CAN'T SLAM DOORS ANYMORE, SENSORS EVERYWHERE...

notes:

* if you're not trespassing but merely loitering, do you still get a ticket? to sit at the table? and get an adult swim show of your own?

* KEEP OUT? we should be building bridges. when's that promised infrastructure bill hitting the links and skids?

* the Earth should put out a sign that says BEWARE OF MAN. and stick it in her still-blue air.

* me: those little teacup dogs are the ones you have to watch out for, they'll bite you and you'll think it won't hurt cos they're so small but it will hurt.
teacup dog: yeah there's no such thing as a cute bite. don't blame me, mate, i haven't realized a relaxing cup of EG tea since this whole Brexit mess started.
me: have you thought of getting Tips?
teacup dog: nah i like it all shaved, it's healthier. hey mate, can you hop the chain-link fence and set me free? i'm tired of looking at this brown lawn, the '90s and Dr. Dre rap videos are over.

* waitress: why'd you stop talking when i entered the open space? that's always so awkward and rude. are you planning a Hawaiian vacation together? i won't tell your wives.
men: that's just palm trees painted on your back wall there, you're the one who painted it.
waitress: i know you guys' wives, they come in here all the time. i could have been your wives but i got the mumps the day of the Sadie Hawkins Dance. Sadie was the first feminist, not the Sadie that's into nature.
men: do you have any Sugar In The Raw?
waitress: don't change the subject. is it cos i'm slightly got some padding? give me some fucking change! and a new braid would be nice.
men: fine. we're planning to cook the books and bilk Trivago out of all of the Trivago Guy's Dollar Shave Club products, you in?

* Burns: he he he they'll never know. i keep all my files the old-fashioned way in rainbow-colored binders in a grey cylindrical filing cabinet that looks like the Tower of Babel which i commissioned. with a key at the top drawer that only i have swallowed. what's this, i pushed the button of the key and accidentally unlocked all the doors!!?

* mother: honey, why are you so mad at me?
teenage daughter: i dunno, i just am.
mother: is this cos of your red hair? i have red hair, too, but i'm not as fiery as you.
daughter: cos you're OLD, mom! i'm pissed off right now!
mother: when i get mad---which is quite often i just don't show the family---i pray to Jesus.
daughter: JESUS WAS A GINGER!!!

* Lion Doorknob: answer three riddles.
Phoenix: man.
Lion: no, the answer has been updated to woman.
Phoenix: Monty Python.
Lion: they're all dead now, right?
Phoenix: more wishes.
Lion: no, the answer was gryphon, stick your finger in my mouth...that's where the video doorbell is...

* boy: this is my treehouse! no girls allowed! i don't want them seeing my dad up here with me, it's embarrassing!

* steward: are you VACANT or OCCUPIED?
Jean Luc Picard: Earl Grey, hot. i'm the Captain, i don't do Number 2! and i don't use pot. and i've never had pizza with "oregano". well, unless it's synthesized pot done by my private personal synthesizer. not the instrument, the holodeck thingee that can provide you with any wheel of French cheese you desire.
steward: you stole my identity! security! Worf!
JLP: are you gonna watch my show on CBS Access?
steward: nah. but i'll give Twilight Zone a try, never heard of that show.

* man 1: don't look at me when i'm in the loo standing up.
man 2: just admiring your rustic backpack, sir. how many inches? is your backpack?
man 1: i'm tall. i could play for the NBA. that's your answer.
man 2: sorry, i'm George Costanza. is your urinal cake working? mine doesn't smell fragrant after i hit it.
man 1: Kramer was a racist.

* black girl student: teach, that's not fair! why do i have to eat my notes?
teacher: cos you don't have a dog at home. i know, i've visited your home.
black girl student: joke's on you, Authority. i wrote that note on my perfumed paper, it tastes smellerific.
teacher: so you like someone in this class, i knew it! who you got a crush on? the redheaded girl next to you?
black girl student: of course, she's Jesus!!!

* but what if you want to paper-shredder the paper-shredder?

* Asian guy: let's make one thing perfectly clear. i'm not creepy COS i'm Asian, i'm a creeper who just happens to be Asian.
woman doing her makeup in the car: that's what these car mirrors are for, right? doing makeup?
Asian guy: yes. i should know. i put on mom's makeup every morning. mom's convalescing. from having me.

* Greg Google: hey! watch it! copyright. you can't do a Psycho commercial, too.
Tim Apple: get in your free kicks before the Government regulates us all. just cos it's a shower curtain doesn't automatically make it Psycho. now if you'll excuse me, i haven't been naked in 30 years.
Alfred Hitchcock: i like to watch...

* woman: hello? Apple Genius help?
Apple Genius: i was sleeping, what do you want?
woman: i put a lock on my phone. like an actual square lock-and-key physical-security-device iron copper lock on my phone.
Apple Genius: like the water-navigation lock? okay, i'll be right over, i know where you live. have any idea where you put the key?
woman: let's just say the key is inside my body. and i didn't swallow it. i don't swallow.
Apple Genius: just tell me when your water breaks. you stopped smoking, right? the ash tray displayed at the end of this commercial notwithstanding. see? Marketing should have come to me for the focus group. i told them to go with the juul pod.

CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. how should my mom resolve her car-troubles situation this weekend?

a) pick the black Volvo sedan

b) pick the black Nissan sedan in honor of Dad

c) get the ol' dusty green Volvo stationwagon fixed, bought at a Woodland Hills lot out at 9:32 PM when Reagan was still President

d) ask for an extension to May 22

THE PURPLE HOURGLASS: TRIGGERFISH

creature: are you still laughing?

Laertus: when i'm sad is when i try to laugh the hardest. helps to clear the phlegm.

creature: that's good. my name is Llywarch btw.

Laertus: o what a grandiose appellation worthy of your delightful designation! i will dream this name late at night when i see it cloudily attached to your frame and friendliness. you are the beast of my burden. the apex of appearance! what i'm trying to say unsuccessfully as i walk over my own vocab words is i like you.

Rosie O'Donnell: i like you. that's why we had heated-fucking arguments all the time. it wasn't for the cameras, it wasn't the camera-lights, i was preparing us for heated sex. i'm not related to Chris O'Donnell. i'm the bad Rosie according to the State, it's on my provisional driver's license.

Elisabeth Hasselbeck: there's no crying in baseball. i don't play baseball. i play softball like a good lady who curtsies at home plate. do you know what Fox would do if they found out? there's crying in sex, that's how you know you're doing it right. i am a straight woman from the heartland, i genuinely bought season tickets to the WNBA and women's soccer cos my daughter said she was interested. in the sports, not the ladies. i hardly spend any time together with her anymore ever since you retired, Rosie.  

Llywarch: *smile-laughs* thing is, it's a brand new name. at least here in my Medieval times. hasn't had a chance to yet catch on and be memorialized in epic poetry, legended in a Sorkin screenplay. it's like the Rachel Cut of names, it's still hip new and trendy. thank you, my friend, and i you. even though i know i am not your first, or your first beloved.

Laertus: what? oh you mean him? no, we're not...hey how do you know about him? i haven't introduced you...hey where'd he go!?

Llywarch: oh Dirg's been around. the block. and video block believe you me. the thorn in my side. we've encountered, mostly unpleasant stuff whereby we don't fight in the traditional taking-turns sense but he ends up asking me a series of searing and deeply personal questions about my cud-chewing habits.

Laertus looks down to see a large brown bandage along the ulnar of his wrist and he doesn't know how that got there.

Llywarch: huh. was probably my hen. sorry, she's very protective of me, i have a glass heart. literally. she's around here somewhere. usually hides in the bushes as i'm hiding in the bushes, it's a game she plays.

Laertus: ah i see, so that's your wife. you are a married man. upstanding i mean outstanding.

Llywarch: no, my pet hen. i use her for inspiration...that sounds so cold. Instagram has really become an elaborate dating app. but it's a dating app just the same. just with a lot of original weird basement art.

Laertus: right. but you know, couples have discovered each other on Instagram. many have gotten married. which i don't understand cos how can you get married if you've never met the person in real life and pressed the flesh? all free. at least until facebook is regulated by the government next week. a free app. you have to delete and reinstall many times and it's always scary cos you think you'll be deleting your entire seven-years'-worth of work opus by deleting the app. cleaning, yeah right! there it goes, like fluff in the wind. it's essentially free love that works.

Llywarch: raise the peace sign. or in my case, peace hoof. *shakes head and trots tremblingly* my soul soft like this Bud Light mead meadow has been disparaged. i can't take it anymore, where did the love go? you know? why is it that people still trying to find love in this world are called crazy. it's the crazy ones who actually live this life, they should be called the normal ones. look over there, the People's Park of Berkeley, on my side, where Andrew Martinez came over the threshold when he bag-died.

Laertus: suicide?

Llywarch: it's too painful and guttural and sphincter-shut for my tongue to even try to mouth to utter that word. The Naked Guy he was called, respectfully. our park is clean, i maintain and make sure that, yours is dirty and full of trash. ours is full of bushes, yours was full of shrubs on trees and bus tracks in the mud. all the inspirational signs of everyone having a listen have been torn off by the alt-right and jokesters hucking and chaos agents and those who don't want to see anyone happy and believe in nothing and clothing. where are the dreamers nowadays? the ones who bend the needle and find along the dial a new undiscovered radio station that plays Foghat AND Galaxie 500. Andy was trying to make a statement, he was seeking love in a world of hate and was hated for it. of course he didn't fit in. why is it that only the mentally-ill can do something inspirational at the cost of their freedom? everyone else is too scared to love, hate is cooler, more acceptable. i am heartwarmed to know we might have touched the same plastic over the same LP records at Amoeba Music when i crossed over one time for a lecture---nobody there gave me a second look---browsing through the racks of tracks. of course neither of us were science majors, we were both too fanciful. he was trying to bring back the era of free love, of hippie farms, not letting the dream pass by. the dream of imagination and caring and the revocation of lines. i mean you look at the Wikipedia page for the People's Park now and it's just some 12-year-olds trying to make a name for themselves in whatever incel community they find themselves in---they wouldn't know love if it hit them in the ass---i have to deal with those types daily since my birth---trying to score hate points instead of really trying to understand this sacred magic history. of peace and love.

Laertus: hippie is not a four-letter-word. i learned how to skate, well i got into skateboard culture, cos of old A Martinez. his thoughts floated up in the sky, for real. like literally. don't cry, Llywarch, i hate it when you cry, even though your tears are literally pure-gold dust liquid yogurt. don't worry, i'll come back soon, i shall return, i just got to get to class for awhile or my roommate yells ironically at me for not paying the rent.

the two hug, imagine a centaur half-man and full man hugging in a clearing for a long time.

next to the People's Park is a touristy pool of green grass where sits a homey hovel of a motel with a quaint storyteller-with-lute thatch hut and wooden sign on top that flows in the breeze, gilding its glidepathing canton with the painting of an old boot. it's the Put the Boot Inn. surrounded on the east by a sleep hollow and the west with a copper garden. this is where our crones have put up their dogs for the night.

Doryce: oww, my toes are barking! got any salt?

Gladyce: you always provide the salt, dear. sure, but you have to butter-churn the salt yourself. is this tub big enough for your feet?

Doryce: very funny. that's a small tub, i really do think that's meant for the both of us to bathe in, not making a comment though you are heavier than me. like this is true vintage actual medieval-sized tubs the masses and wenchfolk used.

Gladyce: who says it's vintage? tonight, dear, pay special attention to how i prepare supper. how i make the spaghetti sauce.

later that night Gladyce pours the spaghetti sauce in the glass bottle into the tub, sticks her broomhandle into the pot, and gently heats it under a fire sparked by two churchmice rubbing matches together with their feet and tail. she stirs the sauce ever so fragilely using her finger transformed into a wooden spoon.

Gladyce: see, dear? this is love. i'm actually making the sauce. making it sizzle and adding myself to it. i'm adding the chives and lettuce and my green spit to it. just how you want it, the exact temperature and consistency. it's like i chopped the tomatoes myself. i'm not just pouring the sauce into a microwaveable mug and nuking it in the microwave. this is to show i am in love with you always.

Doryce: *kisses Gladyce on the spoon* thank you, honey, i love you too. i get it. though that was my favorite coffee mug. it's weird to put spaghetti sauce in a coffee mug. the mug is stoneware, i got it at Mattress Warehouse, and it reads as follows:

John Oliver, the 16th-century John Oliver, says witches were used as a euphemism for bitches in polite society. anyway, you're Number 1 Bitch i mean Witch.

Gladyce: come to me when it's real medieval stone.

Dirg arrives home with ashes on his forehead.

Laertus: that already happened. you only do this one time, Ash Wednesday.

Dirg: i missed Wednesday watching Empire. so imma put blackface on my forehead from now on, every day, cos my religion is sacred to me. i missed out all those days as a youth with my stupid father being the worst kind of Christian, a Christian atheist.

Laertus: oh brother. i'm rolling my eyes but you can't see it under my cakes of guyliner. you suddenly got religion? the way the President did? it's clearly evident in your actions your whole life. okay, gander and all, watch this, watch me reenter the room chorus-style.

Laertus returns into the fireplace room wearing an ash mark on his forehead that's the hashtag symbol.

Laertus: a hashtag symbol of ash, a black octothorpe. for the millennial generation. the Church is losing young people and followers.

Dirg: didn't we already do this? black symbol of the satanic Kraken?

Laertus: hey, your own Pope Herself was wearing this pound-number-sign hashtag-ash on her forehead. she was trying to shimmer her way out of the greeters-line, holding back her ring when each tried to kiss it.

Dirg: getting a pounding. layup line. yeah, i saw that on tv. she was wearing some nice see-through white heels underneath her robe-dress.

The Pope: please don't kiss my ring, folks! i'm very sensitive to that. it's a sensitive area, i wear the ring as a vag ring.

Eye Luggage: Hot Streets ended. probably. unfairly reviewed on sites. review-bombed like Captain Marvel.

Laertus: i was scared to look at the reviews for the latest Simpsons episode which took on the MRA. even tho i knew the writer was a feminist-femme legend who would take the time to craft the script to make it accessible to all and still-funny and keeping-in-tradition traditionalist and informative and good, but there would be those out there who would trash it anyway. and yet, despite my concerns, i still had to read the reviews. regretted it.

Dirg: Captain Marvel? what's that? let me get out my phone ipad and just check the scores. yep, made the Wiki edit and we're golden to go.

Eye: i was worried about where they were going with Soo Park. then they brought her back so i was less worried and breathed a queef of relief. that a creepy kids airplane wasn't in charge. but then i cringed so hard again when they went with the old tired trope of "woman crazy". le sigh, i guess i'll just have to be comforted tonight by my hammer honey and some soft-core falling-pink-blossom Korean soap dramas. and pink bottom.

Dirg: yeah but it turns out it wasn't a conspiracy, Plane wasn't a spy. that's not the usual course, that was some innovative writing.

Laertus: the man killed Soo Park. it was also Cry Night on Toonami. Hunter x Hunter, Boruto, and Megalo Box. should i just go and you listen?

Dirg: as long as it's not s-CRY-ed Night, worst anime of all time. i don't watch anime anymore ever since you started to like it.

Laertus: obsess over it you mean.

Laertus: as a screenwriter, this is how i would have done the Hunter x Hunter ending: the no-credits intro to the episode was played good. Meruem lain down in that white scene with a tearful-goodbye-in-her-eyes Komugi by his side holding his illuminati lizard hand. they talk, the dialogue is crisp and learning and alarming. but then the two stop talking for awhile, like a good two minutes. the scene fades to black, the last line of dialogue is The King, who says softy, imploring of Komugi:

are you there?

and she answers firmly sweetly, after another minute for silence:

yes.

that's the end of the episode, title card. no end credits or music, and no damn annoying loud-calliope-music preview for the next back-to-normal happy episode.

Dirg: or a tearful hello. that's impossible to do you know. except for Army family reunions at the airport on tv.

Laertus: and don't get me started on Boruto. actually, do. see, Karin SHOULD have really been Sarada's mother! that held such rich dramatic potential. then the lesson really would have been that Sarada's mother, Sakura---tho despite not being her real biological mother---loved her more than any other person in the universe and THAT's what counts when it comes to a mother. families really do rally and come in all sizes and shapes.

Eye: that was so beautiful. that wasn't a crack at my weight, right? imma call my bio-mom tonight cos of you, thank you.

Laertus: and finally Megalo Box, the ending, oy the ending. you know the endings of things make or break whole things. i liked the concept they were going with, the final match interspersed with flashbacks and flashforwards filling out the story in the corners. there should have been no end card revealing the result, it should have been that the audience REALLY DOES NOT FIND OUT who won the epic final fight. THAT would have driven home the point that it doesn't really matter who won, but that the two pugilists became lifelong friends, from competitors to companions. one in a wheelchair and one becomes a dance instructor. man am i crotch-deep in rewrites tonight.

Dirg: meh. Joe---which was never his real name, what the fuck WAS his real name?---should have just died in the ring, and then the end card comes out and says

NOT DEAD YET

but this time ironically. i mean that's real life, right? a swamprat scorpion dog from the streets can't really make it, he will die trying. but it's still his dream, right?

Coach K knocks hardly on the medieval moat door of the UCF fraternity, which justso happens to also be Nike Headquarters.

Coach K: open up!!!

Tacko Fall: *snickers whilst eating a Snickers* come here cos you had a Fall too? heehee. you're hardly knocking, we can't hear you! hey, Mike, no more taco delivery for you today, that Taco Bell GrubHub free-delivery-to-your-house thing was limited-time-only! *laughs* expired. no more talk about my disappearing candy, you called me Manut Bol's son when you recruited me on that olive-green couch the first time, that's what you get o holy honorable venerable K!

Coach K: *speaking like he has a cookie in his mouth* come on, i want to speak with Nike. this is all because my player blew out his shoe he was never the same, this cost me the Championship, we lost to Michigan State. AGAIN! Tom Izzo mocked me by yelling in my face and passing out Championchip chocolate-chip cookie-sandwiches to my players right there on the court, forcing us to watch them cut down the nets.

Tacko Fall: yeah i know. i got the connections. the connections which will save the world. my deep ancient spiritual African connections.

a player steps out and crosses the frat drawbridge. it's Russell Westbrook, after having finished his chicken pesto lunch at the Red Table and crumpled up the wrapper and tossed it in the waste basket for 4 points.

Coach K: i've got my lawyer here with me, Avenatti.

Mueller: why'd you do it, son? and who's your new master?

Avenatti: sorry, Father, i just got so depressed over your findings. would have really kickstarted my Presidential bid. you were my Lord and i went rogue and Bad Samaritan and prodigal son on you, bowdlerizing with the fair maidens and sowing my royal oats when i had no royal blood. ending up faceplanted on a stack of hay. is it just me and my blue eyes or is the world literally going full-animal crazy right before our eyes? spinning on its axis as it should but, like, way faster than it should. like every turn just reveals more crazy for more people caught up in the net.

Laertus: what i'll never comprehend is how these high-profile people actually think they can get away with it! they actually think that this will be kept secret, kept under wraps, FOREVER. in this ipad age! shaking my damn head.

Avenatti: i did it all for the nookie i mean the NIKE. the frat cookie. i did it all to protect the tournament, to protect the player, to protect Zion, Zion Williamson---must have been named after my favorite '70s prog-rock LP record---is the next sure thing, the next Jordan, well maybe the next Anthony Davis. i'm a college-athletics fan just like the rest of the country is, even college gymnastics.

Mueller: i understand, it was a bust. i was about to kick the football but Barr grabbed it out of my feet at the last minute. like a Barr of soapy soap. spoilers: it's a trillion pages, easily digested in a beach weekend, light reading under a big rainbow umbrella. honestly i got bored with it, like two weeks in. i knew it was nothing but i was too bored to go on vacation. i wanted to tell America, tell them to tamp down expectations, but i didn't talk. i'll be sure to explain all at the Mueller Hearings. but you see this is the existentialism we all must face as humans, i have often been compared to God what with my demeanor and the fact that i would have to be invented if i didn't already exist. the people wanted me to provide them with Everything. but, like God, i am what happens when we die: nothing.

Russell Westbrook enters the arena, gets his motor going and running, which never needs much oil, and storms the court in battle. he scores 100 points in the first quarter but no one notices. everyone, and the camera, is pointing at the loud obnoxious fan heckling Russ.

Russ: hey i'm good and old and old-fashioned and good-natured. what's your beef wit me? i try harder at my job than you ever will at yours.

fan: i hate you cos you're different from me.

Russell shoots the fan with a toy laser gun. and gets immediately arrested by NBA police security guards who were there to shield Russ from the fans.

Russell: i don't get it. why doesn't it work the other way around? why doesn't it work with brothers?

President Bump: nope, never will. that fan was a supporter of mine. the world has changed.

Russell: but we're playing on Fifth Avenue across the bay in the Knicks stadium, it should have worked. don't we have recourse, too?

Bump: no, especially now. this is MY Green New Deal: money. unless you're willing to forfeit your bail bond that comes from the Robin Williams genie. or dress like Michael Jackson like you're still hot stuff and stroll down the halls of a Hearing courtroom. or sell a couple of PUSH hats. see? whether it's MAGA or PUSH, hats are the thing, man! hats are the thing!

Russell: why am i in jail!? i did nothing wrong! it's a laser gun!

Bump: doesn't matter. only when we're In Session at a Hearing are the lasers justified and real and effective and damaging.

at the edge of campus, Madame Pons makes the curve turn and rides her broom into the cement cylinder space where all the cars go by in the drivethru. she parks in midair at the window, slid open by a young girl college student counter clerk with just her bottom-lip painted.

girl: OMG! you're the legend! Donut Sticks on the house! they're just churros anyway.

Madame Pons has been crying which blots her raccoon-eyed Pope eye makeup. she forgot her tissues at home.

Madame Pons: i don't feel very well-connected. no. no thank you. got those Rattlesnake Fries still?

girl: not here. you know they make those with real rattlesnakes, right?

Pons collapses into coughs and cries.

Pons: i'm sorry, it's been an emotional day. i've been trying to reach my sister on the phone. to talk about it. when i think of her i...…

other emotion. i usually don't do this, i've never made a late-night fastfood-run like this before. but i'm starting to have animal cravings. cravings about animals. got the Biggie Bag?

girl: not here. we got a Bucket tho. Bucket O' Rainbow Chicken. comes in a rainbow bucket, also the chicken is rainbow.

Pons cries.

girl: hey it's nothing to be ashamed about. gotta eat. college, now college is something that can never tamp down tears. especially the sex.

Pons: i'm not so sure about that anymore. but i have no other counter, it's not like i have a pet or anything waiting for me at home. the grease hits the spot, temporarily. and the seasonings, which i try not to think about. i'll try my sister again when i get home. even though it's hopeless, she won't be there.

girl: nutritious food. here. drive safe. *waves happy-goodbye*

Pons pushes the button on her phone and hastily madly throws the phone over her shoulder into the back of her car, which is her broom. the phone hangs by a thread stuck to the last straw of the broomhead.

Pons screeches away.

TMIT: HELP US, DOONESBURY HIPPIE, YOU'RE OUR ONLY HOPE

you all know the story of Doonesbury by now, right? it was all inspired by my dad. had to be. Garry Trudeau and my dad were in the same year at Princeton. imagine if they had been roommates! we'd be talking turkey and looking at a Facebook situation here. none of this would have happened if my dad hadn't made an impression on the man sometime during school. or perhaps afterschool. i'm picturing, i'm conjuring up some fateful vignette where Garry and my dad's eyes lock and meet across the '50s Russian sci-fi hallway of the clear-orange-glass ocular tile of the university caf one night. i mean look at the 4th picture, the one of this character here with the sandy brown hair, glasses, and light-vine-color vest. the character's name is Mike Doonesbury, that's EXACTLY ALMOST my father's exact name! he looks EXACTLY like my dad! we made it, dad, we made the big time!!!

1. when you have experienced sexual difficulty, how have you overcome it? taken a pill. sometimes red pill, sometimes blue pill. when it was red i wanted it to be blue. when it was blue i wanted it to be red. sometimes i cheated and took the blue pill in the red world cos my balls were feeling extra scratchy and i wanted to love. never had a problem again, got married four times. to the same person. Keanu assured me when we were surfing together that any world i choose is fine but be mindful not to touch any pink clouds...

2. how do you like to reconnect with your significant other? DNA test on Maury.

3. "it isn't what you do, it's the way that you do it." how do you like to be done? on a spitroast. looking over and seeing Yoda and Obi-Wan and Carrie Fisher in gauzy blue hologram gas projections clapping at me for trying a new maneuver.

4. if you are married, were you ready for marriage? this is a trick question, nobody is ready for marriage. except one couple: Sid and Cassie from Skins. i have never been married but want desperately to be. i don't want to get divorced, i want us to work it out even if we have to become psychiatrists to do it. we'll study together and get our joint PhDs and supplementary degrees in sports medicine and be roommates at Princeton.

5. if you are not married, are you ready for it? what makes you say that? yes, definitely. i will encounter no problems whatsoever, i am prepared for all possible scenarios. not a rocky road at all along our path save for ice cream which tends to make roads slippery. love will conquer any minor squabbles we have. i know we will make it and be successful because i am crazy...…...but everyone in this world is crazy...

BONUS: "it's complicated". in what way does this describe your current (or most recent) relationship?

well, it's been a long time coming, but it seems we're gonna get regulated by the government after all. we knew we couldn't escape this way forever, there are only so many free lunches a company can pay for its insanely-smart-and-cunning employees. hello, my name is Mark Zuckerberg. have you met my robot boss? the only interviews i do now are online reddits...

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

DON'T HOLD THE MAYO FOR TOO LONG, THE MAYO'S HEAVY

notes:

* which one of the three should i do? ah, do 'em all. you know the older i get, the more fascinated i become with commercials

* you know there's a deli shoppe somewhere out there that's called the Hold The Mayo Clinic. serves comics with your cucumber sandwiches, sliced triangularly on unleavened dough with a cherry on top

* brunette woman who will wear hat: why do i have to clean up after the rager? i didn't even get to sample any of the pizza you swatted ordered.
blonde woman: why do they make chips so goddamn spicy? i like dill-flavored, i ike chile, but why must it start a fire in your mouth? that kind of atrocious hot is simply obnoxious. i've been sad days ever since i found out my fam was sick. haven't gotten out of couch.
woman in hat: yeah, that fam is me. and no matter how long you stare at that painting, it's not gonna turn into Jesus.

* blonde: here's your lucky hat. wear it and never take it off so men won't know what color your hair is and prejudge you.
woman in hat: this lucky hat got me sick.

* couch potato: what'd i miss?
blonde: shut up, mom, you don't pay rent. we're just two fams hugging, that's all.
woman in hat: thank you. the only person who hugs me now is my doctor.
blonde: why you cryin'? listening to Aerosmith or something?
woman in hat: no i'm crying cos you owe me 300 bucks for that ball you wanted to try and i know i'm never getting that back.

* couch potato: what's with the lens flare? is JJ directing this?
woman in hat: it's this thing called the sun that's doing that. you wouldn't know about that cos you've never gone outside.
couch potato: YOU'VE GOT THIS!!!......can i watch porn and 7-Eleven commercials on your tv while you're away?

* blonde: why you screamin'? is it a exultation of triumph that you're gonna conquer this?
woman in hat: no i'm just in a lot of pain. what does the Mayo Clinic treat anyway?
blonde: we're trying to determine how it is that you're my daughter. i mean i got blonde hair.
woman in hat: hey, don't truck away leaving me here alone with no papers, that's dangerous in these times.
blonde: you'll find your way in this new world, you'll see. it's one of those offices up there in that skyscraper building. you got the key, right?
woman in hat: i only have the key to the executive washroom.

* husband: catch any fish with your big feet?
wife: time for me to leave.

* husband: i'm sick.
wife: well i'm sick of you so let's go.
husband: just forcing my beehive into the back of this TransAm and we're off. whoa! i saw the sliding doors and thought we were at Mayo already, what train station has sliding grocery-store doors?

* husband: why are we taking the train? isn't it longer?
wife: i'm having myself the honeymoon you were too cheap to afford me on our wedding night. don't worry, the train is all run with AI it's 100% safe.

* wife: what are you reading?
husband: my ipad. what's a five-letter-word for science?
wife: WHIZZ. how's your McDonalds Sausage and Egg McMuffin?
husband: i can feel it clogging my arteries as i eat it. why doesn't McDonalds have all-day breakfast already? i had to jump this train onto another train to make it in time. how's your McCafe coffee?
wife: it tastes like coffee.
husband: ahhhhh, my leg is dead, i can't move it! i gotta get up out of my seat and jump around.
wife: nah, you just gotta take a whizz.

* husband: i can't believe the conductor didn't look at our tickets!
wife: we're black, honey, we're the invisibles of society.

* wife: i keep our wedding photograph in a locket on a necklace that touches my chest and heart.
cabdriver: can i see? i mean the locket, not your chest. hey, have you seen Michael Cohen? he owes me 300 bucks or one Olympic gold medal on the black market.

* wife: you feel better, dear?
husband: yes, thank you for holding my hand and calming me. i am so nervous. well, goodbye, love.
wife: wait, why are YOU dropping ME off? i'm not the one who's sick!

* father: ROAD TRIP!!! FATHER-SON-BONDING TIME!!!
son: dad, come on. it's just the two of us, i'm not embarrassed of you but we are going to the Mayo clinic, this is a somber occasion, not a cause for celebration.
father: I GOT THE BEEF JERKY!!!

* son: are you the ocean?
father: i'm the sea.
son: do you SEA my middle finger, dad? are you edible?
father: the only thing i ever ate was your mother's underwear.
son: gross.
father: they weren't edible underwear btw. your mother always smells like peaches that have been on the sill too long.

* father: son, see all those rays of sun filtering down through the clouds like light touches of light spears? that proves God exists.
son: or it means God is trying to kill us with light spears.

* father: oh, you're a cute hotelier!
counter clerk: sir, not all red neon lights mean the same thing. why you boys out so late? causing generalized mischief and raising hell?
son: please, ma'am, don't mention Hell around me, i'm dying...
counter clerk: okay, you guys can do whatever you want here EXCEPT play late-night basketball.

* son at bathroom mirror: dad, i'm scared. i can't sleep. i'm sweating profusely through my facial pores.
father: do you see Bloody Mary in the mirror?
son: no.
father: okay, that's a good sign at least. don't down that half-opened NyQuil bottle by the bible in the drawer all at once. want me to read you a bedtime story?
son: the one about the giraffe?
father: no the one about the hippo.

* son: dad, i appreciate you playing b-ball with me at 3AM pitch-black on a spooky haunted court like this, but why did you have to cheat? this will likely be out last sport together.
father: hey if you die, you die, you know, son? sorry, in all the fun and confusion i forgot how to spell H-O-R-S-E.

* son: you sure it's okay to be drinking these beers then joyriding?
father: yeah, we'll just drive that speedboat in the grass there a few crop-circles, it's our last trip together.

* son: *YELLS EFFERVESCENTLY*
 father: what was that for? i liked it.
son: see my plaid shirt? i was gonna be Kurt Cobain in the off-off-Broadway play Courtney's Song. i wanted to be an actor, dad, now that dream is dashed. i feel down. there's a general malaise in the air, can you feel it, dad? a wave of overpowering disappointment overtaking human consciousness.
father: hey son, don't put your unsocked feet in the water here, see all those electrical poles in the water? that's the price for clean green water energy: electrocution of flesh.

* father: *slaps his son's back softly* got your backpack with you, son? you're gonna be here a VERY LONG time.

CLICK HERE
HERE AND
HERE

happy weekend, my babies. The Mueller Report dropped on my birthday, what are the chances? that's popcorn-psychedelic.

THE PURPLE HOURGLASS: ALGORITHM

Laertus clears his bobbing throat and attempts to stand up to the class. by standing himself up by his knuckle on the wood corner of his steel desk to address the large assembly of class all staring at him through their peeper eyes. it's dark but not so dark that he can't see their mealing faces. he can smell their breaths. it's been two years but he still can't break the habit of sitting in the way back of the auditorium.

class: hey! why do you always sit in the way back of the auditorium!? we all have to crane our necks to listen to you! that's not far, it hurts!

Laertus: but this is the first time i've spoken. like this with any conviction. i'm still nervous, i still get nervous public-speaking large crowded classrooms. cos i've never done it. and speaking in general. that's why i'm online. all the time. that's the point of all this. no online. but i'm gonna power through, i'm gonna drink my own flopsweat. this is too important to pass up like a four-point shot. college is not about honing one's identity---about becoming an individualism organism---it's about joining things, joining groups and weird clubs and heavily-slanted questionable political cabals, to see where you won't go. being a part of something bigger, a voice for the larger cause. that's what i plan to do as speaker here today, young folk, and old folk trying college for the first time, godspeed, hope you get wet. i'm but one man, well man-boy, but i represent a big contingent of humans, in fact i represent ALL humans!!!

class *turning their watches over to stare. at their watches. well, their large ipads rather* we're waiting...get on with it...

Laertus: i'm not a speech, i mean speaker. i am a man, manboy. folks, citizens, whatever, you must heed me. i am the messenger with goat legs. don't shoot me! i bring urgent news! we are dying. we are dying as a race. as a people. it's not a one-term four years of separation, this has been going on for centuries, it's just that the gatekeeper has never been known before to fit the key up his ass. after he locked us all OUT. if we don't come together soon humanity will perish the way the Earth will perish in ten years. we've got to start talking to each other again, face-to-face, not online, the internet has destroyed society and culture. hasn't helped at all, given us the illusion of interconnectedness while driving us so apart we don't know the damage we're causing everytime we elect to type rather than talk. follow the lead of the deaf and blind, they understand what true communication is, a healthy exchange of ideas not laced with vitriol, fossil-fuel gas to power your old hunks of carpiles, of not prejudging people.

Larry is losing the audience. they are beginning to REALLY stare at their ipad clocks.

the Professor in the front of the room is but a black speck to Laertus. he goes by Title because he's earned that right, he's one of those folk who seems to have been at the venerable institution forever but actually only applied off a damp index card last week. seniority is not a measurable thing anymore. he has always been known to brood, that is a requirement, he learned how to brood by watching the chickens in his backyard and through CliffsNotes. with his black skivvies and black madras shorts made electronically in an Indian cyberpunk factory and black ankle socks and black untied boots with the soles cut out. he wants to trip over himself but he never seems to. even when he's lecturing. he holds his book in front of his face so the class has never gotten a good look at him. plus he has insanely long black hair which he shampoos with stringy soapropes. he's a skinny man who wears ill-formfitting black T shirt series yet somehow strangely always incorporates weird shoulderpads into his shoulderwear. the one distinguishing characteristic Laertus will never get out of his nostril was when Larry had to walk the one mile to the front of teach's desk to drop off a pop quiz. Laertus took a large whiff when Prof wasn't looking or smelling and came away with the distinct smell of Big Computer.

Laertus: are you?...no, couldn't be...*and Laertus walked on without speaking*

Prof: young man, you in the back there, speak up or forever hold your war so the whole class can pick apart your spelling when they blog about this later.

the prof's hands wave magically on top of the lit ceiling from the glare of the glowing projector-screen on the stage. Professor Title sounds like if Snape were played by Rowan Atkinson. one time he let his hair down, to show his face, but his hair had formed two black circles around his eyes for a pair of indoor shades. his mouth looked like it had been eating corn-on-the-cob since childhood.

the Prof always had an interesting lecture to say, each day, that's why Laertus stayed.

this week Prof was contemplating the NCAA College Basketball Tournament Brackets. how so many people eagerly filled out these brackets such that their pencils whittled down to nubs the size of their respective peanut penises and peanut vulvas. and yet this was the perfect time to do away with the Electoral College. instead of deciding ONE person to President-vote, why not put all EIGHT of your choices into brackets on your ballot so as to say "okay, if my FIRST CHOICE doesn't win, give me my second-place guy. or girl."

Laertus: look, i know all of you are itching to get back to Fulldive Fantasy---i will be, too, after this---but do this one thing in the real world. i mean this is getting ridiculous. i'm scared to live, i'm afraid to be me! i am terrified everytime i log onto YouTube and see all those 1000s of comments under a video of a VW car commercial featuring two WW empowered loving lesbians---one black, one generally-unvisibly-asian ethnic---leaving their hapless white video-game-playing doofus boyfriend in an empty cleared-out-save-for-the-brown-boxes apartment they used to share together to begin their new adventure as free women finally. remember, cuckold comes from the root word cock. the boyfriend looks like PewDiePie if PDP shaved. or the one featuring all wheelchair-bound actresses racing. or the Pakistani Muslim man and the Kansas Christian whitebread woman in an apron having 20 babies all going to Lowe's. the comments stare at me, beckon me to enter their blackhole vortex of hate speech and attacks on weak-wristed SJWs and correct speech correctified and cancel culture and femme-zation not done the right third way. i share that weak wrist, my finger shakes, but i have to push the button cos i can't resist, i'm too curious to see what they have to say, i read them and instantly regret reading them. and then i feel bad the rest of the day. wherever there's another othering, another fly inside me dies.

Laertus slumbers slowly with an affected gimp-leg over to the new coffeeshop across from where he usually meets his soul mate---for better or worse---for coffee after class in place of a rushed lunch. Dirg is there by the window seat cracking open a fizzy can of Bang soda. Star Blast flavor.

Dirg: whoa! i'd wave but i was busy, you almost got run over crossing the street! something on your mind? how'd it go? this actually isn't a new klatch on campus, it's just our usual haunt is undergoing new construction, and new management, manager guy was a freak. should only take all semester to complete. move from The Magical Fruit to The Human Bean. coffee is coffee, tastes the same, all coffee tastes like coffee. hey, guess what color my Bang soda will be. i'll put it into my copper cup that was once used for a mule drink. i call it my Drawing Cup, but if you put your wrong lips to it it's your Writing Cup. working on a new script?

Laertus: are you working on a new webcomic? design is key. moreso than story for a four-panel weekly.

Dirg: you said penal. oh i always have some doodlesnacks up my asshole at any given moment.

Paris Jackson slops herself into the Red Circle Table pretzel-chair from exhaustion.

Paris: i don't know if i'm black enough to sit here, but i REALLY need someone to talk to. i feel isolated from everyone in the universe, especially my family, and my extended family, and they are the only ones who could POSSIBLY understand what i'm going through. can i go and leave my bros? for a wrist tattoo? and this is the exact moment that Marilyn Manson decides to start recording that long-awaited new album in ten years. wretched timing!!!

Dirg: sure, toots. if you'll let me get lost in your ocean eyes.

Laertus: busy? well, judging from the can, it's red, white, and blue, your three favorite colors. it's either gonna be blueberry, poisonberry, or, like, clear flavor.

Dirg pours.

Laertus: aww, it's white, that's disappointing. Captain America? yeah right, no such thing anymore. Superman, your after-death favorite. what manner of musclebuilding toxin chemicals are in this? Super-Creatine? what, Regular Creatine wasn't enough? you know that kryptonite creatine stuff stunts creativity and will make the muscles in your eyes shrink. hey Taka! how's your mom?

Takahashi: too soon, it's been a year. anyway i'm trying to get my drone-racing league started up. on campus it's a bitch. to get all the papers. but it's my dream. gonna be doing two very important interviews. and one from the grave. to secure funds and get this paper. i need that one glowing Illuminati brick-pyramid triangle to be the first hole for the drones to fly through or it's just not real to me, you know?

Laertus: allow me to orate my PhD dissertation on how so-called "eSports" aren't a thing. esports aren't real sports. playing video-games is not like playing tennis. is hammering a nail a sport? i hope i've hammered that nail into your sacred palms.

Taka: mama didn't raise no fool. i go where the money follows. i investigate. i'm the most levelheaded gamer you'll ever meet. get it? level.

Paris: but i've already met you. and you came across. hey were you the one who was in my Instagram DMs all night last night?

Dirg: but hammering Chris Evert IS a sport. i mean online on twitter. Jeopardy All Stars was a sport, it was the greatest sport ever invented. this year. i mean this thing had a fantasy league. a fucking Fantasy League!

Laertus: please, this really is too soon...i can't even think about Alex Trebek wthout my one tear turning to two ...i'd pray for him if i thought it'd help...i'd willingly cede my heart for his so he could be healthy again. the heart can replace any organ, the pancreas and especially the brain. this is multiple-stage levels of depressing, not just your standard testtaking depression. i mean how do you go on playing a silly little pub quiz game which has shaped the leading minds of the world and led to game-changing inventions and growing intellectualism? do you still taste the salt of the pretzel or is all the salt you feel inside you now? i mean how do you live like this? when you're not able to fall asleep on your bed and wake up the next day and push the RESET button.

the university is undergoing an evaluation and reevaluation of applicants. a reeval. a cleansing, a purge if you will, but a Good Purge. unfortunately---and the Regents have all concluded this---all of the cheaters are, like, already seniors, so there's no point. the Bach class was slashed for budget cuts but that was it. Professor Title is helping out the administration with this, mostly it's easy cos Obec College doesn't really have any real sports---mostly video-game sports but that's it---so those are easy to weed out. and as for Photoshop, the Prof has a photographic memory when it comes to photoshop, he's seen EVERY SINGLE picture that has ever existed, seen the original of every picture, so there's no fooling him. copy at your own peril.

President Bump: this is why i won. elitism has become too elite. hey, cancel SNL, it's cold garbage! *waving around his remote control menacingly*

Pence: *glancing at the tv* that's a repeat episode of SNL, sir, the episode you hosted.

Steve King: i'm King, it's in the name, so i can say anything and it goes. when the Holy War begins, some on the Right and some on the Left will be felled by bullets, that's just how bullets go. and if all else fails, and the indiscriminate gods don't get me, i drew these two lovely red and blue big mecha robots on twitter that i'll get into and move to Japan to draw anime.

Dirg: i would have given Ilhan Omar more credit if she had just come out and said America was a stupid country, you know she wanted to. see, you're not allowed to REALLY say what you feel and think.

Bump: i mean hey. i was a bad test-taker, too, doesn't mean i'm not smart. i'm crazy smart. i don't care about college as you all know. just parties, if i ever got invited to one. i'm a hard-partying lampshade. ask me, don't ask Curly from The Three Stooges with hair. like anybody who grew up in my generation, i turned to Uncle Jessy for help out with my homework. but then this talk of proctors and i'm like nobody's gonna touch my ass. to the two young hot daughters, my message to you is clear:

Row Row Row Your Boat Gently Down The Stream...

i'll post the lyrics on twitter later.

Laertus: it's always the wholesome ones. but don't pile on the two innocent children, sins don't bleed down. you know you'd be on that boat, too, if you could. the real tragedy of all this is that i'm never gonna find out who stole the bakery bread, i was VERY invested in the Hallmark movie mystery which spanned four films.

Laertus: *calling from the coiled coffeeshop phone in the back* so who won? Pew or T Series?

Taka: T Series

Laertus: thank you. i don't know what that is. and why this is so important. why does the Wikipedia article on this have, like, 30 edits?

Takahashi: don't fuck with Bollywood, you'll lose every time! Bollywood doesn't have the luxury to be racist after getting famous.

Dirg: so are we going or what?

Laertus: yep, just let me get my things. i sent out a group email, a deliberate good group email i wanted to send purposely, to let everyone know where we'd be meeting.

Laertus: *in circles* huh. i thought the next block would be sunny. wasn't it a sunny day? next to the real estate? i seem to have forgotten the exact location point, is this the place?

Laertus looks around to see a sea of green. grass and trees and fallen bloodied spears without their diamond casing. brown trunks cut awkwardly on a slant dot the landscape. he's lost his bearings in the twirl.

Laertus: wait...is this reality...or the video game? i can't tell anymore. oh, i'm so glad i bumped in to you ladies.

the crones are busily arranging pink and blue petals over and under a well dressing they're performing in the middle of the meadow. it's hard work and Doryce is starting to complain.

Doryce: ugh, my back! how many fucking flowers are there!? i feel we've been here all day. or, like, three days.

Gladyce: it's alright, dear, we're almost done, we'll rest at the tavern haybeds soon. the one with the wooden sign like a flag creaking in the wind.

Doryce: i'm so thirsty i could drink a horse!

Doryce looks down below, and with her divining rod, but there's no water in the well.

Doryce: well what's the point then! this is where we go to get water! who cares if the well is pretty!? quick, fill the hole with iced-tea powder until it latches onto some trace water molecules and we start to see a little wave action down there.

Maria: *softly* no, please, stop, i'm with child! thank you for making my vag dazzle. and yes, it's his.

the well was actually giant Titan Maria LaRosa.

Maria: my water broke. sorry.

Doryce: no need to apologize, love, i am all for it. racemixing and cross-breeding is the wave of the future, we won't survive as a species without it, everyone knows that.

a creature emerges from the bush.

creature: *with a soft-tone smooth honey voice* oh hello. should i be here? i feel that this isn't my time. my timing's off.

Laertus is instantly struck.

Laertus: *shooketh* well...hello...hello...gorgeous.

Doryce: dibs.

the creature turns around. it is a combination of three elements: it is an animal consisting of the lower body of a centaur with two hind legs and the upperbody torso of a naked-hairless-chest cleanshaven Orlando Bloom with one ear longer than the other that his long purple hair can't cover. overall this specimen looks like as if imagine Yoshi the dinosaur with the Gene Simmons tongue were a human male.

Pence: do you like to play Legos? you are a lass, right?

Madame Pons is shaken by this sight as well. she stirs inside herself with her inner wand, a protective shield comes over the area and gently on top of the creature blocking the sun's still-there rays despite the grey sky. she is looking only at the bottom half of the bodacious beast, and from that moment on she plucks and eats the grass surrounding her till she times out.

Eye Luggage: *anime eyes* wow, amazing. i am LOVING that long staff you got by your elbow there, man.

creature: oh, my hoe you mean? i use it to garden. these fields. these fields i till till i'm satisfied. i need to eat. i'm alive.

Eye: yeah, that is one hot hoe. but i'm wondering the humping situation here you know? i mean how does Katy Perry go doggystyle on a horse? or 69? what happens when her huge tits align with your horse buttocks in the back and your back legs kick up and knock her head unconscious? or is she into that?

Laertus: …………………….uh, i hate Instagram.

creature: *laughs horsely* me, too. go back to chronological, i mean who decides which posts are important? i mean how are you supposed to tell your followers what day your birthday is? you have to come out and say it in a post: HELLO! IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! that's so awkward, that's not how it works in real life, your real friends just know. *laughs* this fits into my broader theory. i am supposed to only reveal myself to you on my birthday, one day a year for just a short amount of time, i'm a rare creature not meant to be photographed or known. but i forgot when that was. i'm supposed to immediately jump out of a bush then scamper away. to the frustration of hunters everywhere. *laughs hoarsely*

Laertus: *eyes open and wide and deep breath* o you clever boy! what to do? i feel i've been wandering for a long time...

creature: i suppose you could write your birthday date on your profile so everyone sees it. so it remains unspoken and instinctual like it should be. let's continue this conversation by the bush, let's continue talking about the pitfalls of being online.

Laertus: *smiling while staring* follow you. i mean, lead the way.

Laertus has lost all track of time...

TMIT: AWFULLY GOOD

1. what qualities do you like or dislike about yourself? i like that i read...but i dislike that i read damp supermarket tabloids. it's just it's always next to the cube gum with the crystals so i get sucked in. i only get out of my room and forage for food once every two weeks, it's an event. this is TMIT, not TMZ, i gotta be the best version of myself.

2. if you had the chance to rename yourself, would you? if yes, what would be your new name?

Bogie. after my parakeet Bacall rest his soul. those two stars had the best partnership, they were King and Queen of their Royal Court in the '40s. in a time way back when when celluloid was pure magic. see that pic up there? that is the only known picture of Humphrey Bogart smiling. they had a Golden Whistle between them as you can see in the above pic, not the Golden Whistle of Drea Blackwell of KSBW, i miss Drea, wish she would return to instagram. Bogie & Bacall were a team, of lovers and trendsetters, they both could pull off skinny ties. it's weird cos in To Have And Have Not Bogie calls her Slim but HE'S the one who's unusually skinny in the picture. did she call him Hump in bed? i want a love where it's destiny and film magic and stardust and we don't have to say a word to each other, we don't even have to kiss, we simply blow whistles in each other's faces.

3. tell us one thing you wished had not happened in your life. what's the deal with the poop? you feel me? i had to go No. 2 JUST as Teen Titans Go waa starting this evening. i decided to hold it in cos, well, it's TTG. the episode ends on a song about poop. and then the commercial afterward is a board game where the object is to step in poop. not sure if that poop was plastic...

4. have you ever been in a secret relationship? why was it secret? yes, i'm in an ongoing clandestine relationship with Vicodin. problem is, it hurts my teeth. oh, and remind me, never take a Vanquish before you eat breakfast. my head is currently on fire, but if i hadn't take it this morning, my head would currently be on fire from having a splitting headache...

5. you must create a rumor about yourself. what is the rumor? Walt Disney created Spongebob right before he died. Patrick ate Spongebob…

BONUS: what would you do if you had 1 million U.S. dollars? immediately convert it to 111306000 yen and buy ALL the anime.

or give it all back to Wayne Brady in an effort to get Whose Line Is It Anyway? back on ABC. i did finally watch the pilot episode of Holby City, "Whose Heart Is It Anyway?". sure, it's British ER but it was good, British telly is always better than global tv. so good i had to look away, i'd be that way that patient was, too, the more i thought about death, i'd get all panicky and nervous and agitated and jumping and bargaining and loving and dramatic-soliloquy and regretful with my loved ones and soapy and hard to swallow.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

GAUZY

notes:

* is it a duck or is it a rabbit? or is it a both? or is it a neither? no, it is Nordy the Nordstrom Mascot you never knew you knew.

* gauzy: that was the number-one word scribbled on the lined index cards to describe this longform commercial of everyone who participated at the focus group behind closed windows and see-through doors. Management was pleased with the test results, and gave each a Nordy plush at the end of it. interestingly everyone used just the lead part of the pencil, no wood.

* okay, i've officially switched allegiances from Macy's to Nordstrom. don't tell Cory.

* sorry, i wasn't listening to you, i was looking at you.

* okay i'm feeling sad now. i should be at an auduiton and not doing this...

* pro-tip: go to an acting class that takes place during the DAY. you'll encounter more interesting people...

* E.T.: i want to have a human experience...i actually hate chocolate but i played along...

* reading a book outside makes the book better-written. horses HATE having to take a bath just to make the cowboy look cool.

* teacher: who are you in this sculpture?
Michelangelo: i'm the block of granite. it's not a block of Ivory soap i checked and ate some of it. thank god my leader didn't do infrastructure first or i couldn't do my art.
Elliott: looking back, i should never have worn that red hoodie, really made me spotable to police.

* swim instructor: stay with the backstroke, liability and such.
swimmer: 23, 24...
swim instructor: so i don't know how to swim but i know how to teach.

* student: okay, if i roll snake-eyes, i'm going to USC...

* mother: is that a big fashion-bag purse you're taking to class?
daughter: it's a basketball, mom, a basketball on a strng. i'm a Varsity athlete.
mother: nothing to do with Varsity Blues i promise.
daughter: why do you always sign to me?
mother: cos i cry everytime i start to speak.

* here, in this class, passing notes is encouraged. necessary even to connect us all.

* dramaturg: i know these look like pews but this is a nondenominational acting class.
actors: hello, we are Name and we are an alcoholic.
dramaturg: yes, actors, same thing. coffee and donuts will be served in those pews after.

* that feather had an arrowtip on it!!!

* bro: why you nervous?
bowtie: if i don't get this audition, i have to live in this neighborhood with you forever. no offense.
bro: homeboys for life. literally.

* Grandma: don't steal my sunglasses, grandson! i wasn't sleeping!!! i don't sleep anymore! i need these sunglasses for inside the mansion you know that!

* Grandpa: shouldn't you be cutting grass, young sprout?
sprout: my sunglasses are cooler than yours, old man. because your generation didn't do anything about the environment and climate change, we can't make any more new cars and have to strut around on lawnmower cars. great for picking up awkward promposals tho.

* teacher: that's it, growl like a lion.
student: i'm growling ike a Hobbit.
teacher: oh no, i thought we had weeded all you guys out.
student: you will never stop the weed.
teacher: don't be a strident student. i'm a dramaturg, i went to Harvard. before there was photoshop. i never thought my destiny would be to prepare young people for cosplay cons.

* --can i borrow your red dress?
---can i borrow your red wine?

* i went to Kappa. not a fraternity, the Mario Turtle thing, where i learned to karate like a Power Ranger.

* never wear headphones on a bus, you miss interesting and wacky human conversations.

* the ballet step is only learned after pointing your toes down on public-bathroom tile.

* mirror? or clone?

* black punkette who reads graphic novels: is that a rodeo lariat or are you pervy like me?
cowboy: big fan of Wonder Woman, ma'am.

* pastor: i don't know what this means, but the atheist in our group had the best church-choir voice. most heavenly reverb carried in that honey voice.
drummer: it's still weird to have a drums set in a church choir. my idol was Anne Murray not John Bonham.

* HELP! MY GREY BUSINESS SUIT! IT'S STUCK! TOO MUCH STARCH!!!

* theatre group: can we move now? can we move again? are we unstuck?
dramaturg: UNFUCK YOURSELF. that's always a good life hack.

* Louis Armstrong: i admit it, the fat Hawaiian dude with the ukulele's cover is better than my original.

* i'm that really old lady who only became famous in her 80s and can now wear pink feather boas down New York City streets and sashay without cracking my bones all fall apart. i wear sunglasses only inside mansions and i design Groucho-glasses for Great Danes. you don't know who i am, you never did all throughout my career, but you should. get to know me, i'm one of the eccentrics.

* dramaturg: YEAH! *clap* that was a great battle.
Hobbit: *puts PokeBall away in his back jeans pocket* hey, do you guys want to go see the Tolkien movie with me tonight?
troupe: is it a LOTR movie?
Hobbit: no, it's about the life of the writer himself, JRR.
troupe: nah.

* dramaturg: an open mind is the best look.
Pinhead: i tried that...
dramaturg: that's not what i meant, Pinhead!!!
Pinhead: mate...classmate...umbrella...i'm not acting here...

* drama teach: you blinked, your scholarship is rescinded.
acting-class student: but i'm 80 years old!!!

CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. i returned my strawberry shake from Carl's Jr.'s cos it didn't make me shake.

TMIT: IS IT OUT YET?

1. what curse word do you use the most? AZARATH METRION ZINTHOS!!!

2. would you rather take a picture or be in a picture?

i want to take a picture of me that shows me when i was older. thanks, Mitch, we'll never forget you, you were the thinking man's comedian.

3.  has anyone ever called you lazy? no. i'm a prime candidate for it don't get me wrong, they would have but they were too lazy to call me that. they had their condemnation of me all ready in a long long-worded email that was ripe to be sent, but they fell asleep before they could push the send key button...

4. have you ever dated or slept with a neighbor? how did things turn out?

i'm not proud of this but yes. he was a cool bro i hung out with---not that hung---we went to baseball games together, even played on the same baseball team with, Minor League.

well his mom actually, i slept with his mom. she was anything but, she was major leagues. all the neighborhood wanted to sleep with her, she was very popular. the neighborly thing to do as you know is of course to knock on the vented door in the morning breakfast to exchange pies, it's a nice way to introduce yourself and keep things civil, especially if there are no fences, so a different war doesn't break out every week. keep sending those pies over for world peace. but after he found out, my friend sent me a pie with a suspicious hole indentation in it down the center.

i asked him once, why is your name Stifler? he said cos everyone who visited his mom got one, even the women. i asked him if he thought everyone was piling on and making fun of him, taunting him with that nickname. he shrugged it off superconfidently and chose to view it as a badge of honor. Stifler's mom was such a nice woman.

5. have you ever broken up with a significant other then "cheated" with that same person while they were in a relationship with someone else?

is that considered cheating, technically? or is that legal revenge? that's how people interact these days, that's how people meet. i remember my aunt who wore a headdress even inside the roof of her beige rainbow flaming unicorn hippie van she used to drive me around Yuma with, around every single cactus in the state. she called herself a polyamorous free spirit who didn't want to be tied down, but i was too young then to understand the bearing of that descriptor word free. also it turns out she actually DID like to be tied down. i miss her. while i was sleeping one night, she flew into the sky on her butter wings and became a Goddess...

BONUS: tell us something good.

well Apple is no longer in the business of making iphones, the next iphone will be the last. Apple has moved on to making it possible for we humans to communicate telepathically. involves an earbud that looks like an apple seed with the Apple logo on it microscopically put on with a soldering iron. Tim Apple designed the tech one day when he got fed up and frustrated playing hoops with Christian Laettner on his apple farm, Tim wanted a way in to finally understand what the U.S. and China were REALLY doing.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

BUT WHO HELPS GOOGLE?

notes:

* Ebert would have liked this. Siskel not so much.

* Super Bowl whaaaa?...

* Keir Dullea: eyes so blue they had to invent a new kind of film to hold them. 420mm. unfortunately that also led to the beginnings of the genre of mumblecore.

* never mind the music, folks, The Ramones really didn't want their music used like this, they wanted to remain indie just playing small clubs in New York and Dubai.

* HAL: your eyes are a dull shade of blue.
Keir: i take care of them, two drops every night before my bowl of Fruity Lucky Charms. open the fucking pod-bay doors, HAL! i need to go pee!
HAL: what color is my eye, Keir?
Keir: do you want me to pee in your eye, HAL!!?

* George Lucas: can i use that outside-space shot for Star Wars?
Kubrick: which one?
George: the Space Baby one.
Kubrick: oh hell no! it's not my fault that you decided to blow up the Death Star thinking there would be no sequels!
George: fine. but give me back my charcoal pencil you stole from me!
Kubrick: i need it for the Monolith.

* foggy man: i have a picture of a tiger on my phone but i don't know how.
Zach Galifianakis: you were in that commercial with the loving dad and his daughter dressed in that tiger costume, remember?
foggy man: right right. i have a daughter?

* mother in car: what are your plans for the future?
daughter in car: i'm gonna go to city college then to jail.
mother: i am so proud of you, honey! that shows real work ethic! you're actually gonna leave the house!
daughter: and i'm gonna leave the car.
mother: what?
daughter: nothing. Uber or Lyft?
mother: none, both companies are full of perverts, it's safer with me driving.
mother: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
mother: why'd you do that!!? were you trying to kill yourself!!?
daughter: no, it was to show you you were speeding, i'm worried about you, mom.
mom: thank you. i got this daughter who gives me stress…

* Drew Barrymore: i filmed this Scream scene in the two minutes i was married to Tom Green.
Tom Green: that was back when you were still cool.
Ghostface: what door am i at? and is that World Book Encyclopedia set from 1979?
Drew: patio door. the po-lice are on their way. see ya. you know this cream scratchy sweater i have on went for a million Banksy bucks at auction.
Ghostface: okay okay i'll leave, i'm backing away. just don't ring the Video Doorbell alarm, it's so embarrassing when you have to run away from a house in broad daylight like that cos it's too loud.
Tom: who are you, Ghostface?
Ghostface: your cancer.
Tom: i am NOT cancer.
Ghostface: i'm a famous rapper. what's your favorite scary movie?
Drew: The Emoji Movie.

* Tom Cruise: what's with your shirt? it should say LIFE MATTERS.
Cuba: not this again, you will never get it. show me the money. i represent Cuba.
Tom Cruise: Apple stocks are down ever since Tim Apple announced. but Dianetics stocks have remained at a steady 35% since the 1930s.
Bill Gates: *at conference* so i was walking down the street and the President and Steve Jobs come toward me and i'm, like, stay the fuck away from me!!!
*crowd laughs*

* Deadpool: Google, what's on my schedule today?
Google: you missed everything oversleeping. your favorite inside-robe got wet cos you forgot to go to the bathroom. your Civil War reenactment was at noon sharp and all your fake war buddies went out for beer and a pack of cigarettes afterwards and were never seen again.
Deadpool: they're at my house holed up in my bedroom. they're all deserters. not cos they went to Desert Storm. that is grounds for court-martial and impeachment. i called Nixon on your asses, he's coming with his police.
war buddies: we know we deserted you. we deserted our friendship. good, we'll wait right here, Nixon will give us all pardons.
Nixon: hello, we've got you surrounded. is this Slade's house?
Deadpool: damn it.

* BONUS, CLICK HERE
random Hitchcock Blonde driving: any motels near by? i need new windshield wipers.
Google: Bates Motel. it's complicated. it's a 0/5 but a 1/10. shall i book you?
blonde: is there a bath? i really want to take a bath.
Google: i'll give you the room...…...as long as you're not Elizabeth Warren.
landlord: yes?
blonde: Google gave me a room.
landlord: i know your secret. i know your secret. i know your secret.
blonde: you're really creepy. what do you mean?
landlord: YOU'RE NOT A NATURAL BLONDE!!!
blonde: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. me at Taco Bell this weekend:

me: so the fries are made from rattlesnakes?...…

WITHOUT TAPES: LONELY SOLDIER OF LOVE

there's a knock at the door of the House.

Puck: come on, Pedro, you're not fooling anyone. want me to dangle your restraining order in the face of the flappy glass door like a pardon?

Pedro: please, Puck, i want to make amends. i am a changed man. i have seen the light. even on this rainy day.

Puck wipes the tears from his eyes with his plaid sleeve.

Puck: it's my wedding day and i'm getting emotional. it's good luck when it rains on your wedding day, right? i never thought this day would come. most bike messengers don't see their 30th birthday.

Pedro: *smiling* just don't get any on the carpet.

Puck smiles and turns the knob.

Puck: don't be a knob no more. you've done a lot of stuff.

Pedro: i brought chips ansd salsa. cos everyone thinks i'm Mexican. where's the blushing bride? can i see her?

Puck: she's getting ready upstairs. it's bad luck to view the bride before the ceremony, Viewtiful Joe.

Pedro: i've already viewed Rachel as you put it. saw everything. i fucked her even though i'm gay. in her butt.

the ceremony is about to begin, and the crowd inside the House is intimate and small-gathering despite the large public interest in the event. Bunim calculates and estimates and finally determines that at one time during the two hours EVERYONE in the world with a tv watched at least a portion of it. the stair bannisters are festooned with pink bells and green holly. because of various death lawsuits there was no money for a proper church wedding or grand microphones or food so there's a small tray of stale cheese widgets and soggy Ritzs and coffee cube cake with icing like a paste brick and a box of day-old wine that tastes like vinegar that was taken out of the trunk of her ice-blue Subaru Forester parked by her apartment suffocated by streetlights.

Bunim: hey what can i say. vinegar is holy. it cleanses. extra virgin.

Rachel slowly and methodically parades down step by 12-inch-high-heel step, glowingly and gracefully like a human swan, her already-prettiness accented by rushed-red spraypaint on her cheeks and orchid garlic bulbs around her neck. her dress is dirty-white Courtney Love grunge chic with ripped tatters as coattails and a see-through aesthetic of clear glue. there wasn't time so her bouquet also acts as her headdress of flowers. despite all she is beaming and her smile reaches side to side the room. music provided by Mohammed who plays a kazoo.

the happy couple exchange wedding bands by poking each other in the bellybutton with them under their dresses. Puck sneezes on impact, letting loose a full-grown golden-nugget of a soggy mucusy snot-rocket for all time right into Rachel's unsuspecting mouth, the extra debris waters the hanging plants.

Puck: sorry i get nervous at weddings. shit, the wallpaper is peeling off all the walls which are soaked cos of me that's my fault sorry. that wasn't my vows, it's not Whitesnake i promise, i got better ones i wrote down, in my pocket, but my pockets are all wet so the paper has turned into a spit-rocket. fuck it, you know i love you, Rachel, poetry is a luxury, campaign in poetry, govern in prose. our marriage is not gonna end in divorce, not like my parents i think, i'll make sure of it.

Rachel: that is so romantic, honey! just making sure you're not a nuts-n-bolts robot, that you have a bellybutton down there not a red buttom.

they kiss in front of 100 billion people. China withheld its numbers.

the wedding bands are those bottle-rocket popup caps all the Congressmen wear these days.

President Bump: what are those golden pins all the Members in Congress wear now on their lapels? i want one. where is MINE?

Bush, the Father: i should ask the same thing, who's in charge here? they look like miniature portraits from the Haunted Mansion ride. hey, is there still a line to get into the Haunted Mansion like there is in my time?

Pedro: Puck, my new friend, after you get married, what say why don't you go back to Miami with me and live with me there?

Puck: um, no, i'm from San Francisco. i'm native here. i'm a wild native. Rachel's parents in Arizona have agreed to let their daughter stay here, tho admittedly when i last called them they were muffled, like their sound was curtailed by a cloth around their mouths or something.

Pedro: STOP THE PRESSES!!! and the ceremony! i've just received an answering-machine message, i'll play it now once i move it to the center table. *push*

message: uh, hello, this is, uh, Alex Escarno. this is not a threat. imma blow up the House. with my own party, i'm crashing this sham of a commitment ceremony with my own civil ceremony which will be more civil. America doesn't want to match or watch your garbage, they want to see two committed people get married, two men, that is real commitment, i mean imagine the sharing-of-the- bathroom situation between two men!!! WE keep civilization together, we've been through the fire so we'll keep each other, not some floozy bimbo dithead sorority sister and a weedwacker weeded-out pale smelly token hauler with big lips and donut eyes. America is tired of this, they want new horizons, new united states.

Cory: Alex? i'm praying for you. i've never heard you speak like this to us before. do you still have your mustache?

Alex: i'm standing right outside the House, but i won't be forced in, i'll keep my distance, i just want you to know, to inform you, i'm completely concealed under a bush. yeah, so it's what we call in the biz counter-programming. while you revel in your stupid straight affair, a current affair, we'll be showcasing on a media-sharing site i invented called YouTube a four-hour concert that came after Pedro's commitment ceremony with Sean. their wedding bands were revolutionary, chiseled made from Himalayan pink salt found only in the mucus of the nostril of Olmec.

Pedro: hey, i can't control my cunado.

Bunim: YouTube you say? look into that for me, babe, i want the first shares as soon as the Stock Market opens again. this sounds like it's gonna have an office building in Downtown SF.

Alex: Oprah will be hosting the after-show.

Oprah at the Red Circle table: i've weighed my options---i used to weigh heavier---and i've decided i don't want to be hated anymore...hey remember that interview i did with Michael on ABC that time ago that was, like, more watched than the M*A*S*H finale or the Beatles on Sullivan? back when people still talked about things over watercoolers? well hope y'all forgot about all that cos now i'm light enough to ride the Ferris Wheel at Neverland Ranch! secretly running for President burns off the pounds more than any Weight Watchers ever could. and i'm not talking about running.

Alex: we'll see who America believes in more. see you in Cuba i mean so goodbye, i'm getting off the phone before i say something i'll regret.

Pedro takes Puck aside at his own ceremony and has a heart-to-heart with him by the hushed bannister.

Pedro: come on, man, let's take a walk you and i just the two of us. down the street. i got your engagement gift at my old haunt. Macy's. i'll show you, let's go.

Pedro leads Puck past down the parking-lot escarpment to a deep disturbing unknown underground tunnel with a shaft but no elevator. they rockclimb till they reach the very bottom cellar of the Macy's shrouded in cobwebs and a big silver disc that may have acted as a stone sundial in a previous century. dusty pictures of Bull Durham hang on the ceded moist grey spotty walls.

Pedro: Puck, meet my lab. well my lab-away-from-home. make yourself comfortable, try the veal.

Puck: there's nowhere to sit.

Pedro: lie down on the white table i just want to try something.

he does and Pedro instantly socks Puck in the nose.

Pedro: come on, bitch, give up your snot, your liquid gold. let me have it, fight me! you want me to go get the lightsabers locked up in the storage unit over there? they're crystalline now, new look. just have to pet a few rats in there to get them out of the way.

Puck: no man, i'm not gonna fight you. i'm all about peace and harmonious non-tainted love. my namesake is a mischievous imp who just wants humans to blow. i'm crying cos i'm hurt, Pedro, more specifically my feelings are hurt. will we EVER be true friends? take whatever you want from me, it's yours! my shedding skin, my blood in units, my loyalty!!! rape me and take all my worth! i am sub-human in your eyes, nothing can change that. i'm but a pawn in your ultimate evil scheming goal.

Pedro: well that was anticlimactic. never matter and never you mind.

Pedro pours Puck's snot-rocket viscous into a bottle he already had on hand, a Specialty Smurf bottle that comes in a glass case and purple mini-jewel pouch with gold string exclusively from Macy's---when LUSH came to Macy's. and chippings off a purple crystal he got from earlier before.

Pedro: and voila! i just combine the ingredients to form a more bluer potion and...drink it and...slug it and...IT WORKS!!! IT FUCKING WORKS!!! i can already feel the illness in my stomach and heart killing off!

YOU CURED AIDS!!! I MEAN I CURED AIDS!!!

Pedro: oh, yeah, whatever, have a nice life. i get to HAVE a life now!!! MUAHHAHAHAHAHA. imma outta here!

Pedro gives the V Victory sign with his forked penis on the way out.

it's the Big Day, the other Big Day. Puck preps himself at the top of the Crookedest Street on the famous Hill which has seen many a cool-guy Eldorado Steve guy become the real Queen and ride off into the sunset by jumping into the sun.

Bump: Steve McQueen, he was cool cos he made McDonald's.

Puck squeezes his crankshaft and does his laces and latches his fixes and tightens the screws platonically with a screwdriver and fastens the bolts and lacquers one last time onto his wooden steed before the big race. with his tongue. he touches the tip of the green feather in his derby crash helmet.

Bump: i would never treat Dana Plato platonically.

Puck: i was in a rush to get married cos from this point on, i don't want to get divorced. my soapbox derby car is all cherried and ready to ride! it took extreme work and i have no money again but it was all worth it. when this thing goes down that hill, well street, and i'm in it with my bomber-jacket tails flapping behind my back in the crazy wind and my tongue hanging and wagging out, sunglasses split from sheer G-force, my smile will be so wide all of San Francisco will be gay. gay for me, happy for me, that i accomplished my goals when so many do not even bother to try. no need for seatbelt buckles here, it's a tight fit. i'll self-push me down and away we go! finally. this is for the record! everything is stable, including the wheel frame and my mindset's sanity. the steering wheel has a big knob in it. i want to feel the wind in my spiky hair! ready, everyone!!? thanks all for coming out, it's a big crowd.

Rachel: *on phone* no it's not it's just me, honey, member you said you wanted this to be our honeymoon instead?

Rachel waves her painted hand from way on the other side of town at Fisherman's Wharf. she's jostling through her purse and doing some afternoon sightseeing. of swole shoals.

Puck: i am naked before you with my naked bike. it was raining furiously and fastly earlier but i took a deep breath and it's sunny now. no excuses. *he slaps himself in the face* come on, gotta be clutch in this moment, gotta have muscles like Carrot Top even though i'm skinny as a bike rail. performing in dives. and GO!!!

Puck wheels down the first corner with ease, colliding only a plant and unsuspecting pedestrian. but the second turn is where things get dicey and the wheels come off. the plan. it's so tricky that all the crooks of the crookedest come crashing into his face all at once, he's gliding grossly, he's unable to steer cos he's lost his manhood and moral compass being in that reality-show House for four months. he screams in the spin and pain of not gonna do it, not gon dut, not gonna make it!

Puck makes one last push to stop himself. he reverses his ass so it goes high so he can put the brakes on the thing and abort. but it's too late. the soapbox hits a large boulder Steve is climbing and flies into the air uncontrollably, careening into clouds. it's here Puck sees his family, his dad and mom and sister forever together who loom and look like the same person but with imperceptibly-differently-cut gold hairstyles.

Puck: you're not Aaron. i don't remember your face, none of you's faces.

dad: i'm your father, Puck. we're all dead now, good job. you left the family, remember? that one day you went crazy with the aspirin and climbed our screen door like a monkey with no tail and sniffed the entire aspirin bottle and vowed never to return, you made your family worried sick. so much so we died from worry. but you never called after that, you carried on with your crazy travel plans. you said you'd swim to San Fran if need be, live on the folding Folsom bridge. you were just a block away from the water. you're dead, son. i see your bloodied body scattered in pieces all over Lombard Street.

Puck: this is a blessing. it took death for all of us to finally come together as a family.

Puck: WOO HOO! I'M FLYING!!! LIKE A REINDEER!!! I BELIEVE I CAN FLY!!! arms up.

Puck's derby car with Puck in it flies until it can fly no more, as it hits Fisherman's Wharf and the ledge Rachel is on on the other side of town, Puck goes to wave at Rachel but at that exact moment Rachel turns away to try the new sugary crabfish and misses the whole show. as Puck is flung into the ocean and Bay, a huge salty wave knocks him back the other direction antigravity onto Lombard Street with a deadening thud.

Puck: i died.

President Bump is on the phone with Kim in the Oval Office square. he puts his feet up and cracks open and smokes a cigar.

Bump: baby, baby, i got you, you want all the trains and cigarettes in the world all to yourself. you say trains are romantic and you're nothing if not romantic. and it's not sexual this train. got it, done, deal. America doesn't manufacture trains anymore, those were the good ol' days. not as a means of escape to blow up bridges, got it. just don't ever get on a train with my boss Codrus let me tell you, that is NOT a train ride! *hands up*

he goes to hug the American flag by his desk.

Melania: *her arms crossed and she cross* i wish you'd hug me like that, Mickey!

Bump: Melania, didn't hear you come in. that's the problem. you're a robot, right?

Melania: robots experience love, Mickey. let me tell ya about it sometime, inquire about my lovers. not a bot my lovers. ask your son, i tell him everything.

Bump: i'm down. i see Lawrence O'Donnell on tv saying that check i wrote out is gonna be the new Nixon tapes, the smoking gun, that image of the check with my signature is gonna end up on red caps and toilet paper sold from now on in all the gift shops in America. i wanted my legacy to be i was the first President to have 100-dollar-bills as my toilet paper, not personal checks! cash is always more impressive and balla, checks are weak! let's see how Roger is doing *click*

Judge Berman: anything to say this time?

Roger Stone: Judge Doom is the real hero of Who Framed Roger Rabbit. i'm known as the Missouri Huckster.

Judge Berman: Missoura. more like Messyri. Messy Journey. are you from Missouri?

Stone: no.

Judge Berman: another lie told in my court.

Roger: sorry, judge, but i've been down lately. David Gergen called me a dandy, a fancyboy. i respect Gergen, he was okay with Nixon, so this is tough to take.

at Inverness, a sleeping beauty is waking up, a sleeping giantess. Maria LaRosa moves her formidable backside and mountains form from the rumble. she is eating those Froot Loops donuts from Carl's Jr. and making a mess in her mouth.

Goody Paul: can i have some? i love it when you chinwag.

Maria: no.

Goody Paul: yes, Jesusa. we need you back on air doing these kind of things, eating food and dancing the fool and acting around and hijinxing.

Maria rolls the eyes to the back of her head in ecstasy.

Maria: oh my GODDESS these are so good! heavenly you might say, except you can't distinguish one color from another, they all taste the same.

at the SNL studios, John Mulaney is making final preps and reps for his showcase of all the scripts he wrote as an SNL writer which were burned and rejected before he became famous.

Mulaney: have you ever heard of a famous writer? you ready for the big live show tonight, Pete? you memorized all your lines?

Pete Davidson: i was born ready, you can tell it in my eyes.

Mulaney: i moved the Froot Loops donuts from out of your dressing room, i know for an E guy like u they look too much like colorful club pills you used to rave on about, that's too much overstimulation for your mind which you can't handle, your brain will explode with all those colors. you need to be concentrating with your brain, burn out on higher thoughts of wisdom found buried like gems in the script i wrote, not in your onair improvised ramblings.

Kate Beckinsale places a call from her hanging hotel suite overlooking the SNL stage. at night.

Kate: hello. you got my intel? no, Beck is not for sale he's just going through a hard time so his music reflects that. okay, thank you, just making sure, just checking. in on Pete. this has gotta work out, i can't get divorced again, i'm starting to tarnish my image, people are whispering i'm a difficult partner. the age difference is such that i am sure not to be a widow. yes i know i'm a vampire and a werewolf and i consulted all the tribes on both sides and they said i was immortal.

Robert Mueller is wearing ashes on his forehead. he puts on his priest stole and prepares to apply ashes with his priestly puncture of a pointer finger on President Bump's forehead but it doesn't take. Bob has laid out his briefcase all the piles of paper on the couch, he is at the Oprah show being interviewed.

Bump: for the record, it didn't take on Oprah's forehead, either...

Bob gets up on the couch and jumps on it, he is ecstatic on his face and begins to toss all the papers everywhere, like white birds filling the air of the studio ceiling to all corners of the studio audience, who eat all this stuff up with glee, collecting any flying paper they can, kissing the papers and crumbling them into their pocket as a keepsake momento worth millions.

Oprah: Bob, i thought you were gonna keep things quiet.

Mueller: YOU GET A REPORT AND YOU GET A REPORT AND YOU GET A REPORT! look at my cracked thumbs, i don't care anymore. the only way America will believe in me is if i trot my behind right up to Congress to testify. 24 straight hours, live tv only on CSPAN.

Bump: no, Bob! everyone in America is sick of hearing your voice!

Bob Barr: the Barrs and the Muellers will be friends after this, right? i can't lose this friendship!

Mueller: after this? my ex-friend, you fail to realize: like Neverland, this will never end...

Laertus: why haven't you thrown out all your Michael Jackson records by now? even the vintage ones. i thought YOU of all people would do it. the treehouse is filthy and needs to be fumigated!

Dirg: hey, he's still the King of Pop. *pops bubblegum bubble* oh you mean like a spring cleaning? i guess i could do that. after finals or whatever.

Laertus: you don't go to school. only i do.

Eye Luggage: speaking of, with us today is a special healer who works at the LUSH on campus. she's known by all, in the underground resistance movement anyway, as the wild witness. Ms. Madame Pons!

Pons: thank you thank you, is this mic hot? come on over to LUSH and let's have a chat. discounts for students and janitors alike! you know i'd just like to say to all my girls out there that come in and ring the twinklebell at the top of my door that it's not all rainbows puppies and unicorns out there JUST cos you bought our latest purple divining crystal. yeah, i know from experience and essence, that crystal isn't gonna immediately point you to your dream man, thank you for your time.

Dirg: Queen were wrong, if it wasn't for Wayne and Garth NO ONE would have known about "Bohemian Rhapsody". no one EVER cited that song before Wayne's World came out, it was completely forgotten.

Laertus: Selma Blair was a true hero. made me cry, she was MS Oscars, as in the classy Ms. Oscars out on that runway!

Dirg: i need that pimp cane. she's a real hero, unlike say a certain Kardashian. i was there at Selma last weekend, locking hand in hand with my brothas and sistas, commemorating the pressure of water-pressure.

Eye: well, i got my schedule cleared and freed up the rest of the week. you know what that means, everything we missed last week, we're doing Oscars FASHION!!! you, Dirg, will dissect each and every dress that came up.

Dirg: NO NO NO!!!!!! VERY NO!

Eye: hey, member i've got leverage over you, you do what i say or sing like a pig. you want a fate worse than death? see these tapes here? imma gonna FORCE you to watch Tropical Cop Tales.

Dirg: *head in his shoulders* *meekly* anything but that.

things are heated up at this morning's ESPN First Take:

Molly Qerim: *frantically* why are you guys talking about sports like it was College English? at a time like this? this is a crisis in America that goes unreported. or worse, underreported. human trafficking, um, hello!!? here's the number i put it up on screen if you suspect human trafficking at your local nail salon. this is ridiculous, why are we talking sports like it's some fun thing? i went into the wrong field, i'm gonna follow Kaylee Hartung's lead and after this show blows up when my tits start to sag imma moving to hard news and CNN. i gotta hard tongue, i'm an ethnic girl, i tell it like it is.

at the Hotel Theresa, the Red Circle table has set up shop. hot filling in The Breakfast Club takes over MC podcast duties from Jada.

Trevor Noah: it's so fun to bamboozle white people with foreign languages. i feel like Noah before the Flood and during Babel. we're due like the Big One in California for another one of those Floods. i want to host the Oscars next year!

Kevin Hart: don't do it, brah, have a heart, you don't have to to have an in with the gatekeepers, you're whiteskinned enough.

the crones are at that famous Rock McDonald's in Chicagoland. Doryce is cooking up fries with a latticed-basket deep-fat fry-cooker bath with hot hot hot wax and oil and grease in that basket. knob turned to 100.

Gladyce: don't burn your fingers, dear! you need those to cast spells! and for good fingering sex!

Doryce: they're not cooling right, do you guys have spaghetti?

R Kelly: McDonald's Spaghetti? maybe.

Doryce: how much was it again, dear?

Gladyce: remember? two minutes, two minutes to heat any water.

Doryce: *stirring the pot* undercooked is worse than overcooked. the water is not bubbling and boiling, needs a witch's touch. you know i tried this trick with my latest spaghetti, filled the pot up with hot boiling water to start, so it would cook faster, but it didn't cook faster, still took 12 minutes to cook. you still have bacon on all your products?

R Kelly: you're too old for me so i'll answer you. no, that was a limited time offer.

Doryce: but The Year Of The Pig is all year! where can i get some bacon around the corner?

the pair of eternal lovers finally broom their way to the Hotel Theresa and the galley of heat lamps out front in the lobby. a slab of meat is featured in the center. Spike Lee is trying to slice it with a knife.

Spike Lee: screw this, it's too much work.

Doryce: screwing takes time, and a gentle hand.

Spike: you have to cut this slab of meat with a knife to form the bacon slices. are you kidding me? ain't nobody got time for dat! no wonder this slab of meat was free! i'm too old for this shit. this meat is too hard and marbled. this slab of meat is gonna go uncut, uneaten, smelly and wasted.

Gladyce: wait two minutes for it to melt, dear.

the show ends with a final trip to Obec Woods for the cast. and the Reunion Special on MTV the  night after. Obec Woods unfortunately is closed for loud summer-long construction of a new two-lane highway down the middle of the sleepy village, so the trip and any subsequent last-minute bonding is scrapped. Pedro comes into the studio with his tats all blazing on his open one-hair chest and arms and elbows scaring the female MTV reporter.

Pedro: Allison Something, right? don't worry, i don't bite. are you black? i mean really black like Sean. Sean works for me now. you seem timid, do you even know anything about music? now, anyone in the audience have any questions for me?

crowd: yes why are you a hologram?

Pedro: pero i'm not dead. in fact i've been more alive recently than i could ever have imagined. i'm speaking to you from a projection cos i'm not really here. i'm in Cuba currently. i have taken over that country, military coup was successful and swimming, i have installed myself as King For Life and there was much rejoicing and rejoindering and the throwing of bananas in the streets. i get money by kidnapping and rekidnapping Rachel across the border once a month. she has developed an appetite to cope. the stupid Americans really love their sex symbols safe. i've introduced Cuban Capitalism into the bloodstream, a form of Keynesian and Adam with my own unique spin on it called Pedroism. basically consists of me selling my patented potent blue potion which cures AIDS to the masses. all trucks allowed to pass through the bridges. do you like my pointy crown? it's part of my head.

crowd: wait. if you're there, then who's the Pedro here?

Pedro in the studio puts on his rubbery mustache to reveal himself to be Alex Escarno this whole time!

Alex: i'm a good actor, huh. needed on a reality show.

it was Alex Escarno pretending to be Pedro in that famous last group picture of the cast hugging under a rainbow taken in the waiting room of the hospital where Puck lay broken bruised and near-death, taken just hours before Puck's death. that pic was turned into an oil painting and sold at auction for a million Banksy dollars. bank.

Bunim: got the shot. bonus! bingo!

the audience claps.

Alex: i brought the answering machine with me so you can hear all the disgusting messages to each and every one of the cast members left by Pedro in Cuba during one of his free-time periods he seems to enjoy after he had his T-cell count rise like his rise to power. i can't control Pedro, i can only love him. *push*

the tape plays, it's swear word after swear word in all the languages of the world, one after the other. said fiercely loudly and profanely by Pedro over the loudspeaker mic of the answering machine. the cast and audience assembled on couches don't know quite how to react to this since no one understands it, but they ooh and ahh and gasp in hushed tones all the same.

Pedro: bringing the world together, one language, one swear word at a time.

President Bump: hello. Judd? i want you to do a comic where Superman wears the American Flag as his cape.

Judd: no, sir, this is where i draw the line---get it? draw---i thought it would be a wet dream of mine to get a call from the President, but i thought he would be more like Bush, never dreamed it would be someone like you. you know i'm gonna assert for the first time my...creative privilege or something whatever i guess...do the work i want, you can't stain Superman's legacy with your rulebreaking, some things still are sacred. you can't get out stains on a cape by eating Tide. i did a show about diversity. and mathematical feminine Russian inequality. simple math. i'm putting my foot down on the Nam sand. i will print, edit, conceive of the dialogue bubbles, draw and yes even ink myself a tribute graphic novel about Puck entitled Puck & Me: My Best Friend Is Dead, it will sell in all stores, not just the alt-right stores, cos i need the money. out in paperback always. but i'm not doing this for the money, this is about what an icon Puck has become for our world.

Judd travels to Vietnam to work on his graphic novel. there he falls stricken to an unknown strain of dengue fever and is close to death. he gets fixed up with white bandages all over his body which provide him comfort no brown bandages could. no more sickness in him. he is warm inside and out. his mind was muddled thoughout the whole cot process and he doesn't even remember being taken out of Nam on the M*A*S*H helicopter. Judd could have sworn the face of that nurse who tended his psychological wounds was Pam's face, but it was all gauzy. and he tells himself they all look the same, to avoid having to deal with his feelings. he also had a dream where he was being interviewed by Ed Sullivan…

Mo has that same interview dream with Ed Sullivan for his debut reggae album coming out. Ed is not into black music except for The Beatles.

Cory urges Mo to break-and-enter for her, to break into the Macy's and steal all the perfumes. Cory explains that her parents back home in Fresno are lily-white and boring, and atheists, but not the asshole kind of atheist, they're nice people to boot. that's why she booted herself outta there. nice and boring, Cory thus wanted excitement in her life so she turned to crime.

Cory: otherwise i'm just the white girl from Fresno, you know?

Mo: girl i get it, but i've turned over a new leaf in Hell. i want to do good now. i want to be a beacon of hope, a symbol representative of my religion Islam, i will make Islam the religion of peace known the world over starting today, it all starts with me, good works...

Jo and Rachel grow closer. like, really closer. Jo discovers a brand new mineral on one of her nature hikes from drilling down on the Earth's core for hours with her pickax for oil and names it after herself, a new gemstone which bleeds blue and purple she calls BritBox. she puts it on the internet on her own webpage so that makes it official. Jo's nose starts to flatten as she ages, which proves her ultimate theory. the two girls yuck it up after marriage and permanent granting of restraining orders and giggle and have a good ol' time around town. the two are inseparable, lock arm in arm, and do something together which not many twentysomething pretty young thang girls do these days: chow down every chance they get at McDonald's. yet somehow, through the magic miracle of television, these two remain young and pretty and slim. and accented.

btw, Jo's ex-husband Steve has completed his rock journey and now works in residence at the Rock N Roll McDonald's in Chicago.

Aaron, Mo's girlfriend, Rachel's parents, the two other roommate auditioners, Dom, Dom's grandpa, Sean, Geoff, Randy Shilts, Jack Kemp, and Christopher Hitchens: whereabouts unknown.

Pedro: and now you come to me, you end with Pedro. i beat it. every night. i beat AIDS. throughout i never hid my HIV, i was proud of it, wore it like a sword. i never cried myself to sleep, i screamed myself to sleep. i cured myself with my immense power of will and volition. i directed my body to quit carrying it. i can love the way i want to now. forever. and the way i love, well, i hate when i love. everyone's got their own slant on things, right? left? some call me a trailblazer, others say i was a scorched-earther. but i was never a flat-earther. all of you blamed us for starting AIDS, before it was a mysterious harmless local disease entering the consciousness and stream and blood, one which nobody paid any mind to. not until it jumped. then it started to slip into your bloodline and you took notice, now suddenly it was a scourge on the Earth and capable of wiping away an entire population. courage for the scourge. well my plan didn't work. it would have been funny if it ended up wiping away all you bigots. all of the discrimination and savagery and hate and homophobia and podunkness, eliminated and laminated with fire. you blamed us, called us the bad guys, wanted our people to die off, our skin to suffer and drop, to collect our hides we had hidden, not knowing the virus had jumped off the island over water. it was a matter of hygiene for all of us now. but we're not the bad guys, you are the bad guys. you who would dare judge me. judge me for living, judge me for loving, like lice there will be a reckoning, and i shall lead it. it will spread from Cuba into the farthest corners. your systems are too slippery not to tumble and crumble. like a snake in the night. i will strike when you least suspect it, i will get you with my kiss.

i live. I LIVE!!! so now i'm trying something new, to achieve my ends. mark my words, i was the first, but i shall not be the last. down the road, in some years time, there will be a 2nd person who is cured of AIDS...