Wednesday, October 31, 2018


Robert Mueller III is still standing on the roof of the Cream House, he hasn't left, hasn't slept, hasn't batted one eye. his arms are still raised high and will speak to whomever will listen.

Mueller: ONE MORE DAMN WEEK!!! i ain't giving up the car keys this far in. i've come too far and we've come too long. loose lips sink Coast Guard vessels. you're gonna be disappointed like when you don't quite receive the exact Christmas present you were yearning for but that ain't my problem. i won't be lulled into thinking you're an okay guy and this is all meant to be parody and you did this all for Katy Perry and you're just an AM reality radio host who happens to roll the knobs.

President Bump looks up from his bedroom window at the Cream House, lilac lace curtain lithely blowing in the short wind.

Bump: get down from there, man, you look like a crazy person.

Bob: nice try siccing those Rapunzels at me at the last desperate minute. this is why i never leave my office, i bought a La-Z-Boy sleeping couch brand-new brand-new-engines expressly so you couldn't track where my home is. was. how much did you pay them?

Bump: enough to get their nails did. can't did their hair. let me ask you, Bob, from up there i can still see it, is that a bulge in your wallet or are you just happy to see me?

Bob: Rapunzel Rapunzel, let down your hair.

Bump: can't. it's immovable. like destiny.

Eye Luggage stands immovable in the wind, firework-shoots of her purple hair and her brown-rubber leg-band strings and the piece of evidence-paper gentle blowly in the wind like triumphant trusses.

Dirg is dumbstruck for many reasons. he doesn't quite know his next move. he stares at her in shock and uses the opportunity to scan her up and down.

Eye Luggage: the way things are going for us, reverting that is, your junk art will be the next framed Mona Lisa. at least Warhol acknowledged the non-subtle way he referred to cans. we've got to put a stop to this, nip this wildblaze in the bud before it infects pretty girls with low self-esteem.

Dirg: we? you and what posse? are you referring to Hollywood? nevermind.

Eye Luggage: a little army i like to call women. not little women. ironically we've been around longer than any relic rule which prohibits us from the front lines. we've BEEN on the front lines since forever we were birthed, taking all the bullets into our savage bosoms. bozooms bazookas. you know, the fairer sex? call us ugly but we've always been fair. why couldn't you draw a webcomic that was a how-to on how to prepare Toxic Masculinity Soup?

Dirg has his eyes kept wide-open for him from some unknown force inside air the remainder of this encounter.

Dirg: my best nesting friend would love you. he's done something similar, a short film that starts off as a cooking show but degrades into a Leftist rant on why the world sucks now. cuck carrots and pink pepper in the broth, that sort of thing. it's all very tricky and eye-popping. with a green background for the greenscreen. i'm sure it will win all the awards.

Eye Luggage: i believe in second chances and the prison-industrial reform system. if you write a longform letter IN WRITING---a heartfelt, deep, non-fake apology to Mr. Stan Lee---i will deliver it onto his feet and then maybe i'll see about your case. i might put you off detention and your account will be unsuspended. i may be just in my kindness. see you dudes just don't realize how hurtful you've been to us all these centuries. you thought your slights were homeslices but they were just slices. you're stupid, can't be helped, flawed genes. you inherited rockeater traits into your tongue cells when you ate milk for the first time. you are right now blog-banned from ALL blogs which touch this university of higher enlightened learning.  

Dirg: what?! even the official MARVEL youtube channel?!! not that! anything but that! how does that channel touch the school?

Eye Lugagge: Mr. Lee has taken up residency here at Obec C.

Dirg: i don't care about nothing wimpy weblogs but i need that Marvel channel! i've poured my heart, soul, and throat beliefs into that youtube comment section for a decade now, carefully crafting my message to troll out i mean elicit illicit responses from unsuspecting future conscripts to my cause. i've been shaping the debate in the dark i mean the shadows for years for just this revolution we're seeing now to break free into the mainstram like punk did with Cobain. you should see the deep detailed analysis i give whenever a new comic book is printed, i go over each line with anyone who'll talk well type to me. you can't take this away from me, it's my puppy, my identity-politics, actually it's my only very identity at all!!!

Eye Luggage: you've bared your soul instead of your butt at me and i appreciate that. i'm telling you, the climate we have now---no rain---we're gonna need an Alex Jones on the Left, a Liberal Alexa Jones, and i'm just that woman-person! you've no doubt seen my underground webshow have you not?

Dirg: now that i think of it, i might have in passing, like when i get those Comcast driveby ads of all of Hilary's good works paid for by the Dems Loghouse which gets me so incensed i break the screen of my Pear Watch. it's like paying for puttanesca and getting the spaghetti instead of the whore.

Dirg: i'm sorry, you gained a grovel. satisfied? no, you're insatiable, aren't you.

Dirg begins licking the lip of his tip of penis.

Dirg: *eyes turning red from water* i said i was sorry. i need to see Stan Lee. i NEED to see SuperStan or i am stained forever, the boy with the cobweb tattoo...

Dirg takes out his dick from his zipped pants and masturbates in front of Eye Luggage to her everlong disgust, she is horrified, mortified, but she can't yet look away. if for science if nothing else, this is a house of learning. in two seconds and but one stroke up and down, Dirg makes the gang-sign with his other hand and---it's too late---the green plants by his feet are now winter whitecaps.

Eye Luggage: what the FUDGE-WITH-NUTS are you doing, you sicko psycho creep cretin cartoon?

Dirg: this is the thing men do with girls now. our generation's never hugged a girl before, this is our version of sex: jacking off in front of the pretty girl we have a crush on. we've been crushing on them, they are crushed, we're relieved, they're relieved, no touching involved. emotionless embracing, we're so disassociated from our feelings we're terrified of the female presence to go up and stroke the hairs on her arm or say hi behind her back. women are images to us, not real breathing people. this is my altered attraction to you: a cum-connection made from my distant rainbow. of cum.

Eye Luggage: well it's working, i was able to draw that out of you, something i'm sure you've never told anyone, especially your mom. i can see your poor-pumping green heart running scared on fumes covered in gaseous green slime begging to be let out of the constrictive cage of the brittle bones of your ribs. i can see your crack, it's growing.

Dirg: one more thing before i vanish like a ghost: do you have a slim Harley hammer you use during sex back under your bedroom with a ballpeen to crush balls and peens?

Eye Luggage: of course i do. i already vomited earlier today so my tank is empty. i would arrest you, i'm a cop, college cop, the security-guard on duty and of record, but more than anything i just feel sorry for you. zip up, ship up, and escort yourself off. the grounds. you like escorts, right? you'll never be schooled here like this again.

Ariana: here was my idea: Seth Meyers should have done Weekend Update like he always used to do, no mention the entire time that he's the host or anything, he just does his normal segment. and Che and Jost are nowhere to be found. that would have been funny.

Pete Davidson: you're right, babydol. okay, i relent, you're welcome back on set. i'm using a coiled phone right now cos i got my dime back to work said phone.

at the Magical Fruit campus coffeeshop, with Camus on the front roof sipping air bubbles, a gathering of the Resistance stands ready for their renaissance. the only remnant from a previous more-strident more-militant café, the Bernie Furnace---which was ironically firebombed by ecoterrorists---the half-circular booth, is carried over and plopped into the temporary sanctuary of this present café. a booth crying on the outside, with one serrated left edge full of damp nails and cut-apart wood fragments which resemble toothpicks. brown Pac-Man. Symone and Angela flash their yellow-stained teeth as they smile-talk.

Simpsons Swartzwelder: this was my idea, divas. i did this first. don't talk to me. i've never once shaved my beard and my chin hurts like hell. i'm not hideous but i want to maintain my Pynchon popularity cred. remember when cool cats like Aretha wore brown headbands in global rainforests?

Symone Sanders: you a welder or an elder? i love your environmental Simpsons episodes. oooh, Sister Angela Rye, you know it's on when you ditch your relaxed locks for a head full of rough braids. and those glasses you never wear, smart-mode sista! warrior on, princess! we eligible for this election!

Angela Rye: Sister Symone, we look good with our brown headbands on, blends so nicely to us. we will fight. civilly of course, with out fistful discourse and diaphragms.

Symone: my belly is phat bursting at the seams with sustenance. Bernie Sanders was obviously my father. what is up with America? i thought Nazi rallies were a thing of the past. October Surprises were never like this. this is some scary shit in the simmer.

Bump: it's just a joke. you know, entertainment? the Doyers made the worst move! cost them the Series.

Symone: get the fuck up outta here! don't be a baby. how do you even know YOU were born here, citizen child? you were a baby at the time!

Bump: one more thing before i become the departed: if yous had just given me an NFL team, none of this would have happened.

Symone: i love baseball, all us folk do. i mean the dueling walk-off catches! the rubbing of those bats with that black book! that's a magical spellbook you know, i know it well, the players with the cute butts place their bat inbetween the covers of that black book and rub all that feminist witch wych wonderfulness salt into those bats up and down with each stroke till that bat achieves wood. reminds me of the book i'm reading currently, Narnia, off Serena Williams's recommendation during the Great Book Hunt where she wore the brown headband on PBS! who knew Serena likes Narnia?

Angela: hey man, it's the black-girls-are-magic thing. i'm honoring my last-name thang now more than ever, pass the black salt. newly-minted The Atlantic writer Jumpin' Jack Flash Jemele Hill and Dapper Don Lemon will join us later.

Laertus: i heard that, preach it, sista. we ready, we here, and we seen.

Roger Federer arrives at Savannah Guthrie's house which coincidentally is a sprawling mansion of rye in Savannah, Georgia. just at the tip of American Gothic before it went American Industrial.

Fed: so this is your backyard court. on the front lawn. grass tennis courts, you don't see those anymore. nice. go for your lesson? let's start with the basic stroke: the tweener. you'll get it fast, you don't have a penis. to worry about. down pat, it's all in the technique. wait, where is everybody? you said this was a charity-auction tournament thing, where's Everlong Effervescent Evert? where's Bud Collins in the chair-umpire chair?

Guthrie: i'm afraid this is gonna be a private lesson. i need work before i can show my stroke in public. girls just want to have fun. hold up while i don my pink Olivia Newton-John legwarmers.

Fed: okay. let's ready.

Guthrie: can you do me a small favor, you fondue fireman? you frenchie-swiss dripping with sex sweat fighter. instead of using our racquet strings to hit tennis balls, can we use eggs?

Fed: shit. reminds me of the days of cat-gut.

the crones have lithed their way back to a backroom on the far reach of the decked but not stacked Titanic, a small square with no smoke alarms. there they busy touching up the dogs in the area, cleaning them, fluffing them, tonicking their tails, shampooing their coats and conditioning their schnozzes, alleviating their allergies, fitting them with little baby-powder bows, even bowed that last nail on the inside of their paw wrist, hemming up their nails with the lightest cut, rolling their tongues neatly for fresh breath, and generally opening up their yellow eyes to the world of earthly luxury.

Gladyce: you think the Titanic will like running on electric from now on? instead of those toxic steamstacks? it's more efficient in the long run.

Doryce: they won't know who to blame, it was you all along who did it, who made it happen, a woman. dogs did. they're sure to score high at the show. coffee break? NOT Magical Fruit, their stuff makes me toot. we have a Faema at home, let's use it. in our ship room. oh, and you know how that Faema coffeemaker works, right? that blue flashing button you always push? yeah, well, that's actually for THREE cups of coffee, not one. you drink a lot of coffee unknowingly. you have to read the icons more carefully, the thin icon you always miss is actually a pictograph of a teacup for 1 cup of coffee standard serving size for 1 human witch.

Gladyce: let's not start that again, dear...………………….what? i'm getting a message in my coiffed coiled ear-cuff...……………...yes, Sally, thank you, thanks for the heads-up and florist flowers...………..well it seems we got an intercept from Headquarters. apparently all these dogs we've been grooming are not for a pageant, they're for fucking dograces!!!

Doryce: *punching her fist with her other fist* disgraces! grab my coat, let's go. imma fuck that man. up. i'm not voting for Pedro for President or even dogcatcher!

a quiet girl storms into the belled glass door at Lush and sits down on the ball sofa. you can tell she used to be a go-getter but has since turned mousey from her college experience. not looks-mousey, manner-mousey.

Madame Pons: hello, Pakora. nice to finally meet you non-online. we've typed by tea so much we're drowning buddies. wait, you're white!?

Pakora, with the pink headband: yes, and my white girlfriend is Euroclydon from Europe.

Madame Pons: wow.

Pakora: i always see you here. you're burning the midnight oil.

Madame Pons: only with LUSH officially-licensed candles. i'm committed to this work---i WILL third-see it through---not just sit through it---so i sleep on the ball couch. this is my office now, where i sleep. haven't been home in weeks, forgot what the place looks like. haven't spoken to my sister in ages, sometimes i think she's just using me for money, to pay off her house, that she doesn't care about me as a woman-person. i've electrocuted myself more countless times than i care to remember trying to get healing spells right, or help spells left. but no call. except from customers. scrapes, bruises, and a loss of energy befall me, literal loss of energy flowing through my body, zapped and sapped.

Pakora: i've lost the will to write. my diary is dormant. i feel like any art i do is ruined by the times. i'm waiting for it to be over so my art and allergies can flourish again, so my poem stances and entry engagements can mean something larger again, not just about the one framed thing it always does or gets accused of. i must wait: 2, 4, 6 years. i'm waiting to wear a thong again.

Madame Pons: i know about diaries. but your block comes not from the writer but from the non-reader. step into my chamber and let's begin. btw hey girl, you know what this egg does?

Pakora: *quick scan* not a clue.

Dirg: *by modem* so i tried to get that new Picard series on CBS All-Access but they said i will pay for that.

Laertus: *by phone* um, chief Mahomes, that series hasn't been made yet, dudey. you seem stressed, bud, something happen to you? you're relaxed, dazed, and distracted.

Dirg: just my vertigo rearing its pretty head again. gotta sit down by a tree.

Laertus: make sure to get plenty of rest. rent a cot at the student store. come on over to the Magical Fruit for a late-lunch, everyone's left to battle. the place would be dead with you here. rest your back on the heated throw i've laid out for you on the boothseat. or table if you prefer. sink your cock into a cup of iced coffee and cool it off. hey, so is it still a joke? mild meme-warrior mayhem on Mischief Night?

Dirg: um, sure...……...i think.

Laertus: oh okay, just checking. taped can of beans for your thoughts.

Bump: *by threeway using Dirg's Pear Watch* yeah i can use him either way, he looks Middle Eastern, right?

Laertus: you're invading my space, sir. Dirg dear, just don't pick up any suspicious brown packages on the way over, they could be Maury paternity papers!

Dirg: or from mestizo migrants. signaling their skin color, heehee. sorry i'm not into it tonight. it's depressed for me right now and we still have to have energy for Halloween. i was gonna go dressed as a Mexican Cowboy and run to the border to join the posse comitatus---i was committed to the comitatus as a patna---but, eh, it seems like too much work, i'm too depressed to down. i haven't looked at any college babes in cosplay all day. cos i've been banned from college. hey where's your costume? no makeup, outfit, get up, or green hair dye!? i can see your hairy freckles, you're so plain-looking.

Laertus: so i won't get recognized. i'm going this year as the White ghost. she was such a beautiful soul, a librarian soul, her funeral was on Halloween which is goth but damn. *muffling cries* why is everyone dressing up as Maleficent this year? even my mom!

Dirg: *stumbly*…………………….cos...……….Maleficent is magnificent...………..she's the Avenging Angel for all women...….

Laertus: wow, you didn't even inquire as to how hot my mom is. something is definitely wrong with you. she is not milfy enough for you, she is a beautiful soul i'd die for, that's all the makeup she needs. Salvadoran sunglasses not required, her lines and white jeans tell her tale. and her '70s puffy off-raspberry beret. cos she's metal? two horns? nothing? gang signs lead to wars? anything? don't worry, i'll hand out all the candy back at the house, in your state you really shouldn't be giving kids those Halloween Hershey's Kisses with the CREEPY tissuepaper tags on them.

Monday, October 29, 2018


1. tell us about the last road trip you made. when? where did you go? how long was the overall trip? did you go alone? did you have fun?

i figured out where Banksy lived so i went over there cos it's a national landmark now, his or her birthhome. still nobody knows who Banksy is but everyone knows where he lives. or she, could be The Doctor. just this month, after that youtube vid dropped. i think i'm still on the trip...

we all travel this life alone. fun is relative to the distance you are away from relatives. and potential new relatives who live in the future after you take your 23-and-me DNA test.

btw we got there in plenty of time. but then i had to look at the roadmap. it took an hour just to fold-out the folding thing. then i realized Banksy had shred the map in his shredder…

2. do you love to travel? in my head, yes. i'd love to travel for real but this costs a non-bitcoin thing known as money in the Lower 48. i still have the overarching goal to eventually become one of those Instagram travelogue bloggers who gets paid to post on insta and gets friends paid for him by the company. well, followers anyway, makes your statsheet look good as your heart slowly breaks.

3. what's the best place you've been? do you want to go back? going back is the inescapable truth of closure. and my closure is slippery when wet. you see for years now i've been on a wily self-willed quest to reach nirvana. i just thought they were a cool band and went with it. it's a spiritual journey undertaken which must take place inside one's soul, to look around in there and see what psych roadblocks i find. only through the path within can you achieve without. so i built myself one of those submarines that i miniaturized and have been traveling inside my bloodstream for years. i'm typing this to you presently inside my stream which honestly looks a bit low on cells. you know it probably would have been easier if i had just constructed a tiny submarine...

4. would you travel for sex? have you traveled more than 50 miles just to have sex? i have and it wasn't pretty, never doing that again, got in trouble. like everyone else, i fell in love with Ed Sheeran. it must be Ed's red hair cos red is the color of love. anyway i traveled all the way to his hometown cos google maps said there was gonna be a party and met with as it turned out his lookalike doppelganger who strangely went to the same school as Ed---at the same time? that's wild if so. the one featured in the video. so we hung out at the Castle on the Hill that night with no campfire, only lit by our smoky Skins red cigarette tips. then the bailiff came in the next morning with his hay-soaked baton and said to get the hot fuzz out of his bailiwick cos i had exceeded the 50 miles. i was at 51 miles...damn you google maps...

5. what sexual act or sex position do you struggle with doing? kissing. cos it's a trick. i don't mean there's a certain trick to it, i mean that it's always a trick. i've been fooled time and time again by practicing on a lemon. next time i kiss, i'm gonna practice on a strawberry cos i'm getting older and liver spots are starting to spot up.

bonus: what are you into but have not told anyone? Fortnite. look, i didn't want to join a herd, but, well, see, my dad plays it and i want to connect with him cos i think he's cool and this is the only way for fathers and sons to connect now. i know all sons think their father is their hero, but in this case it's true. my dad is so cool. my dad is Kylo Ren:


i'm not much of a dancer, despite my skewed delusions that i might be cos i'm double-jointed and all, but i did the dance. alone in my room i practiced---trained with a rubber grey forehead---day and night till my sheets became wet. eventually i got so good i was able to impress my local pizza guy who gave me free pizza but i still had to pay for the gaseous root beer:



Friday, October 26, 2018



* ah, the good ol' days of college football, when it wasn't a good-ol'-boys club. USC was atop its rightful place uh perch in the world as the eternal Number 1 and the world was basking in the California sun. and freshly-squeezed avocado juice. Pete Carroll was still the cool surfer-uncle who knew when to throw it and was Zen Master Jr., and the world could still enjoy a prank, and Lane Kiffin was......well Lane Kiffin but he schemed and sweated abnormally for our side. when Alabama started ascending the sport REALLY became boring, and civilization started to fall apart and crumble, did you notice that?

* spoilers: this thing starts off SLOW but picks up towards the end

* Eddie Murphy already did all this, but nobody seems to talk about Eddie Murphy anymore…

* not purple drank. purple seats

* Jesus rooted for Appalachian State in the Big House...

* born-again Christians are the only real Christians

* you had me at meemaw but lost me at chorizo

* i actually think the main character here has a fabulously unique look, that could carry a series WHEN NOT IF it gets picked up? adult swim is inextricably intertwined with the college scene, that's their audience, so chances are likely. they love all this college-football shit, even more than Claymation.

* aren't you a little young to be a university president?

* not Louis CK

* the dazzler new uniforms came from Carrie Underwood's line, we tried to get Kellie Pickler but those only came in one size.

* don't know a lot of daddies. i guess they were at work. working at a strip club is still honest work.

* your coaches don't know nuttin', they're the elites, they're the system that's bringing you down. psst, let me tell you a secret: they all work for a college. who you gonna trust, the fresh-as-hell dancer or Louis CK?

* pray this is half as entertaining as Paul Finebaum's Follies. you think those callers are plants but the beauty of it is they're not.

* Kendra is the writer's wife, must be

* why is there so much infighting in the state of Alabama? don't you know the war eagle is from there?

* a criminal is just a future Christ supporter with the praying at a football game, taking a knee.

* i'm fucking Ron Howard! nope, Solo was better than people expected! next time i'll cast Hope Solo as female Han!

* i was so tired from practice all i could chase was a chaser which helped me sleep...

* titties have nothing to do with this discussion

* see, this is why i never played college sports, i'm just not into PlayStation, never have been since the 1.0 came out.

* why is soliciting a prostitute such a big deal anymore? if you don't get sued...sue back until a court forces you to reveal records. do not get pregnant until you're in one of those ceremonies where you turn to your mate and tell her only you and she shall share each others' liquids. stay hydrated, my friends.

* if you eat all these sweet treats, you can ONLY be a linebacker. but at least you won't get a concussion. you're not sponging off your daddy's money, at least you HAD a daddy!

* have you noticed that NOBODY is celebrated for being a painter anymore?

* here's my stud wide-out. he's been confined to a walker but at least he gets to sit his fat ass on an official ANU pillow.

* don't worry, it's not the Kramer Painting.

* those aren't dimebags, coach, those are two doves. football is the sport of peace.

* crying bowls of soup………...oh that i think about that, is that what's in those tiny tin Campbell red-and-white cans?

* Bill Bisco: previous watcher of Roseanne. WON'T be watching The Conners

* Bisco: Roseanne!
pres: what!?
Bisco: Roll Tide!

* pres: get to steppin' and get that dimebag out my bureau drawer i use to pay the players' mamas. posthaste and with haste. hey man, what's with the red eye?!
player: roll damn tide!
pres: red is the color of ALL the state of Alabama, son, calm your britches, tiny. at least when people were on bath salts it was funny.

* spoilers: let's just say the special effects in this special are special, wink wink

* coach: here's what we're gonna do. swoop in and action plan. let's Khashoggi…
players: we don't know what that means! we don't go to classes!

* adult-swim president: we can't show that...even on adult swim.
pres: listen Lazzo, none of it will be real. the killer's a cyborg and i'm a clone...

* pres: i want get those good Doctor Who cameras on me! photorealistic filmic lens out in the South African desert where i'm from! am i glossy? talkin' bout already powdered my nose that's racist man. this knife is rubber, man, for Halloween, it slides in and out, up and down, back out and in.

* folks, this is the WWE hype part of the show. it's all scripted reality tv. hate doesn't really exist in this world.

* beef: making me hungry for chorizo

* get yer body right. get yer grades right. if your grades are sagging, get yer body right so you can tutor with your teacher alone to get yer grades right. men and women both have tits.

* pepperoni? nah, i always get pepperoni.

* bump baby...uh, nevermind. sell 'em out! then BOYCOTT BOYCOTT BOYCOTT!!!

* pres: i felt good about that take.
Lazzo: you were a little glossy.

* famous last preview for the next episode which will never air...

* dude is so fancy he keeps his candy apple in a glass case


happy weekend, my babies. things are not looking good for my Dodgers. whenever you get depressed, listen to the dulcet tones of Neil deGrasse Tyson explain...anything. even Tinder, which he did once.

Wednesday, October 24, 2018


Robert Mueller has been contemplating this for quite some time. he sits Indian-style floating not gloating in the air, inside of the substance of the Washington Monument, in the very fabric unseen to the general public, where he hides and thinks. he unlatches from his position and begins to scale down the long sharp pipe often mistaken for a really good smoke or Hawaiian skewer. he jumps onto the White House roof, just a hop and a skip, and raises his arms in the air.

the public has wanted more from him, have wanted him to speak, to counter the administration's rampant news conferences with one of his own. they were sure he'd make a small statement when President Bump insulted him on twitter, but no, Bob always kept his tongue and this ribald science of silence would spark wild flights of fancy, imagination nation as to what he had or didn't have, if they would be disappointed with the result. not quite the hammer but rather a ballpeen. like when you realize you're going to prom but the prom is on a basketball court.

Bob makes sure his sharp kneecaps aren't sliding together into a trembling puzzle and---in the shape of King Kong---declares to the world, who isn't listening at this very moment cos something else is going on and in:

Mueller: THIS ISN'T A GAME TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Laertus: the world is a scary place. the world is doing something which we nerds simply cannot countenance: it's not behaving like a scripted tv-drama. we geeks don't do well with reality. we don't like to think or react too much, we just like to be entertained. fuck fathoming the future, there are shows to watch and teach us!

Dirg: would you mind not sleeping and stepping so close to me on this chair?

Laertus cuffs his Doctor Who ear cuff with his fingers.

Laertus: tell me your problems. tell me how to fix the world. i'm listening. the first step is to listen to each other, really listen. it's cuffin season you know.

Dirg: SVU...

Laertus: what is up with that show? you got Amanda git preggers from some unknown cardiologist, the fans wanted her with Carisi, it's too obvious and a simple writing exercise! what's the point otherwise?

Dirg: and you had that strange tale were Carisi had a girlfriend but ALL of those scenes were excised from the broadcast episode so it was like Carisi never had that relationship. i feel sorry for the woman who played his girlfriend thinking she has a steady gig. and don't get me started on the Rosa Parks Who.

Laertus: can a song be both cheesy and make me cry at the same time?

Dirg: come on, man! i don't go to Who for a history lesson. or worse, edutainment. i go for lasers and bloody fistbrawls Freddie Mercury and Queen would be proud of and things blowing up. i want to see can on screen.

Laertus: can you believe they replaced that poor girl who did a tepid review of the first Bob's Burgers of the season? give the girl a break, it was a long soccer summer, she wasn't into it yet, needed to get her feet wet at Seymour's Bay. wasn't back yet in the mind, i have them same feels. feel bad for her, she was so sweet they knew she'd never talk back and just accept it. girl with glasses and purple hair, story of my life.

Dirg: *sleepily* tru tru but it was nice to get Alasdair Wilkins back at AV CLUB. turns out for only a week.

Laertus: Alasdair is badass Brooklyn. straight talk like flat pizza. he's the one nerd who rounds his words into weapons of spear, not fear. makes us all believe for the moment of his review that all of us aren't wasting our lives away watching tv. that this is a noble profession, a worthwhile pursuit. that boy makes me feel it.

Dirg: just goes to show all these new fly-by-night tech sites fold flat like a deck of kit houses against the asphalt. here today, Frond tomorrow. what seems like the future now is the past if you stroll a campus hard enough. Diamond Is Unbreakable?

Laertus: i so wanted to do my hair waffle like that, but apparently the Americans and Armenians got into it too late, the Japanese were two years ahead of us on the hair head. thanks, toonami! at first i was entranced by the comic-book colors, i liked the different aspect-ratio aspect of it, all the bright pastel paneling, made the anime literally look like the manga. but then it got REALLY boring. it's only picked up recently with the Misery mama. i look for relationships in stories, ones that defy the tropes. relationships make series(es?) interesting, not bro fights. two humans interacting with tears and words.

Dirg: i've been telling you, womens be crazy. i gotta go.

Laertus: oh? you're leaving me first this time?

Dirg: i got a life. well i'm meeting someone. someone very important. will determine my future.

Laertus: you see these cheeks, honey? not blushing. i'm civilized and sophisticated. i had an apple for lunch. no girl ain't gonna come between us. a real man will.

Takahashi recognizes that Pete Davidson is in a fragile state and is in no condition. so it's the perfect time and setting for a nature walk! well another nature walk, back to nature-walking for Pete since the boy has no home no more to go back to.

Takahashi: this is perfect. you took so long talking i had time to fashion a walking stick from your straw. you don't have to talk anymore, my dude, just walk.

the two reach the end of the campus-line and to the spot where the clearing should be. there seems to be an invisible film just out of eyesight, but they can hear the cobwebs forming all around them like glacial airdrops. the bridge is out, like it was kicked out by a hobbit. a large soaked mattress printed with blue buds floats atop the dead waves of the river, unable to get through the watery path, stuck as if in a loop, blocked by some unknown force.

the two reconvene at the MSNBC Studios where they film SNL. Pete has been gabbing on his Pear Phone this whole time.

Takahashi: if you talk too much, your lips will get puffy.

Pete: babe, it's just that...i never got to experience being your husband.

Ariana: i know, babe, but isn't this better? my lawyers think so. we can sever and not have to deal with the fallout from a messy divorce.

Pete: please don't use that word. the first word. i'm in a very emotional state right now, i'm crazier than normal. you stabilized me. don't you think we should work on it some more? it wasn't even cheating which is scandalous! this is a meeting of the minds and the mating of a lifetime, and we let petty work schedules get in the way? we have to fight for our love, not fight for our various tours and circuits, we're flesh. we must stem the tide of that thing millennials do when they bail at the first sign of trouble. goddammit we young people get bored too easily!!!

Ariana: we would have made a committed couple, if we had put in the time.

Pete: *crying* it's just...….i thought after 9/11 my world was gone. i had no friends, cos all the alt-righters were shocked i didn't join them and shunned me. thought you YOU were the one thing i had to hang onto in my closet, proof that there was still some good in God up there watching over me. i had no dad but i had a dime.

Ariana: i'm crying with you, that isn't static, i swear.

Pete: we're gonna have to make fun of you now on the show. nonstop. well the writers will, not me. you can never guest on SNL again. who do you want playing you in the skits?

Ariana: Rosie O'Donnell. i felt bad she didn't get to play Bannon. or Steve Gannon as you call him. what do you want me to do with your shoes?

Pete: put them in the fridge. as a constant reminder. or storage, whatever. i'm still holding out hope we reconcile and FUCK are my toes gonna feel good in those shoes when i put them on again.

Ariana: here's to a thaw in our nuclear arms race, relations not race. here's to seeing Walt Disney emerge from that block of ice and walk again. the miracle of a magic meeting. here's to having life again be a place where anything seems possible. like Disneyland. kisses, babe, kisses through the coiled phone.

Melbourne is visiting with Roger Federer and a toothbrush.

Fed: is this toothbrush for me? i'm not staying.

Melbourne: for the missus. the little woman has sharp pointy teeth. i forgot if this is my toothbrush or hers. well i guess that's the sign you know you're finally a couple.

Federer: *on the phone* hello, Savannah Guthrie?

Savannah: omg

Federer: don't blush, i will be able to see and spot it. anyway, sorry i couldn't make the interview today...

Savannah: on Today...

Fed: there is no offseason. or finish line. so anyway the 12-12 final set is interesting to say the least, it's gonna make Wimbledon stick out like a sore thumb. tennis won't be tennis anymore if it's not standardized, it will be a different sport to different socio-economic classes of people. the U.S. Open fifth-set tiebreaker should have been the heated harbinger to which the rest of the Majors followed suit, so eventually we'd have the 5th-set tiebreaker in ALL of the Majors. now you're gonna have this uniquely British score of 13-12 that will never be achieved anywhere else, what does that score mean? it is worth more than the 7-6? the grand sacred hallowed sport of tennis is turning into world team tennis with those oversize-head novelty racquets the kids use. we've become the laughingstock of sport! it's a sport to make fun of tennis!

Savannah: generally agree but what about the grandeur of that last set going till there's two? the French might want to keep that allure that is uniquely of their particular Grand Slam. their tradition of time and existentialism, it's very Parisian.

Roger: why is it 12-12 anyway?

Savannah: well, two sets of 6, essentially two-sets' worth.

Fed: oh yeah, i never thought of that. i can explain this to you further in-depth Kobe-Bryant-style if you want me to come over to your house.

Savannah: i have a lifesize cardboard cutout of you that i prop up who tends my underground bar.

Melbourne: *cutting in* that's not weird, buddy, don't worry. need the phone, incoming.

Laertus: ask Roger about the World Series.

Dirg: he wouldn't know.

Roger: i don't care and goodbye. i'm gonna go get my free Taco Bell Doritos Locos Taco now.

Dirg: you still want to talk ball, just the two of us?

Laertus: might as well, this is gonna be a short Series. you know, i know why that pitcher got sick for two weeks and had to hospital. it's not easy coming out and being the first gay icon in the sport.

Dirg: what the hell earth you talkin' bout, Willis.

Laertus: that pitcher who got infected cos he had to take his bellybutton ring out. very-brave chap, i admire him.

Gladyce: Doryce dear, see the El Volcan taco truck?!

Doryce: yeah?

Gladyce: that's a real volcano stuck in that truck been causing all the recent volcanic activity in Guatemala and Peru. stickered on there with a flattening spell. i'll get it out with one stop of my wand. there, it stopped.

taco-truck driver: hey you gals want in on some dogs?

Doryce: not while you're serving, Pedro. your name really is Pedro. i'll make my own tostada with nature's lettuce: grass. you know the salad kits you buy, dear, are for 3 servings, yes, that's right, 3 servings of salad in one of those pouches.

Gladyce: THIS WHOLE TIME! and you didn't tell me? i knew i was eating too much, i always had the funny feeling in my turnt tummy afterwards like, man this is a lot of salad! and i don't even like salad! i buy it for you! no wonder i was feeling groggy lately. i couldn't float as high and i rememorized my entire spellbook cos i thought it was me!

Doryce: 3 servings, babe. i don't eat salad, i eat grass. i don't like food that isn't junk. take an insta, there aren't that many bonafide tostada-trucks in this world. endangered species.

Gladyce: next time you buy the salad for us at the grocer. i swore i read that package label. great, now i need glasses like you!

Doryce: you were never meant to read it, it was fine print.

Madame Pons: LUSH Ledger, day two supplemental. i'm typing to you today by myself like a crazy fox woman here on the company faltering HP laptop locked in the storeroom cos i'm bored and there are no customers, strangely, during school hours. i thought this was a college. oh shit, i've become a registered blogger, my life is officially over. i am so alone. anyway, no progress on the egg front. but some on the human front. i'm sensing such deep depression on the faces of those strolling the campus. they're like ghosts with no souls, expressionless, gliding, sliding, floating to destination unknown, with no purple-prose purpose. what they thought would be a bridge to a better life is now seen as no life. everyone's waiting, however long it takes, it seems like forever, for life to get back on track, to feel on track, for life to make sense again. for them to feel that these four years aren't gonna be a waste of waiting. these should be their coming-out years, not their lost years. especially the women, i see it on the girls' eyes, they are frightfully scared, terrified of no norms. they put on brave faces as all women in the world must to survive, but i can tell the crack in their makeupped wrinkle. it's like they're using all their pins and needles for the balls of their toes, to tickle them into submission before their men do, not for the patches on their jean sleeves. one young woman came into the shop with one freckle and one bell-push. she almost fainted over after entering she was so out of energy and drained in the lips. i was thinking hard final and offered her our latest soap, a melonballer-colored pumpkin-spice creamsicle ice-cream bar that looks like a double-sticked popsicle but is soap. she talked about how she was entering a new relationship for her and her parents back home would never approve. that she was cut off in college, not free. she staggered over to the bed i keep in my Energy Medicine Room and immediately wetted it firm to soft profusely with her sweat. slept the rest of the week there poor thing, but didn't sleep it off. here demons run deep, as does this sleepy town. i keep hearting posts hearing everybody telling me they want to leave the country but wouldn't know what nation to choose. i just hope the egg helps soon. it's gotta be an Easter Egg for us.

Bump: i'm searching for the real killers. with my friend OJ Simpson, he knows all the black athletes who did it and is an expert at this sort of thing. coverup is an art. we each beforehand sampled that Burger King Nightmare King green burger to get our tank full and our journalistic juices flowing. it's good that OJ is out and can help us like this.

OJ: i think that Nightmare King really isn't a real thing. like it was just for that Dream Corp LLC commercial skit. plus this thing was a burger with both a beef pattie and a chicken filet, it was weird.

Bump: green buns, those environmental chicks are hot and white, OJ.

Dirg: i'm at the temple gates, ready to storm the castle!

Laertus: like a good stormtrooper. true-to-form is an art-form. describe Shangri-la for me.

Dirg: it's a brick mansion...……………...with the red-and-blue gates closed!!! ugh. do love the lattice design in the holes of the gates, very '80s.

Laertus: huh, shoulda been pearly. i don't travel to the froufrou side of campus. like the Cuomos do every day, we just have to take what life brings us each afternoon. deal with the shuffle. it's unexpected, you weren't thinking your day would be like this, would turn out like a pear, like your watch. how do you think Jim and Poppy felt at the start of business today?

Dirg: has Poppy popped yet? the baby i mean.

Laertus: any more trouble online for you?

Dirg: i saw that one thing on twitter. someone replied back to James Woods, said his mom birthed a beta. how dare he scold a veteran of Family Guy! we both loved Family Guy at one time.

Laertus: oh pleeeezzz. not all heroes wear capes. see? tech is good for society! you can't get anything from handling an email but a nasty virus. sweep that mansion for mailboxes. and check Avenue Q. did you get that thing i sent ya?

Dirg: this picture of Patrick Leahy?

Laertus: it's like those kittens on twitter, instantly calms you down. the country will last forever, longer than any stamp.

Dirg: he's a patsy alright.

Laertus: now see it has the opposite affect on me. dredges up past horror-story encounters i've had with the Patriarchy, i need to learn to pat these images down or i can't function in society. anybody else there?

Dirg: just some stupid girl...…………...who looks okay

Eye Luggage stares back at Dirg with eyes which look like two black eyes but are just bad Harley Quinn makeup-jobs. she pounds the table of her lemonade-stand open booth on the edge corner of campus.

Dirg: and what you tryna sell me today?

Eye: the key.

Dirg: to in there?

Eye: i never forget an online face. i'd recognize you anywhere. i can tell from the callouses on your hands that you're a bad drawer. i've seen your work online. i'm everywhere online, by the handle Alexa_Pwns. you were using THIS to get in there?

Eye pulls out Dirg's drawing from the canyon of her blue breasts, one red. the drawing printed on old-fashioned light-green bullethole-sides printer-paper from the '80s.

Eye: what do we have here? so it's a sketch of Male Thor beating the fuck outta Female Thor with Mjolnir...……………………………*awkward silence*…………..bloodying up the beauty in her face......

Dirg: yes, what do we have here...………………………..*softly* whoa

Monday, October 22, 2018


there is no more delicious word to pronounce in the English language than Cluedo.

1. what is the future of dating? an Instagram post i came across recently perfectly sums it up in a nutshell:

it was simply a bivalved picture, one on the left and one on the right. the one on the left read Courting in the '80s and showed a Dilbertesque man by his computer. the one on the right read Courting Now and showed same Dilbertesque man getting his penis sucked behind his computer by some one or what looked like the office ficus.

2. do you usually wake up with an erection? it's the only indicator i have that i'm still alive. once the happiness dissispates, i realize i gotta get that thing down, so i tamp it down under my sheets with a gentle prodding from my beach sandal. and then of course i get a hard knock on my breakfast door from my neighbor. he criticizes me for rooming-and-boarding Indians at my place cos he said he saw a teepee early this morning when he was binocularsing through my window searching for robin-breast nests. yes, he's THAT kind of neighbor. then we get into a scuffle on Hollywood Blvd over how it wasn't my cock he saw but a Titan and he complains that he thought i could get away with using a reference an old geezer like him wouldn't get but he does indeed get it cos he's a fan of Attack on Titan and that sappy slowy 3rd Intro doesn't fit with the darkness of the anime and i counter with,

"how can you NOT like Hyde? his songs are so beautiful, so heartaching so heavenly rending romantic they break the glass of human hearts. why does he get made fun of so much, i don't get it, is it jealousy? he pronounces the Englsih words fine. you'd get emotional on that 3rd Intro too if you read the manga."

that shut him up till tomorrow morning...

3. what is your most bizarre talent? CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

hello there, my real name is Whis. i'm an Angel. at your service, i have no business hours cos i'm an Angel. i like my blue skin, makes me different, stands me out. contact me anytime at this blog cos i'm bored cos i'm an Angel. life really is that easy.

4. do you prefer the people in your life to be simple or complex? i prefer simple salt-of-the-earth farmers for my good people who till the land from sunup till sundown and ONLY yield wheat crops full of complex carbohydrates.

5. are you simple or complex? take a look at the human eye. (get it? take a look, ha) for all the insane immense complexity of the human eye---and the human eye is in fact the most complicated organism ever devised, all those tiny blood vessels have to strewn just right and the glass is made of delicate cobwebs from the bumblebee---it is meant to collate the universe together for us into one simple mathematical equation. i'm talking about the third eye of course, not your two eyes. i just boinged your two eyes with my two fingers Three Stooges-style but you were smartly wearing glasses. it was a peace-sign i swear.

bonus: tell us a riddle.

a bird flew to the perch of Superman's large shoulder and said, "a flying shame what happened to that girl."

Superman: what?

bird: birds of a feather, they always come in threes. do you know what they call this panel? Time Flies When You're Having Fun. what's black and white and red all over?

Superman shakes his sizeable head with the curly q in front.

bird: *smh looking down below* tomorrow morning's newspaper.

Superman was on a perch of sorts, too, that ledge in that famous scene where he talks down a girl contemplating suicide. so, yeah, that wasn't the right moment for a joke. Superman stopped being a superhero from that moment on, he removed the makeup from his face, straightened out his sweaty brow, and retired to become a normal citizen in the vein of like what would have happened if the Joker never became the Joker, he'd be just some dude on the street telling dad jokes.


Friday, October 19, 2018



* i know i know, all commercials now are uncreative and designed solely to pawn off on you the latest in tech-junk....................except this one, this one was actually good

* me: what's so funny about google?
google: nothing, we never wanted this awesome responsibility over people's thoughts. we wanted Beyonce to handle the hivemind with her Beyhive. we were once a modest mom-and-pop hanging precariously over a cliff in Manhattan Beach. we sold wetsuits, illegal fishspears, and goggles. and then came The Day of the Fatal Typo...

* me: do you have to be a pixie to use this?
google: we're trying to bring back the pixiecut...for boys...

* me: how many pixels?
google: how many do you want? we can go infinitely down the rabbit hole, or the turtle hole as you young John Green environmentalist conscientious-obstructers would say. we've been holding out on you for centuries this whole time, we let loose one of our secrets every decade or so and charge exorbitantly according to the cohort.

* google: we got 7 million youtube subscribers.
me: honestly that seems a little lean and inflated.

* me: what's bottom shot?
google: confiscated.

* friend: wait, i wasn't ready! my eyes look like i'm hyphy off Jar-Jar Juice!
other friend: it's fine, we can fix it. no problem, i'll just slide this new Pixel...
friend: i'm Amber Rose, bitch!!! i own the definitive quote on condoms!!! i married a cop, Ice-T, i'm the first sista who got in the inside!!!

* me: Sinatra or Sinatra, Jr.?
google: does it matter? it's not Buble. we need Canadians to heal the world now, we stopped doing it. i hope Buble starts singing again soon...

* Gilligan: hi i'm Gilligan. i've been away for a VERY long time, as you can see from my tan.

* that's not a thumb, that's a skin-colored UFO, which are the most-savage kind, their probes are otherworldly

* dudes: did you get our Black Swan dives? ironically we wouldn't have mastered this technique if we didn't spend hours looking at film of Greg Louganis.
chicks: you got our bikinis, right? okay, girls, let's bounce, our instagram-modeling is through for the day. i'm sure the fellas will be all right, they are Fellows at the college after all. quick let's get back! our moms are gonna kill us if they park their minivans at the park before we slide back onto the field. we should be at soccer practice right now!

* boy: this is my Jedi lightsaber.
mom: i'm worried, it's red. like your eyes.
boy: too much Cherry Mountain Dew. i'm already a gamer. that's not a moptop on my head, those are my headphones.

* aqua friend: Merry Christmas!
other aqua friend: it's Halloween.
aqua friend: then why are you wearing a candy-cane for a wetsuit?
candycane: where are all the hot guys?
other: this isn't water-yoga. you look like Jar-Jar Juice with that expression.
candycane: i like juice in jars.
other: no, Jar Jar Binks. he is now my friend and you are not.

* mom: your 1st-birthday party pics got a little gnarly there, dear, but you won't remember this party. neither will i, nobody comes to 1st-birthday parties.

* college student: what are you trying to tell me by flapping your long green tie in my face?
college student: that i'm a John Green environmentalist. i sting like the Green Hornet.

* not a photobomb, fat kid who genuinely likes cake

* no such thing as bad sushi/ eating hair is healthy/ a true love-bird will hide the kiss from the public so you can use tongue

* father: son, you're blocking the view of the breaching humpback!
son: don't talk about mom like that, dad.
father: hey, weren't you the kid from Free Willy? who got arrested?
son: no free-my-willy jokes at this difficult time.

* me: this is why i hate frats.
google: they're not from a frat, they're sick. alcohol poisoning.
me: well now i feel bad.

* google: these folk aren't disgusted at the state of the world, they merely shot the flash right in their eye and it took them aback. it's that thing where you think the camera is turned outward but it's really turned inward toward your face, we patented the name suicide selfie for it but decided not to market that and kept that in our vault.
me: the Grand Canyon can never not look pretty. it's probably better to get Grand Canyon shots minus the people anyway.

* Christina Aguilera doesn't want the world to know she really has curly hair...

* dog: what is humans' fascination with staring at a little box? when you have this whole big beach as your litterbox!

* girl: great. you fixed the picture of us on the beach with the dog. but i still look like a moron. we're breaking up.
other girl: who you callin' a dog?!

* frat diver: oh yeah, that's cool, makes us look like we're defying time and space. like all good Fellow college students, we're rebels against the system of the universe. are you not entertained and impressed? will you go out with us now? we're like magicians, dealers of the dark Mickey-Mouse-course arts like Thanos or some shit, we have a car like Thanos. hey, where did the girls go?
other frat diver: Tokyo 2020?
frat diver: i called Coach Louganis on my tiny watch and he said we were weak.
other: i'm sure he just meant our discipline is lacking. we could always become pearl divers.
frat diver: quiet, not so loud, they'd never understand our love for Pearl. we said we'd discuss this further AFTER the Steven Universe hiatus.
other: hey, i like Pearl as much as the next man. they say she's not real and just pencil-lines on a page but they're just jealous. although it is kinda weird how you're always licking the page when we're alone drawing together on your frat desk.
frat diver: liking the page, i'm liking the page not licking...


happy weekend, my babies. Dodgers and Red Sox, like those old-timey days back in Brooklyn. don't want to jinx it, i already did. it's gonna be weird rooting in the Fall Classic cos the Red Sox have already enacted revenge for us for last season, so i could go for either team. it's a San Antonio Spurs situation where they lose the ring that should have been theirs on a last-second three-pointer in the corner and spend all offseason in their dark corners and come back the next season with a furious push stomping out the regular season like it don't matter---like it's an invisible match---to get to the playoffs with a satanic quickness in order to capture that ring---by inking a deal in their blood---that was theirs last year. so now they have this ring that really counts as two rings and the devil is smiling cos most humans don't get such an opportunity for a grand second-chance like this to make amends. most have to live with the eternal pain of what-could-have-been, never getting another chance to improve their lives...

Wednesday, October 17, 2018


Laertus: so you really don't want to talk about it?

Dirg: let me ease into it, bra.

the two find their friendship firming with each passing day, as if the seasons all melt into and drip onto one another like layers of hot-buttered lassitude. they should always be on opposite sides, but even they recognize they are but two dies, and more often than not when they begin talking it's like riding a bike, they blissfully forget for these brief moments that they're warriors, they sense they are instead two boys the same age who do their best to hide their geekdom in public and privately haven't figured it all out yet.

Dirg: i figured everything out like a clean-pressed iron in high school. ironed on my skateboard. so what do i need college for?

Laertus: these days it's mostly to get a job. to make your family crest sparkle with spit. if it were most about swallowing the totem of pure knowledge that's why one wears one's Pear Watch upside down on one's wrist, a tiny little screen filled with all the world's internets. you can become smart with the touch of a button owned by google.

Dirg: yes, wear that watch upside down on your sensitive veins to save you from yourself when you encounter a desperate moment.

after the boat trip, on the Titanic, Laertus realized it was silly to live exactly one-floor-up from his best friend Dirg, especially after that big revelation, even with the knowledge that the shipliner they were on wasn't doomed to fail anymore. Laertus needed to be close somewhere. so Laertus---he of his own volition---skipped a semester, well he dropped out for two quarters---about 6 months---to tend to and try to heal the injured soul of Dirg.

Laertus: but i needed a place to call home, to pull up some hay from the moist ground of bed-leafed floor. i was desperate to make a hearth for us. we were banned from the dorms and the lecture halls and any hostels on campus full of hostiles and those not of our political stripe.

Dirg: or completely naked with big boobs and bush and b-u-t-t and painted in the stripes of the red white and blue. foreign-exchange babes are especially vulnerable in this current country climate now with papers waved in their pretty faces as foreplay.

Laertus: so i was hiking one morn on this grassy knoll which led into an area of orange leaves that should have been a clearing but this particular trail was unmarked on any map. i prayed to the Anime God for a sign and thought i found one cos God is love is blind is Ray Charles. so i asked the blind mountain man in the corner of the 7-Eleven built out of a wood outhouse for assistance: nothing. the blind are our last hope as a people, you know, they shall guide humanity out of the darkness. the knoll upside-downded itself and the crook of my walking stick got stuck in the many holes of wood planks, it was a bridge now, a sagging bridge which looked like it couldn't carry any more weight, even my skinny ass. they say luck favors the bold so i went for it, i jumped like a new Doctor over an orange crane. and thank goddess i found this beautiful tree-mansion nestled secretly in the middle of Obec Woods abandoned! just as i was running out of time, food, arcade elongated change, water, and will. it's like breaking your bike in the desert and you stumble upon the real oasis of Disneyland in the Anaheim desert. and you find that this magical Disneyland place full of fountain-water has no lines, you're the only one there! who would leave such a lush homestead alone at the mercy of squatters? and why are WE the only squatters!?

Dirg: robbery 101: don't ask questions. that's the problem with you, you never like the answers. squatters are fine, it's the ones who keep swedish fish in their peeholes i distrust.

Laertus: i can't tell if the lights are on cos of all these birds flapping everywhere. i'm tempted to get a job at the student bookstore, too.

Dirg: they're attracted to your green hair!

Laertus gently tucks Dirg in for the night. he makes sure his fuzzy-blue Linus blanket is hospital-cornered over his ankles, he brushes his hair like a bish with his palm and blows at the electric bulb inside the pirate lantern above Dirg's head but the bulb stays on. Dirg raises his cheek against Laertus's cheek.

Laertus: *breathless* OMG....are you.........going in for the kiss? goodnight kiss? i prayed for this day!

Dirg: what's that on your ear? it's silver like pirate and has stars at the top and the shaking-hands emoji at the bottom and held together with those chains they use on ship spoons. it is quite remarkable. Bajoran in origin?

Laertus: it's the new Doctor's ear cuff. single, not on the other ear, it's the most-beautiful addition added to the Doctor ever in all its lore-breaking lore. in all the eons! it's the coolest thing the Doctor has ever done!

Dirg: i still say the dog was the best accessory. not that i'm calling Jodie Whittaker a dog, far from it. get it right and lean right: she's fit and i am desperate to cuff her. but this whole thing has become a jokikal farce. the forced diversity of the BBC, which stands for Badly Bruised Cock btw, is downright cynical in that putrid commercial where the TARDIS crashes the ceiling, i mean come on. it's just another time-honored---time see what i did there?---institution which has been ravaged by the SJW agenda despite savage overwhelming criticism not found on AV CLUB. they're taking everything away from us, dude, all that we hold dear, nostalgia is being neutered. the culture we once knew and loved and counted on and died for will pop and fall, it will be forever subsumed by MOTR mama mediocrity. it's being systemically torn down by the fury of few feminism, this corrosive crashing wave which seeks to destroy this strawman ghost of patriarchy with a capital P and take along young helpless hapless female waifs in its wake just cos they now have enough computers to do the nonblow job, more than that chick with the fish on the bicycle had. at least the '70s had style, i loved her bead necklace and green turtleneck and orange shades. we must fight warrior to warrior on the cyberstreets at all costs till the last man stands.

Laertus: what is this, a '70s tennis match? are you spitting uh spinning of SJW or SJA?, Sarah Jane Adventures, which is what NuWho is anime-goddess rest her soul. the show has finally reached its potential and learnt the power of the matriarch to combat the world's old evils. that a goddess is a much-better-looking god. you're equating culture with civilization. nostalgia will be NURTURED. yes, a mother's love is scary..............for a mother's love is the most powerful force in the universe, capable of quelling all the man-made wars. it's beautiful that. so you're sure you don't want me to call the cops?

Dirg: i told you, they'd never believe me, i'm a ghost stat, a fiction. i don't want to put the police whom i respect deeply through my charade. who would you believe, me or Santa?

Laertus: okay okay, no forced here, i'm not rushing you, when you're ready. come to me in your own time, and come messy i don't mind. these things take time, it's about time. i'll be your Olivia with the cuffs when the time's right. speaking of, did you happen to catch last week's SVU?

Dirg: uh, sure sure, i was doing uh research. shopping around for tribes, grading representation in media on my blog. this one this week will be the most-anticipated they've ever done.

Laertus: preach. it is mesmerizingly meta. Accredo. can't wait. i always imagine if Allison Mack hadn't gotten mixed up in that jack SHE would have STARRED in this very episode as the recruiter of the cult!

Dirg: she's a fake Christin. she's like those Doctor Who Roman soldiers who wanted to talk about their feelings whilst eating avocado loaf in a circle. slapping their open-toed sandals together till their soles became rubber. sitting down and laying real chicken eggs from their bums whilst training their teary eyes squarely on the womenfolk and puffing red.

*ding dong* silently, the birds don't move from their perches eyes closed

Laertus: trouble not, that's the food i ordered online anonymously. from the Chinese place that just skirts the campus limits, technically located in the city suburbs, they won't recognize us. it's that cute little quaint Chinese cabin in the middle of Cal highway, literally in the middle of the road. *opens the grass-hut door* thank you, you included the rice? yes, tons of rice. and the chopsticks? one chopstick, thank you. and plenty of soy sauce, right? that's for me.

Dirg: ha! shaking my damn head. it's okay, fam, all anime fans look alike, he won't be able to pick you out of a lineup or be sure you're not his cousin or even be sure that it wasn't he who did the nasty deed. even the white weaboos who never wash.

Laertus: so, now my summer is ruined again cos i have a lot of catching up to do on languid lectures just for Larry and cumulative coursework. say thank you for this apparent arrangement we find ourselves in where i have to go to school and you get to stay home and do nothing and not have to work.

Dirg: hey, it's the American way, fatherfucker. nuclear family and nucular bombs. victims' rights.

Laertus: because i'm so busy and swamped i'm not gonna be around much. i can only spare the lunch hour each day, so i'll come back here from campus, take off the burqa i have to wear like a baseball cap, and we can have lunch together. the Chinese food now is a sample sampler of our arrangement. this is a very non-college-fratdorm thing to do, in fact it's more of a homeowner thing to do. not eating out everyday will save on bills. bye.

Dirg: as long as you buy the groceries from anywhere but Trader Joe's.

on the bowling green on campus, Takahashi is having a spirited impromptu talk with Pete Davidson at a little white circle table at a local café. well it's more like Takahashi is tugging on Pete's arm, his Superman cape---Pete's white cutoff sleeveless white T shirt--- to sit down and have that conversation.

Takahashi: stay awhile. you really don't want to go back home, Pete.

Pete: what, Ariana must be missing me something fierce. i've been away on a long spiritual safari in Obec Woods, gaining invincible strength, off the grid. i can't wait to get back into the bed of that large silvery urban mansion we share and do the dishes again. by putting the dishes in the fridge when i take long hour-long stare and leans when i open the fridge door.

Takahashi: buddy buddy, here, try the kopi luwak. why don't we bunk together, new roomie? even tho MadTV was always better, that Asian dude and there were no bad bands. i need a stable spot to search for my missing mother in earnest, she's been gone for months.

Pete: okay but i really do need to pick up my shoes at the lovenest. my she-shoes i call them, what's mine is hers and vice. Ari's gonna be so surprised to see me come home early! we're going to a candlelit memorial service for Mac Miller, it's gonna be lit. i'm so happy i don't care if i get sent poisoned Halloween candy this year!

at Melbourne's estate plantation, invisible lines are being drawn. Mel regales some crasher guests at his table, late to the party: President Bump and Kanye. with a story about the first time he met Lewis Hamilton at the F1 Osaka Grand Prix:

Melbourne: we were all jealous of him. he knew what he wanted to do when he was five. school was a nuisance to him, Lew Ham won his first pro race when he was 12. using a ham-radio.

Bump: and when he turns 18 he gets Picabo Street the lucky bastard, and airs his dirty laundry on front street in the papers. i mean that other ski bunny.

Melbourne: i would see Lindsey run rings round me on the cocktail circuit, parties where she wouldn't drink but regale me with her tales about how she was handling the black stick for the first time, my caroline. i'm assuming she was meaning driving stick on the F1...she couldn't have meant the club, she was done with that...the golf club...the stick does have a black coat on...

Kanye: *sings "Sweet Caroline" badly* he's no hero, he's the exception, the amendment. I was driving the culture before I was born.

Melbourne: Lin-Manuel whispered to me on Opening Night behind an iron-curtain Broadway blind that his masterwork was really about Lewis. hey you and Kanye, make sure to eat lunch out here, i don't want the silk sheets getting ants. and don't bother the lady upstairs.

Bump: don't worry, i just want to use one of the upstairs rooms to get me alone with Acosta for five good minutes.

adjacent to this melee in the adjoining room is Nikki Haley lying naked on top of the silk sheets. she makes it a point to rub the yellow oil on her body herself, not doing herself any favors cos the oil is really more like beeswax. she is terrified to open her double-locked door to anyone, but relents when it's Meghan Markle smiling widely and goldenly at her front door. Meghan jumps over the stoop and makes love to Nikki firmly all night until Meghan is pregnant, Meg lost track of time they were in such a hallucinogenic reverie.

Meghan: fuck. and i was getting on so well with the Queen.

Nikki: *sweat pouring down her chin equal parts nervous and exhaustive sweat* yes we did. i can already feel the bump.

Bump: *mid-punch and then he opens up his finger to push his Pear Watch* hold on, Jim, this is me. hey, can you clean up the room? tidy it up before the help arrives? i know it's completely trashed but we can at least empty the trash in the wastepaper baskets. yes, hello? New York Times? es yous? yeah, i know where Khashoggi is, i saw him lookin' like Shaggy sharing a room in a beach shack with Newly-Confirmed Judge Mark Judge. no on the other side of the shoreline. don't trust those turkeys, it ain't Thanksgiving yet! oh and can you remove that headline you were going with for next morn's paper? yeah, the MBS BS one. me? in hiding? nah, my brother Jamal's in hiding, not me. you can find me whenever and wherever you want. no the Royal Family never knows what's going on, their only duty is to attend weddings and weedings. i agree, here's to updating the tired institution of marriage to include strong independent women who don't need no man. yeah, it was rogue ninjas, who botched the job, YOU catch the culprit, that's what you do. they had green skin but didn't frighten the public cos they wore masks. they drank too many of those black Burger King slupees that turn your poo green. no, you misheard, it wasn't a bone saw to cut off feet, it was a ninja star to fight the Foot. the Foot Clan. what's so ghoulish about that, everyone loves Tamara Tunie!

the crones have been vacationing far too long aboard their eternal Titanic and decide it's time to find a nobby job which will fill their belly if not their desires and goals. Doryce throws up over the railing and into the banisters below. she follows her rainbow of barf and slides down it into the already-salty sea, crashing into the ocean in a wave and breaking her glasses. luckily they were near land at the time. she swims to the coast of the beach and lines up her eyeline to see a volcano-red taco truck parked in the middle of the grass.

Doryce: do you have free tostadas for senior discount? i can't make it over there on my crab legs, i'm crawling on my empty belly here, and i'm too bored to formulate direction, i'm gonna have to make the tosatada myself.

Doryce collates a bunch of grass she plucks and plops it on top of a circle of mud she corrals with her long fingers like rakes and heats up slightly with the red tip of her painted fingers.

Doryce: ahhhh, till it's lightly golden-brown. nice and crispy. and she takes a big smiling bite and...YUMMY!!! tastes so good when you haven't had any.

Gladyce: *from inside the Titanic's smokestack* *floating with her arms and legs crossed* that taco truck looks familiar, i've seen it somewhere before...

Madame Pons: *calling from her Pear Watch* hello sisters! what? i got a job. you're grooming? well i'm grooming a different species altogether:............*dramatic pause*...humans *laughs*. yeah i'm working at the Lush at Exodus College, as in i'm working here right now, i'm presently in a Lush Store. business is booming as you'd might expect. yeah the boutique that sells smelly soaps and nonlethal bath bombs. you want me to be one of those instagram travel photogs who make money off Instagram? i would but my camera broke. and i don't have a lot of exotic locales to snap. i'm not on a boat, i don't get invited to parties. and i can't afford to snap my one broomstick in two. in fact i'm using my broomstick as my wand. i'm looking at my present problem right now, muy fea, it's a white egg on the counter, i'm looking at it and it's staring back at me. what? i know, waving around my wand over its head frantically is not the most nonthreatening method of communication. i WILL discover what this egg is doing here and how it can help heal the world. what? my sister? oh she's fine. i haven't talked to her for months but she's going through a difficult labor.

Dirg: *on his Pear Watch* Bert? this is Ernie. the neighbors are starting to talk. they suspect we're a little too chummy to be roommates. the birds in here have been chirping up a storm. i'm hungry, where's my lunch?

Laertus: hey man, sorry but i won't be able to make lunch this morning slash afternoon.

Dirg: high noon and you've left me high and dry.

Laertus: don't get high over this. don't hate, conversate.

Dirg: did you see the commercial run constantly during the boring Kavanaugh Hearings?

Laertus: Lisa Ling with furries, nuff said. more research for you? more tribe-hopping? those Hearings enraged me so much i changed my position on horseracing just so i could see each of those old fogey crusty white-men senators get sold up the river to a farm upstate for glue. that same week, TIME Magazine had an unrelated full-page coverspread with a Playboy-centerfold of a pint of golden frothy sweating beer. it was their History of Beer Special Superbook. beer shaped culture more than anything else. now THAT was the fall of civilization. huh, maybe it was related after all. it was weird on Kavanaugh's first day. a defendant who was deemed too violent to appear on Judge Judy licked the fluted columns with the tongue of her ass and was before the Court. and there's Brett with a glass of wine on his gavel stoop wood circle as a sign he said that he was being fair. the defendant, she was in the right to complain that all of his decisions will never be taken seriously.

Dirg: Kava was a spiritual experience for me, it was my Joshua Tree. it was the right decision. a victory for the religious, it's our turn, liberal media! this one's for the boys. cheers, raise your party mug.

Laertus: you are not religious, you just love chaos. you're an agent of chaos. a chaos agent. they did Bourdain's last speech about travel heartbreak in the CNN Narrator's voice instead of Tony's voice, that was disappointing. it's his final column entry and should be all his.

Dirg: it's CNN, it will be CORRECTED. wait, i gotta go, i gotta take this. some idiot is trying to block me on the Marvel Youtube Channel comments section. they're saying my first violation is so egregious it counts as three strikes!? blasphemy!!! this is about freedom. FREEDOM, HEAR?!!! i've had it with your side for forever, at least before i was born. i've been working on my webcomic in the interim, in my head mostly but that still counts, and i finally landed on a design. i drew my first sample last night and i submitted it directly to Stan Lee for his tepid thoughts on thots and notes about how a pencil-sketch is as valuable as a painting and ultimate approval. now they're saying my picture was so obscene they deleted it and didn't even bother to lift a finger to show Stan!!! BASTARDS!!! hold up, imma deal with this guy *tap tap tap* bye

Laertus: heading out? walking away? hey you're not using my laptop, are you?

Dirg: of course i am, my laptop and desktop got "lost", remember?

Laertus: i always imagine where your computer is. i see it now, it's always the same picture in my mind, it's sitting inside a grilled SVU evidence locker in the corner with two padlocks over it.

Dirg: leaning.

Monday, October 15, 2018


1. do you like tattoos? do you have any tattoos? didn't used to. always thought they were the domain of the delinquent, prison wives, and those guys on motorcycles with the grey beards which would get tangled on the bike handles. but then something snapped in me in college...

...i guess i finally had the freedom and the whole 18 thing so i went for it. i went crazy for it actually, got three tattoos in one semester. four, there's one unaccounted for i know i got but it's missing on my body. this isn't a beer thing, i hate the bitter taste of beer, still don't know why beer is so popular, it tastes disgusting. (life hack: don't wear a toga while drinking beer, you're gonna do a lot of laundry later.) it's more of a coffee thing, i wanted to be refined and intellectual and a man of the people so i inked myself in accordance with the gutter i lived on. a tai-chi symbol which my fellow classmates called the Curb Circle (, dubbed me out for it, pointed at me sneeringly, and these were my friends), a brown cross that wasn't supposed to be so WIDEBOY it was supposed to be more angular and taller so that was a mistake, and a Chinese symbol on the small of my back that i have no idea what it means now after all these years. sue me, it was the early 00s still. (i have no money, i'm still technically a college student.) i wanted to stroll down the Berkeley boulangerie as if it were Sartre's Paris, wearing my beret and my newly-minted ink like a coat, these three tats no one could see under my clothes...

...i guess tho actually it came down to me proving to myself i was a man. i'm a very skinny boy so if i could survive the executioner's blood-tipped needle, i could survive life. did i scream? yes, later that night in bed...................alone into my pillows as normal.

2. how did you pick your online profile name? i used to write and compile endless lists but my priest-psychiatrist told me i had a psychosis: i was either a collector or a hoarder he couldn't tell. or an organizer, i should run for office. the phoenix is the bird of mythos who laughs---crows?---at death and rises from the ashes on its cheeks even after being killed in the ring of a disgusting cockfight for sport. but my phoenix is late to the party. or he's stuck in traffic. i'm not from Phoenix as everyone thinks.

3. what's one saying you try to live by? in order to live, you must die................i saw this on the back of a box of matches, or was it the back of the envelope? anyway, i took it to mean you must die from your old life and reincarnate anew into a new one. in the same life, not talking about past lives here, same life/different profession/wild calling. so, after that, i left my job at Cracker Barrel and became a was my Cracker Barrel Breakthrough, otherwise known as my Cracker Barrel Croak...

4. what was the last bad meal you ate? why was it so awful? Cracker Barrel but let's not go there. it was a McDonald's plain hamburger. it seemed alright in my stomach but i came home to that Wendy's commercial about how McDonald's has always been flash-frozen from the start. now that i had thought about it, i had sensed an icicle in my McMeat which i used as a toothpick. i marched my skinny ass all the way onto the McDonald's parquet roof and asked to see the manager. the manager gave me a flash dance in the bathroom and all was well.

5. when was your last bad sexual encounter? why was it so awful? i'd say McDonald's but let's not dredge that back up again. i've been pretty lucky in my life, when you're a monk the ladies all want to be with you and the fellas all want to be you. but you have a nice built-in excuse and you just walk on by in your beret on top of your hood and your shaded eyeglasses from the '70s.

bonus: tell us something random:

where do you come down on the whole Coming to America thing? in this tribalist America we live in now we have to choose a side whether we want to or not, it's in our contract. Art Buchwald or Eddie Murphy? me? personally? it doesn't matter, it's a fine film. even John Landis who saw Murphy transform into Mr. Hyde on set and called him bacon said at the afterparty after all the pool-cleaning strife, he could still acknowledge that Eddie delivered a fine film performance. in the end, the squabbling fades, the threats hope there were none temper, and the art is what immortals.

besides, all that matters is that Eddie's progeny are members of the Spice Royal House, which is what the Zamundan government was based on.