at the CNN Debates, Lawrence O'Donnell squeezes his tie and sits silently in the middle between the one who is the comic book fan and the one who is a scourge on black twitter:
Lawrence O'Donnell: Senator Bernie Sanders, are you a socialist?
Bernie is calm.
Bernie: no. i wouldn't be on the Democratic Stage if i were.
Lawrence: you're right, sir. the only socialist in this entire room is ME. i'm unabashedly and proudly so. i became a socialist when i learned about it in college...like every good college student is supposed to!
Bernie raises his arms in a funny quirky way. Don Lemon laughs.
Don: oh man! my belly hurts! that was hilarious! you looked like a Muppet right then, Bernie.
Bernie licks his lips with a twirling tongue.
Bernie: i always look like a muppet, young buck. young buck you should know that muppets have hands up their asses, not strings. you are the puppet, to the billionaires. whatever you were gonna use next as your rap retort, know that i wrote it first.
Don: aren't Ben & Jerry's billionaires? i love their lemon flavor.
blonde with one leg raised to the roof: i'm subtly lacing my questions with the Republican talking points but i swear i don't work for Fox News! i work for Vice. i'm an undercover cop. i didn't go the beauty-queen route, i was a gymnast…
at Dunluce Castle Shane Lowry is still sleeping inside the bare-bones structure frame. he is shivering and frightfully cold, the winds haven't let up once or since. Victoria Bateman hops to his side under moonlight like a faun. tho she is completely naked and spraypainted she feels no cold...
Shane: *rustled* uhnnn, wha happened? am i awake? last thing i remember i was giving a tour...
Victoria: it's called sleeping.
Shane: shit, the Safeway Open in Obec Woods is about to start!
Victoria: give it socks.
Shane: yeah...…...no seriously i'm so cold, got any socks i can put on my feets?
Victoria: look at me. gander at my body. and the message it conveys. dunk your head in pub suds, mate, it's all over, our beloved country is ruined forever. all those years of civilization---being first in civilization---down the drain. worst part is when i walk naked down the cobblestone street next to Buckingham Palace on Halloween, people won't take me and my cause seriously! they'll just think i'm wearring a Halloween costume and fafa me!
Shane: folks and blokes.
Victoria gets in the huddling teepee with Shane and the two watch the first and last episode of Family Ties together, squeezing out that last bit of nostalgia before the blue comet hits.
Victoria: wait, don't you have a wife and kid?
Shane: golfers lose those when they win their first major, it's part of the package deal.
the witches at HomeCountry are busy spreading their new recruits out into the world.
Jill: Victoria is quite the banshee isn't she.
Gladyce and Doryce: she can take care of herself. she's doin' us proud. crones reporting for duty, ma'am.
Jill: Marianne Williamson, now there's a spark! Baba told me all about her. she's got the goods. she speaks the words on that Debate stage from all our best grimoires.
Doryce: thing is, she's just one of us. the difference is she took a chance on love, she took a chance on the presidency.
Gladyce: she's got the guts we don't. and i'm not talking about fox stew.
Marianne Williamson at the podium: my world-people, these are dangerous times. a dark psychic energy has befallen the universe, shrouding its darkness, hiding like a black blanket on our stars. this is a holy war, a celestial war, a war of old religions vs. the new age. only i can fix this, me the fox trickster of light. isn't it time for a woman? isn't it about damn time!? haven't we had enough of centuries-old patriarchal systems of stone, toxic male energy polluting our rivers and streams, the smell of ancient money bricking our Pyramid away? it's time for MY energy, the Mother Earth Energy, the nurturing drive of a Mama Female. who can take better care of our kids than a mother? i have your back, and not just in the bedroom. i will repair, i will sticky-glue back. gorilla-glue it if i have to. i will have a Department of Peace instead of a Department of the Interior, i'll flip 1984 around to turn it into a utopia! my vagina is so big the entire Planet Earth can fit inside it as it heals inside its pulsating fleshy walls of warmth. Globe fits like a glove.
Laertus: she ain't acting. she ain't talking about Shakespeare. i love her. i adore her.
Eye Luggage is crying profusely, bubbling as she gurbles her words.
Eye: *crying and pointing at the screen* that's my bitch...…...that's my bitch…
Dirg: i get it. i get all you crazy socialists. she will win cos she looks like Boy George.
Laertus: Boy George was 40 years ahead of his time...
Eye: yeah, she's definitely Boy George reincarnated. even tho Boy George is still alive. that's how powerful her magic, i feel it with my innate witch sense still burgeoning.
Dirg: look i said i get it. even i'm not stupid enough to turn down fucking Boy George. can you imagine all the magic power and secrets that would unleash in me!? into my cock as milky fluid for serf baths with pink roses? i'd be King George again!!! i could shape America in my own image! that would be the playbook i would need to take down my enemies on the other side once and for all.
at the Tour de France, a millennial wins for the first time. he is adorned on either side by ethnic-looking beauties in yellow dresses. he also wins the Young award and the white jersey but for some reason the beauties flanking him are not in white dresses...
Dirg: yeah i don't like the Tour de France, too beta for me. i mean the winner gets the yellow jersey, the YELLOW jersey? really!!? come on.
Eye: i think it's supposed to signify gold. gold from an age LONG past.
Sheryl Crow: i'm finally sporting a nose ring, you like it? i dunno what it is. my songs are great...my choices in men not so much. i'm inexorably drawn to tragic men. like i know it's not gonna work out emotionally eventually in the end, but i go for it anyway.
Lance Armstrong wears bike shorts for the first time in 20 years.
Lance Armstrong: without me the Tour de France would be NOTHING. it would be CANCELED by now. i mean do you blame me? i'd do it again if it were 1995. first of all, i could finally see Nirvana live. my buddy Floyd Landis would hand me a tape of them to borrow that i'd never return back to him. second of all, i could sell all those time machines on the black market. that wasn't an Oprah joke. remember ESPN2? i MADE that channel, i was the hipster with my hat turned backwards and my skating pants cursing on live tv, drawing in all the millennials at that time. without me, there's no ESPN Ocho. all the kids thought i was SO cool. drugs are fun, kids, and they taste good, too, better than those Flintstones vitamins. they made movies about me, funny movies, with The Rock on a little bicycle that was hilarious and i wasn't weeding in the theatre.
Greg LeMond is crunching on a soft taco from Taco Bell.
Greg: you really fucked me, Lance. no, seriously, EVERYBODY has completely forgotten about me, but i'm the real American hero! all anyone ever remembers me for anymore is the Taco Bell commercial i did. one snot-nosed millennial came up to me in the airport vaping cotton-candy under the No Smoking sign and had the nerve to have me deported cos he thought i was Mexican. i mean, yeah, we ate Taco Bell regularly in the tent surfer trailer of our bike group family anyway---there's not a lot of four-stars on the bike path---but i get pegged wth it for life. that peloton is paid for, company is corporatized.
Lance: hey i didn't start the corruption. the second, the SECOND Tour de France ever in the early 1900s was plagued with scandal, gay lumberjacks cutting down trees and such. if i hadn't been cheating, what would have become of my cancer foundation? this is why i did it, i am a Cancer Warrior. nobody remembers the bike stuff, they just remember grandma got cured and could go to church again. the foundation would have crumbled if i were clean, sober, and an anonymous loser. better ME the drug cheat who won. instead of some French drug cheat in his home country.
at the Red Circle Table, 11-year-old black-boy reporter Jayden is schooling Ari Melber on his own show about the candidates' positions.
Jayden: Sanders could have took a swung swing on Elizabeth Warren the warden, the party would have forgiven him for it. they can't let's dance forever, they gotta go at each other, keep it real, keep it street. *he punches his own hand* gotta brawl. gotta brawl, old bucks.
Ari: wow, kid! you like 11 going on 40. it's like Drake said...
Jayden: bro, when white folk quote rappers, they trying too hard. to be hard.
President Bump: yeah, i feel ya, young buck. i am not an old cuck. i want you to be my special friend. yeah i write rap lyrics, too. i'm working on this thing where i rewrite Aesop's Fables to reflect our current culture of racial division. like the lessons are always white is might is right, that sort of thing, the rabbit actually wins the race and fucks all the snowbunnies.
Jayden: when the sunset falls on your life/ and others write of your lack of strife/ what will you be remembered for, Bump?/ you'll be a prison rat who couldn't buy the Ravens, you chump
Bump: i'm outie, gotta console Moscow Mitch in my private quarters.
Mitch McConnell is huddled by the corner of the room crying dreadfully. the room is a library with no books.
Bump: now now Moscow Mitch. here's a mule. a moscow mule.
Mitch: i hate that name! it hurts my feelings! sir, i can't wear your red hat anymore!
Bump: hey it's okay, buddy, wear this white hat instead. you are an ugly crier, my man, you insert your head into your suit like a turtle, you gotta be more reptile like me.
Bump hands Mitch a MATH hat.
Bump: you wanna be cool like me? someone who hangs with the brothas? you wanna join a gang like me? wanna join the Yang Gang? i'm gonna show you a cave i want you to hide in. here, take my tie...
Mitch: twitter is telling me to join a chain gang to see what it's like...
Bump: the color guard's coming out soon, watch it with me. sung by the bald chick from Mad Max. this is our future. the old man holding the flag was poisoned to death by Flint water.
Laertus: okay, the latest Chantix commercial with the Turkey. i mean this is getting expansive now. and expensive. they have this Turkey in a complete story of his own. he now somehow owns a house, a house right at the beach in a swanky suburb of Los Angeles no doubt where the ad agency is. Surfin' San Diego. he gets up every morning at the crack of his uncle and even though most birds don't like to get their feathers ruffled and wet he apparently is an expert surfer. he gets into his green open-air jeep with the surfboard planted firmly in the open-air back-seat trunk, he drives along the coast to his surf spot, then returns home late.
Dirg: food stamps. definitely food stamps. he can't afford Foo Fighters.
Laertus: i am SO interested in this turkey's sitcom life. what does he do for work? did his grandmother who taught him to surf drown while trying to come to Ellis Island for a better life for her family? cos turkeys can't fly. who are his neighbors? does he eat eggs with his wacky neighbor behind closed blinds at night, does he think that's something okay to do at night? what does he use that blanket for really?
Dirg: damn peaky blinders.
Eye: admit it, you just want a Three's Company reboot.
Dirg: who is he fucking? did he ever fuck a young fowl so hard it defeathered her? that's a party foul. the new Endgame commercial, what a missed mismarketed opportunity! it should have said THIS IS THE BIGGEST MOVIE...OF ALL TIME. without irony, it does have the most money ever.
Eye: which movie will crack the 5-billion mark?
at The Weather Channel, Felicia Combs is still the new guy and is flubbing her lines and her machinery doesn't work quite right yet, but this is all done cutely and she gains another million followers each time she does it.
Felicia: am i doing this right? my electronic pen doesn't work, it doesn't write on the map. Paul, can you stay up late and help me get the ropes here? put my mic right on the right spot on my body?
Goody Paul: Felicia, you just need to smile, darlin', you're doing okay for yourself.
Felicia; is my sash on right? it's so tight it's making my boobs pop up like pineapples. i have more degrees than you.
Goody: that's a lie! don't make me think of a young Judge Judy whenever i see your face! they're just newer degrees! you millennials are more tech-savvy, that's it! i have more knowledge than you cos i struggled through the Crime Bill years. darlin' Felicia, maybe you should start wearing more skirts than the bodysuits you usually wear.
Felicia deliberately drops her electric pen on the studio floor right in front of Paul's face and fills his nose with her ass. Paul can't help it anymore.
Goody: let's convene and reconvene in the MSNBC luncheonette break room, i can't take it anymore! i can't help it!
he unzips his pants ferociously, whips Felicia's bodysuit dress up to her sash, and fucks her ass for two hours, undulating like an unnamed earthquake. up and down and side to side along planes of cosmopolitan, metropolitan, and urban existences in politic shifting from human to Titan until he cums a white rainbow:
Dr. Greg pops in at just this time to see the windows completely covered and frosted.
Dr. Greg: i heard everything! what's going on in here?
Goody: *sweating* just showing the new girl the ropes. no fault anywhere, just faultlines. this is what her meteorology screen will look like in the winter.
Dr. Greg: but it's summer!
Goody: *panting* girl your butt is bigger than the entirety of the Planet Earth. i should know, i've studied the entire Planet Earth my whole life and in college. damn girl, when you gotta go you gotta go.
Felicia: my dress is now white.
Goody: you'll stand out like Tulsi Gabbard. shit, what am i gonna tell my boo about this?
Felicia: you mean we're not boos now after that?
Gladyce: honey, want me to cancel the Uniworld Cruise?
Doryce: *heavy sigh* huh, this is really getting depressing. i was gonna sing "Total Eclipse of the Heart" on that cruise stage while ziplining upside-down. i need a pick-me-up.
Gladyce: how about the case of yellow sugar wrappers you bought at The Store?
Doryce: it's fake, it's not real sugar, it's some artificial saccharine sweetener cooked up in a lab. it's not real like a spell. all of the packets have a little trite saying on them, like Boys Are Made of Sugar, Too.
Gladyce: huh, i got the only sugar packet in the entire 500-count bunch that has the name of the city where these were manufactured and processed, and the nutrition information. i don't know if that's good or bad luck.
Eye: Ferris Bueller's Day Off, go.
Dirg: you mean the little movie that spawned the greatest tv series of all time, Parker Lewis Can't Lose? i love this movie, cos this was a perfect representation of Reagan Individualism.
Laertus: and Reagan greed. yeah it was weird, the conservative columnists felt they owned this movie somehow, it was their movie. lavish praise heaped for this one and Breakfast Club for their strong drive toward individualism.
Eye: Cameron Frye: his face, i mean his face in conjunction with those piercing blue eyes, i've never seen anything like it, he's like some sort of grown-up hobbit. i've never seen a face like his, it's both intense like a hockey-player yet sweet like a cuddly teddy bear.
Laertus: where are the bloopers? the taxi cab scene when Cameron starts making that face like he's about to spasm, how did Broderick and Mia Sara not jolt out bolt out laughing every take?
Dirg: Alan Ruck directly owes his Mireille Enos to his getting that part from the SOLE decision by one Emilio Estevez to not take the part.
Laertus: i thought you'd say owns. he's said as much, he said he owes Emilio Estevez his life/his career. he'd give him a strong wet kiss on the cheek if he ever confronted Emilio at an airport.
Dirg: oh he's gotta do WAY more than that, Alan Ruck/Emilio Estevez hardcore porn, available at all fine retailers and Borders. this is Bert + Enos stuff we're talking about there. look in a mirror. i'd watch that porn.
Laertus: Matthew Broderick sporting the Ed Grimley hairstyle in the shower, popularizing that look for all prepubescent boys from then on.
Eye: Ferris was totally a closet goth! did you see those posters! and the British flag! British punk scene much?
Dirg: should have been a Confederate flag. to show what he was hiding from his parents. the patriotism was strong in this one. the more leaning toward fascism than dirty communism.
Laertus: John Hughes was obsessed with John Lennon. guess it was a John thing. John Lennon was like the King of Individualism to him. and walrus-tamer.
Dirg: but not obsessed like that. us fat guys need to stick together. did anyone else learn the lecture Ben Stein was teaching in the famous Bueller Bueller speech? we need to, he's the guy who's gonna explain Bump to us, he's the only cool republican left in Hollywood who gets to hang out with Kimmel. he individually saved his son from the scourge of video games.
Laertus: i wonder if that scores him points with Takahashi. i mean the parents and authority figures here are really dumb, the parents don't see the whole thing is a giant MouseTrap board game? that answering machines aren't that technologically-advanced yet?
Eye: omg this ENTIRE time when i first saw this movie last weekend, i had NO IDEA Jennifer Grey was in this! the good Grey, the spunky fro babyfat Grey.
Laertus: or Charlie Sheen for that matter, when he was still genuinely hot. leather jackets and spiked hair seem to only work for '80s rebels, that's it.
Eye: cos the goths took over black from the motorcycle gangs. no high school kid---even one as cool and rad as Ferris---could land a babe like Mia Sara. in high school? Mia Sara looks like she's 30 here, never mind that she's some sort of British-Italian Riviera model by now.
Dirg: Jeffrey Jones, he had the chops, what could have been. he could have been the next Clint Eastwood. the taxi scene, the father genuinely has no idea that was Ferris's girlfriend, and wanted to fuck her! that's my kind of dirty old man.
Laertus: no, your man would be the father who KNOWS that's his son's girlfriend and wants to fuck her!
Eye: all '80s kids learned about Pointillism through this. again with that Cameron Frye stirring staring haunting face.
Dirg: that was genuinely scary. the way it keeps moving in, like that thing from 2001. how does it end? where do the pointillism points end? in space? they looked like boba balls by the end.
Laertus: this was pretty tame, because it was done during the day. this isn't three thirsty teenagers looking to get into trouble at night at some night strip club.
Dirg: that scene was cut, would have required a whole other rating.
Laertus: back when kids still thought baseball was cool. when the Stock Exchange was the end-all be-all of American life and culture. there's a big push here to normalize Germany and German culture again, you know, let's forget the whole Nazi thing as soon as possible, like it never happened under a cloud of hot-dog dust. i mean the most scandalous thing Ferris ever does is...he's in a parade?
Dirg: that snooty French waiter was an Ivy-Leaguer. that righteous-dude secretary was trying too hard, save it for SpongeBob, lady. Cameron Frye literally right in front of everyone's faces tries to commit suicide in that pool. pre-Degrassi.
Laertus: yes, the whole ethos in this is very Degrassi in the depiction of the adults as buffoons and goons and goofs and the kids as the ones with agency and sympathy and empathy and power.
Dirg: let's face it, we're all Cameron. we're the ones who are the third wheels on museum dates. staring at pointillism paintings a little too hard to study them to distract our collective loneliness.
Eye: let's get to the heart of the matter: this isn't about Ferris at all, this is about the secret romance between Cameron and Sloane!
Laertus: YES IT'S TRUE. ABSOLUTELY TRUE! the signs are all there: when they're talking about their future plans, she touches him, they both agree that their plan is to do nothing.
Eye: when Cameron says Ferris will be a fry cook, Sloane's more-perfect line should have been:
Ferris may be a fry cook, but there's only one Cameron Frye!
and then Cameron gives her one of his patented Mister Rogers cheek-noise-flicks.
Laertus: when Sloane notices Cameron fake catatonic to peek at her naked undressing but she smiles and doesn't care about it. when she touches his face cradling his head in her hands, framing his blue Frankenstein eyes.
Dirg: Ferris is right, women don't respect men anymore. how the hell did they get the rights to that George Lucas theme music so soon after!? this was WAY early before George Lucas felt he was big enough to impose sanctions on any of his properties. i like the questioning of all foreigners as to if they can speak English.
Eye: the car-destruction scene is weird. tho i love the lush two-level glass house hiding in surrounded by the woods and a deep metaphorical dirt gulf. very '80s-business.
Laertus: i know what you mean, there are these weird awkward pauses, long pauses of dead air, nobody talking, just panning to the characters, faces doing and saying nothing. there's dramatic effect and then there's dead air.
Dirg: remember when people still had lawns?
Laertus: and Walt Whitman endquotes? he's gonna marry her. in the sequel, Ferris Goes To College, we know how this will turn out: Ferris will be played by Deadpool and won't be in the film, the film of course will be about how Sloane and Cameron Frye get married, that was OTP and kismet from the start. Ferris ends up homeless with a Neale Donald Walsch brace around his neck.
Eye: we must close with the sad tale of Save Ferris the band. i mean with a lead singer that hot and babealicious, you'd think they would have gone further than some cheap cover as their only hit hot single. No Doubt COMPLETELY killed their career.
Sinphony looks urgent and forlorn.
Sinphony: there's an ingredient missing. what is it?
Velvetta: it's water, the water needs to come from a specific wheel at the side of the mill where our Church workshop used to be. if i can gain access to it again…
Cotard: no can do no go. dream bigger. Codrus has that area completely surrounded.
the trio have this conversation while the last of Cotard's power is sapped and the forcefield shield dome collapses. the two girls spring into action. Sinphony addresses her tormentor with a newfound well of self-satisfaction and growth:
Sinphony: i have a new arrogance now, Master! my stomach used to be in knots but now my heart is! WHY DIDN'T YOU TEACH ME MATH AND SCIENCE!!!
Codrus: *smiling* come, girlfriend, come, child, i will teach you things you can only ever imagine...
Cotard: *weakly* one more shot blast from him and i'm a goner.
Velvetta casts her first spell. her first real spell. a spell to help others in a big way. she lifts the water wheel from off its axis at the mill attached to the Church Temple and it glides over the water, picks up Cotard, and Cotard gets his feet moving as it spins on the water of the river creek out of town to the offing.
Velvetta: *smiling* there, Master! you've said you've always wanted to walk on water!
Sinphony: oh i learned, sir. i learned all about the pink crystals, those crystals the silly humans used to find love, i found them dug underneath the soil, i dug them back up and broke them apart with the last remaining strength in my casting fingers, the fingers you tried to break by breaking them. i used this pink salt to leaven the pretzel bread. this dough is therapeutic not monetary and momentary. i saved the remaining villagers! i am strong now. cos i love now. i have their collective strength as my love! and i'm sending you to where you belong for all eternity, and the eternity after that, STRAIGHT TO HELL!
Fuerza: say gay to hell, that'll get him madder.
Sinphony flings back from the sky the wheel Cotard was on, it's empty now and she hurls it at light speed right into Codrus's head, splitting him red for the first time.
Codrus is being held in midair by his ear by Fuerza, who suddenly appears in a cloud of clear smoke and shoots him a darting disappointing-eye look of trouble along with her pucker of lips. she's wearing a jingle dress and butterfly bra.
Fuerza: well done, ladies.