Wednesday, September 30, 2015


the Pope: the Pope. think about it. when you say that name and think of me, you smile, right? that's my mission. that's all that really matters. i'm a symbol, not a person. it's about a coming together, my Body is a rejection refuge, a pill when you're sick, an eye on you when you are marginalized. when you pray, it's a solitary thing, it's in your head, but you're not crazy, your prayers have just joined the largest community in the world. we're not a religion, we're a gang, and who doesn't want to join a gang? everyone wants the power of belonging, of mattering. we're not just matter. there are gonna be a lot of scary times coming up, a central collection of power, and you're gonna feel isolated and neutered again. you must keep the faith, we'll get through it. i am here. i represent the vocal minority, the guy in the room who stands up for what's not right in his perception. there must always be an opposition, there can never be just one answer, that's too easy. life is hard, that much is obvious, it deserves a complex answer, it demands one. this isn't a sex thing. i love all of you cute little sheep in my flock. i'll love you always. and the next life, too, whatever the hell that is.

the Pope climbs to the top of the highest point in Vatican City, a television antenna pole that allows the Pontiffess to get HBO and Showtime. the overcrowded crowds bustle and trample their way onto others' heads to get a better look at her Royal Majesty the Conduit of Heavenly Power Overtaking our World with a Blessed Bath of Light. normally this blessing is understood silently, but you can see the actual power crackling yellow then white from the points on the Pope's crown made of the Stones.


the Pope perches there for what seems like hours, waving furiously and blowing so many kisses to the masses she loses her spit.


the final scene of the Vicious Season 10 finale, which is the series finale. there is no dialogue:

(Freddie sits down on the couch he shared with Stuart for 50 years. at least they got to get married before, he thinks to himself. there is no more appetite for a quick quip or deliberately hurtful insult, somewhere along the way all that love masquerading as hate turned to just love. oh how deeply Freddie misses his life and joke partner, and it's only been an hour since the funeral ended. this show has a wonderfully mood-whiplash way of ending on a scene of great pathos, for all of its usual bold bluster and biting remarks. the camera pans to the center of Freddie's dead-eyed face. Freddie doesn't know what to do from now on, how to move again, there are times when another cutting comment doesn't cut it. fade to black. kinda like the Dexter ending.)

Sir Ian McKellen (thinking to himself): i'll use these feelings right now for when i undoubtedly play Magneto again.............but i REALLY don't want to wear that horrible helmet anymore.


Bridge pushes Kenyatta into the ocean at the tip of their island.

Kenyatta: hey!

Bridge: love tap. if i don't motivate you, who will?

Kenyatta: this plan has zero chance of succeeding. we'll drown before we make it to Brazil.

Bridge: all plans fail, that's the nature of plans, they fail upon first contact by a wave, human or water.

the women sidle-swim along each other but their weight is dragging them down. they're not making much progress, slow ants cresting ever so forward before the first big crest hits them.

Kenyatta: we're sitting ducks out here! now we're gonna die when i don't want to anymore. what is your last testament?

Bridge: you're not in the will. i don't believe in wills. i left all my money to the refugees for we are all refugees on this planet. did you ever love me or should i have changed my name to "work"?

Kenyatta: hey some of us work for a living and don't get a cheque handed to them each month. mine was forced labor but i eventually turned the system in on itself and imploded it. while i was spying for others i used my little eye to locate this paradise place. it's amazing what you can include in business expenses, i am so happy every country thinks globally now. i didn't love you for your money but i do love money. you made the incredibly magnanimous decision to spread your wealth not miser it, that must have been very difficult, i wouldn't have had the fortitude growing up in the work projects.

Bridge: easy. there was so much bankruptcy everywhere it was starting to get uncomfortable. i had to help to feel comfortable again.

a helicopter swooshes in and the ladies close their eyes and remain motionless. but it's not a Codrus drone or a warship, it's Cucumber in his rescue copter! he with some difficuly raises the two ladies up a slippery rope and onboard.

Kenyatta: yeah i think i remember you, it's been so long.

Bridge: sometimes you gotta trust a snake. not you, the rope. is that really your name?

Cucumber: i wouldn't make that up. and now you're really gonna hate me but my mama told me to tell the truth at all times. it was really difficult for me to pull you gals up and i'm a big strong man. you were really heavy.

Bridge: i know, i was packing some supplies in my bra, like a couple of whole chickens and other foodstuffs for the trip. gotta eat.

Kenyatta: well that explains the discrepancy when we make love. bae i love you for just who you are, you don't need padding.

the two kiss their mouths passionately to a delighted Cucumber in the background spectating.

Kenyatta: wait, you're not Team Codrus, are you? sorry if i'm paranoid, i'm a spy.

Cucumber: check my heart, it bleeds. i'm on the good side, always will be. i had the best mother in the world. i know what Codrus is trying to do, he doesn't fool me. my eyes are clear, i don't do Stones, he reminds me of those kings i read about in my Bible. Yayray told me your coordinates, he knows all about your place.

Bridge: but he remains strangely silent about it. and we're still alive. the power of a crush.

Kenyatta: please, that boy will always be that boy to me, i'll crush him alright if he thinks his positional power grants him the ability to be rude to me or toss me out with the rest of the garbage. that boy always needed so much work, thankfully for him i was a worker.

Cucumber: where to?

the chopper, obviously plated with some material invisible to the drones' detection, flies nonstop on some newly-developed Stones-infused efficient clean-burning fuel that gets good miles all the way to Brazil and where Cotard is at in no time flat.

there's a knock at the gate.

Erneste: you gotta be kidding me.

Kenyatta: i know this is not in the nature of monks, but open up!

Bridge: we got to da choppa!

Cucumber: hehe, well sort of.

Cotard: it is in the nature of Cotard tho. Kenyatta? long time no meat chat. hold on i'm having an important conversation with my dead mother and Little Red Riding Hood.

Uvula: it's more a strawberry hood than red.

Bridge (shakes hands with everyone): nice to meet you, i've never met a true bonafide monk before.

Cotard: you still haven't. Uvula, Bridge is it?, Bridge, Uvula.

Bridge: that cannot be your real name. which brings me to the urgent matter at hand. why are you so popular, girl? you must have one hell of a youtube partner. but first, food. i'm starving. i brought some chickens. (she pulls them out of her still-drying blouse.)

Erneste (screams and looks outside): no, not Sherlock and Moriarty my prized pets!!!

Bridge: no man, i brought these from my private island paradise, we only have one store but you'd be surprised what they stock in there. what do you think i am, a heartless witch?

Erneste (hyperventilating): okay, okay, my pets keep me company when the world won't. it's not them, they are sleeping in my room, they are clucking in their REM-state sleep, thinking about how it felt to be an egg, and what came first. those chickens look good, so juicy and tasty and seasoned with the ocean salt. i love chicken. that's my problem, i love chicken too much. you don't have any exploding candy bars in there, do you?, i'm always scared i'll bite down on one one day.

with a smile full of "this is the funny type of crazy", Bridge takes out the rest of the meal she brought, all manner of tropical fruits and banyan-strained tonics and spongy chocolate cake and cheeseballs.

Erneste: oh pao de quiejo! my favorite! how did you know!?

Bridge: idunno.

Kenyatta: you know she's with me, right?

Erneste: i did not hear that part, i have a bad ear for things, and people. woman i want to eat your cheese balls!

the gathering gathers at a small but strong stone table and chows down.

Kenyatta: so how did Miss Thang get so ting ting?

Uvula (chewing on a hard cucumber): it's another tale of woe i'm afraid. it's a sad backstory but this ain't no reality show, it's my reality po. ever since i could remember i remember being forgettable. no one ever met me, they'd meet past me to the next person, no one knew i was alive, i blended into every background like lead paint. i was young for my age so i was never taken seriously. as a fully-grown 21-year-old woman i stood inches and still looked like a girl. dates? none, and because of that i hate eating dates. i had nowhere to go so i traveled and before i knew it i found myself at the door of a mental institution. Lysander the doctor there was hesitant at first cos he thought i was seven years old. life in the nut farm was long, drawn-out and painfully boring. and i still felt pain. and i hated eating nuts ever since. nothing changed, i could never get a word in edgewise, a hello much less a wise word, cos all the nurses thought i had discharged and was no longer there and Lysander was always off on some spiritual journey or something. the charts always got mixed up, i never got the right medicine, which was any medicine. finally i went out the front door and realized i was an adult and alone. no friends, no future, no fire. the world had shun me,


i set up space in the woods but i couldn't quite give up the modern world, i had my pocket tv which kept the light on when my campfires went out. from that vantage point i saw all manner of trash tv, numbers, late gadgets, hookups, streams (the bad kind), reality shows, gaudy celebrity worship, no denominator, fake alternatives instead of genuine alts, escape, and just general emptiness consuming a consumer culture. there was no worth anymore, especially for young girls, which i looked like. i mean for a woman the only thing that mattered was her relation to sex. how in the grand scheme of fucking was she gonna be inserted? what she did, who she was, no, who was her boyfriend?, that's it. did she grow up into a beautiful, kind, generous young lady?, no, did she get her tits and ass in?, was her body voluptuous yet?, was her body stick-thin-Milan-model yet? sex not sense. getting laid not getting paid.......sometimes the two were one. i was angry. yes i was jealous. i was happy to leave this filth behind and start off with the fresh air of unspoilt nature. there aren't a lot of protected parks anymore but i found one near a monastery so hidden i thought it was some old kook's Revelations survivalist shack or something.

Cotard: you aren't far off, our founder was booted from the Vatican for teaching that the Apostles were really dinosaurs and that all dinosaurs talked. hey we'll never really know if dinosaurs could talk. at least he was trying to bring religion and science together. at least he was trying.

Uvula: speaking of animals, i decided that i would be forever alone and took up residence in a cave. a bear cave as it turned out. at first i was fine with this, the bear was never home, and i loved the whole concept of hibernation. i willed myself to sleep for months, i had nothing else going on. i tried to walk on all fours, i wanted desperately to be an animal, to shed my human form and embrace my animal instinct. i dreamt this, obsessed this, and then the fateful night the grizzly bear came back. i had forgotten what i was taught about what to do when a bear confronts you, cos i was never taught that: do you stand still and adopt a stance of strength, arms up, maybe growl, to show your dominance, assert your area? or do you run? the grizzly took one look at my face and ran away out the cave's entrance. i wasn't making a scary face tho. *sigh* i turned around and saw a fissure in the cave wall glowing yellow. what was this strange terrifyingly calming substance? i needed a strong force to break the wall down to see what was inside so i called the bear back. that's a long, drawn-out side story, very frustrating, i didn't know what to do to call a bear back, do you whistle or pretend you're a lady bear or what? anyway, the thirsty bear finally came back and charged at me and i jumped and it crushed the wall down. inside was a bright room full of loads and loads of gold bars, pirate treasure. i later came to know this booty as the Stones. i saw two skeletons in the middle of the piles, i hoped they were not my parents. i never knew my parents, don't know if they planted all this stuff here for me to find later knowing my personality. they were explorers, maybe they knew me better than i knew myself. long story short, the unlimited Stones essence in the cave gave me the power to communicate with and control all the animals on Earth. luckily, i use this power for good, i don't screw people. despite all the nurture i've been through, i have an innateness of good. blame my parents, they must have been good-natured people. and speaking of booty...(she glances at Cotard)

Cotard: what?

Uvula: you don't recognize me? wait, let me take off my hood. it's me, your first girlfriend. and mine. first boyfriend. and your first. and my first. remember about a week later i bumped into you as you gathered water from the same pont i gathered water for my cave upkeep, the ficuses (plural ficus or ficii?), the goldfish, and the cave paintings, not ancient paintings etched on the wall but modern paintings i found swimming in the streams (the good kind) i hung on my cave wall? i was sick of eating only berries so i was forced to venture out. we were pont buddies who became more. it couldn't have been more rom-com (i every so often still checked in with my handheld television). despite my past, i thought you were cute. hope springs eternal. i thought you were crazy, but i was crazy, i was living the tv show Land of the Lost for real. we did it awkwardly on the first date right there on the monastery grounds. so much flopsweat. there is nothing more desperate than two virgins finally fucking.

Cotard: that was you? i don't remember you.

Spirit Fuerza, who has been with everyone at the table but asleep this whole time, finally opens her eyes.

Fuerza: did i hear that my son fucked?

Monday, September 28, 2015


1. autumn or fall, which do you say? winter is coming

2. pumpkin spice, love it or hate it? what is pumpkin spice? is that like Hell Dust? (edit: yes it is.)

3. apples: seasonal treat or eat them all year? all year cos you never know when the occasion will present itself to tell off some asshole "how do you like them apples?!" (so you gotta always carry apples with you, in your pocket or something, not to eat, not for the health benefits, for the joke.)

4. where you live, do tree leaves change color in the fall? there is nothing more beautiful on this green earth than the autumn leaf color. it's like a motivational quote i saw just this morning on instagram: autumn leaves remind us that looking at dead things is cool.

5. in autumn truffles are popular in Italy, seafood is popular in Ireland, crayfish popular in Stockholm. what is a popular autumn food where you live? pumpkins. we scrape out all that sticky junk from their insides and then we pray for the spirits to inhabit these hollow rotting smelly gourds. that's what creates jack-o'-lanterns, everyone knows the legend, it's not the flickering candles you put inside them that breathe life into them, it's actual spirits. the spirits really appreciate being trapped in there all night, they told me so in a dream i had after some bad pumpkin pie.

6. scientists observed that the further a country is away from the equator, the more its residents are affected by the seasons. how do you feel in autumn/fall? depressed, rejuvenated, or some other emotion? depressed. there are other emotions?

7. strolls amid fall foliage are: a) romantic b) allergy-inducing c) dirty d) prime-time to "rustle the leaves" if you know what i mean *wink wink*: all of the above. nobody said love was easy.

8. what is your favorite autumn holiday, celebration, or activity? TPing. tomato-picking. we quietly wait for the neighborhood punks to toilet-paper our beautiful grand oak tree and say nor do nothing save for jotting down their names in a green notebook. then we gather the tomatoes (our oak produces tomatoes, it's a very special tree). then we go with our bushel of tomatoes to the annual Fall Festival where the punks are on the stage performing. we wait for the performance to end and then we stand up and...

bonus: do you go apple-picking in autumn? ever made out in an apple orchard? of course, i need to be prepared for bullies. everyone makes out in an apple orchard, that's how hot apple cider is made.


Friday, September 25, 2015




* this was just Pete reflecting on the fact that he gets paid to bowl.

* this wasn't about this particular strike or berating this particular crowd, this was a cumulative thing for Pete, this was really about that art teacher in the third grade who told him he'd never amount to anything cos all he did was crayon inside the lines. see, it takes discipline to continuously color inside the lines.

* Pete's wife: please don't turn the camera toward me, i don't know who this crazy man is, i love you, honey, you the man!!!

* Pete to the crowd: you get free chicken wings, YOU get free chicken wings, you get an economy-sized spraycan of shoe-sanitizer...

* Pete sent this tape to the WWE as his audition and Vince McMahon rejected it for being too crazy.

* Pete sent this tape to his shrink and this was his shrink's notes: "you are not crazy, Pete, the world is crazy. you are making the world crazy."

* Pete sent this tape to the Pope and Pope Francis smiled.


happy weekend

Wednesday, September 23, 2015


the Pope is walking alone down the street to her canonization mass. the masses flock to her distressing their last bit of courage, strength, and identity in order to touch her. she doesn't need security, the strut in her step and her cold stare brings man to its knees.

the Pope: and i'm not even wearing my usual princess crown made of the Stones. this is all real, folks.

a girl in a Space Pope costume wrangles her way over to the Holy Mother and manages to get a selfie of the two of them. the girl gives the hang-loose sign and says "chille tid" instead of "cheese" as she smiles. the girl later threatens online not to release the picture until Futurama gets another season.

Anderson: Madam Pope, Madam Pope, please describe today. how does it feel to have


the Pope: you see it, what a scene! everyone should experience this sort of power once in their lives, it's intoxicating! all the nations. all the grapes. i'd just like to thank my agent Morty for NOT getting me all those bits parts in that dragon epic show, i'd still be an L.A. kook night-waitressing at the crack of crack and my crack hoping for my next tooth gargle commercial, they never wanted me to spit it out. being a failed actress was the best thing to happen to my spiritual life.

the Pope sashays her nice round butt to and fro down the street. the altar boys all line up with their saliva-stained tongues hangin and waggin. the priests put their fingers in their mouths and wolfwhistle. she removes her nine-inch heels, which are really two small swords, and raises them up in triumph.


everyone cheers.

the Pope: two granny smith apples.

Anderson: your butt?

the Pope: no, lunch. come with? hey silver fox cutie would you hold this knife for me while i slip into my vestments? come on, i don't bite unless you want me to. join me, we got the best smokes in there.


Bump: OMFG folks i am SO happy it's finally Fall. my Fall, this is my weather. i've been waiting forever for the freaking season to change. i can't stand the heat. see it's tricky because summer doesn't actually end until the end of September with that equinox thing but school and works start up at the beginning of the month. you've been jipped of your summer vacation this whole time, didn't even know it till now, huh. not when i'm elected. i'm more electable than pumpkin spice. i love that autumnal chill in the air: the seasons change, finally, you walk your dog past huge piles of orange leaves, you play a little pick-up football with the neighborhood watch and their kids in the yard---they have the time cos none of them are in school or have a job anymore---enjoy some cold cider mixed with illegal backyard moonshine that will never be regulated again, this is the way America used to be. and can be again. and yes, i did hire new writers, i don't have time for this flowery shit, i gotta get back to twitter. so i humbly ask you to join me and the very vocal silent majority, join us. i wanna build a snowman with you. you know what life is like? i'll share a little story to humanize me, happened to me just this morning: i was carrying so much summer sweat on my hefty person i gained ten pounds, mostly water weight. my underpants had grafted onto the skin of my legs. i kept checking the calendar on my wall, my real wall not my facebook wall, and today was the day, time for a nice cool breeze. i crack my window and it's TOO FUCKING COLD!!! i can't stand it, i immediately put on my Snoopy mittens and start dancing to conserve body heat. i mean you just can't win. it's fucking hard to be a saint in this world, people are just too complicated.


in the kitchen, Bridge is stirring the pot.

Bridge: i am getting you back on the sauce, darlin. *licks wooden spoon* mmm mmm mmm! that's the good shit! oh baby the oregano hints are strong in this one! look at that rich red color, the color of life pumping, of vitality.

Kenyatta: where are we going today? the hits on the Minority Board are going off the chain. all for this one fascinating hooded woman, she's suddenly become the most popular underground operative in the world, it's like she's got an entire kingdom at her foot. i wanted to let Cotard know but he's been off the grid for awhile. that always worries me, hope everything's okay.

Bridge: yeah we're gonna take a little side-rendezvous over to Brazil to turn her. how's your Portuguese?

Kenyatta: as broken as my soul. but i'm better with you. i don't know where we're going or how we'll get there, but just being with you makes the adventure exciting. you make the mundane magic. going to the store or to church is exciting when we're together. i love helping you with the heavy laundry basket down the two steps of our illegal den, i love being the strong one for once.

Bridge: thanks, babe, back atcha. i'd teach you about saudade but you have me. that reminds me, got the tamed jalapenos?

Kenyatta: yep. packed the almond milk in that leftover wine box i fished out of the ocean?

Bridge signals from outside and the girls race each other and eventually reach the edge of the shore of their private island and stop.

Kenyatta: where's the sub?

Bridge: i packed it.

Kenyatta: no, the boat. surely you can grind up some Stones to make the bottom detection-proof invisible glass or something.

Bridge: that's just silly. there aren't any Stones on this island. we can't risk it, we're swimming.


Cub: dad, shouldn't you be covering all of the Pope's firsts?

Wolf: nah i don't care about that stuff anymore. i'm crafting carefully in my head exactly a very special comment for Baleen's latest insta pic, have you seen it?

Cub: nah, actually i'm kinda losing interest in insta...

Wolf: there's Baleen there in his hospital bed. his neck cast is battered and bruised but he still manages to give the thumbs up. this is very inspiring. i'm writing now:

thank god it wasn't successful. take this as a sign from above, or maybe just here in America. there are higher forces looking out for you, and some on the same level as you. i'm praying for you and i'm not religious. you have no excuse now, you must live live live, always live. never give up. never never never give up. live for your kids, your kids will bring a smile to your face when you cannot muster one. you don't need to be a rock god, just a god to your children.

Wolf: and SEND. did not hesitate to send that one, usually i'm nervous about sending, i read it back ten times and make little changes and wait to see if i should or not, but i'm proud to post this comment. i didn't add emojis to this one cos this is serious. hey daughter, why is your feed filled with spam of some woman in a strawberry hoodie selling all of her various pink wares? i mean everything she's got is strawberry!: strawberry keychains, strawberry diapers, strawberry shortcake, both meanings, strawberry chicken, strawberry bugatti. it smells atrocious! i'm sorry, i'm trying not to judge anymore, i'm trying not to be media dad, maybe i'm not the best person to judge, i have an allergy to cute fruit with achenes. your achene dream is my nightmare. when i see those achene, i achoo.


meanwhile back at the rancho:

Erneste: how did you sleep, my mondo monk?

Cotard: too well. such that you want to remain in dreams. i dreamt of her again. at the end she always used to leave lights on when she left rooms. i was so depressed whenever i saw the kitchen or the living room or our illegal den in our garage with the lights on. sometimes they'd be on all night. her senility cost us pennies. i wouldn't say anything cos she was a proud, dignified woman, i'd just quietly turn off the lights myself and sigh to myself. she continues to leave the lights on in our dreams together, but she chuckles cos she knows all about it now. in death, all secrets die.

Erneste: well she will always be a part of you, more so now that she's actually inside of you.

*wavy dream lines*

Cotard: mama, we have to stop meeting like this.

Fuerza: one day, my stunted son. so have you met any women at the monastery? don't, not the porn stuff, let us never speak of that again. i always wanted you to get married. y'know it's not just for the sex, it's for the life.

Cotard: sex is life......literally. there were a coupla hot nuns who visited on retreat. one with blue hair was very powerful. but they weren't interested. i wish i had the secret to talk to women. i'm all about secrets, secret societies, circle jerks, i'm into all that stuff.

Fuerza: no, that Secret stuff doesn't work with women, either. there was early evidence that the Stones had been created by a pick-up artist as a way to get a date with a model. but it turned out to be bigger than that.

Cotard: i wonder what's bigger than that.

Erneste: what?

JUST THEN there's a clamoring knock at the gate.

Erneste unspools a telescope and takes a peek.

Erneste: oh no, not again, another strange woman at our door...

Tuesday, September 22, 2015


1. my favorite part of my current daily routine is___________ i have a confession to make....i do leg day twice instead of leg day and then arm day. my legs are fucking buff.

2. __________ toilet paper is okay. brown and smelly. that's just the new pumpkin-spice-scented toilet paper.

3. _________ is my nervous habit. despite everything that's happened, i signed up for the Cloud.

4. today i am thankful for ___________ an Update i downloaded that's been downloading for a month now...

5. i cannot wait to _______ fuck.

6. three things i'm looking forward to this Fall are _________ jumping into a big pile of orange leaves, football, and the Fall of Satan.

7. i want to dress in _________ for __________. my werewolf costume when i go see that new Goosebumps movie. which is to say i won't be wearing a shirt. i was thinking more modern werewolves.

8. my best friend is _________ lemonade.

bonus: would you take advice from a porn star? if yes, what would you want to hear? of course, they know the ways of the world better than anyone else. Sasha Grey actually responded to my comment on instagram once, that was the greatest day of my life.


Friday, September 18, 2015



* foot fault. this entire point doesn't count.

* oh come on, they're pushing the ball! they're pushers! Brad Gilbert is loving this.

* oh you see that? the ball was out there but there's no replay on this court. or there is but Monfils used up all of his challenges. and the chair umpire is related to Simon. there is literally nothing Monfils can do but continue playing this point for infinity.

* Monfils's guns-out neon-yellow shirt: he's going to the rave after the match.

* i don't remember Neighbours being like THIS, CLICK HERE.


happy weekend

Wednesday, September 16, 2015


Binny (talking to herself): as i troll the hallways of this place, i can't help but feel it's my last days here. i've been here for what seems like forever, it's like i don't know a time when i was anywhere else. but things are changing. the tides are glad and rising, the stakes are being uprooted.

Binny scurries round a corner away from the overhead cameras and manages to find a pocket, a hole in the wall where reception is still possibly still. she calls Quinny at home.

Quinny: girl what you doing? you gonna have me admit i was worried bout chu? i told you to get outta there, it's a trap.

Binny: i should watch more movies. i dunno, i just wanted to see how far i could go, how much information i could absorb, maybe there was an answer in all that work, perhaps it was possible to know everything.

Quinny: sure, maybe it is, but it won't help. i got the rectangular photo of you in your cancer scarf that they filed away when they hired you. this is all we need. we can gaze upon this beautiful picture of my beautiful sister and we will eternally know of your bravery, your courage, and your fight. it may take your brain but it will never take your heart. this memory firmly implants in our mind, not our brains, where it stays to fight the forces of evil. we will surely win because this makes our bond unbreakable, like superglue unbreakable.

Binny smiles a biggest smile, it's just too bad Quinny can't see it over the phone...but she sees it.

Quinny: you didn't take any drugs, didya?!

Binny: of course not ya idyat! no Stones, just the cancer meds. well. one last shot at this diary. final entry:

i'm working now for the last time, until i have to work on the other side. hopefully i'm on the right side. well, the good side. logging in. and as ever my ipad is a cocktease. OH COME ON! EVEN NOW! yes please, don't work, whatever you do don't work, please don't work, make me wait that extra minute so i get captured. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS????????? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! NOT THE SPINNING PINWHEEL OF ALL THAT IS NOT LIFE which hypnotizes you into a false sense of security, i've sworn off all carnivals and flower festivals forever! sake, looking up sake. no, not sale, sake. sake sale? not interested. well maybe i'm interested. huh, wouldn't have thought of that if not for the misspelling and the followup Google Suggestion. alright, send a case over to the house, Quinny will pay for it, i'm the one sick after all, though i'll never have as sick of a mind as her. *laughs* i really did laugh, not just a cyber-laugh, i felt it in my stomach, oh may i always remain human. another thing, too, is the AUTHOR. you look up apple on urbandictionary and you get apple on urbandictionary and any AUTHOR with apple in the author's his/her name and any entry they wrote up, which could be anything from apple to orange to dicktease. and another thing, lately now i look up any word on Google Translate and it comes out crazy like crazy. like it translates as "crazy". 

Binny's ipad-mini blue line finally reaches over all the way to the right as right on cue the office ever so slowly fills up with rushing raging water.


the raccoon and the duck are slowly coming out of their comas.

Favor: so quick. like time never stopped for a long time. are you okay, Rubber?

Rubber: i quack so.

Favor: OMG look at the screen my fine-feathered friend. it's, it's Uvula!

Rubber: bow down your head, do not make eye contact with our savioress.

Uvula in her red hoodie appears magically on the screen and takes a look round the corners of the fast-food establishment.

Uvula: ah, Favor, Rubber, there you guys are. prepping?

Favor: oh miss, i could smell your strawberry shampoo anywhere, i mean, yes.

Uvula: i love that instagram added Smell-O-Vision. this is almost as big as when they finally added the orange heart emoji. kids around the world took off school that day to celebrate with pumpkin pie and butternut squash and sweet potato salad and Smashing Pumpkins songs and tangerine juice. hey Rubber, you'll be spending a lot of time together on my front line, i have to ask, is the Rubber thing cos you're a hit with the duckettes?

Rubber: no, ma'am, i am your sole and loyal servant, there's no one else. i am many things to you in this army of one. i serve by you, for you, because of you, of you, through you on the battlefield of love.


Bump is to give a major policy speech aboard a warship but ends up driving the ship in circles for an hour instead.

Bump: folks, think about it, think about me, when you think of me, the concept that is Mickey Bump, the sugardaddy symbol of it all, you smile, right? everyone smiles inside, they can't help but wide-grin. before they report on the news the latest shenanigan i'm pulling, as they go to mention my name, my name creases their lips, and all the station anchors smile, man, woman, or internet cat. i bring a smile to everyone's face. cos i'm entertaining, i'm a showbiz veteran, i pay for the media, i am the special interest this cycle. so yeah. i'll just pay for whoever for the stuff to get done, there is no cost worthy of our Americanness. being President will be cinchy.

crowd: i hated that the roads were all blocked off while they were installing the new pavement for the roads. what a conundrum, you have to stop the traffic all gnarled with potholes and hot tempers in order for time enough to have new roads which will flow the traffic more smoothly, but in the meantime the wait creates more steam in people's brows than is spewing from the street.

Bump: yeah but what you gonna do? you could start building flying cars finally. that's it: flying cars, ONLY IN MURICA, finally something we can export! the next time you see a job-stealin' foreigner on the street, you tell them there are two types of people in this world, those that go to the toilet and those that like to watch. you flick them off and tell those toilet-watchers to go home. we already have the drones, it's just a simple modification to make them fly and guzzle gas. but only if you vote for me, folks. i'm not doing this for my health, i'm already dead, keep this reality show going i mean gong show i mean show of this current undeniable political reality going, it's fun as fuck!


on tv at the U.S. Open, Roger Federer takes the mic after beating Novak Djokovic in an epic five-set thriller that ends 12-10 Fed in the fifth-set tiebreak to earn his 18th Major, tiebreak for the whole enchilada, for the championship. those fifteen minutes of the tiebreak were more watched than that Stanley Cup Finals Game 7 overtime, remember that?:

Federer (sweaty in front of a wildly-applauding, hollering, adoring public inside the semi-roofed stadium): tonight i stand before you as the greatest of all time *drops the mic*


Cotard is ready for his monologue. *the camera closes up*

Cotard: my brother, i am well rested and ready for my next phase in life. i have no idea what that entails but i feel i've gone as far with this as i can. i need a change, no i need a paradigm shift. i have to start doing something important. well let's start with something. i will regale you with my last memories of my poor mother. we shall cry together and bond but that is where our bond ends, the real hero travels alone. at the end, Mama was ever vigilant, ever kind, ever happy despite her sadness, ever glad to help, ever herself. i noticed there were more bad days but then she had a good day which would wipe out any memory of those sour times. she started to buy a lot of stuff, y'know, mystery things in brown boxes would be daily delivered by UPS, stuff she'd order on QVC, her way of keeping less lonely, these should have been anniversary and birthday gifts from dearly departed Dad. even the UPS man raised a lip at everything he had to deliver and he got commission. his brown shorts were soaked. she would go to church not so much for the endless sanctimonies, she figured she had done enough praying, she was secure for Heaven, no problem, i'd make sure of it with my prayers, but for the free food that no one seemed to want to claim, she'd fill up huge brown bags of tons of bagels and sugar donuts. nobody could have eaten all those bagels, not a bagel-lover, not the inventor of bagels. we had no money, and all this buying wasn't helping, but i just sighed inside. it was just me and her, me and her pension and me and my lazy ass. the last day, well one of the last days, the very last day i blacked out, i was having breakfast as usual and my bacon tripped and fell its grease all over the pantry. she never hesitated, she clipped off two paper towels on the dots, and wiped all the grease off my bacon by patting those strips down. she saved the grease on the countertop for later.

Cotard's mother Fuerza: don't eat greasy bacon, mijo, not good for you.

in the present, in Cotard's bug car, all of the ashes have flown out of the urn and have formed a person. it is none other than Fuerza herself, back from the dead, the real one, not a ghost. this is Fuerza's Final Form. she knocks on the door of the ranch to a terrified her son and Erneste.

Cotard: mama? cannot be. i must have more sleep to rub out of my eyes. oh the devil's treatment is especially cruel when he tricks.

Fuerza: it is i. my son. i go by many names, i may have played another character with the same name, but know that i am who you know, who you've always known, i am here with you forever. i am the only plumber you call, i alone plunge you to the deepest depths and the highest highs, down and up, the only hole you recognize. and i really mean that, like forever, eternally, beyond your wildest philosophy but not beyond your wildest imagination.

the hug between mother and son is superglue.

Cotard: mama, i was an atheist but i prayed for you everyday cos i respected you that much, er respect you that much. in fact i became the first atheist monk, i was willing to live the boring spiritual life if it meant i could pray for you and Dad's souls forever, it was the least i could do for being a rotten kid and horrible son.

Fuerza: mijo, you weren't a bad kid, you were a kid. not a bad man, just a man. i adored you, your father, too, you were the orange of our eye. oh you could've been a hit with the ladies, you were handsome enough and smart enough. there were plenty of women at my church functions who would have deemed you spongeworthy. but if this is what you truly want to do, if you're happy, i'm okay with it. why does this sound like a response to you becoming a porn star?

Cotard: i watch a ton of porn in the monastery but that's for another day. oh mom, dad, i owe it all to you guys. without your genes, i am nothing.

Erneste (removing his cowboy hat): does this work? does it work if you are here gloriously before us instead of in his memory?

Fuerza looks solemn. so does Cotard.

Cotard: he's right, mamacita, you can't stay, everything in its right place, everything in its course, nature rights the bumpy waves of the universe, it all evens out and is useful and somehow fits together and was meant to be from among the infinite possibilities. i'll just close with one of your last days: you were lugging around a particularly heavy box.

Fuerza: the one that had all those massively long poles of salami completely covered in that white packing dust?

Cotard: no. don't do drugs, mama. (Fuerza (softly in the background): no it really is interesting packing dust.) i offered to help but you were more interested in me helping you unhook the chain around your neck. it was always a chore for me cos those damn jewelry things had the tiniest holes and latches you'd ever seen and your ears had the smallest holes nothing could fit through even with those thin-prick earrings. and it didn't help that you'd coat your neck with slippery bengay powder beforehand.

Fuerza: that box contained tons of the Stones.

Cotard: WHAT!!!

Fuerza: a mother knows. as a last resort, i wanted you to have them if you were in danger or you felt hopeless or you just wanted to feel strong.

Erneste knocks back the tip of his hat and smirks.

Erneste: that's alright, pretty lady, your son has been ingesting the Stones for a time now. it was in the tea i've been plying him with.

Cotard spits out like a whole gallon or something of golden sparkling water.

Cotard: you mean that? never swallowed. never swallow, once you swallow, you're committed for life.

Erneste: WHAT? HOW? you kept all that liquid in your mouth for days?...weeks?...however long we've been here?...even in your sleep?...all the times you were conversating with me?

Cotard: i've been practicing the trick since i was a boy living with you, mom. everytime you gave me that nasty white Mylanta that tastes like chalk. not a fan of mother's milk that doesn't come from a breast.

Erneste: no spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down? that was big even here in Brazil.

Fuerza (turns to the camera): well how about that? thank god you lied to me all these years. thank god my Mary Poppins vhs was stolen by house invaders.

Fuerza (smiles): what a devilish boy. son, give your ol' ma some sugar. no, i meant a kiss. thank you. son, i shall return. there are so many more


and with that, Fuerza touches up her gray-and-white-streaked hair, becomes a ghost, and flies into her big boy Cotard's fourth eye.

Monday, September 14, 2015


define sexy. 1. what is your kissing technique? all tongue, no mouth.
2. when do you feel most sexy? crying alone in my empty bathtub.
3. which of these do you resemble?: I exude male sexiness/ sexy He-man lumberjack/ Ladies Man/ curvy sexy all-woman/ tomboy kitten with a whip/ girl next door/ sexy nerd: it's a combination of the second one and the second one. click HERE and HERE
4. what makes for a sexy meal? CLICK HERE
5. what are some of your seduction techniques? CLICK HERE. oh I thought it said suction techniques.
6. what's sexier? beer/ wine/ mixed alcoholic beverage / iced tea: Zima, which brought about the dawn of alcopop. I go to the store and it never runs out of Zima, it's always fully-stocked with Zima.
bonus: are you hot as in sexy? how can you share your sexiness with the world? yes, I am very sexy. but I am also crazy. therefore, I am only allowed to share myself through my writing.

Friday, September 11, 2015



* The Hit/The Fighter: that's not funny.

* The Diver: interesting inside-baseball story here: the other guy wanted to do a solo presentation of The Frog but the team said it's team or nothing so he just kind of slipped his solo act in there next to the main-show diver pretending he was just another swimmer at the pool.

* The Toilet: redcarded for indecent exposure. hey, at least he flushed.

* The Birth: the referee in the yellow shirt's all, "okay guys, okay, that's enough, this is just getting stupid now."

* Rewind: but that's not where the crank is...

* Fishing: nobody wants to play the dead fish, no one wants to be known as a dead fish, but, y'know, team first.


happy weekend

Wednesday, September 9, 2015


(it won't be! cool.)

Kenyatta is in bed with Bridge embracing her awkwardly on the forehead as she thinks deeply. they are completely naked but wrapped artistically in a swaddling white linen with just their interlocked toes playfully touching poking through at the bottom. rather like a master's painting.

Kenyatta kisses Bridge's breast after licking away Bridge's raven curl, moving it from nipple to areola.

Kenyatta (breathily): missed you.

Bridge: you missed this.

Kenyatta: yes. time and death make the heart grow fonder. i'm having an existential crisis.

Bridge: or a midlife one. how did you escape the clutches of that creep?

Kenyatta: i convinced Codrus i was spying for him the whole time even when it looked like i wasn't. and i wasn't. i'm so confused. why am i doing this again?

Bridge: no one can swim in your lane. but you do know you're doing it for me. and by extension the migrants sleeping downstairs. it's worth the risk cos at the end of the universe is our humanity.

Kenyatta: yeah been meaning to ask you about them. when did you grow a conscience? i was scared of orgasming as loudly as i normally do, didn't want to wake them.

Bridge: last week. went to The Store for some cold cuts. as i slide my card in the notice pops up on the screen asking if i'd like for them to take ten bucks out of my account for the needy. my guffaw was louder than your orgasm, spreading throughout the store like when they use that microphone to announce cleanup on aisle 9. the man behind the deli counter felt bad but laughed with me.

Kenyatta: he just wanted to hit that. your irresistibleness will always paper over any personality defects.

Bridge: but something clicked in me as the man handed me my paperthin meat wrapped in brown paper. he wasn't smiling anymore cos he was the needy. for the first time i felt my birth station in life and felt bad. he didn't look at me and went right back to work nervously cutting tomatoes. i paused there for a long minute. i went back home to this island retreat and clicked on the drones. of course the reality show i chose was interrupted by the continuous live reports on the migrant crisis and it shattered me. serendipity, huh?

Kenyatta: nah, just the universe. sometimes all it takes is a click in your head, like a remote-control click. of course it's not sudden or strange, it accumulated over a life and finally builds up enough pressure inside your brain to flow in another direction. you just never noticed it over the sound of your privileged laughs.

Bridge: i'm a changed woman. now don't you change and bring me drama now that mines is all sorted. please tell me you're not succumbing to those terrible Stones. that stuff isn't drugs, it's life.

Kenyatta: of course not, babe (she says as she checks her instagram. on her DMs is a message from Codrus detailing her next mission and special-linking to a separate password-protected webpage where to push the big yellow button YES? if Kenyatta wants the Stones directly administered to her bloodstream via the tardigrade Codrus implanted in her to keep tabs on her. Kenyatta had pushed this yellow button before her treacherous swim, that more than her will or anything is probably how she survived. she hesitates, circling her finger around the button.)

Bridge: what's that?

Kenyatta (quickly hides the screen from the bushel of raven curls): nothing.

Bridge (pushing another remote control): you don't need that lowly instagram here, dear, remember?

the ceiling mirror flips over and out pops through the wall a giant Minority Report screen full of all the digital communications of everyone in the world flashing in lightning speed. it's like the communication back and forth between all the shapes of God. so many trillions of messages at once. Kenyatta smiles when she locks onto a specific girl who keeps sending out the same message day after day: HELLO. WANNA CHAT ABOUT LIFE? to anyone out there, it's like this girl will always be available in case you were busy one day, you know she will be there and you can contact her tomorrow, she won't miss you ever.

Bridge: i'm not being a gracious host. join us downstairs for scones and cold tea. the stories these migrants tell will show us reality. your attention will be rapt.

Kenyatta: sure, in a short minute, i don't need to brush my teeth, the seawater scrubbed them for me. tell those migrants to always walk. you tell those fugees to never trust trains. don't worry, they'll be safe here, they won't be tracked, bagged, numbered, and camped like meat.

Bridge leaves.

Kenyatta (whisperly): be happy. all i know is that i come from a long line of strong women. i need to focus on my lineage, not my lines.


Gora misses the beautiful big oak tree he used to play his sitar under. it simply disappeared undernight as he slept.


Bump is watching the tennis. he's watching the tennis actually being in the tennis stadium where the big event is taking place. it also happens to be the start of the next presidential debate.

Cameraguy: just call me the cameraguy. from CNN. we have to start the debate.

Bump (watching the action intently): the what? oh, i forgot about that. i'll do it from here. wait, i'll comment after the point is finished. oh what a shoelace volley! i can't believe the other sister came back to win the next set and even the match! this is wild! exciting. this is what America is all about, these two legends battling it out on the court here, it's all on display right there. it's all about family, family first, well god first, then family, then work if we get the jobs back. to try that shot on set point...down...that is an open-mouther. oh but i better not open my mouth, another cat flea might get in.

Cameraguy: i'm filling in for Wolf, he's busy with something. Mr. Bump, are you using these sisters to score political points, saying that their story from adversity to acclaim is uniquely American?

Bump: are you one of my writers that i had to boot for impropriety? yes that's what i'm saying. actually no, i'm just flabbergasted at this sport, what's this thing called again?

Cameraguy: surely you know of tennis, you must have played it before, watched it, built a resort court with a diamond surface, isn't the court where deals are made? negotiating over Novak? this is the ultimate white man's sport.

Bump: take a look below, take a look around, the demographics are changing, you either adapt or inept. no i don't know what tennis is but i'm fascinated like the everyman.

Cameraguy: what's that smell? it's coming from the back of your shirt. Mr. Bump, why is there a brown trackmark on the tail of your professional shirt?

Bump: PEE YOU! you're right. and it stinks more in this nighttime sun. what can i say. no really, what can i say? i'm just like you, i sometimes don't wipe properly, i'm just an ordinary hardworking smelly working-class American tryin to get by while The Man takes the money and runs. i don't have time for hygiene, i'm tryin to feed my family on peanuts. um miss, can i borrow your peanuts? oh these peanuts are so good, want some? we done here?

Cameraguy: no, the debate has just started. i'm getting an email filled with many negative emojis from Rand Paul asking me to ask you about the au pair.

Bump: we've been through this, my hair is real. that guy whines too much.

Rand Paul (through the screen): but you are The Man.

Bump: yes i am.

the crowd Bronx-cheers.


Cotard is naked in the lotus position, his toepoint balancing his entire weight.

Erneste: you are doing so well, fam. you have done so well. i am so proud of you. i see that you are in a deep meditation, no outside distraction can break your link to your memories. much like Anakin when he was too far gone and deep within the purple bubbly ocean of his hate, drowning in it...except the other way around. tell me what you see.

Cotard (without opening his eyes): my mother, that beautiful woman. that woman of which i know only and only know. she is woman to me. i remember toward the end she would enter my room trying on various dresses and blouses for church and seeing which one i liked best. it was like a cheesy '80s montage but it wasn't bad, it was sad. she would ask me after each dress, "how do you like your mother?" that made me cry, don't know why, i was still in that liquid state of tears, drowning in it. "here, ma," i'd tell her, "here are some pins, your clothes are getting tatters and holes at the hem there." "thank you darling," she'd say, "don't want to show anything. blessed are the poor, huh?" "in spirit" i silently finished her sentence about me in my head. and then another time when i was feeling myself, hopped up on my new education and i remember telling her all about the glorious tenets of atheism as if i had invented it, i was flourishing in my praise of a book i picked up at a college table that had a cool cover of that Michelangelo painting with God instead smoking a blunt with Adam. i spoke freely of freedom and with each of my mad pronouncements a little bit of her soul crushed inside, you could see it on her face, she was trying to understand but her brow furrowed but she was happy for me but confused. she was being held together with pins.


Wolf: honey please tell me how to do this.

Cub: what's going on? hey is this Baleen's account? it's private, though, how did i get access to it?

Wolf: sometimes you push the wrong button, or the right one. his latest entry is indicating that he plans to off himself. how do you send a warning to him or instagram or someone, y'know? this man has kids, i've seen his previous pics. quick, i'm trying to show i care, Daughter!

Cub: Daughter? this must be serious. um, here...

Wolf: let me do it, *push*

Cub: yeah, that's it. an emergency email was sent, drone triangulation in process, an ambulance is speeding on its way right now to his house.

Wolf: i'll pay for the speeding ticket. who is this guy anyway?

Cub: Baleen? think Cobain but like if he were the third guitarist of a bad struggling local cover band. i only know of him through Follow Friday.

Wolf: and who says social media is a cancer on society?

Cub: you do.


Codrus walks down the long silver hallway of the office, his hand firmly on Atalan's shoulder.

Codrus: let's walk and talk.

Atalan: are you okay, boss? i'm not sure what happened to me. i don't remember what i did but i remember it was big. did i make the news?

Codrus: of course, you're the next big thing. but you are the current big thing, you're in the middle of the cycle. don't take any calls for interviews, you are mine, you are this company's, i'm protective of my workers. did you get the Stones i sent you?

Ata: about that...

Codrus: shhh, i know, keep them hidden, DON'T show your coworkers. you're special, my friend, i saw that from jump, the yellow stuff is just a way to take the edge up, to accentuate your native talents. i don't give out my stash to anyone you know, it's precious. i have to slap myself sometimes, i can't believe how much progress i've made in so short a time. also i slap myself to keep me from partaking, can't blow the profits by blowing it up my nose, gotta keep a sober distance. i'll make you a deal, stop doing what you just did and i'll give you all the money you want. you can pursue your artistic and athletic dreams worry-free. you'll be more famous than me, and for something much more noble. whaddya say? think about it for a long minute. i've wired the money to your ATM downstairs, the one on the street. what's your PIN number? haha just kidding i know it. i know all your passwords, too.

Ata leaves taking the stairs.

Codrus (calling Bump): thought those terrorists were a sure thing, i paid them enough to be.

Bump: they did their job, they burned the tree, i was right there, maybe like a minute late, i stopped for lunch, but what happened? who is this Attila the Hun guy?

Codrus: Atalan you numbskull, don't you watch the news?, we make it after all. i'm keeping him closer. there's a lot of air in that big head of yours, huh? everyone thinks you're playing dumb but i know better. you had one job. this was supposed to be your moment where you saved the tree and we marked another defining moment in the death of religion in this world.

Bump: yes, there's a lot of hair on my head. what's our next move?

Codrus: MY next move is...i dunno, it's been harder than i thought to orchestrate world events, too many damn variables, the final solution is to eliminate all variables. he's been paid off but what do i do the next time the next Atalan comes around? i'm still in training, i still can't quite yet get into someone's head and control them. and torture is so uncivilized, so old-world.

Bump: that's gonna be so fucking awesome when we can all mind-read. instagram will look silly then. okay, boss, good talk, i'll see you later, Serena is serving for history. (as an aside to Cameraguy): the CNN mics weren't on for all that, right?...

Atalan reaches the ATM with no one in line or even in the vicinity. he slides his card in and immediately a neverending stream of bills comes flushing out. the cash never ends, it's eternal. Atalan stands there motionless for a very long short minute as the green pile quickly reaches his head.

Ata is drowning in it


Monday, September 7, 2015



1. best and worst thing about your job? okay this is ridiculous, i really need to get back out there. i need to go to auditions again and get constantly rejected to build up my stamina. i need to get weary of the creative establishment and set up my own experimental theatre...on my youtube channel. i need to learn how to plant my seeds case nothing works out and i'm forced into monastic farming.

2. this Labor Day you're filling up a cooler for a beach date. what do you put in it? sizzling hot dogs fresh off the grill, my heating pad turned ON, various hot drinks in thermoses: coffee, green tea, toddies, open-faced sandwiches filled to the brim with hot meat and ghost peppers, Big Red gum, a horn to summon Aquaman who was the first person to discover and use fire, my leather mankini and my banana hammock, i tie each end of my banana hammock to two palm trees and gently sway back and forth with the seabreeze.

3. sex, which is it? work, play, or necessity? sex is life........................literally.

4. best and worst thing about your sex life? best: it's loud and raunchy, untethered, taboo, reckless, full of bombast and risk and hot liquids and hot liquids in thermoses and involving boating and sweetness and light and firelight and fire and candlelight and candlewax. worst: it doesn't exist.

5. were you in a sorority or fraternity? did you have a good experience? all i'd ever wanted out of life was to be a frat douche, to have the keys to the campus, to wear a toga cos i switched majors to Classics. but no one would have me. i finally had to settle on the only Greek House that was located downtown, FDS, Fat Drunk Stupid i mean Gamma Delta Sigma.

6. did being in a frat help get you a job or ease your career with butter in any way? let's just say i ate so many interesting-flavored cookies i became a baker...on a porn set.

bonus: did you ever flash your tits/penis to your fellow frat/sorority bros/sisters? oh the initiation was grueling. first the whole tying it to the chandelier and swinging. that's what swinging from the chandeliers means, right? *cue Sia song* and then the "passing around of the peace pipe". and finally the duels in the open circle in front of all your brothers, mano manstick a mano manstick, there can only be one eye. my pirate penis lost to a ninja penis. it put my eye out.



Friday, September 4, 2015




* this was the rare instance where the plane wanted to ride Cal.

* there's just something about a cowboy hat. you put on a cowboy hat and all insanity turns into bravery.

* there was once an actual dog named Spot, cute little red puppy. he got too big for Cal's little rinkydink operation. like he really got too big, he's now known by his stage name Clifford.

* Cal: monkey in a suit...
monkey in the suit: not funny. i have skates on. i'm gonna go back to my jungle with these skates on my feet and forever disrupt the delicately-balanced ecosystem. you did this. you did this.

* i distinctly remember these commercials growing up as an '80s L.A. child. this was around the time i got the best news from a doctor a boy could receive: i had some sort of ailment in which the cure was a strict diet of only Coca-Cola Classic and saltines! kid jackpot! so i will always associate Cal with coke and crackers.

* come to think harder about it, this explains why i'm addicted to Coke. also why despite being a man i've never liked cars. but i love animals. from boy to man never had the least interest in cars. i love Boyz II Men though. ABC BBD the East Coast Family.

* this is what happens when Nature on PBS has to find any sponsor on the street to stay afloat. it's all up to you, it's all up to Viewers Like You. thank you.


happy weekend

Wednesday, September 2, 2015


Bump is campaigning hard at a waterpark. he's barely squeezing into his polka-dot one-piece.

Bump: folks, thanks for joining me here, this weather is a disaster. wait, let me sit under this oversize hydrant and soak my large head. oh, this one's a flushing hydrant, genius. okay, here come the dogs, let's move over if you don't wanna get sprayed, hehe. Bump loves dogs and dogs love Bump. first day in office, i swear, voting rights for all your pets (crowd cheers, Bump gives a wet-five to a supporter in the crowd), book it. y'know this heat is making me as low-energy as Jeb (crowd laughs), i needed a jump start.

crowd member who may be an outside-agitator media plant: what is your position on the burning of the Grand Oak?! we shamefully stood by and let this happen, that's the real disaster!!

Bump: sit down, i know, sit down on that puddle. refreshing, huh? i know, i saw that on the drones and i was so saddened. that area is Bump country, mostly voters for me, but this is not a political matter, it's a nature sciencey literature antiquity language english matter. that bush was the last of its species, it's now extinct and i have no words.

agitator: oh NOW you have no words. thanks, Bump. you could have sent in one of your jets to crush those idiotic fools before they lit the tree. what is their endgame anyway?

Bump: no blood off my back. oh it's some religious thing, i try not to get into that now with the Stones messing religion up permanently. live and let live i say, i've always said, check the tape. that goes for personal faith as well as trees. it was done in the name of some anti-religion religious cult that just wants to see the world burn. but i try not to fight fire with fire, if you do that enough the world becomes Hell. a jet, huh? yeah that would have been fucking awesome to have my jet carried live on the cable networks blowing those terrorists up, that would for sure have secured me becoming Dash Elect! what a grand idea, a grand-father idea, when all else fails, bomb the fuck outta it (crowd cheers and splashes)................what a shame. my head is bowed down cos what a shame, also the sun gets in my eyes that's why my head is down, that beautiful tree that was older than God, all that history gnarled up in its roots, the only tree on this great green globe to produce milk rather than water, our natural hydrant...............shame. sorry for going on, i like to hear myself talk.

the only thing which stops the latest soliloquy from this candidate surprisingly leading in the polls by a rout is a cat flea which flies straight into Bump's open mouth.


Binny's diary again:

i'm crazy. this is good. this is true. this is a sign, a good sign that i'm not crazy. when you're not crazy, that's when you're in trouble. okay i've finished the article on the Grand Oak, no extra amendments to the death section, can't let every nut filter the death through his own religion, only the facts, Pam45. "not to be confused with Grand Oat", what? Grand Oat Museum? hell naw, i don't give a shit about that, who would go to such a place? who would curate such a place? more and more when i type in urbandictionary it types in for me Uncle Grandpa once i type that first u. so i think i'm typing "urbandictionary apple" but it comes out as "uncle grandpa apple" and the resulting images are as hilarious as they are frustrating. my computer is too smart for its own good, its memory is as long as an elephant's. it forgives but never forgets. when i type "translate" i'm still getting "transformers". history is long. what can i say? i like Transformers even though i'm a girl. still having problems with the blue line: i type in the url of a page to go to, and the blue line starts, halts suddenly, ACTUALLY GOES BACK, and then does everything in its power NOT to go to that page, it fights with all of its might to remain on the left not the right, an electronic tug-o-war. when will this blue line give me a break?


Kenyatta is swimming across the ocean to her supersecret quadruple-agent house located off the grid of the drones on a nano-stone in the middle of the sea. can't use any boats or anything or she'll be spotted. it's the opposite of a search-and-rescue.

Kenyatta (swimming upright): i've really become more accustomed to nature rather than nurture as time goes by. that incident hasn't left me. i don't know who i work for anymore but i still know the cause. trees, not tech. i know my heart and that is all. but i do have down days, this is true, down days which turn into down years. i lie to myself to keep me from drowning but sometimes i feel like letting the waves wash over me. if i'm going to go out i might as well do it the cool viking surfer way.

Kenyatta starts to sink beneath the surface.

Kenyatta (bubbling): in this other world, this other blue screen to view the world, it's blurry but i somewhat remember a wobbly wikipedia account of Samuel Beckett who had found himself in a place very similar to mine right now, in the middle of water with no help in sight and nothing to hold onto. did the notorious nihilist look above to the nonexistent heavens and the stars still blurred by daylight and simply say, "well it was a good life but c'est la vie it seems to be over now. why fight it? bye" and offer no resistance as he drifted down to the bottom? oh no, Beckett swam like a bat out of hell trying to survive, stroking till his writer muscles gave out getting himself out of that water and saving his meaningless life.

Kenyatta efforts again, she rises up till she is able to take the best breath of her life outside the ocean, she dogpaddles like a mad woman to her house on the shore, past the Gilligan's Island hammock, and pushes the doorbell of her shared mansion. Bridge answers.

Bridge: hey babe. what happened to you? you're all wet.

Kenyatta: lost the plot somewhere in the middle but improvised like a motherfucker till i got here. i am so fucking happy to see you!

Kenyatta plants an enduring smooch on Bridge's full lips and the two skedaddle inside the mansion and offscreen.

(but will what comes next be offscreened?)


Atalan is in a mood. he feels helpless. he's doing his steps to be somebody but it's not working, it's either not enough or it's not enough. he's trying to use the system to his advantage while all the time fucking the system.

Atalan: dammit but i have that kid in me. Yayray is influencing me, not the other way around. respect your elders by repurposing them. fuck the system. the continual search for something new. but i can't go down Yay's road and start taking drugs, can i? can i be sober and sentient?

Ata sweats down his workshirt collar, drenching all around his neck. he's at his Codrus workstation on a typical day doing typical busywork and nobody is paying attention. he slides out a stapler from his first drawer and opens it up: inside aren't a row of neatly lined-up metal staples but rather Stones shining in the shape of thin staples. he need only take one and slip it under his tongue like a nicotine paper, a patch, one of those paperthin gums that looked and felt like tissue paper that came out awhile back. he does, Ata takes one despite everything and plops his head down on his desk into a plate of jello. he doesn't feel sticky as he sees wonders in his head. he thinks back to the Grand Oak since that's been pervading the news and he remembers his personal connection to the brilliant tree. he tied a rope and old tire to it once and swung on it when he was in K before the national park became a tourist attraction. he sees the Grand Oak in his mind and starts to cry inside, it hasn't been burned down never to reveal its secrets again, it's right here... lives in my mind, my imagination makes it so, it makes it live again, it makes it real, the Grand Oak is reality.

he's mumbling with his eyes closed but his coworkers think this is how he sleeps and leaves him alone.


Bump: i will build a great wall and get someone else to pay for it. okay i'll pay for it, i'm rich you know. call it the Bump Wall or something more imaginative, i dunno, i'm a businessman not a poet. i will...


Atalan: ...i will bring the Grand Oak back. the terrorists will not win. history endures ideology. the stickiness inside all humans will provide the sticky needed to bind the chain together, i am drawing from everyone's deep inner good will.

Ata imagines a


each manifestation of the Grand Oak is smaller than the original thing and all blue and transparent but they are all tied together and form a line from Ata's head to the spot of the great tragedy. the terrorists who were about to kill the curator of the Grand Oak Museum are so flabbergasted they let the curator go. the curator runs away with an open mouth shouting as the terrorists stand dumbfounded with their mouths open. the ghost water turns real and swallows the terrorists all up. the water crashes every which way, fills up the giant hole left by the great ol' strong green brown Oak's absence and yes, there before the world's eyes, the Grand Oak starts to grow on the ground again! it's a little baby sprout.

the world cheers.

Bump: are the drones getting all this? yes they are, just got a call from Wolf. i'm a shoe-in. see, folks, my wall worked. wait, WHAT?!!

Bump had been transmitting his thoughts, too. the wall he envisioned was built ghost brick by ghost brick by Stone Energy. Bump had had water on his mind so naturally his wall went to the ocean where it parted the sea and fought off enemy invaders on each side with huge tsunami waves and generally made sure the oceanwater or anything else wouldn't dissolve the sticking agent of the chain. the wall showed the path for Ata's tree-chain to travel to the old oak.

Bump (on his helicopter phone to Codrus): still can't quite control it yet.

Codrus: as i can see. working on that. carry on.


Wolf and his daughter Cub are scrolling through Cub's instagram in her glittery glitter room.

Wolf: man social media sucks. just another excuse to advertise. i need to get out of this depressing if-it-bleeds-it-leads business.

Cub: dad you're getting me depressed instead of the other way around. oh i dunno, i like to look at the top of every instagram post to see where the location is, i learn of new places around the world through this.

Wolf heartily drinks a glass of water then looks up over his glass to a particular pic on the screen.


Cub: god, dad, WHAT?!

Wolf sees a languishing closeup of a man with sad lips and a very long typed passage as the caption. Wolf chokes on his water maneuvering his neck to read that passage.



i avert my eyes at all times, when i'm scrollin my work insta i make sure NOT to read the top portion of the pics cos it's just gonna be another weird exotic place name i'm gonna have to look up. come on blue line, i don't have all day, all day i watch you not work.

the blue line of Binny's ipad mini goes from left to right and turns into a real mini-river of sparkling water in a nanosecond as it lands on the New York Times webpage detailing the top news of the day: the miracle of the reappearance of the Grand Oak.

Binny (flapping her soaked ipad mini every which way): good thing this thing is waterproof.