TO PLAY THE GUITAR WITH YOUR FEET

WE ARE STILL IN DISTURBED TIME, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

a horse rides boldly across the plains, like an oncoming train, proudly defiant as it eyes its target. its love target. no sand colors his legs for long, always on the move. striving.

Cotard: we can live without a map. we must live without a map. but we must have an internal compass.

the horse jumps into Fuerza's arms and licks her like a puppydog, wagging his two tails, shooting white mucus out of his nostrils that had been stopped up in there for eternity. Fuerza's smile beams brighter than it could have alone.

Fuerza: there, there, you're a good boy.

the horse's eyes turn human at this.

Manny the horse: call me Manny. the horse.

Fuerza: you are sadder than The Last Stallion. you, mijo Manny, are the first stallion. well this makes up for you hurting me earlier, mijo.

Cotard: me? what'd I do?! tend to your other son.

Fuerza: you hurt me with your epitaph. i brought you life to save you from pain. i'm jealous of your wife. her voice is so........disembodied.

Cotard: those words hurt more than getting rammed by an oncoming train? i don't remember my wife...

Cotard transforms into a star and meets Fuerza, who's already a star, and they form a bistar in the sky. next to them is another set, a twin star, the eyes of Yayray's grandmama who doesn't speak but her eyes say a thousand things.

Codrus reaches into the last train car and takes ahold of the gold brake. he elides his rough skin and smoothly slides it to the very end other point, to COMPLICATEDNESS.

(turn)

Codrus: well this is an emergency. i fear no evil, for i am evil. go ahead, old man, give me your worst. or your best. MEANWHILE i see Fuerza in booty shorts, her tramp stamp on the small of her back showing, reading EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY.

Codrus: mom!

Cotard: mom! please act your age.

Fuerza: and what is age, son? i am merely being who i am. at all times. and spaces. i'm modest, i was there when modesty started, i added ONLY, for that's who i am. but there is no shame in nudity, it is as pure as it is original. we must learn to start from the heart and not the head.

the two brothers collectively hang their heads in shame and head on over the fence to a private area where they begin making snow angels in the sand. Cotard steadily makes full wide weightbearing halfcircles while Codrus cheats and whips his triangle point fingers back and forth skittily in a razor-sharp motion.

Cotard: y'know, when i saw my mom outstretch her arms like that for Manny, it reminded me of how terrible i was to my baby sister.

Codrus: you don't mention your sister much. and i know everything about you.

Cotard: therein lies the problem. she's adopted and i was always too busy for her. there was always something more important......which was never important. i feel i subconsciously shunned her because she wasn't my real sister? that's a terrible thing to say, but this is what it means to be human, you are eventually forced into taking a secret, internal clear-eyed accounting of yourself. she grew up a blank slate, and when the prodigal son came back, she had become a woman but was still the girl i had forgotten. she bore the drip of disappointment in her lips, her face was full of abandoned eyes, noxious nose, and she spoke in a foreign tongue. for the first time i was the older generation. when she was a baby she innocently held out her hands to me. it was halloween and for some dim idea i thought it would be funny if i put on a very scary wrinkly skeleton mask with sharp teeth and hollows and said boo. she was terrified and i caused her pain. so much trauma in the world and i was her first. i should have been her brother but i was her bother. the last shard of my heart silently blew away. i changed. i became cold, distant, lonely forever. i had denied the eager humanity in front of me. i don't deserve her friendship now that we're both adults. for she is the only adult here.

a hand remains invisible and Cotard begins to weep inconsolably and it forms the first river of this new moon. Codrus hugs Cotard to no avail.

Codrus: it appears you are inconsolable. and your father?

Cotard: the beautifullest of men. i don't talk about him to spare Fuerza. he will never demise in my eyes, he will delight in his senses, he won't deign but reign his brain, he will sprinkle me with his spirit each morning when i kiss his framed photo and send me from my shackles. before he died, the Unabomber case was hot, or rather cold.

Codrus: Unibomber? that was before my time, but i am eternal so i remember now.

Cotard: yes, he was the Uni bomber, Ted, the professor who become a skewed symbol of what happens when one devotes all his time to academic studies and none to interpersonal fuckings. you gotta get in there, y'know, gotta get down and dirty, gotta leave your tower and get in the mud, gotta live, have fights, be dumb and love someone, lose your mind over somebody, so you don't lose your mind and lose bodies. he struck us especially personally cos we were kinda like him, eggheads with more ego than elegance. at a movie theater dad relayed some advice given to Ted by his Mexican penpal: "a life lived completely alone is not much of a life." or something like that. words to that effect.

Codrus: all effects are special. Ted, what a devilishly disarming name. what are those two long marks along your wrist there as you open your palm over? tried to kill yourself?

Cotard: how could you say such a thing? i thought you knew me. that area of my wrist where the veins are, i'm so sensitive there i don't ever touch it. even in happy times. i would never do such a thing. that was from my cat Kiss. or was it the other one? didn't i tell you this story? don't you know it already? they were playing around with my computer wires again, the frayed brown extension cord with the heavy bulb. my poor cat got caught in the cord and couldn't wriggle free. Kiss woofed and panted and snarled and in trying to get the cat head out, Kiss bit me on my wrist in self-defense. that was the first time i was proud of my blood, so i licked my red wound. it was just two small bitemarks and my tongue was enough of a clotter. the scars are longer than the initial injury. that's the nature of scars. poor kitty, Kiss could only do what Kiss could do. the good news was my cat was free. to freedom.

Codrus: gah! my god do you gawk over these subs. why would you bow down to these troublesome rodent replacements? deign for these dumb animals? i just don't get it.

Cotard: it lies in the heart of family, which is the only not-lie. for all of the wasted time, and timewastes, and wastes of time, and wastes of space, the memeification of memory, and the endless wars which are in fact a necessary good as they are the only proven method of population control, you come across one of your species, not your kind but their kind, that you look up to, not away from. a good new-fashioned good person that is the summus of our simian species. we must confront all the disturbs in our minds lest they become demons. we mustn't cage any thought lest they fester and become feral. light not only disinfects, it dazzles. hate lives in the hidden house. for all the body-modification horror, and not being in control of one's genes, we were able to produce

THE BEAUTIFUL MAN, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

the concert is being shown on the water circle that Sid, Glidden, and Rumi have created arms outstretched and interlocked they are and they are medipraying. it is the last concert before the prayer circle turns into an infinity symbol.

(turn)

Cotard: it's good not cos it's good but cos it's not fake. you witness and you know there is a fire that burns inside, one refreshed and grown larger by each 8-shaped glass of water drunk each day. Boxed Water Is Not Better. forget FIJI Water. i'm talking about warter. i'm talking bout tears. from fear. and sweat. from sacrifice. scarifice.

Codrus: huh, pre-internet, when popes were men. the good ol' fashioned days.

Cotard: has being in a female body taught you nothing?

Codrus: it's a slow process. women are foreign to me. now that i see how women think i'm like whoa. turns out all of human history has to be reexamined from the woman's point of view. they lived lives in this life, too.

Cotard: all the colors of the rainbow, that's what light comprises.

the two are finished with their conversation and finished with their snow angels. as expected, Cotard has formed a half-circle in the ground. Codrus's shape is a wedge.

Cotard: music. we have lost the ability to communicate to each other. we talk to, not with. we are too tied to ideals and expectations and looking cool on the internet. do you know what's worse than faking? having to fake. when our words fail us, there is music, the great communicator that spans globes.

Codrus: i shall be composing my first song soon, and it is the first song.

Cotard: praise Jesus. the other one, not you.

Codrus: hey, at least i'm not Yeezus. but music is overrated. if you've heard one melody you've heard them all. there are only so many chord progressions. man is limited. imagine the anthems that could be created if there were more, undiscovered notes. new instruments. muses as far as the eye can't see.

Cotard: oh it is a perfect set-up is it not? we are set up for sure. we are abandoned on earth to fend for ourselves and the only way to represent our struggle is through the soundwaves we produce with our human instrument and instruments. they float up past the clouds, disappear from our discernment, and carry high into space for all of time. do they land on alien ears? never, for we are all one. it's so complicated when you see the pieces but not when you see the whole. and everything is destined to become whole again, round, a circle, a dot on a screen, fall back down to an earthen surface, to the infinitesimally-packed marble of the Big Bang. the infinite was once contained in a circle, the perfect shape. what was there before the Big Bang?

Codrus: the old man. and his rocking chair. on his porch. he was always old. he always had a porch. he always needed to sit. he knew he couldn't handle it all himself. imma cut across his lawn.

Cotard: maybe it's an old woman. she'll be nicer. i think. music is a meritocracy. like sports used to be. sound is colorblind. sound is blind. does it matter if you use a drum or a trash can? if you use a bass or have that bass? is it fish or fishes? or fishies? when British singers sing, they sound American. they lose their accent. for the longest i had no idea Adele was English. i just heard the english.

Codrus: poor Lionel Ritchie, i grew up with him. time flies. and conquers all in the end. and in the end is all that matters.

Cotard: does it matter if "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" is sung by an atheist? does it lose its sting? no, it inspires no matter what. it just has to be sung mightily.

Cotard passes his palm over his heart. his heart turns into the sound hole of a giant guitar in the sky. the two marks on Cotard's wrist, where the sensitive two veins are, become the guitar's fret. he touches that squishy creepy gentle shivering cold clammy disgusting area of bad dreams on his wrist for a soft moment which strums the invisible string of the guitar. the guitar emits a wave that becomes a sound wave that becomes a gravitational wave.

Cotard: musicians are the real prophets. the only ones we listen to anyway. it's like they get it when the politicians and epigones and snake oilmen don't. they're in the streets with us, they say what we want to say but the rest of us have stage fright. sure they can't solve any of the world's problems. sure their songs don't directly speak to you, yourself, your individual set of crises. they speak to humanity. and some aliens. they didn't save you from that overdose, you saved yourself, by buying that record. and of course they all die young cos they only really have the one message that no one is hearing. there's nothing more for them to do, they're not static mathematicians, they understand waves. they're sick of the world truth be told. constantly sick of the world. baffling. unintelligible. yearning. that is their eternal refrain. that is what all their lyrics mean. they want more but there is never enough, it's all been dried up by the sun. they say stupid stuff that sounds better when put to music. when you dive into desire you hit your head on the bottom of the pool and drown. they're angels with bent wings all gathered round for supper.

Codrus: and what a swingin' club that is! i'd love to dine at that table. hello, i'm Adam and i will be your server today. sorry, folks, out of water. we got pies for appetizers and pipes for dessert. my first edict when i become president of reality is the return of the neverending breadbasket. complimentary. oh you humans are a clever bunch, huh? you're getting very close to cracking the riddle, aren't you? do not fear, that was the old riddle. i am the new riddle. and i'm nice 'n' easy. it's just me here. you should have seen your faces when you finally discovered everything there was to discover, when you mastered math and solved space and tempered time. i wish i had a camera. or at least a phone. but there's no one to call. at least i've stored that time in my hernia for safekeeping.

the next concert (which is technically the second-to-last concert) (and what a display of technique!) takes place in the two ovals of the infinity symbol marked in blue with an EX and a WHY:

UVULA (FACE NOT SHOWN) ON VOCALS, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

Sid, Glidden, and Rumi (around the prayer circle): that's what was missing. there's nothing quite like a woman's touch.

Codrus enters the theatre for the second showing and sees Uvula on stage singing, spotlight on her. it's a little cold, the air is getting through his crumbly skin, so Codrus has to pull up the flaps of his bomber jacket around his neck. despite the grand scale of the show with all its complicated moving of large set pieces and getting the timing just right and making sure Uvula doesn't explode when she's flying all around the room hanging on by a tripwire string attached to the diamond ceiling and making sure her poofy hair doesn't get wet when the artificial overhead raindrop sprinklers turn on, the concert goes off without a hitch.

well, there is one thing: the lights don't immediately come back on when the concert ends. Codrus remains in the dark for awhile.

TMIT: BUSTA

1. in winter does your sexual appetite go on a fast? it's coming......it does indeed come fast. it's okay, though, when you lose one appetite the other appetites are enhanced. i'm so hungry right now...

2. what do you do to kick-start your libido when in a sexual slump? CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

3. what is your favorite type of foreplay to receive? as long as it ends in cum, i'm thirsty.

4. mutual masturbation, yes or no? that's the last line you fill out in the eharmony application.

what is your technique? look lovingly into her soul-windows with my smoldering gaze...

5. do you give your lover a massage? how often/ how long? as long as it takes. she gets the yoni, i usually opt for the temple massage. my head is constantly pounding.

6. do you give or receive more massages? i like to use needles...

BONUS: if a clone was made of you, would you have sex with it? what would you do first? yes, that is the motivation behind every scientific discovery man has ever achieved. the internet was supposed to be for information. i would take off my stovepipe hat, tip it, and introduce myself to Phoenix A1 as Phoenix Prime. then we would go see Dirty Grandpa.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

THERE IS NO SWOON

Valentine's Day learned:

* did you know that Baby New Year is related to Cupid? that's not true but it sounds like something that could be true.

* Venus, Cupid's mother: hey! what are you doing with those sharp arrows?! you could hurt yourself. gimme those! *confiscates Cupid's quiver*
Cupid (crying): WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH stop treating me like a baby!!!

learned:

* now THAT's commitment.

* the man puts out the fire in the fireplace.
man: what? you said you wanted to be with a fireman.

* the man takes a red bracelet box out his ass.
man: what's this?
woman: i don't know.
man: i don't know either.

* woman: how'd you know?
man: i listen.
woman: what's my name?
man: what?

* man: let's see if it fits.
woman: *tries on the spoon* it doesn't fit.
man: you must acquit...............sorry, that's back in the air again.

* woman: what are all the red pieces in this cake?
man: blood.

* woman (on the phone): mom? he got me a spoon!
man: sorry i slept with your mom.

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

learned:

* if one or both of you are furries, this is a very different experience.

* we endorse Bernie Sanders not cos he's from Vermont. we endorse Bernie Sanders cos we demand revolution.

* 4 1/2 inches, i mean, feet

* narrator: guys, face it, flowers die.
goth couple: dead flowers are romantic.

* narrator: chocolates get stale...
Phoenix: my penis is shaped like an unwrapped Toblerone.

* narrator: guys, she's gonna ask you if she's fat. you do not want to go there. instead, just say that she's not as big as the teddy bear.

* woman: the teddy bear and i are eloping.
man: announced elopements lose a bit of their power. what happened? i thought we had something.
woman: thank you for the teddy bear, honey. when you weren't around, i spooned with the teddy bear and thought of the teddy bear, not you. i am sorry but i'm leaving you. the teddy bear and i are running away together.
teddy bear: do i get a say in all this?

* woman: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! honey, i told you i was ursaphobic!!!
man: i thought you said nymphomanic.

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

have a sticky weekend. i love you all.

HIL

Binny (holding up her ipad mini): the thing about this life is.........it all eventually fades away....
Rumi: what's that say on your insta? nice tits?
Binny (scrollin'): nice tats. which is strange cos i don't have any.
Rumi: tattoos?
Binny: breasts.
Rumi hugs Binny in time. Binny tries for the kiss also.
Rumi: after all our accomplishment, cancer remains a mystery, coming in like an unwanted shower to sweep away our boldest and brightest. to think it all starts with a cough.

Codrus: not anymore.
Codrus has grown to be a giant. Sid can only take the measure of the man in space.
Sid: fe fi fo fum
Codrus: that's racist. or the other one. i'm an Amazon. resist the rasist in you. we must all be better. bigger.
Codrus removes his Abraham Lincoln hat and places it by his statuesque side as a memorial. he takes the tiara off his stone sister and places it regally upon his head.
Codrus: beyond human. unlabelable. evolved out of evolution. new for the first time in herstory. behold! the night mare! as foretold in the only book left.
Codrus begins sniffing up his nose white planets, star systems, holes in the universe. comet trails are left on his nostril sides like mucus. he never breathes out, only in. it makes a sound of a horn call to arms. a warning.

a majestic steed gallops its way across the galaxy. there are no end to ends anymore, so it gallops forelegs through space and hindlegs through time. from one angle it's on fire, the other, ice. it has that look of nobility, of finality, of carrying out a mission, it was bred for this, it bears its bearing in its flaring nostrils as it huffs its way toward the apocalypse, this current one anyway, bearing down on poor Quinny in its path. at the last moment Glidden saves Quinny, grabbing her by the shoulder, pulling on her aside, taking her one side, preventing her from being trampled.

Quinny kisses Glidden. in the mouth.
Quinny: almost got punched in the mouf. canned. cammed. my hero! so whaddaya say, old boy? i don't have much time left.
Glidden makes the Neil deGrasse Tyson motion.
Quinny: i see. yeah, it wouldn't work out. you're not on my level.
the two smile at each other, clearly for the last time, and give each other indian burns.
Glidden: not into girls. not into anything anymore.
Quinny: emo or asexual?
Glidden: why must everything be about sex? why can't i just be sick? yeah, people think that but this isn't makeup, i'm just light-skinned. HEY BIG MAN UPSTAIRS IN SPACE! i can do animals, too.

a BMX bike wheels itself to the surface from the other side and peeks his handlebars face at the scene. he takes a long hard look at what's in front of him. he can't see everything beyond the peak he's on but he sees enough. disillusioned at the space where the horse was, the bike wheels himself backwards, his handlebars hanging so low they act like a kickstand. he doesn't have the will to ascend the hill, instead he quietly retreats, so softly his tires make no tracks on the surface. if you look closely, which is impossible in this light, you can see a small down crack in the V of the handlebars.

the BMX bike: the thrill is gone..................................................................................................

Glidden transforms into a murder of crows that flies to the sand planet, the last planet, and then into a wedge of pink swans which begin to form a circle...

Codrus: ah, my horse. i will not name you, that would limit you. i will not mount you, that would stain you. somehow. you have no color, you are progressive. but i will say you were better than the first horse i made. that was a starter horse. no good. weird. bucked its master. the prototype rarely works out, that's why you must always replace it, and replace the replacement.

a glue monster spews itself to form from the moon crater.

Bump (holding a red ball): tell me about it. do not fear, it's me, Bump! is there something i should know? don't stuff the box, give me time.

Kobe Bryant: yeah, give me space. space to see my winning personality. you only saw one side on the court, where i created space for my shot. see my smart. see my funny. see my lingual. you like me now, huh? it always works out that way. as long as you live long enough. life is not a numbers game.

Codrus transforms into a giant Hilary just to cast her shadow over Bump.

Bump: that's just cruel, boss. after all i was loyal to yous. you can't hate your way to success. it eventually just burns you up.

steam inhales Bump back down the crater. the steam pushes Kobe out into the stars.

the horse rams its way to the Center, sacrificing itself to the ever-increasing altar of Fireball that's becoming less and less sky. still no explosion though. no grand. no Big Bang, this current one anyway.

Codrus: what does it take to start over?

Cotard: that's horrible. that's one thing i will not abide. animal abuse is not art. how could you be so callous? have you forgotten your animality? i like my gods to pass their primality test.

Codrus: now there are no more messy prime numbers. everything makes sense. oh it's just doing its job, a loyal mountless soldier, equestrian equanimity. why do you care so much?

Cotard: horseracing is a crime. the sins we have committed in the name of pleasure. just cos we were top dog. and we never had a cat.

the last train car is making its presence known bigger writ on the sky. it sits there like a stone but it does not thud, its oven burns brightly and is becoming the only light in the galaxy. Fuerza hangs her big butt on the open window of it, warming her bresciani socks by the pizza fire. the calluses are burnt off her feet. it's hard to discern but the darkness is slightly overpowering the light. Fuerza's yellow mixes with the blue to form natural green. Codrus's red mixes with the blue to form violent.

Codrus: civil war is so uncivil. why not combine our differences?

Cotard: be careful, mama. hey how did you enter that thing? there seems to be no front door. no entrance.

Codrus: yes, Mama, i need to speak to the man of the house.

Fuerza: that's sexist. he's right here under my skirt.

Moby emerges from inside the coal caboose after a sucking sound.

Moby: ah, ahem, yes. what would you like to know my good and bad man?

Codrus: i don't know how you're doing it but i still can't access your car. the train yes but not your specific car. what's driving that thing? forcefield?

Moby: forcefield he says with a straight face. do you know how much energy that would take to maintain? even free energy has a price.

Moby: you can see inside my coal chamber if not be inside it, which is enough. this oven provides the energy of the multiverse. my job is lonely but lovely, vicious yet vital. i am solely responsible for shoveling coal into this thing. hourly. if i slack off, everything turns to nothing. i've seen nothing, it's not a pretty sight. i can't take a sick day.

Cotard: what's the coals?

Moby: they used to be plentiful in the universe. you could fly right up to a fluffy star trail and pluck them out. they lined all the rainbow roads. but then man was born and fucked everything up. last i heard the stones normally floating around space were being harvested and painted with tin gold flaking by a cheap hand.

everyone looks at Codrus who gives the deGrasse hands-up.

Cotard: what's that switch?

Codrus: my, shiny.

Moby: this here is the golden lever. made of real gold. there are but two positions: SIMPLICITY and COMPLICATEDNESS. i keep it in the middle mostly. each morning i pop my head out the window and pop open my telescope to take stock of the stars...

Codrus: nice scope.

Moby:...to see how the winds are prevailing. thanks, it's telescopic, telephoto, and eidetic. most importantly it's long. i'm entrusted with keeping things balanced, even-keel. it can't be too complicated out there that it's unsolvable, yet it is ultimately simple. the clues are the ones hard to decipher, that's the key on Mabel's sweater.

Moby looks out and waves at Tob on Tob's planet who waves back.

Codrus: why do anything? did the old man put you up to this? he's so lazy, always napping when you need him the most. so forgetful in his old age. he's the standard starving artist who finally eats some bread. he's the creator who ends up destroying his own franchise out of ennui, contracting out the homework that needs to be done. always do your homework or you won't be prepared for the changes. you must never be caught flatfooted. change your socks. he's Chris Carter.

Cotard: hey.

Codrus: alright, alright, let's just see how it ends.

Fuerza: let me touch your stick, mijo, after all i touched your stick.

Moby (exasperated): NO WAIT! ONLY I CAN TOUCH MY STICK!

Fuerza handles the lever up and down and turns it to SIMPLICITY.

(turn)

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

it's funny how when things are coming to a head, things get shorter.

Sid, Glidden, and Rumi are engulfed in fire, by their own heads. the acid rain falls down on them and combusts.

the circle strengthens, it's not just a surface circle anymore. Sid, Glidden, and Rumi cry out in pain equidistant from each other, forefinger and thumb clasped, only breathing out. calmly. in rhythm. eyes closed. edges of the universe start to quiver again. the swans in the middle of the circle scatter away as waves begin to form. it's looking like home again. small flames appear above the heads of the three spiritual surfers.

Moby: music. when you can't think of a joke, music.

Sid, Glidden, and Rumi: something's missing.

Cotard: you're right. i've been missing my music. chants aren't enough. i've been missing being funny.

breadcrumbs thrown by Codrus.

Codrus (laughs): so easy.

breadcrumbs enter the center of the circle and bring the swans back in as they lose their grace and fight for dominance over who gets the bigger piece.

Codrus laughs. internally this time. he pictures in his heart, located in his head, his finger twirling, and the backwards rain is made right again. and made acid from his yellow drips.

Codrus: and it was good. i'm seeing it. now to fix the twirling of the universe. there's gotta be a better shape than swirl.

the three bums begin singing. their voiceboxes grow heavy with vibration created anew in the void. their boxes outweigh the boxes they are in. the power of the group. they form the first harmony. as they sing, rain emerges from within their prayer circle, rain that falls upwards. plain rain.

TMIT: THAT'S IT

you don't have to be lonely this Valentine's Day. join an orgy.

postgame learned:

* DAMN NATURE YOU CUTE

* if you're dealing with opioids, you have much bigger problems than the bathroom. don't you guys watch Dr. Drew?

* the turf was green, slippery, and made of kryptonite.

* who was that woman who sang the National Anthem so gorgeously?

* "before the National Anthem's over, it's already 14-0 Panthers..."

* Cam didn't go into that pile cos that's not what Superman does. that's more what Batman does.

* the Commercials weren't weird this year, you're just in the weird part of youtube.

* if they wanted to go hard, it should have been Radiohead.

* Beyonce didn't almost fall, she created a new dance move right before our eyes. bow down to your Queen.

* once again the Super Bowl Halftime Show continues the tradition of strange musical combinations that somehow work. Marilyn Manson is joining One Direction as Zayn's permanent replacement. reached for comment, Marilyn Manson wasn't coherent.

* SCOTT BAIO LEARNS THE PAINFUL TRUTH: MAKING GOOD GUACAMOLE IS HARD, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

* every living thing likes Doritos...

* Peyton: one decision i will make right now is to have a Budweiser..........................i'm so happy i'll even let that idiot kicker from the Colts get liquored up with me.

* Eli be like damn you big brother.

1. list 3 benefits of living with your significant other: i don't have to cook, we just eat out, we're always there for each other even when it seems she's invisible, and we can read each other's minds, or maybe i'm hearing voices.

2. have you ever reunited with a past lover and begun a relationship? was it as friends or lovers? reunited and it feels so moderate. platonic love is the noblest of loves. i never get the "just friends" part, being friends is the best. being friends is its own benefit. a friend in need is when you see that friend. remaining friends with your exes is important, they're there to give you advice on your next relationship.

3. do you think someone is more sexy if they regularly read books or regularly work out at the gym? need both. brains and brawn. no pain, no gain. Crime and Punishment is leg day, the Bible is a marathon you'll never complete, and Infinite Jest is tennis, anyone?

4. how likely you think it is that your marriage will end in divorce? π

5. who has more power in your love/romantic relationship, you or your partner? i'm a power bottom, which seems like a contradiction in terms.

bonus: describe the best Valentine's Day you ever had. i was covered in chocolate and eaten by a giant bear.

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CAM VS. THE COMPUTER: THE HAPPY SUPER BOWL

this Sunday there will be a little game of catch. and some running. the Broncos hope not too much running.

pregame learned:

* no matter who loses, the NFL wins. just think about that as you're placing your illegal bet.

* team game, win as a team, lose as a team, not gonna blame the kicker.....

* it's not Super Bowl 50, it's Super Bowl L! see?! i'm not afraid of Roman numerals!...........well if you're gonna give the L sign on your forehead you can at least paint your fingers gold.

* Golden Anniversary, Golden Gate Bridge, ooooooooooooh, i only got that just now.

* the Dabber vs. the Doctor
Newton vs. Fig Newton
the Smile vs. the Sheriff
MVP vs. SNL
Big Handsome vs. uh, well, doesn't Peyton Manning have the perfect face for comedy?

* Peyton, the Sheriff, riding off into the retirement sunset with a final victory? his last rodeo as he himself said on the 50-yard line? John Elway had the Helicopter, Peyton will have the Drone.

* okay so this is the year, i vowed to myself, this is the year i take my bathroom breaks during the Commercials.

* i know, there's an elephant in the room here. not Trump. the HGH. look, there's no proof. well there is proof but it's not what you think. why is Peyton's forehead so large?

IT HAS TO DO WITH A CERTAIN URINE SAMPLE, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

have a superb owl weekend.

so..............................................................WHO YA GOT?

PHOTIC

the scene up on screen transitions to an old '20s black-and-white featuring a steaming oncoming train, a damsel in distress tied up on the tracks, an evil villain in a Lincoln hat twirling his mustache, and our hero in baggy beige pantaloons and Stormy Kromer cap trying desperately to untie the maiden before it's too late. no talking is necessary, which is a nice change of pace.

the woman of course is Mama Fuerza. she is tied up not by coarse burning rope but by spools and spools of tendons swirled together made up of billions and billions of Red Strings of Fate, all of them in fact, all of them in the universe, which is all known now. they come out of Codrus's left hand, his unique hamsa. Codrus is still leaking gold throughout all this but no one seems to notice.

Fuerza: oh mijo, save me! either one! sacrifice me as a martyr, that is the fate of all mothers with angry sons. or save me so i may exist one more time to show you all along.

the actors can still talk you see, the audience sees placards with their words on them under organ music, but the actors are talking to each other in real time, if not real life.

Cotard tips his cap to the fourth wall to the silent roar of the empty movie theatre. he quickly takes off Codrus's hat while Codrus is distracted twirling the handlebars on his nose and replaces it with a Gravity Falls Grunkle Stan fez, the one with the Pac-Man fish gobbling the one pellet.

Cotard: that's more you, cryptic yet symbolic. you shouldn't sully the legacy of the stovepipe hat like that.

the movie always ends the same, whether you watch it from the beginning or the end or in medias res. the villain wins. the villain always wins. bad triumphs over good. the train hits Fuerza and the screen fades to black cos that's too much violence for young eyes. when it resumes the camera pans to the face of a giggling Codrus giving one hell of a prolonged evil cartoon group laugh with himself. Cotard can only feign fainting by putting up the inverted palm of his hand to his forehead, his hamsa out, and shouting up to the ever-clogged heavens:

oh woe! it is not fair. why are we born to die? what is the point if death erases life? time is not the ultimate currency, memory is. what kind of man am i that i could not 

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Cotard: i tried, Mama, i tried, but i am not strong enough. you kept all the strength in the family for yourself. damn genes. you showed me the way but kids are contrarian by nature. i tried to fight Codrus but when we engaged, the punches took on a rhythm, as they do, we went back and forth, punch and block, feint and counterpunch, a fence on the fences. back and forth, back and forth, oceanic. we never landed or missed, we danced for eternity. seriously, though, what's up with those group laughs at the end of cartoons? nobody does that. one person laughs, then the next person, and it catches on like wildfire till the whole room's laughing.

Codrus: they fascinate me, i pattern mine after them. so collegial and strange. not something you see in the real world but imma change that. if real life were more like cartoons.............

Cotard: you want a medal?

Codrus: a trophy filled to the brim with olive oil'd be nice. but you see mon ami, every story has the other side. i wasn't laughing, i was laughing. who you saw as Fuerza i saw as my beloved mother.

Cotard: the block of stone over there?

Codrus: exactly. i mean no. that is my mother. i know two things about her: she's a Greek Empress. my queen. and she's beautiful. i'll never forget her. that's why i keep carving her. so i don't ever forget. i love to burn things so. i could never burn stone in my youth so i made up for it in adulthood. i didn't have much of a teenhood, there was no bumpy transition. i'm not a pyromaniac, i just like to watch things burn. so this train here acted as the perfect giant chisel. it pounds against my mother and shapes the block in one fell swoop. much easier to mold after it's been hit like this. so hard to affect that first crack. now it's manageable. you need to get hit on the head to see things clearly for the first time. the image comes into your head finally, it's already there hidden in the cold block of nothing nondescript stone, you just have to remove the extra pieces and caress the face till it's smooth. i came up with that, you know, Michelangelo copied me. he was always the most annoying Turtle. and he worked in bronze, that's cheating. i had an overactive imagination as a child, imagining everything inside everything. this isn't the end, it's the beginning!

all the planets and alien skies and ARVs and creases and comets and anal probes and white and black holes and superclusters and novas and doublelarities and dimensions and space zones and outer time and airless atmospheres and red dwarves in the entire known and unknown universe have converged on this one point in the crowded private movie theatre. they are tightening into one small yellow pellet on a Pac-Man grid.

Codrus lines up exactly one thousand matches all along the area of the train tracks. he waits for the movie to start again, the train to start back again and zoom toward woman.

MEANWHILE Cotard manages to find the ballroom again. he has to stumble through many dark rooms before he gets there. crawling entirely on instinct. he sees Fuerza slipping forever on that puddle, it's become a welcome sight for him now. it's comforting in its metric. he looks at her face.

Cotard: come on, mama, now you're being ridiculous. before you were wryly smiling, sticking your tongue out, but now you're straight-up gurning.

Fuerza: whatever's going on in my life, i go with the flow. it's all you can do, mijo. touch my shoulders. steady me, son, as only you can. go on, give me a good shove.

Cotard does and sees his mother stop swaying. and her arm is cold stone.

Fuerza: see that? my shoulder healed, better than ever. it's stronger than it was before. the tendons are less sinewy, more like thick spaghetti than spaghetti. if i hadn't strained it, it wouldn't be as strong now. i dislocated it only to locate it again. that man with the mustache was right. now can you help dress me? i haven't showered in weeks, well except my feet here. wait till i come out of the bathroom. i'll lock the door and be away for awhile but don't you worry, i'll open the door again. and it will be gray all over. but think of it as steam, not fog.

Cotard: i can't, mom, i'm tired of this. i'm busy with the world.

Fuerza: it's okay, Cotard. i see your brother coming on the train over there. on the caboose, that's where all the sleep railcars are, right?

Imzhan is indeed sleeping on the top bunk of the car furthest away from the action on the railroad track. he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, his most hated activity, and some of the dust from his eyes powers his bed which glides out the car window and flies over blackened rooms to Fuerza. the rest of his eye dust turns to monsters offscreen.

Fuerza: mijo, help me with my socks. they're bacon socks as you can see.

Imzhan: yes, mama. your toes are wrinkly like bacon slices.

Imzhan licks Fuerza's feet, savoring the grease on her ankles.

Imzhan: your calluses taste of bacon bits.

Fuerza: that's why i named my daughter Calli.

the train hits the matches at lightning speed, igniting them, bonfiring them into linked chains of comets shooting all over the sandy desert. the path of their fireball bullets exceeds the design of their pistol as they leap off the screen in realistic 3D into the universe cramping together, setting ablaze all of old creation. all the lines come together in geometric gentility, the invisible fishing lines no one knew about, circle back and all coalesce around one bright bulb, the flash of the camera readying to take one more photo for antiquity before the end. one last shot...

Codrus: with the fire of a thousand matches...

the fire spreads to the yellow spot on the water by the invisible castle where it stays lit on that spot for all time, constantly motivated by a spark of new creativity, oiling it, motoring it along. the sandcastle where our surfer heroes were gets washed out to sea on the next wave before the hopping fireball has a chance to reach it. it bounces on their vacant spot and into the invisible castle, exposing it for the first time. the flames outline all the edges of the huge castle on the hill by the town by the sea of Creation. the castle takes after the Pillars on which it stood, purple and gray and majestic, all the turrets are there, the drawbridge, the stone bricks unevenly stacked, the windows shaped for arrows to get through, amber arrowslits, like a Castle Grayskull playset. you can see the thing for the first time! it lights up its own existence, an inferno illuminating sense, as a protest against the everlasting night sky.

Kenyatta: i'm just starting to get into social media again after a much-needed absence. break or broke. yeah all you really need to do is follow all the rappers. they make the wordplay in this age. they've come up with a cool new catchphrase before you even knew that was a thing you could do sexually or in the business world. poetry has come to the streets and not a moment too soon. it was stagnating in its ivory tower.

Kenyatta (with her eyes reflecting the fire like glass): and what's up with this fire? is anybody gonna put it out? you wonder sometimes when a fire just happens someplace in the world. you hope there will be people there to handle it. but what if there are no people around? what if no one knows about this particular fire burning in the desert? what happens to that fire?

...the train comes out of the silver screen, crashes the dot, and breaks on through to the other side. it seems to be on invisible tracks in space. soul train. at the helm blowing the whistle is the bald-headed Bum.

Cotard: you look different with a conductor hat on. i'm recognizing you better now that your face is framed. who are you again?

Moby: Moby.

Cotard: that's it! yuge fan. you are my spirit animal. messianic music. i knew you but could never place you. you were always on the tip of my tongue. you know, you should go monk and let your hair grow out.

Moby: i did go monk, i shaved my head. people always forget that the last car isn't the sleep car, it's the car with the furnace in it, where you shovel in the coals.

the immense heat of the traveling fireball tries to burn the train down but it can only hop on the hopper cars and is successfully absorbed by the oven in the end railcar, with steam coming out of there, and smell-lines like in a cartoon. the train ends up on the dusty gray surface of an unnamed moon in the middle of the edges where it brakes without a brake and slowly lies on its final repose by a stone, the coal-furnace boiler-room of the end car sticking up like a butt.

the universe is an eternal row of rectangular apartment rooms, packed like space sardines, a furious favela, one complex with everyone and everything inside, darkened, no lights.

light is having a hard time playing here. it is completely light and completely dark at the same time.

all of Codrus's red strings glow, encircling the heart in his head as it pumps burning yellow.

JUST THEN the homesteader enters the theater and transforms himself into a giant gun that shoots a warning shot over Codrus's shoulder. Codrus startles and his light turns orange.

homesteader: heh heh. now THIS is a gun you can't take away. mama always said to believe in yourself. that's what i like to see, i like my gods to retain a bit of their humanity.

Codrus's red light emanates all around and goes towards the yellow light in the middle.

Fuerza's yellow light, her favorite color, emanates from her bunions all around and goes from the yellow light in the middle.

the sky is midnight blue. you can't see anything but you can still use your other senses. there's a distinctive smell of pizza wafting from the end oven of the train. pizza with those pepperonis burnt to perfection, lined with black, pools of grease, tasting of coal.

TMIT: GET OUT OF THAT LITTLE HOUSE

my travels take me to Iowa where................wait, stop filming please. what am i doing here? what's the point of this? what's the point of any of this?

1. when was the last time you changed your windshield wipers? should they be now changed? i had windshield wipers on my eyeglasses but i don't wear glasses anymore. i had windshield wipers on my sunglasses but that made them less cool.

2. when was the last time you got your hair cut or your hair ends trimmed? this is so apropos. ever since my mom's shoulder my hair has grown two-months' worth. she got my hair did. it's all scraggly and unkempt, i look like a true artist. i purposely leave my ends split, it's a statement against conformity in a world gone mad. i'm wondering if i should shave it again or keep it monk-style. i missed all that dandruff. i have a constant reminder of winter on top of my head.

3. when was the last time you checked the HVAC filter in your home? check it now.

His Very Attuned Compassion
Hidden Virulent Airborne Contaminant
Hot Vixen And Condom
Her Vibrant, Apt Condo
Heavy Viscous Airy Chocolate
Holy Venal Atheist Contemplation

and you mustn't forget the R. refrigeration is important. without refrigeration we'd be frying our eggs on the sidewalk not only to see how hot it was. without refrigeration the milkman would be all of our fathers. and you wouldn't have

THIS, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

4. is your car due for an oil change? last time you had this done? never. my flying car runs on free energy, the energy of the universe. really saves on gas. did you see my ancestor on tv last week? i hated when those filthy humans shot my great grandfather but i must admit my great grandfather had a nice butt.

5. check your fun gauge. when's the last time you did something truly fun with a loved one? i'm checking my dashboard here and there's no such gauge on my car.

6. when is the last time you tried something new sexually? what was it? did you like it enough to repeat it? all holes at once. meaning four holes. our alien anatomy is slightly different from you humans. it's all part of the probing process.

bonus: how do you nourish the connection between you and your loved ones? (parent, kid, significant other, best friend) bread. and butter.

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REALITY

learned:

* 111: Illuminati Just Starting Out

* postnuclear nuisances suck, but if you have a picnic basket you can at least get rid of the bear.

* narrator: Vault Boy, what are you doing? why aren't you shooting the enemy soldier at the location we've specified for you will be a 100% success rate?
Vault Boy: i'm lookin' at those magnificent hearts underwear he's got on. hey, enemy soldier, where'd you get those snazzy shorts?
enemy soldier: Macy's.
Vault Boy: haven't worn clean underwear since before the War...

* enemy soldier: WHY AM I LEAKING OIL OUT OF HOLES IN MY BODY?!!!
Vault Boy: relax, it's root beer.

* enemy policeman: hey sonny, what's written on your bag there? LOOT?
Vault Boy: TOOL, TOOL! i'm a huge fan. best music videos around. Tool and Bjork, that's the list.

* child: you stole my candy and comic book!
Vault Boy: they're both bad for you, kid.
old woman: you stole my dentures!
Vault Boy: it's fun to eat steak through a straw.
injured soldier: you stole my crutch!
Vault Boy: your leg will grow back. with all this radiation around, none of us are humans anymore.

* Vault Boy: i have an extra eye.
narrator: that's good, Vault Boy, you're learning. the third eye, the sixth sense, you're growing spiritually.
Vault Boy: no, the eye is floating above my head.
narrator: oh. you're crazy then.

* Vault Boy: i'm not a good sniper.
narrator: just takes practice. and for you to turn cold.
Vault Boy: is there anywhere else to practice besides this completely barren desert? it's kinda hard when you have to hide behind the one small cactus here. are there any buildings?
narrator: what about your Vault?
Vault Boy: i don't like to take my work home with me.

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend

TAGESANBRUCH

the door...........................was locked all along.

Cotard: i can't get to my mother. but i can see her. she's slumped over on the bed, wrapped too neatly in her covers, forever, never to move again the darling. i want to be with her, but not like this. i want to comfort her and hug her forever but i don't want to see her. if i stop waiting, the hours will stop, too. i'll be locked in a blissful state of timelessness.

Cotard looks through the tiny peephole of the doorknob. it's dark so you can't see anything. he takes out a pebble from his invisible robe but decides against ingesting it. instead he places the pebble to cover the hole. light breaks but you still can't actually see the hole.

Cotard: never knew where that thin slanted metal key that looked like a bent lead pipe that opened that room was, Mama hid it well and keep the secret to her grave. funny cos there never seemed to be anything between us. we were connected, no secrets, that's what familia is. of all the things i'll remember, the most were the times i could deeply feel her love of me, it emananted from her lips like no love ever before or since. we were one human being. when i scratched she itched, and scratched. when she saw me ram my head into that couch with the metal buttons pretending to be Super Grover, she did that unique thing Spanish mothers do when they cry eghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh and breathe inward hastily through their slack tongue. no, no, that was just her, uniquely. that was my mom. fuck Sesame Street. and her and finding things, finding solutions. she was the practical one, Dad the intellectual. i took after Dad but i had my mom's face. and her deep-seated humble religion despite my forays into self-righteous smart. i absorbed both and adsorbed none, the only film left was the one i played out in my head. even in her old age, she infirmly one-upped her son in the street-smarts department, one last time to rub my nose in it. my ipad mini suddenly faded to black. at the worst time. right when i was in the middle of the church bake sale. without those profits from the pandan cakes i make when i'm bored i can't keep living in the Sanctuary. it's not the electricity, it's the need for brand-new lead pipes. don't drink the water. my pandan cakes are special, they're both lime AND strawberry. i was pissed off for the last time, my energy had run out. i gave up. for the last time. gave up my dreams. died. but Mama Fuerza kicked me out of her bed and suggested that it was the white wire, it had been chewed to bits by the cats. and her tablet and the same white wire with the white bulb, perhaps it could work. it did!

Fuerza: see? mama, mama.

Cotard: and this woman knows nothing of computers. that was Dad. her love saw her through. always.

Cotard returns to the ballroom where Fuerza is eternally slipping up and down on the spot.

Cotard: rub me in it, dear madre, rub me in your glory. o that i could hear you wail EGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH one more time.

Cotard kneels down before the wet spot and lays his head for a nap.

Cotard: i need a nap date.

but instead the still water runs deep and Cotard's head falls through what he thought would be a pillow into more of a dunking of his head. his tongue overmoistens with unexpected dark water and shrinks like a sponge. Cotard is now fully up and awake.

Cotard: she's always knowing what's best for me.

-------------------------------

on the screens...........somewhere: Camera Guy: what are you doing now?
Donald Rumsfeld: app. and not the ones at TGI Friday's senior menu. i decided to take an ancient game out of antiquity and introduce it to millennials. it's like solitaire but you use two decks. cool, huh?
Camera Guy: so this is how you're retiring? after all you've done, it's just about cards now?
Donald Rumsfeld: sure, everything else in the world is too complicated. i like things simple and to the point. cards. cards are comforting. i'll be playing cards on my porch when the world burns.

____________________

Codrus is now a ten-year-old boy. the morning light hits his eyelids and fries his eyelashes. the boy is very distrusting, more like a feral animal, as he negotiates the sandy terrain. his heart is pumping furiously, and leaks of gold begin spilling out his many pores. the white even sands have since become stained and are now more brown and red and dusty in his presence. he retreats to his pile of rocks and begins stacking them into various people. Angie, Mohd, and Stew approach him.

Angie: hello, little boy, wanna play?

Codrus: my, someone, told me not to talk to strangers.

Mohd: that's good policy.

Stew: how's it feel to be on the other side of the age gap? you can't boss us around anymore just cos you're taller. i mean, yeah, i wish somebody had taught me about

GOOD TOUCH, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

Stew: but don't worry, we'll treat you harmless. take our buckets and shovels, like the oceanwater it's all free. we learned compassion somewhere. we recognize your pint size and realize you are a defenseless animal, we don't take pleasure in hoarding our height over you, we'll take care of you.

Codrus hisses and jumps in the middle of his circle of stones. he's leaking oil constantly but he manages to quickly arrange his stones into a stone mama wearing a leaf wreath, a stone dada wearing a crown, and a stone sister wearing a lowcut dress and tiara.

Angie: that's good craftsmanship. they look so realistic.

Mohd: and that cloud of smoke that was going on while you were working, it shows. everything is so polished, no rough edges in sight.

Stew: i've seen better stuff on youtube. it just goes to show that quality has nothing to do with how large your audience is. i swear fame has nothing to do with justice.

Codrus: *with an official voice* before you is Me, of the Royal House of Stone, uh, Henge. our family started everything, we were the first humans, the first humans with magic anyway. that's my dad, i'm SECOND-in-line to the throne cos of my stupid sister who brushes her pony's hair more than hers, and my beautiful mom, only learned of that word recently. we've always been hanging out. there's no hole to fill as you can see, the circle is quite complete.

Angie: are you serious, kid? where's your real mommy?

Codrus: i know your tricks. i was told never to talk to outsiders, they'll confuse you with their questions. yes, yes, don't talk to nobody ever again, they're scary. let no one in, everyone out there is trying to have what we have, they're trying to infiltrate our harmony. trust no one. not even yourself. only rely on yourself. hate others, they always lie. only you know if you're lying to yourself. only when you're completely alone will you feel it. nirvana comes only to the lonely. art isn't pain, pain is art. those who are fat can never know the motivation of those who are skinny. which is ironic. that IS my mommy! i know me better than any else selves. i've only ever known myself...

Mohd turns the boy around and looks directly into his eyes made hard by the constant glassy winds.

Mohd: whoa, he's serious. his heartbeat is calm for being so racing. you know what they say about children, they believe, they're the true believers.

Stew takes a gander at the boy as well.

Stew: yep yep yep yep yep, boy's got that look i had as a child after a few pints in me, that malaise glaze after buying that overpriced video game, bargaining it down to 50 bucks and celebrating with a box of fruit punch, the good kind of punch, and some hard-as-stone animal crackers. they never seemed to serve fruit punch at the bars in my youth. shame, always had the hair color for it. my childhood was something.

Codrus doubles over in pain. the heart pumping gold is fast and furious and coming out of his chest, literally. Codrus steadies his mind but it's like his string of fate, a wire, has been cut. he tries with all his might and Stone drugs in him to reshape his bleeding heart. he molds it back with his mind into more of a manageable ball of mass. the mass grows veins and soon becomes a brain which he replaces with his own.

Codrus: mind of matter.

with that, Codrus poofs back to his old self again.

Codrus: hahahahahahahahahahaha. you can't kill a god that easily!

Codrus spins his finger at the sandcastle he was working on and traps his three former children inside.

Codrus: three bums trapped in a small space.

the three bums: we're used to it.

the clouds above turn green and begin chirping. it appears they are just moving with the tide in the sky but they are in fact sprouting wings and flying away. Angie, Mohd, and Stew transform back into Sid, Glidden, and the cigarette-smoking man. the cigarette-smoking man has to cut a piece of his lit cigarette every so often with his Scissors cos the cigarette never lessens into ash with each drag.

Glidden: i thought my pink hair would be joyous for him. kids don't like clowns?

Sid is drinking from a pint glass.

Codrus: you, you're too young to drink. and you, drop your cigarette butts somewhere else or help clean up my beach. get your butts outta here!

Codrus floods the castle by breaking the dam and drawbridge and letting in all the moatwater.

Codrus: just call this my last act of government malfeasance.

the three don't drown in the bad water but they can't communicate with each other underwater, either. they all point up and surface.

the three bums: we really got to work on that. we're surfers after all.

a dripping cigarette-smoking man: wait, let me try something.

CSM turns Codrus around and looks deep into his eyes.

CSM: who's your daddy?

Codrus points to the stone father.

CSM: fascinating. adult. he's an adult. he's trying to adult anyway. he's not lying, i can see his heart pumping out of his chest, literally. it's all in his head. it's viciously pumping but in a very truthful way. he would pass a lie-detector test. it's more that his heart and mind are about to explode. too much pressure. it's not good to be king.

Codrus starts to rap and point his fingers downward:
you got nothin' on me
i'm a different class of villainy
what you think you see
you don't see
you'll never see me
cos i am free
you can't pin my work on this or that
i am new, that's a fact
you debate, you contract
i contemplate like a brat
reduce me and you reduce you, fool
you box in, i box out
you don't know what i'm about
you will smile, i will pout
i'm angry for the sake of it
i complain cos there're stakes in that
i'm a different class of villainy
(and i am classy)
beyond good and evil and psychiatry
it's not that i want to see the world end
but how 'bout we just start all over again?

liquid gold streams out of Codrus's ears, nose, and throat. he's making a mess on stage.

Codrus: mac 'n cheese, my favorite. just like Mom used to make.

when the liquid spill reaches his eyes, Codrus is transported to his private movie theatre where also sits Cotard and Fuerza.

Fuerza: let's sit in the middle row. not too close, not too far.

Codrus: what was i saying?

Codrus is on screen. literally. he's in the movie playing on the screen right now.

Fuerza: you were probably in the middle of a rant, mijo.

Codrus: why you calling me mijo?

Fuerza: everyone's my son. it's a mommy thing. you take care of your son and your son's friends. you'll learn when you become a mother.

Codrus: yes, i remember now, i invented, i invented everything. i was in the middle of my speech. i was angry but i forget why for. inflamed in fact. something about math, the uselessness of it. yes, i was showing a pie chart divided up into sections, showing this graph to dispel graph theory. there is no perfect graph, no claw-free graph, there is always a claw, didn't you watch Inspector Gadget when you were a kid? my sister always had it on. the brute-force search takes brute force. proof by exhaustion is exhausting. there is no mathematical star, i am the only star, i make the stars. and then something happened, something always does, and i got mad. i don't remember the beginning, or the middle, but i do remember the end, we always remember the end. i ended with a declaration, i turned around and said to...

at this precise moment Cotard joins Codrus up on film. Cotard is right at the end of his rant, and the two men say and stay in unison as they point pointedly at Fuerza:

if you remember

Binny: i swear these ipad minis. i just don't get it. that was the one thing that struck me when i finally got mine. the fact that you needed to power them up constantly. that was the stupidest thing in the world. why couldn't they just work? run on free energy, the same energy of the universe that fuels our cars and craft. do we want to be beholden to foreign electricity?

Wolf: hi guys, what's happening? been talking heavily with Baleen on insta again. they call me the Gram Grandpa now. he's not doing well, not in a good place. whatever he was high on before, be it cocaine, heroin, the Stones, or life, it's over. crashed. always seem to crash eventually. he's back to being depressed. he's lonely again.

if you remember one thing, one damn thing about me and all of my life living, when you remember me, when you see my face in your dreams, you remember that i hated my life. in fact, i hated life. yeah, yeah, i hated the concept of life. you inscribe that on my tombstone. and leave the dates off.

Cotard sheds tears which flow upward. the fluid out of Codrus's tear ducts is dust dribbling out and disappearing.

Fuerza: boys, boys, stop arguing, stop talking over one another, i can't understand either one.