Friday, November 30, 2018



* i know i know, tech and cars

* Chris Hardwick: i'm trying not to blame my name for my troubles. but it's hard. see? sorry.
Dick's: don't blame us. we offer sports equipment mostly for boys. what did you expect?

* Croce: that band stole my song! i can travel time you know. i'm coming to get you!......dammit my bottle broke when i was playing 99 Bottles on the hull of a pirate ship!

* that baby chair is not good for serving food…

* remember the '70s?: the basement was used to do laundry. caves were still in nature. the washer and dryer were still separate but equal, they only made circular glass for that one item, you could see your dirty clothes spinning in bubbles and it was like cheap therapy, saved on drugs. the arcade was in the laundromat, that's where the idea for quarters came from. inchworms after rain were set free, not stepped on.

* mom and dad: remember our faces. we're gonna be wearing wigs.

* sister: dad, why does everyone in the Seventies wear rainbow-sleeved yellow sweaters?
dad: two words: Jim Croce.
sister: mom, please, no more watermelon in my lunchbox. the kids are starting to make fun of me.

* sister: dad, the kids are starting to make fun of me at school! why can't i play REAL tennis?! you got this table-tennis set at the board-games section of Toys R Us!
dad: only rich people play tennis, dear, we're not rich people. i run an arcade in the afternoon.

* dad: now honey, i want you to take this weird small racquet made of many bubbles and smash your brother's face in. like you're hitting a real tennis serve. don't worry, your brother is wearing glasses.

* brother: felt?
sister: not yet...……….oh you mean the court...

* tv down in the basement with stacks of ATARI cartridges never turned on in favor of ping pong. laundry basket for ping-pong balls only.

* mom: honey, where did you win all these trophies?
dad: the arcade. video-game sports.
mom: one day that really will be a profession. but not today, me and my hair are stuck in the '80s. my mother wanted me to marry an athlete…

* sister: dad, what do you think?
dad: blue paint, bold choice. Bison? are you hunting behind my back again, missy!?
sister: no that's just our sports team at school.
dad: Alexis For President, nice. who the fuck is Alexis!?
sister: your stupidity made me spill the blue paint all over the goddam table-tennis table it's ruined!!!
dad: one day all the real tennis courts won't be green , they'll be blue...

* sister: how'd you win? i'm smarter and taller than you.
brother: i'm shorter yet stronger than you. i know, it's not fair.
sister: at least i still got my Harlem Globetrotters basketball and you got your roller skates...we're a progressive family.
brother: watch: table tennis was so good to me i grew instantly into the body of a college student!
sister: how'd you get the money for college?
brother: i joined a frat.
sister: there are no frats for girls.

* sister: wait, what is this? the low-humming blue light? the red cups? but this is still the basement.
brother: yeah there were no table-tennis scholarships in the '90s and dad retrofitted the basement to become my "man cave" and we pretend i'm in college and this is a hostel party.
sister: wow. they even hung STATE flags and everything, this is one big snowjob.
brother: hopefully later tonight. we couldn't afford to wash our togas.

* brother: how are you getting by life?
sister: i won a rollerblading scholarship to a junior college. i invented the sport by retrofitting your roller skates. became a mogul. they wanted me to be a machinist and marry up to the ATARI guy but i blazed my own trail. it wasn't dorky for girls to rollerblade in the '90s, it was cool.

* sister: how are you getting by life?
brother: completed college by suing that dude that broke the table-tennis net.
dad: son, here is your brown cardboard box. get used to it, you will be fired many times. now forget what you've learnt on tv, all you need for college is two bigass giant gallon-bottles of both ketchup and mustard and TONS of socks.

* dad: let's see, ORNAMENTS. is it Christmas already again, dear?
mom: yep, i can tell by that cheap plastic surgery on your face and bad gray dyejob on your head.
dad: sigh. that WEDDING box, never got to use it...
mom: for the tree ornaments this year, dear, just use your ben wa balls.

* brother: hey sis, want a game? WHOA what happened to you!? why are you Hispanic now?
sister: game? LIFE is a game. look, i can't tell you where i live, work, teach, and audit, but let's just say my name is Suri Cruise now. and this is my son Little Tom Cruise. he's wearing the snow sweater of course.

* sister: this is perfect cheap therapy. i'm gonna beat you the fuck down, brother. get out all my aggression and disappointment about the way my life went on you!
brother: that's okay. that's what brothers are for. this is how love was shown to us by mom and dad, you're only a mirror. as you can see, i never left this basement. and we root for the Jacksonville Jaguars. we don't get out much.
dad: that white wig looks so ugly and fake on you.
mom: fuck you, dear.
dad: fam, for Christmas this year i got us the table-tennis court fixed!
brother: *checking his phone* no buyers yet cos it's lost all its nostalgic value.
Napoleon Dynamite: sentimental value: one million dollars in elongated coins. actual intrinsic value: fitty cent.


happy weekend, my babies. don't you want to be a fly on the palatial wall of Nick and Priyanka's wedding this weekend? or at least an inchworm? watch, eventually that palace will overtake the Taj Mahal as the greatest constructed symbol of love. it will be the only thing up to code when The Big One hits. Priyanka Chopra, not Deepak Chopra, made me believe again......i took a dip in the Ganges, opened my third eye which was red from the chlorine of the spirit---it hurts to heal---and i have never bathed since.

Wednesday, November 28, 2018


Stan Lee: *spiritedly* please, son, no more swear words, my grandfatherly ears haven't the wax nor hair enough to take it on the tender skin.

Keya's eyelids are holding too much salty water and about to break but he helps the old codger up by the reinforced leather elbowpads of Stan's maroon smoking jacket. Stan blows a kiss in his general direction imitating a cigar which Stan never smoked. Keya fixes the affixed paper rose on Stan's laminated lapel.

Stan: cry, son, cry. let it all out. there is nothing more beautiful and more human than crying. what a wonder crying is! i mean you just start turning red and bustin' out with fucking water dripping from your eyeholes and noseholes, it's a bit alien! let that dam break, we all return to cradles and boughs.

Keya: thank you for the second, well third, chance, sir.

Dirg builds up his potential energy by swinging his forearm in a circle till it becomes an invisible Flash and just plants his dress-shoed foot on one of Stan's many carpets and just WALLOPS THE FUCK out of Keya's face, smashing it into billions of pieces of wet clay and tooths. the poor dude goes flying out the window with a crashing glassing sound even though there is no window on the high arched rectangle. he tries to hang on and shoot something from his cut wrists but they aren't developed yet and Keya can only shoot spit on the way down to his doom. landing in a trash bin which converts anything to a dry recycling product cube and tranforms like Bumblebee into a black rolling cart with 4x4 tires that tho black is still Autobot and gets transferred to the nearest recycling plant in the center of the sea on a conveyor belt in the vast Asian sea.

Dirg: see i don't trust recycling, it all has to go through China. never liked the name Autobot, auto implies automatic responses, like it's communistic, without thinking for oneself.

Stan: what the fuck, son. that nice boy was just about to tell me how he had taken care of me all these years…

Dirg: it was a gaslight, sir. he was just using you to further his career. to sell his script.

Stan: he kept telling me not to trust the woman...

Dirg: women are good at being nurses in porn but not in real life. and especially not YOUR nurses. those were obvious set-ups and clearly certain scams. and honeypots. and just plain honeys. i wonder how those women feel about what they did to you now? so close. I am your Full-Time Boy now! count on me for anything. ask me anything, not in the reddit way, in the way that i shall serve your every need.

Stan: every? i'm so old i don't care anymore. faces change but my place remains the same.

Dirg: Keya was feeding you drugs in your tea to keep you down. so he could have a hold on you till you'd owe him your debt and your death. you'd have to agree to sign on the dotted line before your eyes went dotty like a thought balloon. but not even deliberate drugging could keep down the spirit of your Force and your general cheery attitude about people. you trust too much, so that is why i know you can trust me on this.

Stan: maybe i'm being selfish...yeah has to...i'm just a selfish dottery old man who has been an old man even when i was young...always with the simple view on life...i'm never satisfied despite everything...i've been lucky, so lucky, too lucky...but...well...will you help an old man fulfill his final fantasy?

Dirg: *making weird hand gestures* i'd do anything fo' you, pops. i mean pop. fo sho. even give up my life. as a nerd. you're my father. thank you, uh does this mean i can clear all the other applications off the glowing green screen of your old-skool computer?

Stan: who's there? other people applied?

Dirg: just Bill Maher…they cancelled his show again...

Eye Luggage: hello everypony! i hope you slept non-drug-induced well. this long holiday weekend. Thanksgiving is the worst, right? you're forced to cramp in and fit in like sardines with these strangers you've never met in your life! these strangers called family! you have nothing in common with these people the DNA tests must be wrong! i mean what are you supposed to say to them? of course your life sucks and there are no updates! your carefully-constructed cartoon schedule is suddenly upended in favor of some strange communal meal that starts at 3PM, no other meal will ever start at 3PM again! even anime wolves have the courtesy to eat the anime foxes on time! and in some cases some of my poor brothers and sisters and thirds listeners have sardines instead of turkey! no thirds nor seconds!

Laertus: romaine calm and carrot on. *he eats a carrot like Bugs Bunny* i've entered the chat. on the food front.

Eye Luggage: i trust all of my followers out there got a good dose of my livestream during the ENTIRE Thanksgiving weekend to give you a little bit of me to keep you warm like a glowing flatscreen. little bit of home, your e-home. a little excuse bathroom break you know, to stay plugged in to your real family during those awkward pauses and trying times. when you're trying to throw up.

Dirg: yeah what was that? my imagination ran the gamut of rampant tryna come up with it. it was you and your cute face and cute freckles popping out of a wedge of your huge blue fuzzy weighted blanket. but the viewing screen was a wedge, too, it was just this little sliver of lifecasting livestream that barely covered a column vertical. and every so often around noon and lunch and 45-minute intervals you'd smile and giggle and moan and an oddly-shaped hammerstick would rise the blanket like a teepee and go back down and you'd gasp with your eyes closed.

Eye Luggage: oh that was my Harley hammer under there. but it's not what you think. that blanket was covered in lice. had to poop under there.

Dirg: are you sure that wasn't your elbow-padded elbow that looked like it was armor-crested by a valkyrie?

Eye Luggage: today we have very special guests, in an effort to draw more viewers to my totals...

Dirg: you mean black voters. the urban collection. the UPN conglomerate cohort. and some woke WB whiteys in tightie-whities. to boost your sagging ratings with falsies.

Eye Luggage: show will feature those with black features. my soul sistas! i'm so excited, finally my webber is cool! we've even...yes as you can see here. hear's being rolled out right now like a wedge of cheese, thanks Jerome...

Jerome Corsi: part of my labor...

Eye Luggage: the famous and infamous Red Table all those cool black chicks gab on with their famous Hollywood friends on tv on bout the lesbian skinny REAL real talk when it comes to love and family and marriage. i can't get enough of this shit, it's the hot shit, and it's what keeps my troubled fragmented millennial mind wired to some good old-fashioned ancient spiritual wisdom from my Nubian princesses straight from the Homeland Hinterland Herself, Africa!

Dirg: this is hot shit! come on, you have Will Smith's wife here. she's not even anything spiritual, she's a Scientologist, that was the first cult in Medieval times, you know alchemy? anime, anyone? they even admit out loud that they're the Proud Illuminati. though i will say their headquarters are very filmic, bigass cracklin' neon letters to the sign with a S and a Y for psi on top of the Marriott Hotel where they filmed all the '30s movies. what happened to that dude's wife? Leah Remini wants to play her in the tv-movie.

Eye: hello, Jada. excuse the mess in the studio, just move the books from the background, Jerome, like you had to do with your show. make sure the red table fits in and replaces our old newsdesk. that's it. looks great up in here. how have you been? how's Will in his slim-fit pants? and your will? and the kids?

Dirg: the kids are ruining Pokémon.

Eye: your show is the best, so fresh and honest and unblinking, you get down to the nittygritty about life, you even talk about black depression, and you don't let Will off the hook at a wedding!

Jada: spit fire ho, welcome. i'm praying for you, EL. just feel it's time to talk. talk prevents wars, within families, which lead to wars. and misunderstandings. oh those motherfucking misunderstandings, they can last a lifetime.

Dirg: everyone and everything is misunderstood. but each side is too proud to admit it. your auditing is cool, unlike the stupid IRS.

Jada: that's why i'm brutally honest with my kids at the table, no peas but graphic depictions of me and Will's sex positions. i want them to learn about life, how it really be. we talk about my movie career and how i had better green lyrics than most California rappers but was not given my chance to shine on tape and how 2Pac was better in bed as a Hologram.

Dirg: speaking of hot shit, damn girl, you my chocolate sister! you hot fudge! what is your name, sweeties? you look like those bus-tour college students in Alabama with long skirts and even longer books who stopped giving a shit in the '60s. with butterflies in your hair and nets over your eyes in the Deep South.

Aisha Moodie-Mills: don't talk to me, i'm moody. i am wise beyond my years which i will not divulge my age and i make many cogent points but my smile is shy and i do it in a quiet coy catlike voice.

Dirg: break rye bread. i know, that's what makes yous sexy!!! you're black goth! your husband is a lucky man, does he have an instagram? i can get into your bed okay i can get into this show now, for manufacturing jobs! *Dirg raises the black-power fist* who else you got here guesting? Robin Roberts with the name that rolls off the tongue in a nest, with balls the size of robins-eggs, you are brave and ballsy and inspired me to truth, say what you said to that fake republican again, it was hilarious!

Robin: Omarosa legally changed her name at the courthouse to Felicia cos she wanted the rights and the royalties so she could be royalty to get paid on B.E.T. everytime that name appeared on a tv line. i talked her out of it cos Omarosa is such a distinguishing beautiful African princess native name. she's royally comed around.

Eye: and we welcome Mia Love, who got no love from the President. see, we're bothsidesism here, too. all that matters is that you're cool, so what happened with your race, Mia?

Mia: my political race, right?

Dirg: it was right. but you aren't appreciating the President's calculus. he sees that one thing about you and runs with it, regardless of party or named party. he's a maverick thinker. btw i know i say this to every woman i meet and encounter, but with your name you really should go into porn. or at least women's wrestling, which is a separate thing from men's wrestling, one is fake.

Eye: oh, here we go again, i can't block him for security reasons. the President has entered the chat. Mia Love has left the chat.

Bump: leftist. okay folks, country, i did it, i dared and you can eat romaine lettuce again like a man. i put out the fires myself, i went to each coast, the top and bottom of California…

Eye: you ruined all of our Thanksgivings!!! when it finally rains it rains on Thanksgiving?! come on! and then it rains again a second time on Black Friday!? that can't be a coincidence.

Bump: it's not good to buy too may things, that leads to consumerism and a bad economy. besides, the only water which matters came out of my penis, i watered down all the lettuce on the central coast and purified the romaine with my magic yellow pee. i made sure to save this precious water for that instead of the fires. and then i took a joint-shit with Adam Schiff into the soil ground of the largest lettuce farm in the world in the largest doublewide outhouse in the world which helped heal the rows more. see? bipartisanship. i shaked each farmer's hand afterwards.

Mueller: hi. hi, guys. what are you doing to me, guys?

Corsi: this is for sending those Mexican actors to the border of my courthouse location at my trial-set date to razz on me like i was a comedian or something. Honduran hecklers. they interviewed some dirty kid named Tres Leches holding up a sign saying Coming To America, You Old Fuddy-Duddy! i took it to mean he thought i was a Neil Diamond fan.

Mueller: those were some classic NYC signs.

Corsi: i'm a coarse negotiator. and a shrewd liar. anyone can write a book, just rub off the section. hi hi! there are no standards to publishing anymore, the printing press was a miracle but it's since lost its keys. it's called self-publishing, bitch! it's good that you thugs picked me up, it's good for my image and my listeners to have that Kenyan vase you broke over my head in anger for the back-out.

Mueller: i should have known better. never call to the carpet of my office a self-incriminating and lazy witness who has his own radio show, he's just gonna go back to that damn radio show and blab his fat gut and spill the beans he knows are Mexican and shouldn't spill cos they'll jump at ya. does a sealed indictment mean nothing to you? you're not supposed to talk about it, talkie! learn from my weird mouth! so much time, so many still hours, the case was airtight till you let the air outta the thought balloon! this ain't the latest sportsball game score, airhead, puck you! i burned your book at a university, we had an office party to relieve all the shouting tension.

Eye: okay, friends, that's it, make sure to take your rolled-up brown headband in your totebags by your waxed legs i left for you as gifts, not a Judge Judy loan. don't worry, there's a blacklight in there but no blackfishing line. ugh, those instagram influencers, amirite? all night long, is it lunch already?

Dirg: *his hands clasped in prayer and bowing with eyes shut* meet me in the Panther's Cage after the aftershow, my Dora Milaje.

Laertus: it's like Dennis Perkins from AV Club being called out by that latest Simpsons episode about tv-recappers.

Dirg: that was classic and brutal. his headline read The Simpsons Made Me Kill Myself. his review wasn't at all about the episode or if the drama was earned, but a kind of note to his doctor. he really reevaluated his whole life after that.

Laertus: i hear he's on the Spongebob beat now. his first assignment was the obituary for Stephen Hillenburg.

Dirg: Hillenburg, Hillenburg, sounds Jewish…

Laertus: no, Hillenburger, get it? died on the hill. of his real passion. that whole revolutionary cartoon was sneakily teaching us about marine biology.

Dirg: and sponges, guys don't know about that stuff. when he was showrunner Spongebob was adult swim. after he left, it became Nickelodeon.

Laertus: speaking of Nickelodoen, Amanda Bynes…

Dirg: wow, a Bynes sighting! a non-fat Bynes sighting! hey you having your dinner now?

Laertus: yup. my breakfast. drunk noodles. Thai-style. hear my slurping sound through the large mic?

Dirg: wish i hadn't, killed the mood. i was thinking of Amanda in her glorious prime.

Laertus: give the girl credit, she didn't blame twitter for her problems. and she is a veritable schizophrenic success story! i mean she actually overcame her mental illness instead of drowning to it to her dank detriment, coughing up cash and pearls of cum and coke instead of wisdom. parents, not pills, is the answer, they have psychiatric hold and influence over her. now she's ready to act right. she had a thing like Britney with the shaved head and a wafflehouse but it was less-publicized, more Mueller. it's never too early or late to throw it all away.

Dirg: i want to see her in binds. gotta hand it to Dan Snyder, somehow his toesucking survived the MeToo era. but what is she gonna return to? All That for adults? yeah, that's the ticket, have the show still be on Nickelodeon but the cast is all adults, that's the only way for Nickelodeon to out-Nickelodeon itself.

at the Tiger Woods/Phil Mickelson livestream, the only thing being filmed is not the golf tournament but the two blokes behind a desk parsing out and separating and dividing and divvying up and halving all the prizemoney in clear glass Deal or No Deal suitcases. the audience at home and crowd there live are less than enthusiastic and generally disappointed.

Tiger: thanks, Chuck, now my swing looks like yours, you couldn't keep talking the whole time and ruined my concentration during the tournament.

Charles Barkley: no problem, *belly laughing* i'm just turrible like that. *hits cigar on course*

Phil: *waves his hand to his face* oh you are so terrible, Chuck!

Tiger: i'm dead serious, can't you tell from my expression? i can't drive anymore, either. like a car. i picked a nice restaurant for us to post-celebrate, not that KFC on the corner who are just tryna sell out on the backs of our people. my back hurts. want some real waffles?

Bump: hello, i just came from lunch there at KFC...

and then the rest of the broadcast stream is just Phil trying to get Tiger to get him a date undercover with one of the Perkins waitresses. Phil has been lonely ever since his caddie Bones turned to bones. Phil still wants to be the family man taking pills on tv like Tiger, he wants it both ways. adding those pills on tv ads. Phil orders with his left hand.

Phil: waffle waitresses are the best…

Tiger introduces Phil to Dennis Perkins…

Gladyce: have you tried these Lindt chocolates, dear? they are so luxurious! cream in a bowl!

Doryce: oh my!

Gladyce: can't say that anymore...

Doryce: you are right! they are balls! good balls. remember when fudge was a thing? to eat and to play with in the bedroom? what mien! they taste like a mean match of European double-dutch rope! not double-dutch chocolate. the old country. when the name has a dt, you're in decadent territory!

Gladyce: i love all their wrappings and trappings, so festive! and they look like little mini Death Stars. they have the small indentation circle at the top of them and everything.

Doryce: cos chocolate is the enemy. death by chocolate. i have a middle waist that needs to be rounded up and go round and round like that Death Star laser. i need to do more exercise, more round and round on the double-dutch to swing my ass into dough ropes. speaking of the old country, wanna bagel?

Gladyce: are you asking me you want to eat out? on a date?

Doryce: truffles are Nature's way of telling us to have our bacon and eat it too.

Madame Pons: i'll be right with you, sir. have a seat in my backroom barbershop chair, sit back, it pumps up and down with air! like Air Jordans! you're my best customer, so best you're my client! i've been working hard for you!

Dirg: are you sure no one can see me here?

Pons: don't worry, everyone's in class it's the middle of the day in broad daylight! want a refill on those three there Erlenmeyer flasks you brought into my lush shop impressively holding all three with just your one hand?

Dirg: please. i love those long necks. do it under the counter, the physical counter so no one sees. you got that red spray that detects cameras in a room? if only Erin Andrews had had that spray she'd still be poor. and when you're done potioning please drop three drops of purple food-coloring into it, Purple-Drank scent. and can you trade the flasks with those Medieval glass bottles with the cork stopper that look like a Smurfs vinegar set? the ones Gargamel always used, the fatbottoms.

Pons: i just got the green Gargamel bottles. you stole these flasks from the college chem lab didn't you.

Dirg: project. pop-culture project. i saw the vaunted pilot of Breaking Bad's good but would not watch the second episode...did you know drugs make you thirsty for anal?

Pons: yeah they dry out your mouth. now please, sir, gently insert the egg into your dickhole. it should feel like a prick at first, but then you'll expand like female thought.

Dirg: oh. *breathes heavy and tries to look up and down* oooooh. ahhhhhh. agh. don't tell nobody but this is the best orgasm i never had!

Monday, November 26, 2018


it was always so special cos you never knew what you were gonna get: sometimes the Garfield would be color, sometimes black-and-white. and Drabble, never forget the brilliance of Drabble. Drabble got this tennishead into golf. and made me take a second look at Jon Arbuckle. as a design for a man, the nose and everything, big head caused by having his beltbuckle cinched-up too tight. now when i talk to kids they don't even know what paper is. i have no kids of my own, so i bother my weird uncle's kids on the phone. they each live out-of-state. and out-of-country. and out-of-world.

these are gonna be awkward to answer...but i'll do 'em anyway. i don't do long...

1. if married, had you slept with any of your wedding guests not including the person you married? how many of the guests had you slept with?

weddings are always tricky affairs, wink wink. you gotta bring together and handle with hot glue two differing groups of people, folk on either side of the love spectrum, not willing to give the other side a chance, thinking their guy or gal is too good for you, without it turning into warring factions and devolving into a nuclear holocaust. at least for those 30 minutes of the ceremony.

i remember my wedding...i think. it rained the whole time, right? some thought that lucky, others unlucky. Alanis wrote a song about it.

i remember my weird uncle slept with my newly-minted wife's sister...that's when the weird moniker got attached to him the first time. i think i married the wrong woman, yeah the priest asked for the mother of the bride to come up to the ivory steps and say a few words and i thought this was the ceremony starting and i wed the mother instead. i was really out of it that day. good news is the in-law visits are never awkward.

2. weddings again---ever gone to a wedding and hooked up with another guest? yes. but it's okay cos it was a wedding i crashed. that was back in those days when i drank a lot of champagne for some reason and still thought Ashton Kutcher was cool.

3. do you get along with your partner's family? why or why not? Yoshi's family have been nothing but kind to me, i love them as my own. it's more than tradition with them, it's trust. they let me sit on their egg and everything. from now on, all music commemorating any of our family functions will be honored with Utada and enka. Utada, i didn't know till now, god bless you.

4. who in  your romantic relationship is usually the first to apologize after a fight? oh wait...……...long-distance doesn't necessarily mean long-term relationship...…i was wrong about this and i am sorry, i got confused…….I LOVE YOU, BABY!!!, she knows who she is...

5. when was the last time you dreamed about your partner? was it a good dream or a nightmare? i'm dreaming of him right now...………….after many centuries of meditation i've mastered the secret technique of never having to sleep again...……….you see i simply LUCID DREAM FOREVER....i'm constantly in that state------it's like a spiritual enlightenment in which i never close my eyes...….

my partner is Freddy Krueger so it's both.

bonus: do you think that fate or destiny play a role in love? no. it's all very scientific, cos the universe and the stars are scientific. the folk in the Middle Ages had the right idea, and they were forethinkers when it came to science. those weren't witch-dunkers you saw by those boggy ponds by the thatched roofs, those were the first prototypes for seesaws. you know bobbing for apples? well they'd take the apple, skin it alive, and leave the skin---the red apple rind. you place the long curly apple rind over the back of the woman's bare shoulderblade. it was hard to see cos all women back then had long hair. the natural apple string will point to the lucky bloke the maiden is to marry. backwards, cos all the villagers are staring at her butt. even Alan Cumming.


Friday, November 23, 2018



* i'm doing this instead of experiencing Macy's Black Friday at a Macy's. Black Friday was rained out today...i live in California.

* the Macy's's in the commercials are always nicer than the Macy's's in real life. not to throw shade or nothing but the trees at my Macy's are brown...but they still provide shade just the same's okay.

* woman: i look like Monica Lewinsky. isn't it TIME? i mean, come on, let's all move on, this is the one thing from the '90s we DON'T want back, we all watched the A&E special. let's get this look back to Parisian-chic where it belongs. have you noticed no one ever actually eats breakfast at Tiffany's? and btw, why do i spritz the perfume on my front wrist like this? when did that tradition start?
counter girl: suicide-prevention thing. late '70s, first sighted at a The Good Earth restaurant in Fresno. also where the first furry con happened. yeah, at the old Oakland A's stadium by that dude's farm's green creek, the first furry con wasn't filmed...

* man: my Spidey-sense is working overtime...i have my Spider-Man pajamas when i was a little kid still on under my Tommy John underwear and business sweater.

* woman sneaks in on him with snow in her mittens.
man: see one you like?
woman: what? how?
man: this dog is a Golden retriever.
woman: wait, how? like that's impossible for you to know. why'd you let the dog go?
man: he was telling me he really hated this job and was too young for this and to be tied down like the job and the leash...and just wanted to run on the beach before his puppy days ran out. i took no offense. see one you like?
woman: maybe that one.
man: sorry. this lot is not a lot. it's simply the forest, we're in the middle of a forest clearing and none of these trees are for sale. they're just here for us to see and enjoy. nature: don't mess with it like men do.
woman: this should have been a bigger snowball, like that one that Jets player threw at the fans.
man: why exactly do you still root for the Jets? at least my Giants are sometimes good. why are we together again?
woman: you had a cute butt, you reminded me of the Butt Fumble.
man: cute butt, that is so '90s. hey i'm a cool guy and all but i'm jus' sayin', most guys wouldn't like their ladies walking around and sneaking around and steppin' out with white stuff in the palm of their hands.

* man: you're back.
woman: how do you do that?
man: what's with the red bags?
woman: Macy's.
man: but why are there seven red bags? i was listening to music on my headphones.
woman: exactly. you are impossible!
man: they're Beats by Dre. they're Aaron Rodgers's favorite, so. yeah, they don't work. i didn't get into Cal like Aaron did so that forever makes me hate the two coasts.
woman: brah, how was he supposed to answer such a clown question?
man: folks, look at my pretty woman and not my eyes.
woman: as you can see, we got the tree anyway...illegal lumberjacking...

* woman: honey, what happened to all my perfume?
man: drank it. and melted the diamond glass bottle for spare parts and recycled arcade tokens.
woman: next time ask me. i don't like to be reminded of all the empty vessels in this house.
man: OMG this orange juice tastes like shit!!! it's all vinegary!!!

* counter girl: here, sir, like this?
man: i LOVE this smell, it smells like my wife's cooch. i mean couch. are you Asian?
counter girl: yes. but hot Asian so it's okay. i have green eyes.
man: i just don't want to get ripped off.
counter girl: i'm not the Car Fox. not all Asians are into furry anime tropes.
man: it's just that this smells awfully familiar like Blue-Flavored Otter Pop. do you perchance partake in the writing novelizations of Steve Martin? who's known as a book author?
counter girl: the guy with the arrow stuck through his head?
man: don't tell my wife about this...

* woman: how did you know this was my favorite perfume?
man: a woman's favorite perfume is always the most expensive one on the diamond glass shelf.
woman: that's sweet, a hug...…………… can let go of me now.
man: just one more sniff of the back of your neck...………..this isn't creepy, i'm blind.
woman: okay but it still is kinda shuddersome and unpleasant.


happy weekend, my babies. yeah, i'm with the Amazon strikers, imma just walk out on the third-busiest day of the business year. and go to a brick-and-mortar and buy my shit there. Small-Business Saturday, right? cwoissant. does anyone even do that, though? i mean you're either gonna shop at a small business or you're not the rest of your life, right? this entire whole holiday week is nuts. the Amazon workers ain't stupid, they're sophisticated, they watch high-brow sci-fi like the rest of us, they saw that Doctor Who epsidoe "Kerblam!" and want New York City to return to when it was cool in the '70s with the porn theatres and soda stains everywhere. can you believe that was the first Doctor Who episode with an exclamation point? <---question mark to exclaim my point

Wednesday, November 21, 2018


Mueller's pace is afoot but cautious, he keeps to the roof and hangs with his long fingers on the cornice like a monkey. Melania sticks her head out the Cream House window by turning it 180 degrees.

Melania: sup, bird?

Mueller: where's your husband?

Melania: out.

Mueller: that's for sure. but i'm on the way, out.

Melania: what's the delay? i mean you still need MORE time!!?

Mueller: hey it's Thanksgiving, man i mean ma'am! we need a break for all our hard underground silent work. i gave the troops the day off to spend with their families like Cratchit. we'll return rested and ready Monday with the sealed indictments.

Melania: i believe my husband rolled those up and lit them and he doesn't even smoke. he crumpled them up into a ball and let a seal balance it on its wet whiskery nose.

Mueller: don't be a turkey! THIS is the day for turkey burgers! and it affords me one more chance to up that poll when the public sees me feeding the homeless along Times Square where there is no tree to block me. i'll be there next to the New York Post office with my waders on and bigass wooden ladle in my mittened hand and the other mitten around my neck and no hat with a warm smile lookin' like John Kerry's brother. give Americans a taste of what could have been.

Melania: you know what they serve those poor souls? slop. with tree sap. like it's chicken wings but all the chicken has been stripped off so it's just bones. bones served with a tongs. imagine that Post headline.

Mueller: hey can i do one thing? let me try something.

Melania: knock yourself out. like Avenatti.

Mueller spider-walks the brick wall down to the window and gets in. he takes out a cigarette from his pencil pocket and lights it. the flame is a bright yellow, no hint of orange or red. he takes one puff and it disappears into the air, becoming a green gas instantly.

Melania: that's not enough light in here.

Mueller goes to reach for the light bulb sleeping at the corner of the famous desk. his long arms stretch and see around the corner of the ajar inner door. he rubber-plucks a funny-looking bald man from among the staff meeting and hits said bald head against many on the way out, the press pool looks like a stack of fallen crackers after.

Mueller: Uncle Fester! i knew i recognized you! that was you! we go way back, to the very formation of Transylvania!

Uncle Fester jumps in place.

Mueller places the light bulb squarely in Fester's festering mouth and screws it all the way in. it lights up! Mueller's eyes light up! Melania smiles cos there's light now.

Mueller: *smiling for the first time in a long time* ha.

President Bump is indeed away. in California. he surveys the land. his land. he is the master of all of it. he starts to fly aboard his rake but lowers before the Secret Service can see him. they spot too late anyway. he doesn't want to give away too many secrets just yet. all of the beds of burnt-out crispy leaves stay yellow despite so many wanting to go black.

Bump: yeah it's over now. i made the rain come. before the rains come. i made them fall with my finger, my middle finger, i solved the problem. can i go now?

Pence: stay a bit longer, until i get this selfie.

Bump: it's a cold world out there, we need the fires to come back to warm me up. my toes especially, they are filled with bone. Mike, how'd we get here?

Pence: by car.

Bump: exactly. with no regard for human life.

Pence: what?

Bump: i'm talking about LeBron James. why is the campfire at 90 percent contained? campfires are fun, they bring folk together, by tying their mouths shut with kinky gooey marshmallowy ropes.

Pence: that's Camp Fire, sir.

Bump: hey you tryna undermine my authority? that's why i hate authority. yeah, see, look over there. Miley Cyrus's house. that's what she gets for defying me.

Pence: she just wanted to talk to you, sir. to see if you could pick her brain on how Generation Beta thinks.

Bump: beta leaves a bad taste in my mouth, like that salad i ate last night in bed. she was in Kanye's good graces, right?, his orgy video. i should regulate that stuff. oh, i was thinking picking her up, different pick.

Bump instantly returns to the Cream House longtable through the lilac drape with one flip. "Mile" Mike Pence greets him in a white apron with the hood back and tuggable yellow apronstrings.

Pence: sir! when'd you get back!?

Bump: well it's Thanksgiving so i made sure to stay away from family. don't you know i'm a ninja? i ate that green burger from Burger King and it turned me into a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. i like it cos the shell hides my fatness.

Pence: but sir, i was getting ready to grill you up some green burgers of my own! Oprah owns OWN. with romaine lettuce inbetween the buns.

Bump: hey the Romans had it right! but you're the cooker now? where's Mooch?

Pence: who's that?

Bump: hey don't YOU go gaslight ME, okay, I'M the Master Gaslighter round here. the lighting's just fine in this room, okay?! what are you doing in front of my shoulders, Mike?

Mike: preparing is all in the cut wrists. muscular wrists. i'm cutting your salad into little pieces the way you like it. into shapes of stars.

Bump: as long as you include Michelle Wolf. wolf-shaped. that's all fake science, i am man enough to combat E Coli. my intestines will flush out the intruders and squeeze the life out of that cakey centipede till it becomes a shell of itself, like Eli. can you believe i once rooted for the Giants? even after they booed me which is a cheer in New York?

Mike: i like the NFL team from Mississippi myself.

Bump: this won't stop me from eating lettuce, i love salad, salad's all a fat man like me's got! salad sprinkled with salt. i mean i had some of that same romaine last night and i'm fine now. though i should probably sit down and poo some more just to be safe. admittedly i jump every time a burp comes up, i'm scared shitless to death that it's gonna be more. i can't be sick right now, i've got a lot to do! it should be fine, right? i mean how long will this moratorium on mud minerals go on? forever? indefinitely? so humans will stop eating salad forever? what are they gonna serve at all the Thanksgivings? just the plain white light-green lettuce?

Pence: iceberg lettuce, like found in your precious Big Macs, your McDonald's is safe.

Bump: the iceberg lettuces are not melting. shit now i'm paranoid. i don't know what to do, this is driving me crazy, this cuts into my very life and existence. what if i just drown out all the lettuce leaves with Russian dressing? i should be okay, right? my stomach's too big to fail.

Pence: here's something to distract your mind and palate, sir, which is really what America is all about. a plate! let's end with the appetizers. here's a nice grey Mexican Aztec-stone mortar full of chips.

Bump: ah, in commemoration of El Chapo. no more salsa for him.

Bump takes a crunchy bite of his lettuce burger, a dollop of a mixture of Caesar dressing and mayonnaise resting on the right side of his lip where his mustache should be. he reaches with his rubber arms all the way to the other end of the empty table to turn the small black-n-white tv over to the side of his direction so he can watch the game. he chomps down on yellow freedom fries as a chaser.

Bump: ah, this is the life, this is living, watching the greatest regular-season football game ever at the greatest spot ever, Azteca Stadium in Mexico City. as a sports spectacle it doesn't get any better than this, i love the NFL, and i love my native Mexico. *closes his eyes in prayer* home of the Catholic religion, the real Catholics. more poo, less vomit. in the stands and that's my motto tonight as i sleep.

downstairs in Stan Lee's mansion are the guest quarters, where a very special select few of Stan's menagerie are chosen to partake in this lavish lifestyle of comic-book learning and erudite education of animation and the animating factors of humanity. no animus here, all in a collegial setting at a college. PhD-in-pop-culture candidates, toy shills, lucky online entrepreneurs (as in they got lucky to become online entrepreneurs by some quirk in how youtube counts views), finicky freshmen, advanced sophomores, anyone looking for a leg or web up, financial-aid sob stories, and people willing to forget the stuff they see happening here in front of their eyes. for the greater good. to bring the community and by extension the country together again. Stan's Stans they are informally called---though Stan Lee himself hates that moniker, he doesn't understand it---and one of these is none other than Eye Luggage herself, she prepares as she always does for her weekly discussion webshow.

MEANWHILE just inches from here directly upstairs on the third storey is the gift shoppe, where one Laertus is roaming the four corners aimlessly ears occupied waiting for a pickup from his friend.

Laertus: it's weird that you can purchase a meal at the gift shoppe. and that the gift shoppe isn't on the ground floor it's on the same floor as the bedroom, isn't this a private residence?

Dirg: *on the phone* hang tight, buddy, i'm currently getting grilled but i'll get out of this jam as always.

Eye Luggage moves the heavy ball-and-chain microphone to her pert purple lips and spits on it to begin speaking.

Eye Luggage: whoa whoa did i plug it in? okay. let's get started, i'm hearing a hum. so, intial thoughts? oh, we got a call. this is my new old coiled telephone i got from my grandfather who's a veteran. you see that on cam? dusty-green like his torn uniform, he died in battle. drowned while eating salad. some say he became Aquaman that day. huh, the caller is saying...what? i can't read his type...

Dirg: *texting under a table* the troops are jerks. and EVERYONE's grandfather was a veteran, it's no big deal.

Eye Luggage: but mine was a vet and a vet. who is this? i recognize the pattern. it sounds like someone i want to forget so i'm trying real hard not to remember too well. which is not how the brain works, the more you try, the harder it is to forget. your opening statement?

Dirg: Tosin Cole is a shit actor.

Laertus: come on, man, even I heard that from here. and leave that poor girl alone.

Dirg: what are you wearing? i mean eating?

Laertus: you mean earring. i purchased the lettuce in the paper cone like my namesake. actually, e-celery sticks but they still maintain those small dark-green leaves of romaine on their tops.

Dirg: excellent. no, it's true, sorry Tosin, yous a tosser, it's not cos he's black, not about his last name, he's just whack at drama. it was an interesting concept but what a muddled message for the ending. i mean you had that poor girl Kira dying for nothing and no one gives a shit, not even Social Justice Warrior Princess Xena herself. why is it always the good ones who leave us?

Laertus: not nothing, she died for love, that is always something, we should all be so lucky.

Bump: yeah, see? sometimes you have to take the hit, one life must be lost to save the whole ball of wax, like Khashoggi. just gotta fuhgeddaboutit and move on, they're already dead, there's nothing more you can do for them. i gotta go, i'm starting to sweat strangely.

Eye Luggage: um, i guess we have to allow this line to stay open for SS emergencies but it just got weird here. oh good, the President left the chat. Resident Something i couldn't read it. okay, caller, i'm hanging up. no, not you.

Dirg pounds his fist on the nightstand by Stan Lee's bed. Stan's stand.

Dirg: Disney will not outlast Stan Lee! i say there ARE times when mass murder is justified! when you have a righteous cause, a crusade against technological evil, they will not replace us! the robots i mean.

Eye Luggage: so why does Joe Rogan get to philosophize about everything? you know? what made him the expert on EVERYTHING IN LIFE? it was bad enough when he was bad at analyzing the most disgusting sport men ever devised, and this is coming from a cock lover. the chicken fights i railed against on my previous blog for two years when i freelanced in Mexico City. but kickboxing is banana-republic stuff.

Dirg: hey, women kickbox, too.

Laertus: lesbian, bi, from Kansas, and Native American, she is the REAL American: my dry dream.

Dirg: i love my kickboxing Banana Republic longboard shorts, wear them often, i am from the streets, not when i'm walking down the street mind you i prefer there to Donald Duck and Winnie the Pooh it...

Eye Luggage: only if the women are hot. they only do it cos we have to flood the zone whenever you braindead men do anything, to keep it under control. civilization is always one penis away from totally unraveling. like how does Joe Rogan of all global Earth scholars on this planet slurp the keys to the kingdom, the reins, and can spit off on how to live your best life the meathead way or whatever? spit his "lit" shit on how sport transcends Transcendentalism. there's more to life than pop culture and getting your name on any of the various gawker sites you know, even the one on cars. how not to be offended by anything, even murder and rape and violence and blood? i know, everything's a joke, right? i guess only another bad comedian can understand a bad comedian. for fuck sake this guy used to get paid to force people to eat shit like infected romaine lettuce against their will.

Dirg: hey, as we are all hurting from currently, what is said on tv is fair. you're just jealous ol' Joe has a show than you.

Eye Luggage: it's not about numbers, it's never about numbers, it's about share. come on, girls, let me hear you, let's get those phones ringing, no more penis pontificators, eh? more princess pronouncestigators!

Dirg: let's get those phones ringing in your pantses!

some lights light up but it's unclear what that signifies.

Eye Luggage: well, dearie ones, another pass has come and i must retire. for the day for the day. i've got my partner beauty sleep to attend. think of me tonight as you sleep and the big blue sphere enters the orbit of your eye.

Dirg: speaking of passing and retiring, what is up with Durant?

Laertus: i know, right? he's breaking every pro-athlete rule. you NEVER engage with your audience, there are stans in those fans, that's troll city right there, i should know, i saw the keys.

Bump: hey Durant, want to come to my party?

Durant: pizza party again?

Bump: no, my pox party. you can die if you don't come to my party...

Dirg: yeah but the thing is, Kevin's alright. i mean he's fun, he actually talks to random fans online, the smart athlete is the boring athlete. we want to brawl with the best.

Eye Luggage: i think there's something we three can all agree on---and thanks for calling in today, you two callers---and that is the fact that Emma from Jeopardy! with the lilac lyrical elven-maiden voice is EVERYTHING.

Laertus: she's my number-one elf, girl, woman, and fantasy character from a fantasy book. my faerie of flowers. i mean was she BORN with that voice? i know good acting and that's good acting if it's acting. my heart swells that she must get teased mercilessly at private school but maintains that voice cos Odin-dammit she's smart and she's gonna get to that public school someday with the money she earns! *pounds fist on air*

Dirg: plays should be written about, TV-MOVIES should be made which feature her! she should never dress in a business suit again, only casual silks and tutus. it's finally happened, someone attending a con who doesn't need to cosplay, she need only paint her face to point to her mouth to showcase it. she's the Sia of Dragonforce! she should be the bride prize for every con where they do that stupid dating-game panel for losers henceforth, her voice shuld be utilized in every video game ever, all the CS Lewis ones, maybe the Tolkien ones. she should deliberately get lost in the forest and let the pale ones out of their cages so they can capture her at night if they ever find her. she should not have to hold her staff. if they make fun of her, we should be given permission to start a race war, elves vs. humans i mean. to protect the honor of the light lady.

Laertus: do NOT ruin her voice by letting her do ASMR. or Disney princesses. she should narrate Tetris, make that game more fun.

Eye Luggage: yes, absolutely, agree with every one of your points, i'm cosplaying as her at the next Anthro Con in Seattle. it's not a nerd thing, it's a nature thing. adieu. no aftershow tonight.

Laertus doubles over in pain and clenches his heaved waist.

Dirg: what's up, buddy bird? lovesick?

Laertus: *struggling* no...…………..just sick of YOU.....

Dirg: okay, brothers, i gotta go, i have a call on my other line, thanks for watching and waiting.

Dirg stands buttfaced across from Stan Lee and Keya Morgan who have waited patiently throughout. Keya taps his watchface.

Keya: The Master doesn't have all day, moron! ask him, sir, ask him!!! he's on the shit list!

Stan: wait, give the boy a chance. i'm all for chances. and seconds. so, are you registered at this school? i can only help you if we know you're for us. you don't want to meet my lawyers, they're real assholes. like getting a stomach virus from drinking.

Dirg: *red* well...not exactly...but i will resign.

Keya: see?

Dirg: no, re-sign, not resign, i will reenroll. cos it's you, Mr. Stan Lee, for the first time in my life i'll have a real pro. professor that is. i want to learn. again. i'm like a sponge under your mustache. to collect the bits.

Keya: don't talk to sir that way!

Stan: it's quite alright, i've heard worse. do you know what a catharsis is, young fella?

Dirg: depends.

Stan: i wear those. a catharsis---not a catheter---is what this is all about. at the end of the day and one's life, all we have is our character, our kindness. i'm a legend not for anything i drew but for my kindness. people won't remember the lines of a thought bubble but they will remember how you made them feel when they waited in line in the rain for an autographed web sticker to place on their skateboard bed. missing their own bed for it. you have to draw what's in your heart, son, the scary bits you keep hidden and want no one to find out about, because only then will you be drawing truth. i had dreams, too, but they all got dashed before they could materialize again in the transporter, that was not the dust i was expecting. but i still have hope, you must always have hope. no matter how old you get.

Dirg: come on, Stan, why must only the few get a charmed life? why can't the farmers, too? enough with all the socialist shills and crackpot communists who infect the Marvel boards with their DC values. we need to get back to real values, rural values, you know, morals and stuff. true uninhibited art which proudly expresses the manly point of view. that's what's really in our hearts: freedom. us real Americans, as all-American as the red white and blue of the Spider-Suit. guns, naked women, beer, and kicking.

Keya: *eye-roll* naked women? come on.

Dirg: hey i saw your stuff, too. that Marilyn Monroe erotica? those illustrations of yours in your signature lead where Marilyn is laying naked parallel to a supine prone Bigfoot on a moonlit pond's edge?

Keya: *flustered* that's for something else. sir, you said after five years of service, which is more than undergrad, i could finally show you my stuff. not my stiff. i held to that promise, my end. of the bargain, not my butt. it's a play i've been working on since i became a collector. you know the one: the one which posits that Marilyn Monroe was actually the greatest actor of her generation, how she acted the part of Lincoln's assassin, everyone else in the world thought she was John Wilkes Booth when they saw that man before them. see, no subpar actor would be that concise and heartfelt with words in writing their regret letter like Booth did. when you realize you can't ever go back, that is truly a scary thing. witnesses still don't know if Booth was killed in self-defense or cold-blooded murder. they don't know if Marilyn Monroe killed herself or was murdered. see the connection?

Stan: yes, i know, you've been telling me. all these years. but i'm still confused. cos why would Marilyn do this? and you say this story does NOT use a time machine?

Keya: no, it's just good acting on Marilyn's part. this is not a séance, this is a documentary on The History Channel. see, poor Marilyn just didn't have the strength to go on with her glamorous career and stylish bombshell life and all that sex when she got back, cos she had been shot by Booth's killer. all that ragdoll sex can be tiring on a wounded body. so she lay on her bed and looked up at her stucco ceiling and perished.

Keya leaves just to the shadow wedge outside Stan's door. Keya turns his back and slides in two illicit pill capsules from his front shirtpocket---gained on the hard campus streets---into two blue teacups of tea which he rightawayingly serves to Stan on a tray which rightly turns gold. just before, Keya takes a sip of the tea himself.

Keya: ta.

Stan swipes at the tea and the two cups invert and spill their contents on the brown rug. tray of contents, the menu. Keya gets on all fours and like a dog frenetically laps up all the missing tea before it blends into the many carpets on the floor.

Stan: no, not tea! who do you think i am?

Dirg: yeah he ain't British!

Keya: *bowing his head* no, i merely thought you sophisticated, sir.

Stan: i'm not old that i have to drink tea!

Dirg stays in his chair looking on Keya's actions quite spectacularly, silently, Dirg takes copious notes on his pad. or perhaps he's started a new sketch on that pad.

the crones have landed in Micronesia cos that was the only place Gladyce could find with her glasses.

Doryce: so this has been a horrible outbreak. a perilous punitive pandemic. don't you think we oughta fix it? after all i think we caused it.

Gladyce: sure. that sounds right. just lemme do something first. *fingering in the air* fog dogs and dog toes, toil and trouble...

Gladyce removes ALL of the green chip clips which had been holding together ALL of the hundreds of bags of dog treats they had been clipping and storing on their clipper. all the dogs from all around the world come swimming in to lap up the last wave of treats. a least a million treats are soaked in the ocean, some float.

Gladyce: see what happens when you have space? when you can see? we have ALL of these clips free now. we kept buying more clips at the Store for no reason. now we'll make man and beast happy.

Doryce: and machine.

Gladyce plants all the green chip clips in a soft spot of soil on one of the islands. fresh, bacteria-free sprouts sprout up, a different shade of green---more tea-green, Dartmouth green, Pakistan green--- which she distributes all over the globe with her finger cos it's hard for cruise ships to get to Micronesia.

Madame Pons holds the coiled coil of her phone around her neck in desperate desolation.

Madame Pons: i just don't know anymore. this hurts, imma hold the coil in my palm with the receiver instead, anyway, i can't believe i'm doing this. but for the first time in my life i'm canceling Thanksgiving with my sister. i am swamped with work and the swamp of my own vagina, well with figuring this egg out anyway. and i think subsconsciously i've lost touch with my sister for awhile now. either we're not connecting or i'm not seeing. as much in touch. i don't feel wanted anymore, i feel needed. this is such a shame, but a consequence of growing is sometimes the apart part. i feel my sister is taking advantage of my graces. or maybe i'm jealous of being alone for the holidays. but I was the one who helped her find love! that dude was mine first! i gotta work.

she tearfully moves the retro phone handset to her lips. and speaks into it. she dials on the rotary with her finger. it's unclear if she's using her green Ericofon to call her sister or to cancel the reservation. but the reception is clear.

Monday, November 19, 2018


riddles make the world go round. and love. and the triumph of the human spirit. to stay locked up inside makeup.

1. who in your life do you wish you'd met sooner? Juli and Cheeky and O Captain My Captain Baranick and My Mother Fucked Mick Jagger and all my old HNT friends, all my blogger buddies who sustained me through the decade and gave me purpose again, after twenty years of doldrums and detergent. i'm not sure blogging saved my life, but writing certainly did.

2. who in your life do you wish you'd never met? why? me. cos it'd be easier that way. but life is hard, that's the point. otherwise, where's the fun in it? i mean you have to earn going to Heaven, right? thing is, it's harder to earn yourself a place in Hell. cos Hell is more fun than Heaven.

there was that time i random-chance met Dick Cheney on the street. he was coming lumbering over the crooked street alone from a lecture at Berkeley in which there was so much security no one came. he held a large bar of soap in his mouth like a dog like the picture above...i guess that was part of his act, he was a props comic like Carrot Top when he got up on that lecture stage. i told him he looked like Wilford Brimley without the mustache. he told me state secrets. like where all the missiles were buried, he had missile props in his pants pockets. how he cultivated MBS in a Pentagon petri dish when he was De-Facto President for the past 20 years. MBS of course is the secret government-tested-in-a-lab new flavor of Ben& Jerry's ice cream: Molten Berry Sizzurp.

3. what personality trait or description that others attribute to you do you hate? that i'm crazy. don't you guys watch Killing Eve? never tell the psychopath she's a psychopath, psychopaths really don't like to hear that about themselves. psychopaths want you to tell them they're cool guys who wear nice fuzzy sweaters even when it's not the holidays.

4. if you have children, do you want them to be just like you? no, that's why i have none. no but seriously, i want some. now, my biological clock is ticking. what legacy will i leave behind? a blog? a fucking blog? that's it? that's what life is: a blog?

5. what have you given up but yet used to love? Froot Loops. can't afford the expensive brand name anymore, so i reach for that generic-brand beige box on the bottom shelf with the nondescript kangaroo on the cover, Sugar Os.

thought experiment: if you're crazy, will you like Froot Loops better? i used to love sex...till i found out there is no sex without now i love love...and don't think about sex no more...i think about love...

bonus: why do people say "heads up" when you should duck?

cos "heads-down" means something completely different. why does duck mean put your head down? duck should mean put your head up and fly away high in the sky like a duck. i will never think of a duck forevermore without thinking of Dick Cheney.

and you can't believe it but it's true: yes, THAT's Christian Fucking Bale as Dick Cheney! i know i know. that's the thing to do in Hollywood now for Oscar-bait: you literally transform yourself into a creature completely unrecognizable to any lagoon but Hefner's to snag that gold statue.

you must turn into Churchill if you're skinny, Freddie Mercury if you don't have long hair or a mustache or skinny white pants and you're a robot. what's next? Zayn from One Direction is gonna play Trump? he will. and he'll win the BAFTA for it, too.


Friday, November 16, 2018



* this is when the season suddenly turns and i wake up each morning at 5:30 bitter breathy dust with chills up my spills. with my foursquare blanket crumpled up in my mouth and my hands continuously frozen with liquid dripping from my cuticles and yet i still forge on and forget i still have to type today...and so i i always type, i will forever matter what...seemingly till the end of time

* Scratched In The Head. not on the head, in the head

* Joy Non-Division: joy gained from bringing everyone together, everyone deserves to have fun

* Joyride Division: Ian Curtis's last ride......into the ether…

* Cobain girl in open plaid shirt: you got the moneygram? direct account from your parents? an Instagram moneygram DM? into your bank account with the push of a button?
guy: yeah, why do you ask?

* girl: got your sunglasses on?
guy: just made it getting them on inside.

* ironically the gas station is quite '60s hipster throwback with the deco neon lights and big triangular shapes that are more bulky than pointy. a very Warhol water closet.

* girl: hey man, got the Corolla all pumped?
third wheel: oh yeah, it's pumped to get out there on the midnight streets with the neon yellow and cause mayhem and havoc.
girl: no but is it filled with gas?
third wheel: i thought gas was dirty to us. this isn't electric? i thought i saw green fumes coming from it.
girl: i'm just gonna say it out front, i like the black dude better than you. not cos he's black, cos he's more fun.
third wheel: this car has three wheels...

* third wheel: BURN RUBBER!
girl: no, dude, we're running, we don't have the car here.
third wheel: i thought we were gonna fly like on a suncloud or something like Goku, cos Corolla equals corona equals sun equals corazon.
girl: as long as it doesn't equal Solara.
guy: here, man, take these pills, will instantly make you forget you're unloved by making you think we're your parents.

* third wheel: why do these dogs hate us?
girl: we fed them the Rachael Ray dog food! run! run, they are pissed!
girl trips over herself and does a wheelie.
girl: my parents are so disappointed in me, they wanted me to be Bruce Jenner.
third wheel: mean by that...?
girl: in gymnastics.
guy: or in the makeup sense.

* girl: go go go!
guy: can't, the car stalled, it's raining outside.
girl: we've waited so long in this getaway car the dogs' tongues have wiped away all the drops from our shields.

* nurse: stop running in the halls!
hoodlums: sorry. but we have our hall passes.
nurse: are you racing with a wheelchair!?
girl: but i broke my arm. which i did deliberately so i could paint the cast aquamarine like my favorite Pokemon.
nurse: how did you break your arm?
girl: wheelchair-racing.
Nurse Ratched: that wheelchair is needed. your mother is in the other room on our last bed. she's not doing well since you've been born…

* girl: watch this. as i spin, the car spins. i'm like a more evolved form of human.
the Corolla transforms into Bumblebee.
Bumblebee: the focus group said me painted blue would appeal to boys more. why are they making a separate movie about me that'll only remind the public of Bay? and Baymax. and why wasn't i allowed to use my radio voice?

* me: this is like that scene in Skins...
gang: the one on MTV?

* guy: the fuck? what'd you put in my face?
girl: now you know how girls feel when guys do that.
guy: is that a pizza with pineapple on it? subtle. well at least it ain't anchovies.
girl: that's not a pizza, that's my smelly finger. i don't wash my hands when i use the Warhol toilet.

* third wheel: the sign says hot dog but look just below it at the snake. that's really the meat.

* guy: yo, did you bring the masks?
third wheel: yeah but i worked all month with no sleep slaving away at my cosplay atelier. yours are rubber.
girl: now we can ruckus anonymously and the cops will be none the wiser.
third wheel: except you're wearing a raccoon mask which is hard to not spot for its unusualness. i thought this was gonna be a Gatsby theme not a Wind In The Willows theme.
girl: both books banned fom our library until they are Colonialism-Cleansed.
guy: it was gonna be an Eyes Wide Shut theme till you came along early.

* third wheel: look at this closeup of my teeth. notice anything?
girl: they're yellow.
third wheel: no, that's the lighting. they're clean. i brushed my teeth. you know what that means...

* girl: hey take a picture of my cast! so i can post it on instagram and others can write on the pic with their white pens on their screens. that's what comes closest to our generation signing a cast and showing sympathy.

* fourth wheel: is that a Pikachu on your cast? i'm the fourth wheel btw, want to go home?
third wheel: is that a frosted Christmas tree behind you? and why are you dressed as a '60s scientist with glasses?
fourth wheel: that's a meth-lab explosion which crystalized.

* third wheel: got any polish?
girl: we don't polish round these parts, we scratch, we're the new age!
guy: yeah, i'm a dj. everyone on youtube is a dj.
fourth wheel: i got a scratch on my jean jacket, is that woke enough? animal tans and such?
third wheel: no, i meant polish for my teeth.
girl: toothpaste?

* third wheel: HEY i know you! i finally got it! you're that girl from Degrassi, right? the one who went goth but it really was more like '80s New Wave than goth?
fourth wheel: this whole time i thought it was Corolla Hollaback.

* JFK: ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country. hear that, millennials? I am a Millennial!
*the entire country and world cheer for the voting bloc now is all kids under 11 years old, online voting is now allowed*
JFK: before you get too nostalgic, times as they're lived in are never nostalgic always remember that...but anyway realize that if i had not been assassinated: men would still wear stovepipe hats, Bobby would have been President, Marilyn Monroe would have been the First Female President and First Celebrity President. i choose to go to the moon cos i'm too handsome to stay on Earth with all you kids. my charge is to go to the moon and repopulate the Earth there---free from prejudice, poverty, and war---i am the only one handsome enough to do it! i will take my goofy brother Teddy with me on the rocket so he gets used to another mode of transportation besides cars. or cahs as we say.


happy weekend, my babies. this Thanksgiving choose that Thanksgiving Sandwich from Denny's, that's what i'll be having, meet me there Thursday, i'll be there, i'm the one under the table in the far back with the stained glass lamp heating the oak. smoking. not pot, real smoking, cigarettes, i'm back in my retro '60s groove again. i'm waiting in line early for those pancakes inspired by the Detective Pikachu movie...

Wednesday, November 14, 2018


Robert Mueller III is shaking his head. and when he shakes his head, the whole world shakes to a side and feels cold. MEANWHILE Jodie Whittaker is relaxing in the hot tub on top of the Cream House roof.

Jodie: what's the S stand for?

Mueller: Superman. but it's not about me. i am so heartened and disheartened this day, and frustrated this fraction of time. at the same time. call me the Grinch, my heart has equaled out. while i have confiscated the boxing gloves and plastic handcuffs of my protégé, i stand out in this cold without a successor to declare time's up. for me. i feel it in my gray bones, i am not long for this world, the investigation has given even me stress, and it's weird cos I'VE forgotten how i sound like. don't know how much longer i can hold out.

Jodie: *arm in a rainbow sleeve over the railing of the jacuzzi* he was such an ingenue. when his head shook there was only a blinding light. Time's Up, amirite? too right. are you talking about No-Nut November? i'm doing just fine meself.

Mueller: would you care to train with me? i need a new Naruto.

Jodie: trainers? i quite like the pair of '70s slippers i got as shoes from Yaz. taken a shine to them.

Mueller: slappers? no i'm not calling you fat. Long Live The Yas Queen.

Laertus sneaks onto the only bush on the roof to take his selfie picture.

Jodie: oy, freak. feminist here. don't let my laissez-faire hair and toothy grin and horse laugh fool ye.

Laertus: you have it all wrong, ma'am, that's my friend you sensed. may i soak my feet in the tub? i've climbed a long way. i won't look at you in your swimsuit, i'll merely close my eyes and enjoy being in the same pool of presence as you. my smile will be one of platonic power. and i shall be a satisfied man with that.

Jodie: you a kooky bird like me, i likey. is this the cork-soakers thing? i've always been more fascinated with your side of the pond, like my favorite show ever is anything with Brooklyn and Andy Samberg. alrighty, tuck in. i only wear swimsuits when i'm on the beach with my Latin lover for sneaky The Globe snaps.

Laertus: *gets in eyes closed* thank you. this means the world to me. and the universe. suddenly i have all the time in the world...

Mueller assumes the kneeldown of NFL players and The Thinker.

Mueller: one thing buoys me in my hour of grief: the display New York City showed me, especially Brooklyn, that hour of unprecedented kindness shown me on the Arab street. i mean i never thought in all my years as a hardnosed prosecutor there'd be a protest march for me, ME! when i saw the dude with the sign which read

Down With This Sort of Thing

i knew i was amongst friends, amongst my people. i started eating apples again, even at my late age. the poison apple is a sign of hope and love.

Jodie: those strange NYC birds really get up there, you have to understand something about them: they will do a parade for ANYTHING, literally ANYTHING. they will run just to jog. oy, okay mate, you spill your apples into my jacuzzi pool here and i'll dunk my head to bob 'em, tell me when to come up for air...

at the MSNBC Studios, Katy Tur is on remote:

she accosts an ordinary plain non-scary black voter in Florida.

Katy: ma'am, i'm not Jim. whom did you vote for today?

black woman: but this IS Jim. i ain't got to tell you a damn thing, princess! turn around, let me see your ass in jeans! who do you think you are!? this is MY county! did you wait in line? as it snaked all the way to the other side of the Border's? did you get your hyphenated-name misspelled and disrolled? this ain't cinnamon buns, this is real-life Leia!

Katy: my last name is Tur. many have wanted me to disrobe but i've only entered a wet t-shirt contest thus far. not in college.

black woman: turd. you look turnt. imma sue. get yoself some hot-buttered rolls and some Keith-lime pie while you down here! we ain't got no time for the elites and their separate but inequal nappyheaded rolls! know your role and slow it!

Chris Matthews: *in the studio* and thank you, Katy Tur. are you still glad all this happened to you? anyway, i was thinking of something...on the tip of my green tongue...amber tongue...the many faces of?...of?'ll come to me...EVE! EVE!

Gordon "The G" Chang: no, ITO! you're thinking of three faces like my wife.

Chris gavels for the day, blank look across his stare.

just next door, Pete Davidson is having it out heatedly with his ex. on the last coiled phone in the city, spraypainted yellow and no-wave:

Pete: *waving* no, YOU listen! you really dumped me cos you thought it was time to be with a black man?

Ariana Grande: babe, just listen, podcast voices. i thought Mac Miller was black, too. it's just, with this body of mine, it would be a waste not to, don't you think? it's high time. the only shade balls I know are those in the L.A. River and the ones in boba tea. but that's not the issue. get your tissues. you are a comedian. repeat: comedian. your job is to disrupt, to chaos-agent, to chaosicitate, your job is to tell the offcolor controversial thing outloud others are afraid to. don't apologize EVER for ANYTHING you ever say or do, you lose your edge. real edge. only issue some penis. that's what made me fall in love with you in the first place, you looked like a cow who didn't kowtow.

Pete: i do look like a cow,

Ariana: but you ain't brown. you got a lot of parking tickets, you were living on the edge. of the curb. don't you get it? the more people hate you, the better. don't let an eyepatch patch over crimes. legislative crimes. the troops are jerks, that is straight from the horse's mouth. comedy is never supposed to be LIKED. you don't "like" comedians on instagram, you learn from them. wow, wish we had this conversation before. oh well, too late now. now do you feel better? pep in yo step from the pep talk? no more Pepe?

Pete: *sobbing indistinctly in the background in the far corner of the SNL Studio*

Ariana: Pete? you there? babe?...

Pete: ……………………………………………………………….*softly* shade balls are black balls...

Melania storms into the white doors of the West Side from the East Side, a room she doesn't like being in very long, it gives her the creeps. there's an air of decay, old power flustering, and charred wings.

Melania: MICKEY! get right here right now! what is going on! where's my husband?

Ricardel: dunno, senora.

Melania: Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucy, i'm hooooooooooooooome!

Ricardel: that is not cool in my fragile state, ma'am.

Melania: i am your mirror, Mira.

Ricardel: why'd you say all those harsh things anonymously online about me? you called me fat and said i'd never find a man. you said no fat man would ever love me. you told me to kill myself cos i never made cheerleader in high school and i wasn't one of the original Jamestown settlers. you told me the quickest way to die was to eat the creamy Cream House food! and what's this final request to take the green jacket?

Melania: that godawful ghastly olive-green jacket, take it with you as i kick you out, it's yours! you caused it. that jacket was the remnants of the Christmas tree you picked out from the Obec Woods forest which was gonna be the Times Square Christmas Tree but it died en route on a logger! everyone around this staff called it Frogger! never want to see that article of tatter again, such terrible melania melanin memories! i like BLACK olives!

Ricardel: it wasn't my fault, Madam, i didn't know that forest was Black!

Melania: *softly" sorry but...ya fired...oh yes, *yellow glint in her cat's-eye* now i remember...i suddenly remember the power i actually wield...i wrapped up my husband cos he was getting out of need to be a manager...

President Bump is stuck on the Oval Office ceiling, inside a tightly-wound cocoon of grey spindlings and insect tape. it's uncomfortable in there but he still manages to breathe.

Melania: Mickey why are you sulking and skulking all of a sudden?

Bump: i don't wanna talk about it, Me. leave me alone.

Melania: address me from now on as Lady Macbeth! it'll be the first time you ever address me as a lady! what's this i hear about your extramarital affair with Kyrsten Sinema?

Bump: no you don't understand, you never do! it's not what you think. i went to the cinema to indulge in the latest Orson Welles picture cos we're both misunderstood fat men. Orson told me through the screen that i was a windbag and that i wouldn't get it and i would never get in here. the blonde happened to be in the same club, Kyrsten is just a Krysten who's porn-curious. i took my sticks from out my pocket and banged them on her tits SIMPLY as a rain dance thing, we need rain. that's what Hollywood gets for those Midterm results, it's punishment, fires direct from Codrus Himself, He was angry that day my friends. the woolly mammoth has come back to life. Gina has been mysteriously absent since the drought started. and the famine, but i didn't indulge to eat her. i can't dance, you see.

Melania: i know. in a bed or otherwise.

Bump: that's the reason Sinema won, bigger tits, obvi. needed to recount those puppies. she opens up wider everyday. dogs can even make bitches happy again. embarrassed from the farmer Orson quotes in the New York Times, i set about to lose a few pounds. all my friends are proud of me. i don't exercise so i holed myself in this spiderweb and went on a starvation diet, that's the quickie Hollywood way, i like crash. so don't send up any McDonald's burgers tonight, well okay one, and one can of dirt soda uh diet soda cos diet soda doesn't cause cancer that's fake science---unless it's Taylor Swift Diet Dirt Coke---but it does cause diabetes but i have bone spurs sours in my feet to protect me from diabetes-foot-cutoff. won't get carved like a bumpy Halloween pumpkin down there.

Melania: don't remind me of your dirty coke. and why did you lock me in my room in Paris so i couldn't see anything!? that was supposed to be my Jackie O moment! i can relate to that Tim guy who always sues you, we're both frankensteins! his is more in the forehead and me the face.

Bump: TOO MUCH RAIN!!! too much rain down there. and Macron STOLE MY UMBRELLA!!! yeah yeah, that was MY umbrella but he stole it from my locker, like a swiper fox, just janked it from under me while everyone was gathering for the group photo at the UN for Champs. the Champs is for chumps. what's the point of global water rules? as long as Patchy the Pirate supports me i'm buoyed.

Melania: at least you aren't bouncing off the walls like earlier. what is it that you're wearing? a second change of clothes?

Bump: you can see through to in here? just my Packers Cheesehead hat, don't call me Dutch. yeah those are still my people down there. Plum Boys, right? don't worry, i'll buy them all the Lucky Charms they want, only i can. and no girl over there ever stays missing. don't ever say i don't shape the minds of the youth, the disenfranchised society has thrown away. everyone needs a club. it's the only hat which fits my hair.

Melania: maybe it's time to get out of there and go meet with your friends. go to Moe's. i hate having you stuck in the house all the time.

Bump: i would but nobody wants to play with me. i had a sauna setup but the one guy said he had to get his batteries recharged that night---which is guy code for he's washing his hair. and Wilford Brimley told me like a hot gun to my face when we were hothousing that i was too old. it was the stranger thing, his mustache told me, his mouth never moved. like an angry caterpillar straight from Wikipedia. i saw it all: the wandering waves wafting on the surface of the jacuzzi pool like a celestial startrail, the stucco-balled sides and the mint-green tile floor, the stage was set for something special or even serial, for an apparition to appear.

Melania: your boss?

Bump: no, i was hoping for a naked angel intern chick with a sword or something but it was a naked Jim Acosta wth a microphone whacking me in the balls. that foamhead hurts! microfoam. made me pee coffee. don't ever say i don't protect women. and that i don't know where the camera is at all times. hey can you give me back my twitter phone? i'm gonna get a call soon from my friend.

Melania: your friend?

Bump: yeah, Draymond, he's like family. hi, Draymond, no this isn't about the cheeseburger pizza. well i've been feeling down lately cos i ate that green burger. been trying to get it out of my system but the system's rigged. *points at the phone* hey, yous a bitch!!!

Draymond: what, nigga!!?

Bump: see how it feels?

Draymond: thanks, man.

Bump: *hangs up twitter* oh me oh my, i think i'll stay up here longer still. i do this in remembrance, as a tribute, see i've seen the future, i already know what happens. he was the mentor on all of our sides, not just mine. he was our driving creative force! he got me through my childhood and saved my life! he rogered Mister Rogers. the father of modern mythology. TH is a big word for him. if you didn't self-flagellate before the flag before, he will certainly whip you good till you self-flatulate.

Melania: your mentor? whom could you possibly mean?

Bump: Codrus of course. God is dead!

the crones are preparing for supper. Gladyce happily sets the table happily floating on top of the ocean while Doryce sets up the Vienna sausages. some witches prefer to fly hover just above while others like to keep one half swimming like a dog but the reminder of drowning is too painful for some.

Gladyce: love the everlightburning candles, dear, nice touch in these stormy swells and grey skies.

Doryce: OMG these little hot dogs in the fog are too adorable! too cute to eat! pigs without a blanket i just want to cuddle them and kiss them and give them my blanket to keep them warm, not heat them up inside my mouth and pic them. spread the blanket over the water, pigs will never drown they have wings!

Gladyce: yeah but the water they come in, is it canned water? it tastes like pool.

Doryce: you know Vienna is where man first conceived the atom bomb, man's clumsy attempt at matching a woman's power. where the most delicate Classical music was birthed, keys needed to be slayed by ladyfingers, like Mozart. where the first warlock, Freud, elevated mothers. here Klimt first painted an ass that wasn't him. and where the first Federer came.

Gladyce: sorry, dear, i can't eat another bite. of this crunchy toenail? it's just all these look like dog's toes and i just came from grooming a thousand dog nails, clipping them on a clipper and painting them pink like this shade. they look like dog toes. if you squint, they look like squinting dog toes.

Doryce: okay. well I can't eat another bite of bacon or bacon bits, so what do we do? besides being even.

Gladyce: that's okay, i'm sick of bacon.

Doryce: yeah i'm sick of bacon, too! yay! we're women again! we can be ladies again, not hags! we can be pretty again!

Gladyce: yay! let's make love on top of the sea by matching our vibration to the potential energy of an ocean wave.

at LuSh, Madame Pons is meeting with an important member, big woman on campus:

Madame Pons: hello, Eye Luggage! no need to introduce, you're a big star! i get your podcast at my kitchen. you're a little mini heroine of mine. it's a big sprawling campus that gets lost in the woods, many voices unfortunately.

Eye Luggage: hopefully that's a temporary kitchen. i'm blushing but you didn't notice cos you were no doubt looking at my eyes.

Madame Pons: what can i do you for, superstar?

Eye Luggage: you're a wild witness, right? i read the youtube-comment annotation you left and verified with the matched blogs. let's keep this hush-hush, i have a reputation to maintain. online reputation. take a long look at the barrel of my slim thin silver Harley Quinn hammer here and tell me what you think. gaze at it from the end to the head and let your eyes sparkle with its grace and nobility and savagery.

Madame Pons: oh...…………...oh...……….okay……….now i see what's going on here, no worries your secret is safe with me, i can transform my mouth into a zipped pursebag that's the only spell i've mastered. let's get to work! oh, but first, can you use that hammer to smash this egg here?

Eye Luggage tries with all her might, she gets a running start and pushes down with all her latent strength, but fails. nothing, no crack.

Madame Pons: huh.

Dirg: i am so funny.

Dirg is at the Mansion, in fact he's already jumped the gate without having to jump. he's crawled over it and decides at this moment of triumph to call up his best pal.

Laertus: congrats. you're a webcrawler. but how? i saw google maps, the Mansion is crawling with guards and brown packages. and guards with brown packages. when did you learn parkour online? it's not like pushing a button and making video-game characters do impossible parkour jumps over gators. forcing into questionable territory.

Dirg: oh but it is. my package has a nice tan. i don't do exercise, even cool exercise.

Laertus: are you using those illegal football gloves the wide-receivers use to transform the funny ball into velcro JUST at the moment of catch?

Dirg: fuck the NFL! nope. i'm a superhero now. oh have i got a secret for you! but i'll tell you later.

Laertus: i've got a surprise for you, too, good buddy. you'll see later, too.

Dirg: great, can't wait. spring it on me in autumn.

Laertus: remember, dear Dirg, i'm your mirror, you need me to see yourself's impossible to see yourself...

Dirg crawls up the side of the stone gray-brick mansion, turning each brick his hands and feet touch red in the process of leaving his trail up to the third storey and into the big bay bigass arched window. he enters sleuthly not letting the lilac lithe curtain drape over his head.

MEANWHILE Keya Morgan is coming from downstairs upstairs using the spiral. he passes by the groundfloor room Eye Luggage uses to tape her youtube show. her door is ajar and he can see the glint of purple.

Eye Luggage sits down in the center frame of her study with books in the background, lit library. she pushes the button and her camera rolls:

Eye Luggage: sorry, online fam, for the delay. i was at an important appointment. now where were we...

Keya reaches upstairs with a quickness and locks on Dirg's eyes immediately. Dirg's eyes widen as he gazes on Keya's haircut, focusing on the front, it just misses being an Undercut cos it connects pointedly to the purple triangular eyebrows Keya sports. like fuzzy caterpillars.

Keya: i know you. you're disgusting and derelict in your duties and a disgrace to the cause. alert, intruder. i'll kill you myself, don't touch Master.

on a bed in the corner three rounded floormirrors look down on the person sleeping like a beauty on the outside of its covers. an old man holds a bouquet of pink flowers and wears a red sweater.

it's Stan Lee.

eyes closed still wearing his customary glasses. his hands form the Spider-Man thwip-shoot fingerguns which are perfect for holding the flowers like a human vase.

Dirg: OMG! is he?...on drugs?

Keya: the fuck?! you assume he's on drugs instead of dead?! i've NEVER received that reaction, you are a black swan. reception is perception. how could you have possibly known i mean chalk one up for experience, aye? get 'im guards i'm the only guard here, prepare to fall!

Keya lunges and charges but is stopped long when Stan Lee sits up on the bed and speaks.

Stan Lee: *grandfatherly in his radio voice* we all need to exhale in our lives, it cleanses the soul.

Dirg bows and doesn't kick and pulls his portfolio out of his pants.

Dirg: Larry Legend, please take a look at my work. i've worked on it.

Keya: sir don't listen to a lie this man says! i've seen his work, we all have here. i can boot up some of his glorious underpinned undertakings on my Pear Watch right now for you, my legend liege...look! see? here. this is the character we're dealing with you would never draw. at the latest Doctor Who AV Club comment section---those boys known for their commentariat---he leaves a comment "adding to the episode conversation" that is simply a picture of Jodie Whittaker from one of her movies naked topless, and his comment above it:

I don't know what a Whovian is, but nice tits!

Dirg: *gulps* how'd you know that was me!? i left my name and address off the comment box and it registered as blank and anonymous.

Stan Lee: let me get my glasses on...and take a look at your portfolio there, young man.

Stan pulls the papers from out Dirg's grasp. Dirg looks up.

Dirg: *surprised* wait...these aren't my drawings...clearly not my clear linework and pencil prowess. these are…

the three large cream-colored pages are the artwork of the Thirteenth Doctor crayoned by children with special needs inspired to draw for the first time that were featured on the Doctor Who aftershow.

Stan Lee smiles.

Keya Morgan scowls.

Dirg, wide-eyed and red, is embarrassed for the first time in his life.