparison---to join the effort, to fight the good fight, to be drafted into Codrus's volunteer army.

Quinny: we can't fight, dear, we're old. i know that's why you don't look in the mirror anymore but honey your wrinkles have wrinkles. spry can't hide.

Binny: denial is not a river in Egypt, that would be The Nile, and i'm not fooling myself. but i do like to think of myself as Blanche Devereaux.

Quinny: b yous more like Sophia.

Binny: fine, then i'm actually the youngest one. so they say here that we'll get typing lessons absolutely free for life, and lobster, too. LOOK! it's signed by master Codrus himself! see that John Hancock of his? it's huge! he even gave us a P.S., handwritten and everything: he says that we are invaluable, they don't make brassy broads like us anymore, we are two gals of a kind, we are unique and special, we're hard and hard to find, we're irreplaceable treasures!

Quinny: only St. Olaf can be free from Codrus's wrath now, remember that when you're in a pinch. speaking of, i hate what they do to those poor lobsters. i'm on a blind diet: i see food, i don't eat it but i eat my blind date. we already know how to type, that's part of our legend.

Binny: yes but not on a newfangled thing called a computer, that's why wiki sent us to the basement, they were ashamed of us, embarrassed for us, but we can be appreciated now. we can use our skills of memorizing and typing our thoughts paperlessly for a grander purpose than filing and filling our stomachs with the money we make at our jobs working for wikipedia. a pay check is one thing, but we can write a paycheck that Codrus can use to cash when he talks out of his ass.

Quinny: are you dense? i thought i was the dense one. a gift subsumed is a gift wasted. i like our oldfangled typewriters. who's the evil one in this fight? that poor huge monster did nothing wrong. do you hate him for his size? he's big and strange and unusual, so what? he's a Titan. size doesn't matter. Manny might just have the biggest heart in the world.

Binny: he does, literally. thankfully we didn't give Manny a chance to harm the world. the devil is a tricky one, he can seem nice and harmless. Codrus---excuse me, all hail the mighty Codrus!---took care of things in one fell swoop before things got out of hand.

Quinny: it's never that easy, the world is too complicated for one swoop before we fall, you need a coupla passes before you get to the marketing swoosh that makes us do it. and now all the power has collected into one hand. history has proven that's never good. we can relate to Codrus better cos he's one of us...i don't mean human, i mean someone of our size. size doesn't matter. and yes, there is smallness in Codrus, i can


Binny: but we've never had history like this, it's so new it's not history, it's just the story. it will never repeat again cos this is a truly new track. no more record skip.

Quinny: hate that record sound. but i love old records. and i love to record. we must always record everything so we can look back on it and learn. never stop learning. our people have been through too much to ever forget. the point is we've always survived, and it's made us stronger. that philosopher was right but we've used that power for good. they can kill us, massacre us, but we'll never stop, and we'll win with grace, the greatest power of all. you can't kill respect. you can't respec respect. you can't kill a big heart. always collect things, never burn things. be a hoarder, not a member of The Horde.

four days later things move so fast it's like stop-motion claymation. Binny and Quinny are up on the stage with Codrus and Codrus's three children and a coupla other suckers he collated for his immediate cabinet. Codrus prances them around in front of the worldwide drone cameras but makes sure they don't get a lot of attention. he does the prancercise meme on the makeshift dais set up from some pieces of the Stones culled together, holding everyone afloat on a yellow power circle of power above the mothership's nose gently peeking out from the ocean surface like a dolphin's bottle. this is one powerful stage. everyone around the world laughs warmly for no reason at the strange dance. the hipsters take off their glassless glasses and are the only ones who actually clap, they get the ancient reference.

Codrus is chewing on a Cuban cigar, not smoking it, chewing it, grinding the flakes into submission, his teeth are being coated with putrid juice and it's forming into a messy coagulation of tobacco gum.

Codrus: ladies and gentleman of the new world, i found out what the sixth one is: it was interpreted by our expert intellectuals here, Binny and Quinny. they are female i might add. it is:


*the world is completely silent. no one gets that*

Codrus:...hehehe, anyway, no, it didn't say that, that was just a joke to break the glaciers. global warming is fluid. anyway, so here they are, folks, formally meet my two right-hand bodywomen. see? i hire women, no discrimination in the new world order workplace, no need for binders, we got the new ipad air 2s. we're still working on what the writing on the header and edges mean, still working out the code, i actually think it's trying to say, and i'm not joking here, folks, that...

Quinny slaps Codrus in the mouth. Codrus falls back, tripping on his orange cape.

*stunned silence from the world*

Quinny: didn't yo mama teach you not to speak with your mouth full?



Codrus (smarting from the slap): i was sayin' women, that's what i'm all about. but they're not women, they're just people of the new one race, one gender, genderless, sexless, not sexless but y'know like no discrimination based on sex, we are all orientated around the one goal of finally FINALLY living the way human beings were supposed to, free of godawful religions and weird hampering traditions whose flags have been waved in front of our faces for too long. is anybody out there? hehehe, just yeah...i think i'll end this video sure to comment, subscribe, like, all that shit.

Codrus leaves for an appointment, an underwater appointment. he agreed to have a scuba date with Yayray to show his apprentice (that was fast!) the original site where the first half of the Stones tablets were discovered at the bottom of the ocean. the two meet aboveground, they just wave cos they can't talk to each other with their mouths full of shiny metal scuba junk, they mutually wave, and dive in together. Codrus has a whiteboard and erasable marker to write things on, Yayray forgot to bring his but is capable of speaking underwater clearly from all the Stones he's been ingesting.

Yayray: sorry, forgot mine in my other skinsuit. first-date jitters. that bulge means i have my whiteboard in my pocket...but i am also happy to see you.

Codrus (underwater bubble laugh): (writing): are you happy i controlled myself back there? that i was held back?

Yayray: well yeah, those are my aunties.

Codrus (continually erasing and writing): of course they're your aunties...of course...all for you. see in this company we care about our employees' private lives. let's take a break, the site is still miles away. let's play some golf.

Yayray: surely you must have some James Cameron underwater vehicle to get us there faster?

Codrus: surely. but it's better if we do it the old-fashioned way. otherwise there would be tourists, rides there and back for a price. this is too invaluable to be valuable. i like that the location is still somewhat secret and hard to get to, a heavily-wooded area under the sea.

Codrus sets up for his hole-in-one. his golf wiggle is him shaking his ass. he lines up, strokes his club, and......

HOLE IN ONE! that comforting sound of a putt going in the cup, that *GULP* sound, is heard only by Yayray. Codrus begins dancing his victory dance, he's doing the Harlem Shake underwater with his helmet on and looks utterly silly.

Yayray (under his scuba breath, one bubble forms and floats up): i don't know the reference but i'm thinking this guy can't be that much of a tyrant. i mean look how utterly silly he looks right now. i don't know, i dunno, i'm dunno, i'm confused, jumbled, getting the bends, but i can somehow see the future, my aunts are there, and i know that my heart will go on.

Yayray (normal breath, normal volume, actually loud as hell cos he's underwater): GOOD JOB, BOSS! YEAH! ONE TIME! IN THE HOLE!

Codrus (underneath his breath, as quiet as normal golf conditions): hehehe, he called me boss for the first time. i got him. deez nuts ha gotem. got 'im hook, line, and sssssssssss.......

JUST THEN an orange fish with white and black stripes whizzes past Codrus. the defacto leader of the free world is whipped around in the water and lands with one of his tanks on his back against a sharp rock formation. that punctures a hole in the tank. the hole is dead center in the middle of the Superman logos Codrus had decalled on his tanks. the underwater secret service is nowhere to be found.

Monday, June 22, 2015


1. what would you eat for your "last supper"? pepperoni pizza and i'd keep an eye out for the supperguest who spills the salt. the 'za doesn't need any more salt anyway, the sauce takes care of that.

2. name 3 interesting/unique things to do in your town/city/region:

a. become mayor at any age
b. sit in the middle of the one road with your glassless glasses on and read your homemade zine.
c. make out in the town square. they haven't mowed that shrubbery for years (but you'll mow some shrubbery in there.)

3. tell us 2 things that terrify you:

a. i've never experienced Dunkin' Donuts. there isn't a Dunkin' Donuts anywhere in my vicinity. i see all day those shiny bright Dunkin' Donuts commercials on my dirty tv screen and can't do anything about it. i want to taste. i want to drink. it's better than The Bucks, right?

b. sprinkles. there's just something not quite right about sprinkles.

4. give us your best sex tip. just the tip

5. what do you have that you need to throw away? my trash can

bonus: would you participate in a sex organ beauty pageant? why or why not? i do everyday. i preen my penis in front of the morning mirror until there's no more morning. i am eternally fascinated by how much it looks like a plump, juicy salami. it makes me hungry for salami just in time for lunch. okay actually i'm just checking each morning to make sure it's still there.


Friday, June 19, 2015



* Mona Lisa: there's a painted pizza on the canvas. do i really have a pizzaface? have i been lying to myself this whole time? was my mysterious smile distracting everyone from the truth?
da Vinci: i'll lend you my zit cream if you want but no, my dear, you do not have a pizzaface, i'm just hungry for pizza. and i miss my three turtle brothers, i miss ninjaing with them. my sensei is a rat. i live in a sewer.

* Andy Warhol: i wish i had said 15 years...

* Bob Ross: okay all you the audience at home see is me happy with the happy little trees but that's cos i bottle everything up and when the cameras stop rolling i let out all my motherfucking anger on the studio. i paint mad big trees, Ents which come alive, leap off the canvas and chuck boulders everywhere. the only way to defeat them is with fire arrows. no i'm not on drugs but i'm stanning Tolkien like a motherfucker.

* Michelangelo: it's true the whole painting-on-my-back thing really fucked up my back, my back is gone now, ruined forever, crushed vertebrae for days. the only good news is that it activated my glutes. i'm gonna tell this to my friend Tiger Woods in the future. i have a time machine. i don't know if what i'm experiencing right now is God or the paint fumes...

* van Gogh: i'm not crazy. it's not true that the more insane you are the better you paint. inspiration can come from a sane mind. don't believe the hype, i'm not crazy. i talk to pigeons, so what?, that doesn't mean i'm crazy. my friend Mike Tyson also talks to pigeons.


happy weekend

Wednesday, June 17, 2015


Cotard: whatever strength i display is not my own, it is solely my mother's, i am her vessel, i don't matter, i don't exist without her, people become brighter when they die, they are never that way while alive, they are dull when living, but upon death, the people you should have known, should have been close to, radiate with the unlimited power of memory. their legend grows by the day because that's what legends do, that's all a dead legend can do.

Berte: o monk, i never respected religion before but now i surely don't. you don't know the power i've cultivated in my fist, you don't know the Stones i have.

Cotard: i have stones, too. well first of all i'm buck naked in front of you and all the villagers here, that's no small feat, especially for a religious person.

Berte: you don't have my rocks, i have THE pronounced THEE rocks, the beige ones everyone's talkin' bout these days, and my callous force slipped over them like a kid glove, the stones knew an iron hand when they saw it, i slicked the stones up with my water and made them nice and slippery with the rules. rules are meant to be broken but only by one who will put them back together again with an unbreakable bond.

Cotard: superglue cannot save you, vile villain! that was awesome, i've always wanted to say that. i have power, too, for surely i cannot tread my path alone, we are not meant to grind this hard life alone, are we? it can't be, we must come together, it's a necessity. i have the power of the people by my side...i think, i haven't exactly talked to them but i'm sure they want to be over your iron palm and reading their own palms freely.

Cotard looks past the farmers' resting faces to shiny dots here and there on the recent landscape, sparklies signaling the presence of the Stones. he doesn't have the timespace (or energy really) to run over there and snatch them but just having them there gives him a calming idea.

Cotard: let's do this, let's fight and let's make it epic, let's at least give these people a show, they're already here so why not. by the way, keep whipping me with your whip, i love it, i feel like Jesus, it's very therapeutic, i can get a lot of lodged stuff out of my brain, a lot of pent-up feelings liberate, exit, the more i feel like a martyr the more i can cover up other things about me.

Berte smiles genuinely, not an evil smile. this is so much more fun than using his ill-gotten powers to just move his workers around the field like so many checkers pieces.

Berte lines up on one side of the brown field, Cotard way on the other side of the other, they can barely hear each other, have to shout at each other to communicate. the large ranchhouse looms upfront center right at the edge of the field. the villagers notice that this will take a while and take a load off, squatting down in a half circle on Cotard and Erneste's side.

Berte: amigo you have no idea. the world has changed, it really has this time. old things are truly old now, the ancient is forgotten, actually forgotten, so forgotten it doesn't turn to dust, it merely never was. i'm evil but i'm smart, the worst combination. i've studied these Stones, i've read the same life manuals as you, i'm prepared, i was an eagle scout before that was cool, but nobody remembers scouts, no one ever will again.

Cotard: the only book i glide, i mean that guides me is the Bible capital B, not a bible like, say, of a tv show. i read the script of the ultimate tv show, Jesus's show, which never gets cancelled though admittedly at times it seems like it only plays repeats.

Berte: what?! you know not of the Stones? have you been living under a stone?

Cotard: i'm a monk, man, i don't follow the current trends, my duty is to preserve the old shit for future texting teenyboppers, like if a kid wanted a pyx for a school project, i'd question the teacher's motivation but i'd lend the pyx to the kid, if it's for educational i suppose the Vatican won't mind, just hope the kid isn't a bully or fool and desecrates the thing, so there's a pyx right now at my sanctuary, come on over if you want to borrow it, that's why i'm here, i'm like a glorified janitor bathed in the glory of Christ.

Berte: enough of your incessant babbling. are you making this up as you go along?

Cotard: yes, god yes.

Berte gives the most audacious, audacious in its boldness and also the most AUDIOcious in that it's so loud birds spring and fly away from trees, evil laugh you ever did hear. the villagers cover their ears...and mouths and eyes.

Berte: that's funny, man. it's also funny that you think you can vanquish me. i'm the one with this new power that's going around, i mean what chance have you got?

Cotard: so you're telling me there's a chance. that's all i need. hope springs eternal if there's but a kernel of hope. like these precious fields my mom left for future teenyboppers to cultivate and feed their families with, generation upon generation, forever, not to be bled to fill your coffers.

Berte: bad news, bro, this is the last generation. these are wild times, these are the times our gods come crashing back down to earth to take over earth again. we have no say. we must evolve with the power times. if you're not wearing the latest model, you are obsolete and the factory tosses you down the poop chute.

Cotard: okay if that's a sex reference i don't get it and proudly so, i'm a monk.

Cotard looks at his naked belly. it's larger than he realized. fuck i mean this is the first time he's really getting a good gander at his humongous tummy. it's huge! how did he let it get this way? when did this all happen? he must have been preoccupied with other matters to notice every time he took a shower. he was distracted with exhuming his soul from his body not his body. shame. Cotard is ashamed.

Erneste: you're not fat, my brother, it just seems that way when compared to the rest of your skinny frame, your belly alone makes you Santa Claus but actually your arms and legs are quite spindly. you're not a big man per se but you're big to us, you're the fat of our land.

Cotard hits his belly with his palm, yellow sparks spark from it. he looks across the way to Berte, he has to use his straightened fingers and palm as a visor above his eyebrows to really see across it's so far. he takes a look at his palms again, both palms, the palms the gift of his mother, and he smilecries. energy summons from his palms, more sparks, yellow light, banana yellow light, the little shards of stone in the sideline fields shine like stars.

Cotard closes his eyes and thinks back to his childhood with his mother and his tv shows. he suddenly summons up a giant whole wad of energy, combines his palms together and shoots the bulbous beam of light directly at Berte.


direct hit. Berte is pushed and goes flying back into the one tree, hitting and uprooting it immediately. the tree branches act as a ridiculous hammock and bounce him back in place.

Berte (blue-and-yellow macaws swirl around his head): was not expecting that. i got overconfident as villains tend to do. sorry about that. i will try harder next time. what was that? i was gonna do that to you. that's my line!

Cotard: following a hunch. my mother will win because she was good, i see that now. she is on the side of the dutch angels being one herself. evil never wins, don't you watch tv?

Berte: filho, filho, i'm trying not be condescending here but you make it so easy. do YOU emphasis on YOU watch tv? the villain is never defeated after the first attack, he then either grows to be a giant or has some secret weapon up his sleeve. i'm not a man of scerets, i think secrets are lame, i'm telling you upfront i will defeat you with the power of the Stones i've accumulated. here's the catch: i have so much power running through my veins presently i can't let it all out or there'd be an epic supernova exploding in the general vicinity. i want to rule this area not be dead in this area. there's a


in my body. not really but picture the concept of it. i'm a human grenade being held together with tape and superglue and a frail pin which plugs the hole to whole destruction. if you remove the pin, all my mojo spills out=boom.

Cotard: okay i'm picturing this in my distracted brain.......................yeah, it's like how you have to picture Freud's concepts of the ego/id/superego, they're not really there, they don't exist the way my heart and frazzled brain do.

Berte: actually they are, really, physically, that's inscribed on the Stones. anyway, you don't know about that as you don't seem to read newspapers so whatever yeah i'm a failsafe, i'm a self-destruct, no secrets will be gleaned from me before i can gleam in the sky.

Cotard: you just let slip one of those secrets but i get it. yeah okay it's like mind vs. brain, the brain exists, the mind doesn't exist but the mind does exist. let's do this, round 2.

Berte: thank you for talking so long, it gave me a chance to get up and recover. what will you use your hand for as my putrid fam Erneste would say? will you fold your hands bequeathed to you by your mother in solemn empty prayer? hehehehehehe

Cotard: i will crumple up my sacred hands, these hands which let me do things in life, participate in things in life, and PRAY!!!!

with that, Cotard lunges with two closed fists and punches Berte on his two cheeks, facial cheeks, which stretches Berte's skin into ridiculous elongated tubes of taffy.

Berte: ridiculous!

Cotard: that is how i pray. quick, folks, while he's down, to use the video-game parlance: FINISH HIM!!!

blank faces from the villagers. they're still enjoying the show.

Cotard: come on, audience participation, i know there are some deadly forms of martial arts in Brazil, have at it, do them upon Black Berte before it's too late and he rests again.

a male villager named Jac: senior we don't know what you mean. we don't watch tv, we are slaves to this field today and forever our whole lives. if we knew martial arts we wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place, we wouldn't need you and your religion.

Cotard: one never ever needs religion, it's more of a hobby, it's fun.

a female crop picker named Glorieta: i pick the fruit. we are not fighters, we are lovers.

Jac: i'll say. i do capoeira in my dreams with you, Glori.

Cotard: come on, don't you guys watch Power Rangers? when you can't kick, punch, or dutch-angle flip with an explosion in the background, you can always pick up a shovel and fight with that.

Berte is beginning to recover again. it's never easy, is it? he's slowly landing on his feet like a Punch-Out!! boxer, quickly getting up on the 8 of 10 count, faking to the audience that he might have been down for all 10 of the count. they always get up at 8. frickin' tease.

Cotard: i need you all with me in spirit. put your power into the collective tip jar. don't tell me you have no power, everyone does, it just has to be released for the first time, a no-going-back event must motivate it, something you never thought you'd have to face and yet here it is, the thing you must face or you'll die. i'd rather die fighting for freedom than have to live in chains. what am i saying? i don't want to die, ever. but i don't want you to die, i'd be down men if you did, i want you to have and eat your pie, both pies, fight real hard for a time to get the rest of your time off. if you die that sucks cos you won't enjoy the freedom the ones who remain will. fight hard but not too hard, up to the point where there's a good chance you'll die, up to that edge, live on but not over the edge, then fall back and let others take over. see, with the group we have here, he's outnumbered. simple math.

the villagers drop their hoes and shovels and curl their fingers in prayer, eyes closed. yellow begins to spew from them and align to form a chain around Cotard's side of the field. things are growing in this agriculture patch. all of the yellow energy from the villagers' palms flow as light lines into the dirty fingernails and out-there penis of one nude monk named Cotard, who has his arms and cock raised to the heavens. bountiful unlimited energy is welling up ferociously in Cotard's cavern of a stomach, swirling around as if he ate it, the determined monk feels the weight of power and responsibility as he determinedly points his two arms across the dirt rows directly to an ailing Berte.

Berte is lookin' rather down in the dumps, his triangular goatee is now a singed isosceles.

Cotard (preparing, gathering, collecting energy in his red palms): KAME...HA...ME...

Berte (finger up): let me interrupt you if i may. what is that? what is that word? i mean i do the same thing with the Stones power, i shoot my finger guns at everything and everything, THIS GUY does (he shoots his finger guns at himself), but i don't exhale that word when i release. is this some secret jiujitsu technique i should have learned? what language are you speaking?

Cotard: PORTUGUESE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cotard lets off a massive wave of FUCKING STRINGY SPARKING ENERGY onto where Berte's heart should have been, on Berte's middle, his chest which doesn't have a potbelly, actually it does from another dutch-angle, it's his arms and legs which seem muscular but are actually just the many strings which make up the human whip that he is.

your tv screen's middle expands outward with a dot of yellow energy that turns white...outward, the explosion generates outer wings as it expands until it fills up your entire screen.



Monday, June 15, 2015



1. what's something recent that happened to you that is truly "too much information"?: i wet the bed last night but


so it's okay.

2. share with us a tale of when someone told you "too much information" and you wish they hadn't:

me: hi, fish.
yellow fish: hi Aquaman.
me: any hot gossip underneath the sea here? what's going on underwater?
yellow fish: hi Aquaman.

and then the yellow fish tells me about last night when he was on a date with Sandy Cheeks and doesn't leave out a single detail.

3. do you or your SO use the toilet while the other one is in the bathroom doing something else? do you mind? no not at all. it was our fish's funeral. not the yellow fish a different one. i was in charge of the final flush and she was busy arranging the ceremonial fish-tank seaweed.

4. will you make a bowel movement when your SO is in the bathroom? when she did, i knew she was the one. y'know until the Borat movie i never thought going to the bathroom was a private act.

5. toilet paper, yes or no? she uses the toilet TP the houses. i'm the lookout protecting the fort. she does all the work and i stay at home looking through an empty toilet roll and i radio in any trouble using our walkie-talkies. yeah i mean i'm really just a chicken. she's still into the Bonnie and Clyde thing, i've grown weary of it but i don't want to let her down.

bonus: what did you do this weekend? did you have fun? got a new bed, a new fish, a new toilet paper roll with paper, rented Borat at a video-rental shop, read the wikipedia article on Bonnie and Clyde again, and there's been this piece of beef jerky stuck in my tooth the whole weekend i can't get it out i've tried everything toothpick floss fork tine nothing works it's still lodged in there tight it's uncomfortable not fun at all though my tongue is having fun


Friday, June 12, 2015


folks, don't worry, i got ya, all explainable, no need to panic:


* okay it's good for Africa to get some cool weather.

* lamp flying to the ceiling: just a poltergeist

* i feel so sorry for that bike messenger. on the other hand Puck the MTV bike messenger from The Real World remains a controversial figure.

* look, don't take advantage when it's raining fish. just take your selfies with them and put the fish back in the water, fishing is a sport, not breakfast. teach a man to fish as strictly a sport and not as a way to nourish himself and you'll have a skinny fisherman for a lifetime.

* still not as rare as a California hurricane. my local weatherman Jim laments daily after his broadcast each night about how he's seen everything in his area EXCEPT a hurricane, and then he looks down, and then he sheds one tear. i feel so bad for Jim. that one tear is more water than hurricane water he'll ever see in his lifetime. unless he moves.

* burning bush/tree=good, that's God right there, go ahead and talk to Him, He won't bite. be thankful YOU didn't spontaneously combust.

* the flying pig goes quack quack.

* i feel so bad for the END IS NIGH guy with the sandwich boards on him, he's just out there trying to make an honest buck selling sandwiches.

* the hyenas are laughing with you not at you.

* dogs walking their owners=that's how it should have been in the first place.

* it's not stealing a tv when you're a Catholic priest.

* that giant ferris wheel looks FUN!

* that astronaut is right now hurtling through space and will crash-land on another planet that finally has life on it, namely hot green alien women with three breaststststststs.

* Morgan Freeman's reaction after seeing the ending of this commercial: OH HELL NO!


happy weekend


Wednesday, June 10, 2015


the rains have done a number on the fields, you can't tell if the bananas are browning or it's just the mud on them. the sky is only slightly browner than the rows of brown on the ground, which helps the eye separate the two and determine which is up.

Cotard's wheels got stuck in the mud far ago so he hops a ride with Erneste on a hay ride that isn't the fun variety, at least not for Erneste, the poor dude is pulling the carriage of haystacks with Cotard in the back and the horse seated in the driver's hayseat. the horse is whipping and steering with the reigns.

Cotard: you okay, fam?

Erneste (panting heavily): it's okay, i need the exercise, it's a long way away so i'm gonna get a lot of exercise from this. always look on the bright side of life.

Cotard: not in this weather, my favorite weather.

the horse's eyes are doing something funny. the horse puts Erneste on cruise control and takes the opportunity to take out a long bulbous carrot stick from the back, moving Cotard out of the way. the horse smokes it. well the horse tries to smoke it. the flame goes out in the rain.

Cotard: i'm too tired to think about this. i'll ask my kitten about it later.

as the troupe approaches the rainy ranch, or The Ranch as it's known in the area cos it's the domineering one, nobody is taking a day off.

Cotard: who's the taskmaster in charge of all these poor folk breaking their backs pulling out soaked weeds in the rain? i bet he has a dry hat. the mark of a greedy, hands-off boss is a dry hat.

a woman with bleary eyes approaches the human/horse caravan. her step is in step and knowing.

mulher: sirs, abandon all hope ye who enter here.

Cotard gets out his pocket translator. all the pages get wet and ruined.

Cotard (background thunder clap): i bet that rhymes or something cool in Portuguese. buenos dias, mamacita, which way to the farm? el farmo? fazenda? it's mine. it's my mother's. it's my mamacita's.

mulher: oh yes, mamacita, i understand that as i am a mamacita as well.

you can tell the woman has straight hair normally in dry heat but the rain is making it all frizzy.

Erneste (pulls out something from his coat): i know how to get there, remember? here, mama, take my dry hat. it's not dry heat but it's a dry hat.

the woman gives a sign to our three as she returns to her drudgery in the dirt. a well-timed lightning bolt illuminates her hand gesture.

Cotard: i couldn't make hers out, could you? a triangle or something? Illuminati?

the horse: everything means the Illuminati. chaos reigns.

Erneste: flick off, flicka. no time for making out, you need to be at your top physical and mental condition when you face Berte. the spiritual trails at a distant third. when's the last time you voluntarily did a sit-up?

Cotard: the last time i had sex. let me try something:........................stop.

the drops do seem to fall less. there is actually a break from the heavy rains. a little yellow peeks from behind the brown.

Cotard: see? the power of belief or positive thinking or this is paid for by the Vatican or i'm Supermonk or something. bottom line: it worked.

Erneste: coincidence. coincidence is the devil's favorite toy.

Cotard: i'm gonna take advantage of the window here and do my morning meditations out here in the open mudfield. it's a new ceremony i created when i was bored out of my fucking mind in the town sanctuary all day long. care to watch? you, too, Erneste.

the horse plops down on top of Erneste lovingly.

Erneste (gasping for air): your love will kill me.

Erneste squeezes out of the horse's stomach cos the ground is nice and slippery. Cotard disrobes his enormous gallant shiny faux-fur monk's robe with many important badges pinned on it and throws it into the mud. what the two see before them is a man completely stark raving nude wearing nothing but a rosary.

Cotard (posing): Peter Griffin, eat your heart out.

Erneste: it has to be like this? whatever happened to the vow of chastity?

Cotard: it's not naked if you're a monk, it's nude, tasteful, artistic, temple of God.


everyone's mouth is open to agape. the women and some men curl their lips into a smirk. Erneste's shock turns inward into an inside smile as he recognizes the specialness of this particular man of the no cloth and laughs in out of warm resignation and the general ribaldness of humanity no matter what hat one chooses to wear in life.

Berte: that must be like early early Catholic, Flintstones times.

but Cotard is not joining in the smiling.

horse: mine's bigger.

Cotard: my brother Ernie, i felt some pain in my palms as i performed this dance.

Erneste: the stones littered all around this place crack and spill milk as they turn into the Beige Stones which will line this place and help it, i've seen it now for awhile, it's natural. never pick up a stone in heat.

Cotard: no i looked at my hand for the first time during the ritual. i mean i really looked at the miracle that is the hand, my hand. the fingers, the way it's all set up with the nubs and joints and tendons and muscles and bone and the all-important thumb to help us grasp things and ideas. we didn't have to have hands, we could have had no hands, or appendages that look like octopus arms with suction cups, we could have had six fingers, but five is mystical. it's a beautiful instrument. will you read the lines on my palms?

Erneste puts his shoulder around his and everyone's brother, he shows his muddy hands to Cotard.

Erneste: when you look into the face of your hand, know that it is your precious mother who gave you this hand, these fingers which so often close into a fist, so tight are we to keep something for ourselves and not shine the light of the world on them, keep them hidden in our palm. it's all in the palm of our hand, everything we do and touch affects who we are as sentient beings. we are not aliens, we are humans, we just happen to be humans with this strange hand of five digits. we are these creatures.

horse: all great and small.

Erneste: this is what grants us the life we have. and we share. will you punch with your hand? would you punch another who had this same strange device of the five fingers? in memory of the mother who gave your hand to you? for her?

Cotard gently says "no" and cries into his palm. his tears are a brighter blue than the opaque clear filthy rainwater, that's how you can tell and separate the two.

Berte (yelling through thunder claps): get the fuck back to work all of you! you don't know anything. slave wages save. slaves solve. slave salve is rain. hahahah. and you, how dare you desecrate a rosary like that. get off my property, bicha!

Berte's big black real-leather hat is sopping wet. his triangular goatee is dry. he carries with him a long coiling hard real-leather whip that seems to have a mind of its own, its stacked triangular design is eyes doing something funny. he goes to whip the monk. it's not Berte's hand that drives the whip, rather the whip holds and controls Berte as it sends Berte over to Cotard to attack him, so in this reverse way Berte whips Cotard.

Berte uses the palm of his hand to slap Cotard's penis.


Monday, June 8, 2015


1. ever had an orgasm at work? how? details: i was outside taking a smoke break in the fetal position i mean lotus position, with my eyes closed as you can see from the pic up above there. it just happened. biggest gusher of my life. it watered all the surrounding greenery of the rolling hills for days. afterwards i had a Coke. my tank was empty.

2. do you ever fantasize about your significant other while at work? i don't have an SO but i do fantasize about what it would be like to have a job. is there a connection there?

3. how old was the oldest person with whom you've had sex? how old is Santa?

4. have you ever fallen asleep during sex? yes, it's the only way i can have sex. and then i wake up. this is how it went down, see the pic up above for reference:

Mr. Sandman sprinkles some powder on my nose while i'm in bed.
me: Santa?
Mr. Sandman: no, another old man, we all look the same. i'm Mr. Sandman. like the boxer.
me: haven't made it to that level yet, i'm still on Bald Bull. what's this powder up my nose? will it make all my dreams come true?
Mr. Sandman: yeah that snuff i mean stuff will knock you right out to dreamland real quick.

5. have you ever cross-dressed or worn undergarments of the opposite sex? yes, i find that doing ballet and other cross-training helps with my agility around the tennis court.

bonus: you have the power to banish one person from earth, who would you banish? me. i don't want to live on this planet anymore. i want to live on Gallifrey...


Friday, June 5, 2015


OMG! IT'S DRAKE! *SCREAMS* yes, Drake, THAT's who i look like! y'know when you're at the bus stop and the dude asks you what celebrity you look like? and then he asks you to do some other stuff for him? see for the longest i wasn't sure, the closest i thought was Joseph Gordon-Levitt, but no no, it was right under my missing nose the whole time, it's Drake of course. Greatest Ever. now that's cool, i can hold my head high and go out in public with that one. it's still a miracle that Jimmy Brooks got out of that wheelchair. can you believe that Degrassi is finally coming to an end? me neither, i thought Degrassi would never end, literally, it would be Gunsmoke and SNL and the last Law & Order before Dick Wolf goes all Chicago on us. Degrassi i'm guessing will end up here Statesside on the CW, just don't go to TLC. there's something in the water in Canada and i mean that in a good way. Canada, the land of hot women, the iciest of hockey, gorgeous gray skies, teen soaps that go there, and smart sci-fi. so anyway the dude turns out to be the bus driver, he's waiting for his ride like me. i take a swig of my LeBron's Mix sprite, crush the can on my forehead, slide two bits into his slot and start


he politely tells me to stop and points to the other passengers, everyone on board is more Lil Wayne. he wanted me to get him some cohibas but i told him about the Cuba thing. as the sunlight fades, the dude mounts his driver's seat, tips his official cap to me and says, "you look like the Sphinx." it was such a classic Hollywood moment.

which brings me to the Belmont tomorrow. you know the deal by now, predict which horse will win


the winner of this blog game is the one who correctly picks the actual winning horse. to the victor belong the spoils: 3 of my comments typed while sober i promise. i'm not gonna say anymore, i don't want to jinx it...although i have to say that as the days have gone by this week i'm getting less and less confident...did i just jinx it?...did i do that?...see you after the result with the results...i'm here in the desert awaiting the race...happy weekend...hey have you noticed that as we've travailed the harsh endless sand there's an extra set of footprints?...

Wednesday, June 3, 2015


Cotard rides his bug around the streets of Rio. it's slow-going. his beetle kisses a taxi.

Cotard: i've infected you. just be glad i didn't eat you. hey buddy, know a diner? i am so starving. i need to sin.

Brazilian cab driver (singing "Billie Jean"): where you from, patna? haven't seen you round these parts.

Cotard: it's a big city but i'm from California, a big state. but i'm home now. this is Brazil, right?

cab driver: yes, we are located in Brazil, because this is where the show takes place.

at the diner, the tv is on:

waiter: bread?

Cotard: no, i ordered soup. my last name is Bread.

Erneste (drinking beside our favorite monk): FIFA is a four-letter word.

a bar brawl breaks out blocking the tv. one man shouts "FIFA you!" and punches the other man in the bladder.

Cotard: quit blocking the fucking tv!

Cotard is having trouble gripping his free water glass.

Erneste: you'll get along here fine, stranger. anything you want to do our city is more than gracious to provide. cover a sin with another sin. it's all out there, hanging out. here for our famous wax?

Cotard: i love Mr. Miyagi as much as the next world citizen but that technique won't work, my fingers are filled with loneliness, they are heavy like stone, can't hold, i can't hold things. here for my mae. i have her urn of ashes in the backseat with my cat. her last wishes were to spread them on the family farm back in the old country. i don't even hear myself as Brazilian, i'm a California surfer dude through and through. what do you speak here? it's like some out-there Spanish, right?

Erneste: your mother has a pretty name. ah, being the dutiful son, good son, bom filho. get all that good stuff in before the new Satan takes over. i could introduce you to your soul mate, she works right around the corner, the one with heels, a boa, and smeared lipstick, you can't miss her.

Cotard: i'm not good with women, especially the only one i truly knew. my mother made it a point to tell me on her death bed that she didn't want to be buried, going against her long-standing religion. she was afraid of grave robbers digging her body out and playing with it, messing it up. ashes are cleaner. she wants to provide sustenance in the soil for the next generation of her family, she wants to help grow the next crop of corn or whatever they grow out here, for the children, it will be an everlasting crop, that will be her sustainable legacy.

Erneste: the maize maze is the native term, so long and broad and confusing scarecrows planted in there since before man are still lost. forever is a long time, people don't realize just what forever actually means. wait, is this Berte's ranch, the big one down the road full of dusty rows?

Cotard: yeah i think. my mom told me to go to Rio immediately and seek out a man with kind eyes, i'll know him when i see him through the crowd of blind debauchery. i'd like to stop talking now, bringing up my mother is making me sad. i still can't believe she's gone and i didn't deal with a lot of shit with her in the living years so i have the feeling it's all gonna spill out in an explosion soon. it's like that one guy during a traffic standstill who's mad as hell, doesn't want to buy a bag of oranges, and is not gonna take it anymore. i ran away to the monastery when my school friends were running to spring break. i tried to forget everything, which i did, but then she had to go and die on me, bringing it all back in a flood. my own mother, my only mother, the only woman on this pale blue dot who will ever ever ever be my mother, the only woman.

Cotard starts to tear up. his tears fall into his water, he drinks that water.

Erneste: as you say, your soup is getting cold.

Cotard: it's consomme. hey what the fuck are these purple bits in it?! waiter, there's Spanish fly in my soup.

Erneste: easy, cowboy, he's in the kitchen mixing us some cocktails. you're starting to creep into Ugly American territory, you were doing so well. different customs, that's all. we like to put purple in our stuff. y'know my grandfather always used to tell me that purple onions were the fruit of virility for men. little boys should eat as much smelly stingy biting onions as possible, it's good for the machismo.

Cotard: i've never liked them. that explains so much.

the waiter returns with the drinks. Cotard takes the onions and puts them on top of his cocktail.

Cotard: waiter, go to the back and strain the onions into the purple drank or whatever this alcohol is until you're left with a smooth, crisp, devastating vintage vodka of the highest proof, now that's a man's drink, no fruity pink wine coolers with tiny umbrellas here. onion cocktail.

the waiter returns with a side dish of cocktail onions.

Cotard: good, now i'm crying the right way.

Cotard slurps down his soup in one bite and begins to eat the plate it was served on.

Erneste: what are you doing, cowboy? don't be that much of a cowboy, it's not attractive.

Cotard: oh i figured the plates were made of decorative hard sugar. i read that about this country online.

Cotard drinks the rest of Erneste's drink and eats the salad of the gentleman---the winner of the fight earlier---next to the monk on the other side.

Cotard: a clean desk is an efficient desk. i've found that eating someone else's food is the best way to get close to them, to partake of their sustenance, you drink their milkshake, you get to know them intimately quickly, you join with them, become them. one nations, one love, one staff of life. different customs, right? you wouldn't hit a man with rose-colored glasses...

waiter: here's your receipt. and the receipt of your receipt.

Cotard leaves without incident, his large wood pointy rosary around his neck keeping the vampires away. now if only he had a way to keep the toll bridges at bay. it wouldn't hurt if he had a flying car that could hover above this insane traffic. the grid is locked tight.

Cotard travels at a snail's pace the strange confusing winding congested roads of the city for 30 hours. it's cold, freezing cold. it's raining on the gridlock. his kitten Kiss sleepscampers and eats a snail she scrapes off the road along the way.

eventually Cotard finds a reason to pull down his car windows willingly, it's blue night and a large pale moon illuminates the dark night streets reflecting off the highest mountain's statue in the area. music palely plays in the distance. must be samba or something. Kiss has been napping this whole time in the back with her tail wrapped around the urn. Cotard's been driving all day into night. his weary eyes notice a group of four bums encircling an oil-bin fire between two brick walls. make that two bums, two of them pulled out shivs and knifed each other to death right there in broad nightlight.

Cotard: damn, it's hard out here for a barfly.

Erneste: they don't kill me cos i'm a gangsta with ideas. i know how to survive. i just need a sponsor.

Cotard: takes guts. i got the mighty power of the Vatican behind me, my friend. can i bum a smoke? get it? le sigh, it's been a long day. got a bus schedule or something? my bare calloused feet are beat pushing on the brake so much. i need some new sandals.

Cotard looks into the kind eyes of...Erneste.

Cotard: oh hello again, where've you been hiding? you're homeless? you were talking such a rich game earlier.

Erneste: confidence is a devious thing, anyone can have it strongly in spurts, it's a good way to deceive yourself most of all.

Cotard: that's why i always really wanted to become an actor.

Erneste: you're the one who's homeless, my friend. but not any longer. i know the way to Berte's and i can show you the way. i can take you there. it's the least i can do for family, he is my evil brother after all. i must warn you, he is pure, one-dimensional evil.

Cotard: no fucking way.

Erneste: i knew your beautiful mother. she was a babe inside and out.

Cotard: well she was hot, i've seen her high school yearbook pics. deflecting again. lead the way, lion, i have your front as the scarecrow.

Erneste: that's healthy fear, dumbass, you should be scared, too. ol' Black Berte is no joke, he wears a black cowboy hat and triangular goatee and everything.

Cotard hears the samba music getting louder. it comes from on top of that mountain, a concert there. but Cotard thinks it's coming from his car radio. he turns the volume knob up and breaks it.


Cotard: now that's beautiful. inspiring.

Erneste: like your madre.

Cotard picks up a busted-up powder-blue guitar with a large hole punched through the back lying in the gutter and starts to strum it. no music comes out.

Erneste: it's electric.

Cotard: yes it is, all music is. i've always wanted to be a musician. band, groupies, the works.

Cotard opens his mouth and starts to sing the Eagles song. it's horrible.

Erneste (fingers in his ears): stop that! stop that evil screeching! you'll wake the dead! sounds like a cat in heat.

in the backseat of Cotard's white VW, the urn begins glowing yellow then white to match the car shell. the ashes leave the opened urn, swirl in the air of the inside roof, and begin constituting again into the body of Cotard's mother. Kiss does not wake up.

Cotard: i can't sing.

Monday, June 1, 2015


1. you are interviewing someone to be your lover, what are the 3 most important questions you'll ask?

a) are you a fan of Taco Bell's way of putting the hash browns inside the pocket with the rest of the stuff? if she answers yes, she's a breakfast defector so she might defect on our relationship.

b) butt stuff?

c) are you weirded out by the fact that i'm conducting this interview like a job interview?

2. you are interviewing people to be your personal servant/valet, what are your 3 most pressing questions?

a) do you like to serve me? if they answer no, keep them, it means they're anti-authority so they're probably cool.

b) do you have a private jet? airports are the pits, plus i like to wear my faux-leather snoopy cap and goggles and scarf around my neck when i fly to Woodstock with Woodstock.

c) tell them they must "Respect my Authoritah!". if they laugh they're South Park fans and probably cool.

3. you are selecting a pet for you and your family, what are the 3 most important criteria?

a) must fly. and not just fly, fly with a cape.

b) Jurassic Bark. Panucci's Pizza. *crying*

c) do you want Futurama to continue? if the pet answers yes, it could mean the pet's a huge fan. but this is tricky, if the pet answers no, it could be that the pet is such a fan that it doesn't want the legacy of the show to get watered down with new episodes that pale in comparison to its glory years. love is complicated.

bonus: the question the pet asks me: do you think Cruella de Vil is hot? if i answer yes, the pet leaves immediately.

4. name 3 good things you did yesterday: flew. with a cape. helped people.

5. name 3 bad things you ate yesterday: the Fratelli sisters. Mom says they are bad girls from the wrong side of the tracks.

bonus: it is said that bad things happen in threes. what was your last episode of 3 bad things?

a) high-school chemistry teacher
b) car wash
c) bitten by a regular spider...days of being good are over...