Friday, September 28, 2018



* only Barbra Streisand has the Jewish-motherly power of warmth to turn something which has been hotly debated and hotly contested by the greatest science-fiction minds of this or any generation that has lived in any dimension of space, this thing which most agree isn't such a rosy idea, could lead to scary consequences and the robot takeover of Man and Wives taking a Step down: cloning. Babs makes cloning fun n' cuddly.

* and only Babs can spell Barbara Barbra and not be laughed at (cos y'know bra)

* Alicia Vikander: this is my doing, i got myself one Fassbender for each season. in my native Sweden, we have two extra seasons of cold...

* dude actually looks like my friend Chad with the Canadian beard

* there's nothing in that Aztec stone coffee's tea, the Aztecs never knew what tea was, they went straight from coffee to chocolate.

* clone 1: am i the Original?
clone 2: there is no more Original, we killed the Original, remember?
clone 1: i do not remember this occurring.
clone 2: this must mean it was you and you are dead.

* clone 1: this watch screen is too small, can i get it in an ipad size?

* clone 1: what are you doing in my house?
clone 3: i'm not in your house, this is my house.
clone 1: it's technically my house once you cross that sidewalk outside.

* woman: don't mind me, i'm that old Japanese agony aunt from Paranoia Agent. you never saw me...

* clone 3: why are you following me?
clones 1 and 2: you're following us.
clone 3: is your girlfriend Sofia, too?
clones: this is not the time to talk about a Devils Triangle.

* clone 4: see? you were too distracted looking at me you missed the last payphone on Earth outside. the world is too distracted now, always on their phones to see the payphone.

* Rachel Maddow in Hawaiian shirt: you can't juke me, fellas, i'm Rachel Maddow. i'm only interested if this so-called Market has quinoa. do not talk to me till after the Midterms. if things don't go my way i'm liable to grow a beard and become an ol' salty sea captain, living out the rest of my days on lonely big waves. i got my boat and my sideboy and my parrot. i even went to another commercial which i know you're not allowed to do once you're in this commercial to check out turns out my relative was also a sea captain with blue eyes like me. when i wear contacts.

* jogging clone: i'm running, well walking fast, in order to appear in the same frame as that UPS Brinks truck that will be the scene shortly of a robbery gone bad. i won't stop the robbery mind you, i'm running to be involved in the frame.

* running clone: excuse me, is this the Pizza Place?
attractive woman on the street: yes...
running clone: you didn't answer fast enough, gotta go, now i have to eat quinoa pizza.

* clone 1: why is it only I have sweat running down my front?
clones: it's a feature, not a bug.

* swimming clone: i look good with tan metal.
clones: remember, don't swim all the way out unless you plan on never coming back cos you're saving your brother.
swimming clone: the shark?
clones: Michael Phelps ate him.

* clone 1: but where do i come from?
clones: believe us, you really don't want to know how the sausage is made.

* clone 1: it's just that, well, if i draw a brown cow how do i know it's really me drawing?
clones: your drawing of the brown cow is the brown cow drawing herself. this is how God functions. God is a shrewd operator.


happy weekend, my babies. what is the Los Angeles Dodgers' Magic Number? don't tell me, i want to be surprised.................sigh...............maybe it's better to only have that one shining Dodgers memory cut in my gut where the cotton candy used to be. those 1988 Dodgers are fading from my memory like eating chili in a wheat forest on a hot summer day, like Pedro Martinez's tiny mustache and jheri curl...

Wednesday, September 26, 2018


there's a rumble in the grass of the lawn of the circle table with all the guests around at Melbourne's estate. which is unusual, normally the pastures are quite pastoral. so microscopic you can see the individual yellow seeds jumping up and down on the blades of grass like Mexican jumping beans. soon it reaches a Jurassic Park crescendo baseball-fever on the cricket pitch.

it's Melbourne racing with a purpose past his outer edge hedge and into the main pavilion of plants that looks like a well-manicured golf course just starting to breed its seeds. each footstep he makes makes a print in the soft soil.

Doryce: he looks like a new man staring at us as he walks steadily towards us.

Gladyce: he's marching into a new phase of his life.

Melbourne: it's not that i'm transitioning to another life, i'm entering my first one.

Madame Pons: hey, witches!

she hugs her new friends and in the tradition gives a peck at their tits.

Madame Pons: when did you get to town?! and how did you know i'd be here? in this specific town.

Gladyce: what matters, love, is for us to hear you talking like that. it brings such bushies to our faces! you're realizing that you have a town now. and it's not your hometown.

Doryce: you're needed here, love. your love is fierce and will be the secret stalwart when this town goes through the crisis. i've seen it. you will be the anchor when the waters rise. the Academy will always exist. in some place. maybe not bodily but it will exst in the known realms at one point in time or another. it will be there to greet you and guide you when you are ready. or when your next life is ready. and it will be like you never left. even if you've never enrolled.

Gladyce: thank you for saving my love, love.

Madame Pons: i can't tell you what your words mean to me! words are powerful. like spells. the right words at the right time can change a life. like magic. you get the feeling that you lived your entire life to be at this precise moment to hear these exact words so the decision can be made for you. i'm blaming you if all of this goes to pearshaped hell and i end up dead or work at Lush one year too long past retirement. *laughing*

Doryce: hehe, death is funny. well it's better than being alone, take it from me that is shit that tastes like pears. that's why we chant the words, incant our spells, use our throats like an instrument front to back palate like Dee Bradley Baker, who has a humongous forehead cos like Nietzsche he holds more human knowledge than the rest of us like a cranial canteen. so we got a few specks to spare, moments to mess, while we wait for the mooring of the ship to take place. the process takes awhile, it's stationed in the middle pool of two huge icebergs on either end to keep it in place and prevent it from drifting off. like bumpercars!

Melbourne: hello, my friends, so gladly to see your smiling faces this eve! you, there, couple on top of the roof, please come down and join us.

Pete Davidson and Ariana Grande: no we good.

Melbourne: okay it's just that it's a fluted roof, you might slide down and break the gold chain on your ankles. friends, Ancient Romans, and worldmen, don't do the van Gogh thing with your ears i know you are all artists in your way. my honey is with child! wait that sounded porn. i mean my bride will bust a baby! i'm gonna continue in this world!

Taki: wait, we're getting married, too?

Melbourne: yeah that's how it works. fuck, torn condom which acts like the Trojan Horse, i become the Trojan Man, sperm, egg, baby, forced wedding so the baby will survive, poppin mcmuffin. i got a shotgun in the back...

Taki: i knew it.

Melbourne: just kidding. hey Tres Leches! i was just talking about you! devil, eh? have you secured the bib on all the garden hoses?

Tres Leches: si senor. i'm off now to my second job. got a job for a very special senor.

Melbourne: please one and all! join me for a celebration around the circle! i'm gonna be a Papa Smurf! we will be serving NON-alcoholic vodka!

Taki: so basically water.

Melbourne: i will prepare Taki's bedroom in the central suite upstairs. if it's one thing i know it's preparing mattresses. i'll sprinkle the sheets with rosepetals and spread a liberal amount of tempura-batter tonic all throughout each line of sheet to each four corner like a thick slice of rye bread.

Melbourne raises his arms into the air in a certain way.


Ariana: so it's just so sad about Mac Miller. are you listening to me?

Pete: babe i'm using your laptop foldin thing to write my first SNL script of the season. or maybe ever, none of my stuff gets onair. at least i'm not like that guy writer who had an affair with Cecily then was never heard from again, disappeared away, secreted like he was Fan Bingbing.

Ariana: it's just as well, they say such hateful hurtful things about me online i don't want to look at a computer. normally my assistant is my filter, i had no idea what the truth was! is twitter really this vile?

Pete: i'm working hard on this skit script about this guy who wants wheat toast instead of white toast even though he's from the projects. i need to be funny right now in my set mind and not think of sad things.

Ariana: they're blaming me for Mac's death! saying if i didn't break up with him for you he'd have had a reason to live and keep continuing and going. that's not fair!

Pete: well we were cheating on him. maybe if it was a clean break he would have reconsidered.

Ariana: no, he'd still not have me. cheating is not why people break up, the cheating is a symptom of a larger problem. everyone's yearning for something out there they don't already own.

Pete: i thought he was black for the longest...which is weird cos we come from the same social fact, now that i think about it and view his pic online, he LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE ME!!! WAIT HOLD UP, this whole thing, THIS ENTIRE THING, you with me, you are only with me cos i look like Mac Miller!

Ariana: let's not speak upon it no mo..........but yes it's some sort of deep-seeded way for me to preserve his memory but let's stop talking.........don't look at me with your sad autoimmune-deficiency puppy-dog eyes like that! it's so sad how much he drank.

Pete: i'm all for drinking the koolaid, just not the Grape Koolaid, that stuff sticks to your ribs. looking back, we were both of that generation that missed McDonaldland growing up. the white urban neighborhoods were decimated and McDonald's changed its tactics just as we were born. we were yearning for something missing in our lives. we both missed out on the grandeurous glory that is Grimace.

Ariana: who's got the keys to the Lorne Lambo this week?

Pete: Premiere Week we got Ariana Grande as host and Ariana Grande as the musical guest.

at the MSNBC Studios:

Katy Tur: so we're all just waiting for Mueller to show up at this studio...
Gordon Chang: i like your blouse, Katy.
Katy: hey buddy! my eyes are up here. i don't like that you wear glasses! do you ever get confused for Gordon Ramsay? y'know, cos you're both Gordon?
Gordon Chang: uh, no, can't say that i have. we don't all look alike.
Katy: i'm sorry, Gordy, but it seems we only meet when there's a nuclear disaster about to lemon. i wish we could meet under different cheerier circumstances. like a banquet hall just after the bell lights up and you push me out of the way of the falling radiator water full of radiation from the heavy grey two-ton square air-conditioner above so i don't get wet but you get wet but at least the banquet potatoes don't get wet and you slip on the slick basketball court but say you were just trying to prove gravity exists and you save the day and i pull out the joke cuecards i had in my dress pockets that i was gonna use to break the banquet ice.
Gordon: ...
Gordon: i'm sorry, Katy, i promise not to show up the next time i'm scheduled so there won't be any more bad news. i will do that, too. i've been known to do that.
Katy: sorry, i'm known as the awkward one here at MSNBC...
Katy: ...
Katy: are you upset?
Gordon: i am not upset. but i thought there was something between us. like we had that taboo racemixing Future War 198x romance thing going.

President Bump is conducting a very important interview locked in one of the many rooms upstairs in the mansion of Melbourne's plantation. the padlock has been painted over and there's a black sheet hung up on the far wall and it very much looks like a hostage video.

Bump: i get the distinct impression that this room smells of death and avocado toast. so, Jack Dorsey, we don't have much in common, you not in my bloc, but i get you cos you're a CEO. i envy your scruffy beard and Casual Fridays and Casual Days and general laissez-faire business practices. you look like some quinoa guy who ran a bike shop on a cliff in San Francisco, a shipshape shop with no cars allowed and the only way to get to the shop is a narrow road that only fits one bike tire. when you get to the shop you see billions and billions of bike frame structures mounted on the wall like endangered mongoose heads but no tires. you look like you'd rather be out surfing than here. which is why i offered pre-interview for you to go out surfing with me as a way to break the melted ice. i even flew out my Bermuda shorts so you wouldn't have to see my legs.

Dorsey: *awkward silence* yeah i don't want to ignite the wave of controversy. it's like with twitter. this was meant to be a forum to cheerily discuss K-pop with those in remote caves around the world. but you have to be smart with it like any technology. you have to know that when you're having a conversation that is slowly circling your eyes with toxic bubbles---and you so want to keep typing cos hacking is an addiction---that *dramatically* this is a conversation you walk away from...

Bump: like the twitter thing just fell into your lap or you hit it with the nose of your board when you were surfing one day at night. you're like those boring golf champions we have now, frathouse-boy ciphers with no personality who only eat meat and remain anonymous. don't mock me, i see that arch tattoo that covers the length of your pipecleaner arm, it's a violin symbol, don't play your tiny violin at me!

Dorsey: *awkward silence*

Bump: *ringing in* sorry, bud, gotta take this, business you know. gotta walk away from this conversation, it was getting too toxic. shit, i'm gonna have to do a twoway here. i CAN think of two things in my head at once. put em on speakerphone. how can i be on speakerphone but you aren't? okay Rod, thank you. for plugging in the cable rod. okay, questions from the audience. go.

Laertus stands up, looking like a mouse in a sea of humanity.

Laertus: sir, have you seen Future War 198x?

Bump on big screen: sure. i think. i have a tape of my nanny. watching it together with me when i was a tot. eating tater tots. these things take time, allow me to ease the tensions.

Dirg: don't take the bait, sir, you don't have to prove that you're a real fan to him. i know deep in my seated heart that you are a nerd.

Laertus: that anime classic spells out in stark fashion the destruction and horror of a World War III. the speed at which the Earth disintegrates is brutal and seared a lasting slice of salmon on my brain. i NEVER want to see that happen in real life! it was so realistic, the animation is so human, the justifications are so profoundly potent, that it really wouldn't take a lot to see a series of unfortunate events like this which would decimate three-quarters of the population and leave the rest of the Earthlings to walk across barren deserts like alien preachers. the mouth-flap movements are so good i felt i was watching a documentary by Ken Burns about war burns. i cried, they were still able to play the piano so well at the party knowing a nuke was the next guest come and knock on our door with cherry pie. that takes concentration. it's a chain of events that seems so cold and calculating and callous and yet so confidently clear. like this is what humans WOULD do to each other, they'd know it was stupid but do it anyway. they'd fight aboard a leaking red-colored inside submarine because they want so badly to hold the shiny two keys. let's PLEASE confine this sort of thing to the celluloid of imagination. let's not let the anime community give you any ideas!

Bump: ...

Laertus: do you know what an honor flight is? that's what you have to think about years down the road when you make your decisions now. make it a priority to give Melbourne an honor flight one day. it's a simple question: what kind of society do we want to live in? we must build it for ourselves. will it be built upon the totems of all people regardless of their chromosome config? or will we let lazy laxy laws define our energy, pen in our colorful constitutions, react to illness with our knees rather than try to solve it, as if the country was sick with cold and everything had a catch.

a donkey strolls across the stage, no one chases after it.

Bump: okay okay enough i get it. is that for the Dems?

Laertus: for the circus. these things take time, allow them to ratchet up the tensions.

Bump: so i've set up Kavanaugh and his accuser inches from each other. only the one buzzer red button between them. all on the same table. each contestant has five minutes to buzz in. if you win the car you have to pay the insurance. if no one answers in the five minutes, i get the car to break the ice of the awkward silence. one-time appearance fee, no refunds, i don't want to be late for the sex crimes on the Law & Order: SVU two-hour season premiere, i love that show. we'll use drone cameras if they both touch hands at the same time. i was wrong i can admit this. i was waiting for Saturday to occur before the massacre. i was waiting for October to happen before the surprise. calendars are slow.

Bump: i asked for a female to do the inquisition but The Pope refused. i love women popes.

Senator Grassley: *smoking grass* what do we call them? these men who have legs and arms and hair but aren't men? aliens?

Agent Scully: ... ... ... women.

Grassley: first question: who was the first MeToo...

Bump: *buzzers in* George Washington, he had bad teeth like Elton John and all Elton Johns. and allow me to do the pre-interview now and break the ice with some standup. wow, haven't done standup since college.

the Senate courtroom becomes a tapestry room. the lights dim and the spotlight trains. the law room is a ballroom.

Bump: so i like to fire people from job interviews...

stony silence from the audience and crowd

Bump: *passes the mic* here's my friend Rod Rosenstein! we were chuckle buddies on the comedy circuit together in the early '90s in L.A. when everyone drank and no one gave a shit.

polite clapping

Rod: *takes the mic* i used to play football...

audience and crowd: *stony silence* no way you played football. you look like the quintessential nerd.

only one person in the crowd laughs. Kawhi Leonard, and he laughs very strangely. like someone who has never laughed before in his life, doesn't know how to laugh.

First Take ESPN studio:

Stephen A Smith: now you see there! that is not a normal laugh! there is something wrong with this brother, check Kawhi for the nuts and bolts, brother's an android. that is a robot boy learning how to laugh for the first time from an exercise program. if it walks like a duck, and laughs like a duck, it ain't no damn mongoose.

Molly Q claps in Stephen A's face.

Stephen: oh, i get it, you black now huh.

Max Kellerman: i love you, Qerim. uh, Molly Rose. you're like those girls who take a few weeks off and don't tell nobody nothing and everyone wonders what happened to them and they come back with a ring on their finger and the whole wedding was so secret not even People Magazine nor MAGA knew where it was. and you never speak of it again, you are simply a baller's wife and never talk about your marriage. you don't mention his name when asked if you have a boyfriend, you stay in stony silence. now that's TRULY being a baller!!!

Molly Q: *wearing yellow lipstick* i gots the moves.

Max: and we're like those dudes who take a few weeks off and suddenly reappear magically in New York City, our poor parents back home in Connecticut having no idea where we disappeared to. Stephen A and i did it to be closer to you, Molly.

outside the Senate hearing, The Pope checks her phone alone by the three stone steps to the banquet hall. a parakeet perches on the lap of her shoulder. she finds out Rod has been fired and begins to cry.

Kavanaugh: i swear i never touched a woman. a woman never touched me. not even my wife. Renate? that was a real club. Renate Club, Debate Club. the only friend i ever had was when i was a tot, a girl named Talky Tina.

Bump: imma look into that. yeah, bro, but you did mention in your papers that you wouldn't watch the new Twilight Zone cos it was from that GET OUT guy who isn't our voting bloc. don't worry, i blacked that out for you.

in the back of the MSNBC Studios, Avenatti is practicing on the heavy bag with no punching gloves just his fists. he even headbutts it cos he can with his artificial bald. he hits the bag so hard it becomes a speed bag. which rips open and out pops a plastic baggie of shaving cream and razor shivs.

Mueller: slow down, my apprentice, you're burning the wick at both ends. and cameras don't have candles inside them anymore. you look like you're on speed, in the eyes. why are you on tv so much? i need you rested soon. to box for me.

Avenatti: the Dems need a fighter in kind, they've forgotten how to fight dirty in their quest to be the civil one. i do my most damage with my headbutt, people don't realize how lethal a headbutt can be. i go on tv a lot cos i want to earn my SAG card the way Bump earned his running for President. do you think i have a chance?

Mueller: afraid not. you're not old enough. you ned to be Biden's age to make an impact in Hollywood.

at the table, a blue sad fish with dead eyes is swimming struggling in the confined water glass which scares poor Gladyce half to death. she blushes brokenly into her chest and screams AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO. Doryce comforts her with a hug of the pelvis. Gladyce's eyes are bloodshot with fear.


Doryce: we'll get through this, babe, i'm with you every step of the way. i will cure you with my love.

in the mistress bedroom:

Melbourne: you know about my dream, right, wifey?

Taki: sure. it's the linchpin. the key to uncovering where the bodies are if we ever decipher the symbolism of it.

Melbourne: no bodies, mannequins.

Taki: this dream is your block. to achieving a happy life.

Melbourne: not so fast. we are going too fast in our Formula 1 car to see the forest or the trees. there's a gap in my memory, i have the recurring dream where i'm up in the air in my airrace plane and i only have a POV view of the cockpit. a set of hands are on the steering wheel. well you've allowed me to fill in the gaps and i can see more out now, get a broader view. i can see my head in this larger frame slumped over on the stick. provides context. but the plane is not careening out of control.

Taki: you're unconscious? fascinating. what would that experience be? being unconscious in your own dream.

Melbourne: no, i'm sleeping, and dreaming a dream within a dream. it's of an angel in white with her hands up in a certain way. at least i always thought it was an angel. it is difficult to make her out at first she's so bright, just a ball of radiating white light, she looks like one of my all-white mannequins with their arms bent up at the broken joints. but my eyes focus and adjust and i begin to make out her white negligee. and then her face. her face is..............YOUR FACE! you're in my bedroom just as you are now, except standing up with your nonswollen arms up. you're staring at me directly in a POV view angle.

Taki: knew it. it's your gun trained on me. i got my hands up. i figured you out and you mad.

Melbourne: the airrace plane chugs along in the sky, giving out white smoke but never black. it's your steady hand, YOU'RE the one driving. you're in back of me in the back seat but you're no passenger, your hands come across my shoulders in a vise grip doing the steering of the plane with my head blocking your view, you can't see the controls or tiny clocks. but you don't panic, you're nice and easy and instinctive with the sky's road of clouds. the plane stays upright and turns and curves and completes the course. do you happen to catch the letters on the sidepaneling of the plane?

Taki: yes. they're a Spanish company, right?

Melbourne: wrong. it's Mexican. the side of my dream plane says TRES LECHES.

Monday, September 24, 2018



i love this commercial. it's so reassuring. the man represents all Man and the woman is obviously God. despite the craziness around him, man can be comforted by a God who's just fucking with him with a wink, a nod, and a knowing smile.

1. how do you and your loved one connect? strictly by messageboard. we belong to a group which types our feelings everyday online. it's only the two of us on this messageboard, it's private and requires a password which both of us have long since forgotten. we can make it if we try. everyday we express our love to each other with the messageboard messages. flowering declarations of the chaste sex we have for each other involving words like McDonaldization and Starbucksification. we like it but in truth it gets lonely...

2. when did you last make a mistake and were you okay with that mistake? when i forgot the password. it's okay cos we never meant for it to be a party. i think. it's just in 40 years i'd hate to think i'm still gonna regret finding out the password was "password" and Steve Jobs could have been on the messageboard. he kind of is anyway cos his spirit inhabits the messageboard but it's not the same thing. like we get unusual 3AM posts about Apple Store-ification that neither i nor my lover can remember writing...

3. what are you just not seeing? dunno, not sure. i mean i get that Jobs’s a ghost, but isn't all of our jobs to eventually become a ghost? and don't get me started on the ghosting. do you know how humiliating it is to be ghosted by a ghost? i've been doing experiments when i'm not on the messageboard. i've been trying to see if a narcoleptic can still have a lucid dream...

4. if you could spend ten minutes with your hero alive or dead what would you ask them? i'd tell All Might you gotta stop it with that Burger King permasmile it's creepy.

5. who in your life do you wish you'd have met sooner? my past life as a page in the Medieval era with albino white-blond hair and a pageboy haircut using a wooden bowl. but in order to effect that i'd have to be SO SOON as to not have even been born. or construct a time machine with just wood chicken coops and moatwater in which case i will have never been born cos i would stay as the Medieval page forever.

bonus: have you ever won a medal for a sports activity? what sexual activity are you sure to win the gold?

yes. i defeated Nadal at the French Open. in Madden.

hacking (cough)


Friday, September 21, 2018



* me: can you spare a square?
Dr. Seuss: i was here first.

* alternative title for this post: Who? Lou? as in Lou Dobbs? Lou Dobbs doesn't work anymore. Celebrity Cable Considerations

* James Harden: this is not an Old Spice commercial. i don't need to shave my beard, it grows back anyway.

* James Harden: do not get a bed. sleep on the floor. if you have to get a bed get a California King, those are the only cool ones. those are the only ones which are prefabricated by LeBron James himself. he knew he was gonna be a Laker all along when he lived in Ohio. just like he knew he was gonna be President when he lived in Iowa.

* Sarah McLachlan: hey, thank me for not showing you the kittens and the sad music. this is even MORE serious. it's not enough to remove your yellow Bob's Burgers shirt and stop watching the show Bob's Burgers even though it's coming up and is currently the best show on tv. we are living in a different more enlightened time now, the post-Dominion era, are you a Dominion Warrior? never eat meat again or die.

* courtside boy: LeBron got me these seats. he loves me even when the President won't.

* Samira Wiley: i'm piloting my own helicopter ride to the Emmys. people don't realize how powerful Emmys are.

* Sarah Silverman: it's confusing i know, but this time i'm joking. i'm mad serious when it comes to this country. sometimes i wonder if my twitter love is enough. though i did save a life on twitter, what did you do on twitter today? end a show?

* Joe Manganiello: you mistake me for the burly dude with the Lucy spiked bat or the guy who was a Watcher in that Watcher movie.
Sofia Vergara: Watchmen, even I know that and i'm not from this country! Joe will put you off men forever...
Joe: why did you marry me?
Sofia: you showed my son Manolo love. Manolo is the only man in my life. you showed him how to shampoo his hair, i'll never forget that.

* Joe: never fly first-class, it's a's all the same, you know? the airplane is still the airplane.

* Jared Goff: i am SO glad i signed with Hollywood! this NFL bump-in-the-road is my ticket to movie stardom and bumps of cocaine! see i have to keep a "clean liver" when i play sports, but not when i play in movies! i am SO glad i didn't sign with that OTHER Los Angeles team, that Chucky coach is known to ruin quarterbacks! they are taking a billion-dollar crapshoot with him...

* Samira: never mind that man, the future is female.
Harrison Ford: me? i told them not to kill me off. that new Han Solo isn't working out for them too well now is he?
Samira: no, not you sir, you are a legend. here, take this champagne, don't put your hands on the stick let me do the flying, and regale me with your misadventures in a parking-lot garage with Carrie Fisher.
Harrison: no please, no more frogwater.
Samira: so how is the future gonna look like in 30 years?
Harrison: ask Ryan Gosling.
Samira: Neil Armstrong showed us the future was space but Blade Runner shows us the future is virtual-sex with big blue bare busty hologrammic booth babes.
Harrison: the future's not lookin' so bright.
Samira: are you crying?
Harrison: well sort of, it's my tears in rain.

* Sarah Silverman: the whole "ply" thing is a sham, just like the "threadcount" thing is a sham. this is Hollywood, what do you expect? the whole place is a lie, that's why we love it. i don't use toilet paper, i use my hand, and you STILL think i'm the hottest Jew who ever lived after Jesus!

* kid: i'm LeBron James's son, probably. i like iced tea. i can take it or leave it when it comes to bacon. don't get it twisted, don't try to connect the two, playa, you ain't that smart. has nothing to do with that tan color.

* Jared Goff: my tv calls me Jared Goff, that's my dad's name. want to see my walk-in closet? it's not Walking Dead-themed.

* James Harden: i painted the painting above my big head. with my beard.

* Sarah Silverman: 1 in 10 men will think this commercial should have had "native" girls in grass skirts, grilled pineapple, and a big bamboo pole.

* Sofia Vergara: SPORTS!!!
Joe: what are sports?
Sofia: i thought you were a regular joe.

* Samira: i am Poussey.
Harrison: oh no, okay, this is where the generation gap comes in, i don't know how to address young people now, with all these Movements swirling around everywhere. i refer to all women as goddesses to square all my bases. Star Bases.
Samira: i'm in love with you that you think i'm still young. Hollywood is an older seasoned actress's game.
Harrison: hey, that black woman with the red-hair jheri curls and orange poncho in the basketball stands, if that is indeed a woman, she's on your Orange Show, too, right?
Samira: OITNB?
Harrison: Clockwork Orange?

* so i missed the Emmys this year. WHY did you put them on a Monday? people do still go to school and work during the week as difficult as it is to imagine when you comb through twitter comments nowadays. there were no new primetime cartoons this Sunday, it was your perfect window. i heard there was a lot of Roseanne living the awkward life, new celebrity couples living their best life, and Che looking around with his head on a swivel at Colin with Scarjo and Pete with Ariana and wondering when does his chick check clear?
Che: is it cos i'm a Communist?


happy weekend, my babies. not much going on this weekend, huh..................

Wednesday, September 19, 2018


President Bump has made his way to the House of the Book. he's never had to run so far and so fast in his life, his feet hurt terribly. but he is comforted and panting to know that he can lean his large frame against the fluted columns and stone carvings of the place and rest assured it won't topple over like one of his buildings.

Bump: there's no casino here. cos the library won't allow it.

the columns of the colonnade fill up with his sweat. he wants to know but his pants are soaked.

Bump: this place is wondrous! like Rome. and Rome never fell, technically. it's still going on. like the Deep Illuminati. it will be sturdy through the tides. like an old mate. i had an old mate named Jim, he was imaginary.

he waddles his way to the front of the glassed counter a tired and broken man.

Bump: mate, one ticket for the show later this afternoon. air-conditioning in there, right?

the clerk is listening with both ears to his vintage Walkman but you can still see the pimples inside his ears.

clerk: what? show?

Bump: yeah, this is where the Power Rangers teleport to. i need a means of escape, i'm on the run, i'm being run down, chased by an old man with gray hair.

clerk: Santa?

Bump: you'll see. soon.

clerk: *typing/hacking* and you are?

Bump: oh yeah, you're just a kid, you wouldn't know. you're not in my demographic as i've been told now.

the clerk is Dirg.

Dirg: *chewing pink bubblegum* just kidding. you're my hero. it's cool we get to spend some time together just you and i like this. so how goes the trolling? it is just trolling, right? that's why you connected with disaffected white dudes who sold their farm and tractor to buy an ipad maxi with the warranty, it's the internet thing which made you clean up that voting bloc like a drone who spreads toxic chemicals into wheat. i love how you're the personification of the concept that school is useless, that's so cool.

Bump: no time to talk, kid, pressing matters, the adults are in the room.

Dirg: i'm afraid you are mistaken, sir, the Power Rangers don't really live here. or work here. there's no transporter yet, that must be invented, but without nasally NASA's ass-global cabal of Roundists. i hate to do this to a fellow nerd, but it is just a show.

Bump: is it at least a factory?

Dirg: no one knows what the House of the Book is. so it's a monument. to something. oh, i got my friend on the line, he wants to ask you a few follow-up questions.

Dirg switches on his connection to Laertus through a watch.

Laertus: several. friend? you've never addressed me as friend before. are you getting melted in all that post-hurricane sun?

Dirg: i miss you...

Laertus: what?

Dirg: shut up. here, gold sir. i put him on the phone. watch. phone-watch.

Laertus: so you were right about the hurricane...

Bump: i know, right? the only cool thing that happened was that roof coming off that gas station. but a village pump doesn't need a roof for it to work, take it from me.

Laertus: and there was that sight of the American flag ripping in two in the strong winds and salty surge.

Bump: i know, right? that was so cool. i've Tivo'd that scene and i'm gonna watch it later on Youtube Fast-Forward, just the good sports highlights.

Nixon in blue hologram: don't you think that torn American flag is evocative and indicative of something? something larger and grander going on in the larger culture than your thinking? a symbol?

Bump: yeah it was pretty erotic. a symbol of freedom, or so i've been told.

Laertus: this whole Kavanaugh thing really gives me the heebie-geebies. makes me depressed for the nation. are we a nation of laws or a nation of nations? can you do something about the mail threats? like shut down the Post Office? i know your life is of rushjobs but...time doesn't exist...

Bump: hey i'm saying all the right things. no feelings involved. either way. we're playing the long con i mean long game. lockerroom talk can extend to actions you know. this is why there should only be one party, so no one feels left out. everyone wants to have fun, no one wants to be at a birthday party where no one else is invited, even your mom. everyone goes through life drunk. we've tried to return-to-sender mail these creeps, but on the back of the envelope, the only address left is the letter Q. besides, Judge Mark is taking care of the proceedings.

Laertus: there's an inherent male-slanting systematic attackive mal in the software of this culture. it's culture which simply doesn't respect women or a woman's worth, it's been programmed that way. the superstructures are in place to perform this ovulating operation. it's a culture like a lab-specimen culture, not yogurt. what are you gonna do about this, sir? you have the power unfortunately.

Bump: i leave it to the Senate, Congress really does a job.

Laertus: i've been following your twitter feed which i despise. i've hated twitter ever since you came aboard, you ruined what was once a nice positive place for discussing K-pop. a lot of links and retweets of Orrin Hatch...

Orrin Hatch: why don't i believe her? cos she's a woman.

Bump: *laughs* look man, i mean, you gotta give him credit, he's at least being honest. he's not frontin' for the good cause. he shows to the cameras the weapon of his age, not the weapon of artifice. no artificial sweeteners, that's awesome! gotta give him that, he's not trying to be PC.

Nixon: noticing the parallels? seeing? they were both professors...

Bump: i notice how the Left keeps referring to her as Doctor and Professor, not Woman.

Laertus: it's everywhere, it's pervasive in the autumnal air. democrat, republican, and especially independent. when a blonde comedienne said she couldn't wait till your son flipped on you, his comeback was to demean her for not being funny in a crude way. on twitter.

Bump: but that's just science. women aren't funny. ask Bill Nye. and in fairness to my son, she said she would orgasm for the first time in 30 years after my son flipped on his own father. so. see i'm all about fairness. i mean she said she'd videotape that wet sticky orgasm session of hers at Lush and put it on her twitter timeline.

Laertus: don't take my wife. please. take the Mavericks. that was supposed to be a "fun"---fun in quotations---culture, boys-will-be-boys barf, roughhousing, loose and free, a player's dream, heaven for hunky jocks. but it turned into a hell for hotties and a lady jail. nobody wants to smell a jockstrap.

Bump: yeah i wouldn't know, basketball isn't my thing or my demographic. Cuban should go back to Cuba.

Bump looks up into the sun and with his finger's yellow lasers carefully pastes over the carefully-carved letters on top of the House Book tower. it used to read NATIONAL ARCHIVES but now it's just a bunch of Roman numerals which spell out an egg scramble.

Bump: i actually came here with a purpose. and some interviews. i'm here to officiate the divorce between my pals Brady and Belichick. two men should never marry, that is a crime against nature.

Bump thinks up to the sun.

Bump: there's one thing i can do for myself to get out from under the boot of Mueller. distract with a good deed on the other side of town. i have to hurry, time's running out, i'm late, and my heels just broke.

Dirg: he's gone now, disappeared into thin air, which isn't easy for him to do.

Laertus: actually it's very easy for him to do.

Dirg: now i'm bored. i'm cooped in this booth and hot. you keeping your third eye on the old bats?

Laertus: of course. time is running out for me, i'm on a tight schedule with this finals week. tight on time like my estomago enchilada. i'm not pregnant. i was given special dispensation from Professor James Gunn that i can take my final as a take-home final home with me. i told him i was on a boat and he misconstrued that as me serving on the Peace Corps. i am keeping the peace in a way. gotta make sure our witches are healthy to combat powerful men. i pattern my love after those two old birds.

Dirg: misconstrued, that is such a lovely word.

Laertus: the catch is the final doesn't count. i'm in a rush, go, ol' buddy ol' pal.

Dirg: The Last Uncorn. go.

Laertus: great great great film. a little long truth be told if i'm being honest through my teeth. a bit bloated in the middle. that annoying owl or bat thing in the beginning was useless and annoying. like that's the Gilbert Gottfried role. there are no Medieval tacos. and the unicorn was being a bit of a b.

Dirg: Gottfried got fried many psychedelic moons ago. she's a bitch, say it.

Laertus: yeah i don't know if all unicorns are this haughty and arrogant and dismissive or it's just her. i mean she is a unicorn i guess, she's earned that right. humans ARE silly. you get the sense she's a diva but doesn't know why. the writer said the wizard character's voice was played flat but i thought it was just the right tone of Jewish rye bread. i loved how it played with tropes, i use that in my own life, in fact tropes are my entire lifestyle. like happily ever after and the good guys and heroes always win. one thing which really fucked me up was this concept they brought up that there is no happy ending cos nothing ever ends... 

Dirg: please, i don't want that concept rattlin' round my brain when i booze. or worse, when i snooze, i'm already fucked up. i take drugs for that. street drugs.

Laertus: Molly Grue has such a standout voice in this, she's the surprise scene-stealer. the speedboat moral compass and glue-girl of the group, Molly Morality. i love motherly figures with warm-tone voices, i just want to wrap my arms around them and be a sucker for them. the entire voice cast is outstanding. superb Shakespearean actors who you think are British but are really just grand Americans using their high-registry voice of good breeding.

Dirg: Prince Lir was Finn before Finn.

Laertus: their singing voices on the other hand were.....sweet. i mean it sounded like a bunch of actors who didn't know how to sing but sang in the voices they use in their showers. they tried, it was heartfelt, but not exactly operatic. professional but on tape. it was like singing to your neighbor on the phone. they gave it the ol' college-theatre try.

Dirg: watch it while you still can, you know Ronan Farrow will definitely be investigating this film!

Laertus: i wish we would return to this America. an America that only cares about producing the best possible epic nondenominational fantasy it can and delivering it to sinner and pauper alike. i want the America that's represented by America the band called America! righteous heavy metal slowed to fit a fantasy, that music was moody magic.

Dirg: rock on, sista.

Laertus: gotta go, the ladies are speaking.

Gladyce and Doryce are stewing in their pot aboard the doomed ship. Doryce is done with her "training" (in quotations) inside all the smokestacks of the Titanic. she and her body are completely covered in thick dark black soot, that when she smiles it's funny cos all you see are her bright white teeth floating, well bright white as against this black backdrop anyway, and her two floating white pupils for eyes. you don't even see her glasses she's wearing!

Gladyce: done, dear? please say yes, i hate seeing you go to all this trouble. you're seriously strenuousing yourself out, spreading yourself too thin.

Doryce: i'm already thin. and our relationship will stretch out thinner and stronger under this strain.

Gladyce: i'm starting to develop a taste for rye bread. like you and your garlic bread. not Jewish, though, i like it dark.

Doryce: dark meat. rock on, sister. uh, dark bread. good for dark magic. coming right up! i will prepare for you a feast! replete with vessel vinegar! where's the chef? i want to compliment him beforehand so he cooks a great job. who's in the kitchen this evening?

Laertus: i believe it's not who you think. it's not the fat guy with the beard...

Doryce: oh come on! he makes the best marinara sauce!

Laertus: all of his jars were taken off the shelves and all shelfies of him deleted after the Ronan Farrow investigation of him.

Doryce: that is not fair! why do WE have to suffer cos he can't act straight! so who's in there? i'll take the Mooch at this point.

Laertus: um, The Mooch is not available. he's busy thinking about why a chef would need a lawyer. i guess i can suppose and rustle up some ingredients and pointy spices up at The Store and dash back. and whip you ladies up something non-BDSM. i fancy myself an amateur sous-cook in college. i added a barbecue Pringle to my ramen and made it barbecue-pizza ramen.

Doryce: btw i died.

Gladyce: *bug eyes non-glassesed* what?

Doryce: it was the queerest thing. i was lost in the heavy tornadic cloud of the smokestack smoke, when suddenly a novice witch appeared spinning upside-down next to me in my tremors of cyclical wind. the circles were everywhere. i had a sense about her, she was ditzy but motherly. she cared. i was at death's door and this woman built a window. my eyes were all bugged-out, i couldn't take any more soot in my mouth.

Gladyce: and stars. Pumpkins. coming soon. she was the star this day! that's not like you.

Doryce: she whipped me up a concoction in a mule-alcohol tin half-cut-off-cup, a strange brew with spices and with her finger swirling in a circle in the air. you could tell she was good at manipulating liquid soaps. she said she was practicing teleporting and ended up next to me as if she inherently knew instinctively where warmth was needed. she mentioned she thought she met me and us before but i told her all of our kind have that ephemeral feeling of togetherness to us without meeting. telemetry. i told her to stop practicing. it was too dangerous. for her. i mean look at me. she wasn't meant to travel like us, she was a homebody.

Gladyce: bless her. what was the drink?

Doryce: golden milk. frightful stuff. delicious. looks like curry. has that distinctive saffron color. quite the jolt! one sip and my eyes popped back in. i was made alert and ready awake. i flew to safety and didn't let the nature of man hold me captive anymore. that turmeric burned the back of my throat like my best study session with Bama!

Gladyce: lovely lasting lashing liquid. for a quid.

Doryce: this woman laughed me goodbye. sweetheart. i believe i caught her name in the wind funnel before she snapped her fingers and was off to her next travel thinned out the tunnel, gone with the wind. Madame Pons? like the vagina?

Laertus arrives at The Store. The Store which is a booth inside one of the many myriad decks of the Titanic.

Laertus: how do you get the food to stack and shelve and sell?

Geoffrey Owens: they ship it to us by boat. it's quite the delay. it's hard to get to an island. don't mind my fatness, i'm an actor. gonna play Falstaff in college theatre.

Laertus: i've got my friend on speaker but he's cool. listen man, i won't do you like that. i use my pocket phone for good, i despise revenge porn and hate twitter. hey the way i see it, this is the fate of most actors. most actors don't become big---i don't mean fat---even after getting a big show, the show dies in the ratings and the funds dry up and you don't get another big break. that was your time as a tv star, you relished it and now it's gone. that one precious chance which never springboarded into anything else except video-game voices. but you'll always be an actor in your big heart. most actors you never see, they stock the shelves anonymously at your local grocer, struggling to make ends and endives meet. and making sure the relish labels are turned outward.

Dirg: Sondra was right to dump Elvin. no offense. she was right to dump all of Hollywood, you never heard from her again. i'm glad she got out of my country and went to France. she had the right idea. it's not the Cosby aspect of your plight, it's that you're a senator's son. people expected more from you. hey i'm just a brotha helpin' notha brotha out.

Geoffrey Owens: never slander the value and inherent goodness of work, a doctor's the same as a bum. well i will be one of the senators on the panel of the Kavanaugh/accuser hearing this Monday.

Laertus: right on, that is something Anita Hill was never afforded. she got railroaded........i've just read Bump's twitter. he says Monday will be the highest-rated tv show ever in all caps and exclamation points. and he says he needed to rush it cos November sweeps are coming up for the Nielsens.

Laertus returns. with the brown bag. from above belowdeck:

Doryce: now we can feed our famish. put your delicate napkin on your leg, missus, and chow down! you got the crab rangoon?

Laertus: yeah but it's frozen. it was right next to the nets. and there was no bread. out of bread. there was a shitload of quinoa but no technical bread.

Doryce: how can a grocery store have no bread? carry the bread on your shoulder. quinoa gives me the shits. excuse me. just thinking about them. you enjoy, dear.

Gladyce: no, stay. i love you. so much i won't let you go to the bathroom, hold my hand.

Doryce: shit. i wanted for you those two thick slices of nutty black-rye bread and the crab rangoon inbetween 'em for a sloppy saucy sandwich. dipped in marinara sauce! i wanted everything to be perfect and to your liking. like a first date.

Gladyce: it IS perfect, my lover. why all the fuss? don't tell me. okay, tell me. no, don't. i dunno. this crab rangoon looks good 'n delicious, i think it'll be okay swimming in its own Rangoon sauce. you know i can't ever imagine an occasion where i would have the time and energy to wait in line and money to sit down at a fancy restaurant and order crab rangoon for myself. so microwave-fresh is the best i'm ever gonna get and i'll take it. and i'm lovin' it. i suppose this is the problem with my life: i have to make time for crab rangoon.

Doryce: you would if you were still fucking the Gorton Fisherman.

abovedeck down below sits Taki and Melbourne exhausted after a quick spin. in the racquetball court.

Melbourne: YOU ARE NAKED.

Taki: what?

Melbourne: that's what the sign we passed said. i think. but you are naked. to me.

Taki: ohhhhhhhhhhhhkay.

Melbourne: want me to show you my boat?

Taki: now that is a line. please be a boat. okay i'm ready, what are we waiting for? take me up to the captain's steering wheel and let me smoke his pipe.

before Taki can smell, she is whisked away to the basement of the Titanic where Melbourne puts her feet-first into his yacht. the bow breathes the salt air and the stern salties it out, as the crystals hit hard against the ship.

Taki: i knew it i knew it!

Melbourne steers the yacht on a stick until they both see the disinfectant daylight. the sun is so bright it powerfuls a singe mark on the woven sail that smells of Triscuits.

Melbourne: i'm trying to breathe it all in but i can only smell you.

Taki: so tacky, as in a yacht tacking. so yachting...WHOA that was a small wave that becomes a big wave on this yacht! the appeal of this again is...?

Melbourne: well since billionaires run the world because liberal-democratic self-goverments have abdicated their civic responsibility, the world billionaires got together and decided to have a sort of privately-funded Olympics of their own. so they race their yachts representing their countries and various factions against one another to see who has the richest stick.

a series of cannonballs just misses kissing their yacht and splash hard into the winging wavecrests.

Taki: the fuck? remember, calm down. it's just like the air race which is just like the Formula 1 race through a sleepy bedroom village. watch for the chicane, it's colored blue.

Melbourne: see the yachts carry onboard them heavy cannons. they shoot their balls at each other like olden pirate times. but the cannons are so unwieldy and weigh a ton that they sink the yachts. the loser is forced to go on an expedition deep under to the oceanfloor with James Cameron. also known as Jim.

Taki: what, Elon Musk wasn't available?

Melbourne: no, he's currently indisposed at the moment. not in the bathtub. bathtub of butter. nor a basket nor bucket of butter. fighting a lawsuit on twitter. of his own making, not Ronan Farrow. the billionaires may have good intentions but you know the saying. so in an effort to remain aboveboard and show they care and are doing something, they collectively decided to have the billionaires do charitable work with their money, put it into education. of the sea floor. not to dig in more internet cables or oil or anything. James Cameron is the Head of the Department of Education. and temporary In-Charge of the Department of Povery and Poor Boys in Elon's absence. not a sworn-in position cos Jim doesn't swear. but Elon does.

Melbourne clears the cannonballs and puts down his yacht sail, whch converts it into a small speedboat. he navigates the speedbumps in the watery road and tells her,

Melbourne: y'know, i don't think i'm strong enough to be your man, as the Sheryl Crow sonor goes. you deserve a person as upstanding as you are quality. you need someone who will weather with you your dish-throwing torrents of emotion, your tsunamis of daddy issues and cyclones of being introverted and yet a world-renowned reporter and hurricanes of book tours. why do i always see your cat swimming the backstroke on the river that connects us? i assume you have daddy issues, all great women do.

Taki: i've found my person. not on eharmony. just don't tell me you also ride bikes like Lance Armstrong. that guy's arms were strong.

the two sit up and hold hands on the deck of the speedboat. they look out past their sunglasses to the yellow horizon falling down under the cantankerous clouds and misty mountains.

Taki: you're gonna have to be stronger than you ever thought you could ever be. strong for two. i'm pregnant.

at this very precise moment, Melbourne swears he sees five suns.

Monday, September 17, 2018


1. which animal listed below represents your true sexual self?
a) chipmunk---cute and cuddly
b) monkey---all about being mischievous
c) tiger---i've earned my stripes

i only date chipmunks who sing. Tales of the Gold Monkey was my favorite show..............then..............well..............i guess it's Archer now.

my sexual idol, the man i look up to the most, the man i pattern my sex life after, his ferocious libido is goals, is Tony the Tiger if he had put down the bowl and not eaten any of his own unhealthy Frosted Flakes cereal.

2. your partner's in the mood for sexy fun but you're beat. tired, that is. what do you do?
a) start snoring. there is no way i'm givin' it up tonite.
b) trade. you give me a massage...and we will see...
c) that would never happen!

i give my masseuse massages. i tell her,
me: okay it's only gonna happen if "Tonight Tonight" by the Smashing Pumpkins plays in the background soft loudspeakers overhead with the mood lighting.
her: no way that would ever happen!
and she's right. i mean, "Run2me", what exactly happened to the Pumpkins there? was Billy sick that day?

me: i only barter in the tradition of my past life when i was a medieval page.
her: here's some snoring salts. exclusive to this place.
me: and this place is...?
her: Lush.

btw, i read that as "parents", not "partner". i do give my mom massages every week for her poor back and neck and shoulders, i hope she receives the Medi-paid-for acupuncture she needs soon.

3. which of these sexual descriptive labels closely matches you?
a) dominant b) submissive c) top d) bottom e) switch f) kinkster

i don't believe in labels. that's why i invented the Amazon drone. i'm a dominant who takes orders middle stagnant inactive slash-fanfiction-writer who kicks the habit every night. the amount of sex i have is in direct proportion to the number of fanfiction stories i write.

4. would you rather have your enemy eaten by a shark or die in an earthquake getting swallowed up by earth? it would be unseemly to discuss shark attacks and typhoons right now. let's just hope and pray Mother Earth gets all the water she needs so her throat doesn't remain scratchy and she earthquakes which is her indication that she's thirsty. freshwater that is, let's hope all the people of all the nations get enough freshwater to survive. water justice. i have no enemies, Yahoo Serious and i patched things up in the '80s.

5. for the next year, would you rather be dressed like a mime every day OR look normal but not allowed to talk?

take it from me, people lose interest in a talking mime real quick. i was talking to my priest the other day when i asked him, "do you have anything to confess?" he told me he likes me better when i don't talk. then he brought up that Twilight Zone with the guy in the glass cage and the bet that he couldn't talk for a while...

bonus: what is the most beautiful word in the world? word. you can create whole other universes with it.


Friday, September 14, 2018



* the man, named Chico: i didn't know who else to call.
Clark: we can handle anything. except Ghostbusters played by female Pop Team Epic. this is a nice white house you've got here, sir.
Chico: i'm your next president, bitch! time for the calibration! you planning on stealing it?
Clark: ...
Chico: just kidding. i called you cos i don't know anyone else in the neighborhood. i don't have any friends, i only have family.

* Chico: your van indicates no funny business in the back and a Spider-Man symbol. you Peter Parker? you look like Peter Parker.
Clark: yes, i am Rey's parents. what's in the garage?
Chico: the answer to Rey's parents.
Clark: why do you keep your porch lights on during the day?
Chico: saves on eyeglasses. i ain't fallin' for that, everyone knows all robberies occur during the day.

* Chico: you guys are mindful of the environment, right?
Clark: Trump takes care of that. i wear this uniform even to bed.
Chico: you're not gonna harm the rats and bugs in any way, right? no non-green chemicals? animal life is more precious than human life.
Clark: just honey and milk, i'm Persian...

* Chico: i can't see too good. i only have eyes for my beloved.
Clark: no one should go into attics. that's where they keep the comic books and dead bodies.

* Clark: 100%
Chico: boi you still use the old math!!!?

* Justine: ...
Clark: Justine?! where the fuck did you go after Family Ties!!!?
Chico: i know, right? she should be Winona Ryder by now. or at least Demi Moore.

* Justine: can we please watch something other than football?
Chico: you're just player-hatin'. admit it, you hate Pennsylvania! *to Clark* it's Steelers vs. Eagles.
Clark: that was last year's Super Bowl, right?
Chico: boi you don't get out much. you live under a rock?
Clark: no, in my pod.
Chico: football just ain't the same no more without Costas. he was the soul of the game. i'd love how he'd go off ranting the entire three-hour show about what is and isn't a catch. that case is now before Judge Kavanaugh. what is a catch?
Clark: you know it when you see it. like pornography.

* Clark: so THAT's where Monica's wet dress went. you collect Mario cards?
Justine: i trapped Mario's spirit in that card. he's the only man who'll listen to me for more than five minutes. i turn him on and i play with him. he's got that Burt Reynolds mustache and he fixes my plumbing. he isn't afraid of commitment, in fact his job is to stop weddings he deems unfit.

* Justine: i'm willing to watch football. as long as it's Brady, that guy with the cheesy smile in Green Bay, or the Raiders quarterback with the dreamy eyes who's currently getting fucked by Chucky. and Belichick, oh my god do i love Belichick who gets all the chicks, he's a gridiron genius, he reminds me of my father, cold and distant. i followed in my father's footsteps and became a cold and distant ghost.

* Justine: you have to understand, this dusty bodice dress that looks like a theater curtain or a wool kitchen tablecloth was all the rage when i was a chick, it was like the miniskirt is today.
Clark: ma'am, women wear dental floss today. their teeth are very healthy.
Justine: the man at the fair kept insisiting he wanted to take my picture. one poof of his daguerreotype and the bright flash of light and heavy plume of dark smoke took me to the other side, to the other place. at least it was fun seeing a man faint.

* Justine drops her puce handkerchief in front of Chico.
Justine: would you mind picking that up for me, sir?---this is the roleplay---i'm afraid my fingers are too delicate for this puddle of water.
Chico: pound for a pond, deal?
Clark: what's the handkerchief for?
Justine: that was the custom back in my day. ladies needed handkerchiefs to cover their mouths to keep their men from seeing them laugh.

* Justine: we've been described in early print in the local paper which covers our one horse and one general store and one dysentery that as a coupling we are romantic, captivating, taboo, and way more illicit than any Celtic affair on green grandeur with a pirate and waves.
Chico: fine but when do we get to fuck!?
Justine: let's hug.
the man goes right through the woman.
Chico: did we do it?
Justine: you won't be going through me anymore, i've been taking my Humira.
Chico: and i've been taking my Denzel Washington ED pills. we're like Izzie and Denny from Anatomy of an Aneurysm.
Justine: i can't binge Grey's Anatomy anymore, this show was made before MeToo. there are so many infractions, just the ones we know about. i know what Kavanaugh did to me...

* Chico: she won't leave. just like Hurricane Florence.

* Clark: why are you on the roof?
Justine: preparing for Hurricane Florence. who do you think is swirling it? they had it right all those centuries ago, hurricanes really are the spirits of disgruntled women who never found love in this life.

* Justine: Clark, i'm your mother, and Chico is your father.
Clark: had a feeling. i was drawn to this house like a fat kid to cake and Halloween candy. but is this biracial thing gonna work? i know it's PC to say it's cool but these things don't really work out in real life.
Justine: if you're thinkin' bout my baby it don't matter if you're black or white.


happy weekend, my babies. if you've lost all hope, if you have nowhere to turn on your block, your pizza has turned to dust, the light has filtered out of your eyes, trust in the Cajun Navy. the Cajun Navy knows that you exist. the Cajun Navy knows that you matter. the Cajun Navy knows where you live. the Cajun Navy will come for you. the Cajun Navy cares about you. Godspeed Cajun Navy Godspeed...

Wednesday, September 12, 2018


the Horse Croquet horses are having a cold one at the pony pub when suddenly their bones start to shake. they become cold. they feel it.

horse: mate, gotta cut it short. a storm's a'comin'. btw we came up with that expression first, not you humans, we HATE your human coffee it's bitter to us. we don't board up our mom-and-pop stores like plywood pussies, we ride it out, we've been doing it for 1000 years, we are proof of evolution, we instinctively know the best beaches to hide out in, the best tax shelters from the Government. you trot us but we know how to walk. our evening strolls are in the morning when there's less animal traffic, we're gone before you eat your first egg with the shell on, early bird and all that, some of our best friends were early birds who were eaten.

this causes Melbourne to contemplate his entire life up to this point, at least that hour he had to kill at the pub before his next sex appointment with a credit-card client. he brushes the eggshell-blue paper horsehoe streamers out of his bald hair and pushes a twopenny to the edge of the saloon slider. he downs disgustingly a spotty tumbler with spots on it of chalky cloudy dank milk.

Melbourne: tuppenny. that's all my life's been. without her.

at the table,

Bump is making one last stealth motivational speech to the nation in closed-circuity untraceable hostage-tape format downloaded to youtube. his podium is a circle, a bricked well of caulked Stones cemented shut around Mayor Penguin Giuliani, Gotham's Mayor, trapped forever inside squeezed in so his feathers can taste his beak. cylindrically shaped, looks like a cut-off smokestack. a mic comes out of the caulk, growing imperceptibly.

President Bump: i love bricked wells. they have that aesthetic appeal to me that is unmistakable yet unknowable. i especially love when the bricks are red, gives it that brimstone bravado. i just know i am more comfortable around women when a bricked circular well is around.

Madame Pons: cos you can claim that all women really are witches?

Jackie from The Weather Channel: well done, padawan! you'll be coming soon. you're one to watch. i love your spit, your wet spunk lights a firecracker under dryasses. the blue in my contact lenses crackles yellow. look at that bright dark red color overflowing my virtual virtua-map here like a wave, it's so..................beautiful. red as Georgia. i look at the eye from NOAA on my satellite and it's so well-formed, took a day to gather itself and steal into the night to form itself again anew and stronger like a Trojan. i see all the little rainstorms trickling around that eye, it looks so ticklish, i just want to jump in there and rub her cloudy belly. crinkles my surgery-singed wrinkles. i rest my head of bushy hair down there on its cottonseed-oil pillow. lights an iron under my flattened plastic. that buzzsaw shape makes me moist down below, as it slices the sea with severe sainthood granted by the natural goddess, a pox on all houses, punishment for man's sins.

Madame Pons: red as a witch's apple.

Bump: i like your heels, Jackie, blue like the color of your hologrammic aura. in the words of all the Southern mayors today, in the words of all you people's favorite movie, GET OUT. just kidding. listen to me instead. you WATCH, you just WATCH. i GUARANTEE Hurricane Florence will be a big bust, nothing is gonna happen! i know how the tv game works, it's all hype. it's gonna peter out like so much paul. you mARK MY WORDS, this storm is a giant nothingburger with cheese. i have a friend named Florence, she reminds me of that Texas mom and teacher in that orgy scandal with her students, she looks like Florence from the Brady Bunch. i'm sure she was one of my voters. thank you for listening, America. and THAT, America, is a Billy Bump GARE-UHN-TEE.

Bill Nye: a climate-denier leader is dangerous. you can have your own twitter show but not when you're the most powerful puppet-stringer in the world. i mean don't you believe in  energy, Mick? even nuclear energy?

Bump: this hurricane is a joke,

Mike Tyson: get my name out yo mouth. i voted for you not the other way around.

Bump: i could make a hurricane WAY more powerful with my thumb. hey Bill, can you get me a date? this Russia poison positive investigation has REALLY cramped my style, put a damper on my game with the ladies. after Melania goes to sleep-mode in Lincoln's bedroom where he slept and left his beard stains on the pillow. i thought by now i'd be married with kids. married to the mob, the Russian mob. and Russian child brides.

Bill Nye: i don't know what to say. what more can you say when you're right? twitter is urging me politely to read a physics book so i guess i'll get right on that right away. after my tour with Carrot Top, i'm updating his props for the scientific age.

Bump: yeah i dunno. i just dunno. i mean 1,2,3 degrees, like i put on my deodorant armpit, 5 percent, 10 decimal levels, a cubic of water, a cube-shaped tumbler of water, doesn't seem like a lot of water. what about global cooling, yous know? yeah, global COOLING! whatever happened to that? it was hot in the 1970s but got rejected by the elites. it was a scientific discovery the likes so yuge the world has yet to see and will never see again. they were making global-cooling Yugo cars. what, just cos it came out of the '70s everyone thinks it's not valid or cool or a lame malaise? global cooling is COOL, my man.

Bill Nye: where are you off to now? and can i have some of your twitter followers?

Bump: now if y'all excuse me, i'm off to see a film in a theatre. let's hope that Texas teacher movie is still playing.

Dirg: so Serena...

Laertus: careful...this isn't Sirena from Venture Bros....

Serena Williams: i don't want to talk about it. ooooooooooooooh i can't wait till my daughter turns 17......i'm gonna give her a birthday envelope with $17000 in it as her gift in the present.

Dirg: can i just say? and i mean this sincerely. you are my favorite feminist.

Laertus: Carlos Ramos what are you doing here? shouldn't you be in hiding with Bump? can you be in hiding when you're on the run? technically i mean.

Nadal: *in heavily-accented voiceover voice* my Raphael Nadal...........

Carlos Ramos: my Raphael Nadal.......

Laertus: the issue here is the penalty. taking a game away is too steep a price to pay, the limit should be a point. when you start taking away wholesale games willy-nilly you mess with the integrity of the sport, it becomes a parlor-trick game after that. puppet strings from New York, not tennis strings from the gut. takes the racquet out of the hand of the painted fingernails.

Dirg: and painted hand.

Carlos Ramos is gone, disappeared into the night like a thief.

Laertus: oh, and allow all coaching. on the sidelines and wherever else. even when the player doesn't want coaching coaching should be forced.

Dirg: now i got you cornered with your own hangnoose argument. you say that the tennis would be more competitive but it wouldn't be tennis anymore. the whole point of tennis is that it's a solitary mindfuck sport that you have to figure out alone because you're the last man on earth. what you're talking about is doubles.

Djokovic: *sweating* you do realize that EVERY single match i've ever played, the crowd has NEVER been for me.

Laertus: Naomi, you're taking this quite well. like the Inuyasha well. following along the deep Japanese tradition of stoicism. when's your sports anime coming out?

Osaka Naomi: i think i'll retire on top. or maybe go into coaching. i hear Nishikori needs a coach, i've been where he wants to go, even though it might not even be made official on wikipedia. a match made in Ancestor Heaven. Jordan's my favorite player. Michael B. Jordan.

Laertus: yeah, see Carlos? now you know what it's like in America. a lifetime of good deeds never goes on your Wikipedia page, you are defined solely by your one mistake forever. so what's your next move, Carlos? Carlos? anyone see Carlos? oh, he's texting me....................he says he's going to coach Nick Kyrgios. Kyrgios Koach he writes in textspeak. and he sent me an unwanted provocative picture of Genie Bouchard with the sweating emoji.

Bump arrives at the movie theatre. it is empty on a dirty afternoon save for one man sitting in the center of the row of sprayed-on seats. the place is so dark not even the spotlight of the rattling filmreel greywheels in the back projecting the pornographic classic can shine a light on the subject. Richard Nixon is a spirit in a hologram glowing in a pale Jedi blue. he sips his small bag of striped popcorn. his jowls are too painful to flick the popcorn into the air and catch it with his mouth.

playing: Deep Throat. the marquee outside is broken neon lights.

on the circular theatre's wet walls are damp warping woods holding up hooks for wormy trenchcoats and oil portraits of careworn predecessors whose painted eyes all look at Dick, who has his feet up on the latest seat, wearing a brown corduroy business suit and California-cool rubber opentoed sandals.

Richard Nixon: it's freaky how history repeats itself, huh. want some oily popcorn coming out of my mouth? where are you off to now, son? learn from me and stop running. you're too fat for it.

Bump: going to the House of the Book. they'll never suspect me there. the only library i've ever been in is my future presidential library. that's in Simi Valley where they film my favorite show of all time, Power Rangers. it's a nuclear plant so i hope to see Homer there.

Nixon: the poet?

Bump: full of high smokestacks billowing out clouds of black nuclear waste, weather can be so beautiful. my kind of people live there. they won't turn me in. even the Coal Ranger. i'm gonna see if i can build a nuclear bomb there to wipe out this Florence nuisance. just drop that daisycutter right in the center of that eyewall and shave off all of that fat octomom Ursula's kelp in her seaweed. hey it's better than a fork in the eye. "here's mud in your eye" will be my tagline as i drop it.

Nixon: what was with that terrible gesture you made at 9/11? you looked like you were constipated. at least i gave the peace sign.

Bump: that's my Wheaties pose. i'm gonna be on the next Wheaties box! next to Sue Bird! i hear she recently got married, so mazel tov from the missus.

Nixon: i ate Wheaties once, it created my jowls. did you ever play a non-professional sport? what grades did you get at the Army?

Bump: at the Academy? A plusses. and an F for my foot. foot pus.

Nixon: have you ever committed suicide?

Bump: no.

Nixon: many Puerto Ricans did. am i getting through to you or am i speaking to ghosts?

Bump: i am so excited to watch the Seattle Storm win the chip! gets me wet like rain. i LOVE the WNBA! now that's a REAL storm.

Nixon: uh, that won't be here.

Bump: well, i gotta get back. Storm Watch. what's the Waffle House Index? i love waffles in houses, these are my people.

Nixon: no son, no, these are not your voters despite what you were told. didn't you sign an executive order keeping KFC separate from the tradition?

Bump: i can stay with you here, right? at least until the movie finishes. worked for Lee Harvey.

Nixon: you tell my redheaded stepchild hello for me when i disappear. you know, all these oil paintings surrounding me talk back when i talk to them. especially the painting THERE, they talk the loudest. like they're giving orders.

Nixon points to the movie screen and laughs unevenly.

Doryce and Gladyce have moved their operation to the House of the Book's smokestacks. Doryce is learning much like an underwater diver how to breathe in a toxic, black-smoke-infested environment.

Gladyce: why are you doing this to yourself, beloved? it's not healthy, even for you.

Doryce: it's for yourself. it's a surprise. two words: sweeping staircase.

the boys are keeping watch from a distance. like Bette Midler.

Gladyce: want some Schar bread?

Doryce: does it come in croutons? or wafers? or paperthin mini-flatbreads?

Doryce gains health points with the food as she chows down and flies high into the sky like a floating yogi into the fumes, disappearing.

Dirg: well at least she's stopped fuming. so, The Halloween Tree.

Laertus: Halloween came early?

Dirg: says and like you.

Laertus: i mean if you think about it, after 4th of July, Halloween is the next holiday. that's a LONG wait to feel patriotic again.

Dirg: The Simpsons should start each season with Treehouse, the way NASCAR starts with the Super Bowl.

Laertus: gotta say, it made me less scared of death. death is natural, right? and no way that was Leonard Nimoy, that was Leonard Nimoy with a hacking cough and we all know Vulcans are incapable of smoking. and THAT's how Ray Bradbury sounds? wimpier than i thought. he sounds like me.

Dirg: would have preferred the original 8 boys from the preeminent pristine book.

Laertus: come on, the girl wasn't annoying this time.

Dirg: yeah, but Pip was a bitch. a bitch who deserved no followers. die like a boy next time, Pip, and let everyone get on with their lives, you cost them another drink of Humira.

Laertus: can't talk much anymore, school has started. see you later. make sure YOU don't die, i'm not worried about the crones.

in a room tucked in the corner of the fourth alleyway of the swabbed shipdeck of the Titanic holds the racquetball court. with one blue stripe all around. the wood-paneling shipdeck is actually the surface of the court, formed out of it the way all plants form out of the Great Oak. Taki is teaching Melbourne how to play it like a pro.

Melbourne: *wearing a cheesy striped headband* thanks for being my brain coach once again. i love whiling away a day with you, watching the sun go down together.

Taki: we're indoors, we can't see the sun.

Melbourne: i can.

Taki: oh sister. and when you use the term brained i get uncomfortable. when you're fencing, think of the opponent in front of you on a horizontal bungee-cord rope and pierce the two casaba melons you imagine in your mind on his front bulletproof vest to score a point. slice 'em with the tip of your grip like you were avoiding the rip.

Melbourne: what if my opponent is a beautiful woman and not a fat man?

Taki: that is not the point. points are the point. fencing is tennis, racquetball is doubles. so racquetball is exactly like fencing except your opponent is at your side, strike with your sword the same way, forget even that there's small blue balls in play.

Melbourne: that reminds me, i need to get to The Store. i shop every two weeks now. it's impossible to shop for two weeks, your milk is guaranteed to spoil. 14 days is longer than people think, it's a LONG time.

Melbourne: want to know how my date went?

Taki: who?

Melbourne: Mariel Zagunis.

Taki: how? how is she i mean?

Melbourne: Mariel is one of those mysterious blonde women whom we have an intense interest in and in her wrinkled-hazard-suit ass for a concentrated amount of time. then it's over like a cliff. then 4 years later she pops up in People Magazine pregnant and ready to pop. it's the Goldilocks tale all over again in a repeat circle.

Taki: it's a good thing my hair is from the Land of the Rising Sun.

in Heaven, John McCain delivers the eulogy. of the country. from his stage. from above down below:

McCain: to those who heed my warning, it's not enough to pee your pants at a funeral. we are getting nothing done, my friends, we are getting nothing done! if we remain tribalist, America is doomed.

the congregants all wear dour faces, drippy noses, and eyes red with blood.

McCain: none of you can hear me. believe me, if you won't believe in God. believe me i'd rather give a funny speech. Lorne Michaels LOVED me. but none of you can hear me. but you can hear my voice. take the word tribal. it has the root word rib...

Monday, September 10, 2018


Ray Charles is blind. love is blind. God is love. Ray Charles is God. Burt Reynolds is God. Burt Reynolds is Ray Charles.

1. when i can't sleep i___

pretend i'm dead

2. my dream bedroom would be full of___

large grey bolted-sheet pails of ice-cold water circling round my bed. so i'd know. if they were empty of water, i was still dreaming. cos only a crazy person in reality would keep filled water pails by his bed.

3. if i could wake up anywhere tomorrow it would be___

my dream bedroom. cos then i'd know i was awake. btw the walls of this dream bedroom of mine are plastered totally with large autographed rolled-out glossed-out posters of Hellshake Yano. saves on plaster. and then i do the Bucket Challenge.

4. i need to ___ at night.

refill my penis

5. ___ would truly be a nightmare.

see 1. think about it, pretend you're in Heaven. but how could you ever know that this is the real Heaven and not an illusion? is this the last final bottom Heaven place free of tricks of the mind, total spirit, not pretend? who would tell you that it was an illusion if it looks and feels and thinks so real to you? and would you believe this angel? how would you ever know one way or the other? you'd go about your day picking berries into your basket in this fake place and never be the wiser...

6. night time is the right time to___

eat the moon

bonus: briefly tell us about your last dream---erotic or not:

i'm excited at the mall with the rest of the excited mob to stand in line and get my driver's license signed by Hellshake Yano. it will never be an exited mob cos there are no fire exits. but then someone not Hellshake comes onto that stage next to the green-neon-lit Orange Julius. it's his manager. the manager tells us that all of our instagrams are a lie, HE's the one who leaves comments not Yano, and that Yano will not be appearing today he's sick. as we all cry, the manager goes, "SIKE!" Yano is healthy and the manager just likes wielding all that power. the manager makes the tongue motion with his mouth at me which i find strangely okay.

when i get to my turn and my step up the grey block i look Yano in his sunglasses and he looks me in the eye and we have horizontal sex on his signing table. i tell him i did it all for the nookie and that i hope this ensures that we'll be getting another season of Pop Team Epic, FLCL Alternative is good slice but not crazy enough, we need our crazy quota filled, we're mall teens.

Yano takes off his sunglasses, which is just more sunglasses, proclaims to me in disgust, "that really burns my cookies" and in a hole in the mall stage descends back to Hell. where there's enough heat to bake cookies. this is the place you want to continue baking, forever...