Jim Nantz: hello, friends.
Dirg: hello, Nancy-boy. you still a beacon of lighthouse after the Hannah Storm?
Laertus: excuse my friend as always.
President Bump: i caused that storm, i cause all the storms. this is a nice pastoral place. i was just up from visiting Mount Vernon. you know what Vern looked like? he looked like Ernest. Varney Vernon. check that cough, Jim, it's more than a cough, and it's not cos of the cold chill of the storm. opioids up in smoke. anyway, George Washington was my father and i can't understand for the lives of me why a golf course wasn't built here, it's untreated pastoral land. it would have killed in the ratings. why didn't George think of his brand? you only leave a legacy unless you have a physical structure on top of your grave with your name and a hat on it.
Laertus: tricorner hat. i believe China invented golf, not Scotland.
Bump: no my ancestors did, that's a Chinese conspiracy, they were playing games even then, they were playing Game Seven, but not golf games. and don't get me started on how wind is cancerous to your golf game.
Llywarch: what a wretched beast! Sir Jim, how are you enjoying the environs?
Dirg: hey, can i have an in with Charles Barkley? i want to console him. i want his tiara. you got him, Spike, and SLJ all together in one commercial spot, that can't be a coincidence.
Nantz: look yonder! in mellow tones, there he is NOW!
Charles Barkley ascends the mountain. he cries the whole way there, partly because he now dons the monk robe from Zion and is the most popular person on the planet, partly the burn of the Auburn loss which was a win if there were no wind in the whistle.
Laertus: i am greatly troubled by the wind. there is something in the air, something evil. have you seen Victor and Valentino?
Dirg: Valentina sauce? no i'd rather just eat a real churro. but i did see porn of the show even before it showed. porn of...you don't want to know...
Laertus: society, now fully culled and conquered by the internet, is hanging by its own rope and gleefully thinking it's a fun Tarzan swing.
the wind has taken the magic away from this world. it has also taken Magic Johnson away from the Lakers Facility:
Jeanie Buss wears one Stevie Nicks enchantress gold large hoop earring on her ear and contemplates living her best life. she stands in heels on the famed Lakers golden basketball court newly-sex-waxed with the three-point line in bloody Red-Circle-Table red.
Stephen A Smith: i've heard from my sources that Jeanie Buss has her back up.
Molly Q: *with tabbed nails* *whistles* oooh weee and what a sweet back it is! sa whish. ALMOST competes with mine.
Jeanie: i'm just here wondering why the hell didn't i become The Pope!? i heard she gets so much sex from around the world she doesn't know where to put it! in the backpocket of her vestment?
Gannon: The Pope sucks you know. not like that, i mean for real. she's bringing Western Civilization down i mean civilization.
Jeanie: you're just sore that you're ugly and she wouldn't give you the time of day. the only place where Time still exists in this black-hole universe is the huge Watch overlooking and blocking the tourists of St. Peter's Square. Jim Hill! you look the same as way back when i met you in the '80s when i owned tennis with Sampras---who looked back then like the same old Greek man he looks like today---and a baby Federer, 10 years old. when there was still tennis teams that mattered like NBA teams. you're still rough and ruggedly handsome and look like OJ, Jim!
Laertus: Herman Munster Jr., a swarthy fellow. the broad meaning of swarthy.
Dirg: hey. lay off Sampras, he's a good Republican.
Jim Hill in a three-piece jim gray suit: thank you. i think. you know i couldn't stay away from you, girl.
Jeanie: you are the hill i will die on, Jim.
Jim: and your two hills are where i lay my head.
Jeanie: one for you, one for Magic, that's why you two guys are such good tight friends, right? where was it that you first became attracted to and enamored of me? my Playboy spread? au-naturel bush was in voge in the late late '70s.
Jim: no, your Twitter profile pic. the two basketball breaststststs. i'm a young hip oldhead.
Jeanie: oh right, i should have become an actress but that would have been TOO L.A., you know? it was already too much that i went to USC in this hot climate. currently, hot climes here.
Jim Hill: i can't stay away from you! rub my nose in it, please! twitch your nose and make my nose bleed, you seductive witch. you are addictive like the purest meth! i should know, i'm an investigative reporter, i cover these things. well i see these things. you are the sexiest woman who has ever been born and graced this Earth! we now know in modern times, we have an example in you of what Cleopatra or Helen of Troy must have been like! when you combine your good looks with the older-woman thing with your charisma, you are Human TNT!!!
Barkley: John Mayer rejoined twitter, to the betterment of all mankind.
Magic Johnson enters Staples Center fumbling over his words as if his mouth has been stapled shut. he has been crying.
Magic: Jeanie i can't do this in your office!
Jeanie, who starts crying as well: then let's do it here on court!
Magic: oh. um. well, this ain't sister-love! you know how i feel towards you.
Jeanie: i know, Earvin, you want your Vern, everyone wants their Vern. but see, i want to get back with Phil, i want to get my back into Phil again, we have history. the orgies were fun but they were also a bit too L.A., you know!? i mean the palm trees would lower to take us to the mansions on wind. it's not an L.A. race gang thing, i like Phil Jackson cos he's tall and has a bad back, together we have matching backs, i should have been a masseuse-therapist. i will always admire your strength, Magic. i mean emotionally.
Magic: it's safe and i'm a human being who will never live again. okay, fine, but can i at least fire Rob Lowe please!? he has no business running a team, he's friends with Peyton Manning a notorious coach-killer.
Rob Lowe: hey! watch the alkaline aspersions! i'm especially sensitive about my mouth, got sensitive teeth. i'm not serious like Kobe is all the time, i'm silly. look into my mesmerizing eyes, imma samurai now! a silly samurai. i can take a joke, my West Wing debut consisted of my character mistakenly hooking up with a prostitute, i can poke fun not a gun at myself. i did it cos it was Sorkin.
Jeanie: you did it cos it was Cuddy. i heard Cuddy cuddles well. but she needs curdled cottage cheese. to keep her thighs toned.
Dirk Nowitzki: hey, want a brat?
Dirg: i am a brat. oh. are you sure you're not Dirg Nowitzki? so what are you gonna do now, big fella? close The Store down? open up a soul-sucking maple-sucking factory with Steve Nash? and Sara Bareilles? i always thought Sara Bareilles was Canadian. and continue to date outside of your master race?
Dirk: i'm gonna announce the retirement of Dwayne Wade one more time, at a gas station, see if Gabrielle Union joins a garage union with the three of us. Dwayne hasn't gotten his due all year, i'm going on tour. alone.
Gabrielle Union: still got my drank.
Maria LaRosa from L.A. stomps her old stomping grounds. literally. with her huge feet at The Weather Channel.
Maria: you know the best part of the job was early weekend mornings when we'd get our Instagram DMs flooded with weather porn of these videos of ordinary Americans shitting and fucking and cursing and bitching on over their vid clips of treacherous hurricanes, water spouts, and volcanos.
Bump: Marianne Williamson? Zion's mom?
The Mooch: sure, boss, we'll go with that.
Bump: Buttigieg? he looks like a butt. not a gay slur, i mean he's so small he's literally the size of a butt.
Bump: i'm big in the black and gay communities, you know, those are my two best constituents. hello? Don Lemon? Don Lemondrop? where's my invite to your wedding? i was expecting something with frilly fringes on the edges of the card. i'll bring the cake! i know how to bake wedding cakes, especially Christian cakes. i took a community-college class while everyone else was at Vietnam.
Don Lemon: *irises red* tell me exactly the same thing again not over the phone but on twitter, i'll meet you over there...
Eye Luggage: so...……………………..go
Dirg: just make Wet City a full adult-swim series, adult swim! this is My decree! I will like it if...it meets MY standards...My demands...you're gonna hear from me if I don't like it...Wet City isn't a porn btw...
Laertus: it's like if Waterworld were good.
Dirg: Kevin Costner should have introduced his new black bodyguard wife into the bloodstream of that group of survivors, they would have survived then. good swimmers.
Laertus: Hunter x Hunter finally explaining to us that a politician's very job IS to lie and manipulate facts to win at all costs, very relevant. British cats like on JoJo are better, The Red String of Fate is actually a cat like on Black Clover! that explains my two cats and the fact that i can't get a date with a redhead. i can't understand MHA anymore, and rape should never be a recurring theme year after year cour after cour. cours are for apple cores and series with French heart. i can't unbleach my eyes.
Dirg: and that was the censored version. i got the uncensored version in my van.
Laertus: bro, look into my eyes as i tell you this: it's not meant to get you off. it's not meant to get ratings.
Eye: omg that Family Guy episode! that was crazy! the one with the commentary over the episode. i swear i thought they were doing an old episode overlain with the new commentary, so i paid attention only to the commentary. i find out later that the episode itself was new and i missed it! i swear i thought i saw that Jesus Satan church pew thing before, and the Middle of the Stairs MOR Muppet song. i swear i hope they must include that episode without the commentary on the bluray DVD.
Dirg: on that, i'm gonna nod to you like Branski nods. there will never be another underrated show like Hot Streets ever again. Chubbie Webbers will be a plush doll bigger than Bart Simpson ushering in the '90s some day, that dog was the breakout star, not Soo.
Laertus: how does one come by the name Chubbie Webbers? "why are things the way they are?", that was the philosophical posit posted by this show which will last forever unsolved and unresolved till the last black hole.
Dirg: Vienna sausages, has to be.
a disheveled Chinese woman raggedy-andie-bounces her way up the clear wall into the backyard of Bump's Mount Vernon estate, Bump Cream South. she carries with her a thumb drive and flash drive and is appropriated by Congress customs. and customs agents.
Bump: see? the Chinese are all over! and sneaky. what do you want, lady? tennis shoes?
lady: flashing you! just kidding, you don't want to see that. especially after exposing my Kraft. i am chinese crafty. want my thumb drive up your bum? look, Nintendo was having all the fun and success, i just wanted tech so the Chinese could have their own Nintendo.
Bump: harmless, let her go. with a warning and some Michigan socks. and some competition.
Putin: can i call you a faggot? i mean to my domestic audience on state tv. it will go over well in my home country who own one tv the screen made out of a vodka bottle.
Mueller: whatever you need to make yourself look tough in your potato heart, you're just sore that i got Chelsea Handler and she thinks you're a hobbit. game over, i win.
Putin: that's just cos of the Wendy Williams connection. i thought Chelsea and i had the banned-from-Instagram connection. or is that Clinton? Chelsea Clinton i should pursue romantically? yeah, i'll say you thought your chest was the Matterhorn but you got the Mickey Mouse, that works, right?
the tournament is starting again on a lawn outside of the Hobbit Hideaway.
Jim Nantz: this week is the greatest week in sports, the Championchip is on Monday and just three days later the Masters begins.
Doryce: shhhh, quiet, man! i'm trying to concentrate on this putt. you see me wiggling my ass?
Jim: i see a mistress, i mean that respectfully.
Gladyce: witches must train their minds to concentrate at all times. or else our spells turn to jelly.
the Masters course this year is marked by strange almost-alien-like markings in the ground as the holes. 16 of them, not 18 and a club soda. all diamond-shaped and in strange patterns.
Doryce: where do you put the ball? i want my ball!
Gladyce: dear, don't go near those! that's geomancy! that's forbidden to us witches, that's like taking cocaine right before you golf. it's cheating and evil cheating and cheating evil! you have to learn spells the right not-quick way.
Doryce: i dig up holes like truffles. i want a nice patch of soil to plant my meatball tree. i want that HUGE meatball from Olive Garden! THAT's a real pastoral garden! i've been craving that monster boulder meatball for ages but my broom is in the shop and i don't want to travel all the way to Salinas on those country roads! that's 1000 miles! straight down to the center of the Earth! to its apple core.
Gladyce: Obec Woods is a minefield. but it's full of apple trees. that's where the Costco is at, right? sorry, love, my broom's broke, too. i can't take you. only on the wind of a prayer.
Doryce: fuck that! i'm gonna use whatever magic is necessary and illicit to get my way! at least i'm not one of those geode nerds.
dangerously picking up her not-yet-mended broom from the garage, Doryce travels on her new-yet-not-good-as-new stick to the palace place on the hill to get her BigBall of Meat. she runs into traffic many times swerving and almost dying.
Doryce: outta the way, i'm old! bad-as-new broom. fucking GrubHub delivery of this thing would have been 300 dollars, catering to large boat parties only, ridiculous!
she eats the big meatball with her knife fork and wand, all of it, and it makes her sick.
Doryce: *pink-and-green-faced* ugh, too much meatball, not enough spaghetti. too much meat, too much sour meat. too much worms, not enough sour worms, not enough seasonings.
Madame Pons sets up at LUSH as always, she rubs together a few rumballs as her latest offer of holistic soap. no radio. she unplugged it.
Pons: i trust the company will be pleased by my latest creation for them. now for the important stuff. the stuff which will really make us feel good. i've set up the sheet in my store's backyard. for the next film fest. my spirit is ready. even though my stomach is burning hungry, but i have the fortitude, i need this diet. for justice. i can make it, i can live off only Beard Papa's cream puffs. a bag of these is my whole month's allowance splurged in one pop but they are so good! especially the herbal green-tea-filling one. i resisted the savory mouthwatering Carl's Jr. Truffle Burger on tv. i just kept thinking in my head running circles that poor pig using his cloved hoof to clutch the mini-shovel working backbreakingly hot French unshaded summer days digging that soil for my measly paltry burger till it was ready for till. it's not like the truffles are big and juicy and lain over the burger like mushrooms, they are bits in the white sauce. from now on, only chocolate truffles for me.
she goes into the backyard and drops Llywarch's hen Yoricka out of her pocket to the grass.
Pons: go on, girl! write poetry in your own language, go recruit other animals of your kind! amass the army! i will do the same on my end! this will be our breeding and training and meeting ground! for the new kind of social justine warrior.
she reenters the shop to find a white receipt dropped at the counter but no one around. she inspects the back of the receipt to find a very-thin peeling-like-cheese flash thumb drive.
Pons: this is so small it could rightly be called a thumbtack-drive.
Pons finds a slit and inserts it into the tiny tv below the counter to the horror of what's on it. she is so sick she doubles-over in disgust and pain.
Pons: *welling and red-cateared* NO! don't show the screen! or the scream! to no one! it's worse! i thought the threat was to my family but it's to my family, too! it's not just my sister, it's my girls as well!
I’d like to go to China, via Mongolia. China invented everything which they stole from the secret Mongolian tribe that lives south of Moron near the big lake. Mongolia is area 52 and part of MI7. The queen of Moron wears a tiara of yellow gold and lives in the mountain with the resident Tarzan. They are the magic wind. The Pope often visits in secret for spiritual inspiration and churros. Time does not exist here. Time never did, but here, it is respected as a past, present, and future at once. This is the place where the weather channel gets news of the weather - from the magic wind of Mongolian Moron.
If you are brave enough and at the height of spiritually, you can dare to venture through the two hills, at the Queen's permission. Should you pass through the black hole, it is said that you will enter “The Garden” Here the grass is said to verdant and lush, the meatball trees high and full and surrounded by rich truffles. *)
i'll be the Mongolian Monk and fight the Mongolian Moron in the ancient art of tai-chi-Thai-chicken
taking all bets...
love you *)
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