1. which animal listed below represents your true sexual self?
a) chipmunk---cute and cuddly
b) monkey---all about being mischievous
c) tiger---i've earned my stripes

i only date chipmunks who sing. Tales of the Gold Monkey was my favorite show..............then..............well..............i guess it's Archer now.

my sexual idol, the man i look up to the most, the man i pattern my sex life after, his ferocious libido is goals, is Tony the Tiger if he had put down the bowl and not eaten any of his own unhealthy Frosted Flakes cereal.

2. your partner's in the mood for sexy fun but you're beat. tired, that is. what do you do?
a) start snoring. there is no way i'm givin' it up tonite.
b) trade. you give me a massage...and we will see...
c) that would never happen!

i give my masseuse massages. i tell her,
me: okay it's only gonna happen if "Tonight Tonight" by the Smashing Pumpkins plays in the background soft loudspeakers overhead with the mood lighting.
her: no way that would ever happen!
and she's right. i mean, "Run2me", what exactly happened to the Pumpkins there? was Billy sick that day?

me: i only barter in the tradition of my past life when i was a medieval page.
her: here's some snoring salts. exclusive to this place.
me: and this place is...?
her: Lush.

btw, i read that as "parents", not "partner". i do give my mom massages every week for her poor back and neck and shoulders, i hope she receives the Medi-paid-for acupuncture she needs soon.

3. which of these sexual descriptive labels closely matches you?
a) dominant b) submissive c) top d) bottom e) switch f) kinkster

i don't believe in labels. that's why i invented the Amazon drone. i'm a dominant who takes orders middle stagnant inactive slash-fanfiction-writer who kicks the habit every night. the amount of sex i have is in direct proportion to the number of fanfiction stories i write.

4. would you rather have your enemy eaten by a shark or die in an earthquake getting swallowed up by earth? it would be unseemly to discuss shark attacks and typhoons right now. let's just hope and pray Mother Earth gets all the water she needs so her throat doesn't remain scratchy and she earthquakes which is her indication that she's thirsty. freshwater that is, let's hope all the people of all the nations get enough freshwater to survive. water justice. i have no enemies, Yahoo Serious and i patched things up in the '80s.

5. for the next year, would you rather be dressed like a mime every day OR look normal but not allowed to talk?

take it from me, people lose interest in a talking mime real quick. i was talking to my priest the other day when i asked him, "do you have anything to confess?" he told me he likes me better when i don't talk. then he brought up that Twilight Zone with the guy in the glass cage and the bet that he couldn't talk for a while...

bonus: what is the most beautiful word in the world?word. you can create whole other universes with it.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

President Bump has made his way to the House of the Book. he's never had to run so far and so fast in his life, his feet hurt terribly. but he is comforted and panting to know that he can lean his large frame against the fluted columns and stone carvings of the place and rest assured it won't topple over like one of his buildings.

Bump: there's no casino here. cos the library won't allow it.

the columns of the colonnade fill up with his sweat. he wants to know but his pants are soaked.

Bump: this place is wondrous! like Rome. and Rome never fell, technically. it's still going on. like the Deep Illuminati. it will be sturdy through the tides. like an old mate. i had an old mate named Jim, he was imaginary.

he waddles his way to the front of the glassed counter a tired and broken man.

Bump: mate, one ticket for the show later this afternoon. air-conditioning in there, right?

the clerk is listening with both ears to his vintage Walkman but you can still see the pimples inside his ears.

clerk: what? show?

Bump: yeah, this is where the Power Rangers teleport to. i need a means of escape, i'm on the run, i'm being run down, chased by an old man with gray hair.

clerk: Santa?

Bump: you'll see. soon.

clerk: *typing/hacking* and you are?

Bump: oh yeah, you're just a kid, you wouldn't know. you're not in my demographic as i've been told now.

the clerk is Dirg.

Dirg: *chewing pink bubblegum* just kidding. you're my hero. it's cool we get to spend some time together just you and i like this. so how goes the trolling? it is just trolling, right? that's why you connected with disaffected white dudes who sold their farm and tractor to buy an ipad maxi with the warranty, it's the internet thing which made you clean up that voting bloc like a drone who spreads toxic chemicals into wheat. i love how you're the personification of the concept that school is useless, that's so cool.

Bump: no time to talk, kid, pressing matters, the adults are in the room.

Dirg: i'm afraid you are mistaken, sir, the Power Rangers don't really live here. or work here. there's no transporter yet, that must be invented, but without nasally NASA's ass-global cabal of Roundists. i hate to do this to a fellow nerd, but it is just a show.

Bump: is it at least a factory?

Dirg: no one knows what the House of the Book is. so it's a monument. to something. oh, i got my friend on the line, he wants to ask you a few follow-up questions.

Dirg switches on his connection to Laertus through a watch.

Laertus: several. friend? you've never addressed me as friend before. are you getting melted in all that post-hurricane sun?

Dirg: i miss you...

Laertus: what?

Dirg: shut up. here, gold sir. i put him on the phone. watch. phone-watch.

Laertus: so you were right about the hurricane...

Bump: i know, right? the only cool thing that happened was that roof coming off that gas station. but a village pump doesn't need a roof for it to work, take it from me.

Laertus: and there was that sight of the American flag ripping in two in the strong winds and salty surge.

Bump: i know, right? that was so cool. i've Tivo'd that scene and i'm gonna watch it later on Youtube Fast-Forward, just the good sports highlights.

Nixon in blue hologram: don't you think that torn American flag is evocative and indicative of something? something larger and grander going on in the larger culture than your thinking? a symbol?

Bump: yeah it was pretty erotic. a symbol of freedom, or so i've been told.

Laertus: this whole Kavanaugh thing really gives me the heebie-geebies. makes me depressed for the nation. are we a nation of laws or a nation of nations? can you do something about the mail threats? like shut down the Post Office? i know your life is of rushjobs but...time doesn't exist...

Bump: hey i'm saying all the right things. no feelings involved. either way. we're playing the long con i mean long game. lockerroom talk can extend to actions you know. this is why there should only be one party, so no one feels left out. everyone wants to have fun, no one wants to be at a birthday party where no one else is invited, even your mom. everyone goes through life drunk. we've tried to return-to-sender mail these creeps, but on the back of the envelope, the only address left is the letter Q. besides, Judge Mark is taking care of the proceedings.

Laertus: there's an inherent male-slanting systematic attackive mal in the software of this culture. it's culture which simply doesn't respect women or a woman's worth, it's been programmed that way. the superstructures are in place to perform this ovulating operation. it's a culture like a lab-specimen culture, not yogurt. what are you gonna do about this, sir? you have the power unfortunately.

Bump: i leave it to the Senate, Congress really does a job.

Laertus: i've been following your twitter feed which i despise. i've hated twitter ever since you came aboard, you ruined what was once a nice positive place for discussing K-pop. a lot of links and retweets of Orrin Hatch...

Orrin Hatch: why don't i believe her? cos she's a woman.

Bump: *laughs* look man, i mean, you gotta give him credit, he's at least being honest. he's not frontin' for the good cause. he shows to the cameras the weapon of his age, not the weapon of artifice. no artificial sweeteners, that's awesome! gotta give him that, he's not trying to be PC.

Nixon: noticing the parallels? seeing? they were both professors...

Bump: i notice how the Left keeps referring to her as Doctor and Professor, not Woman.

Laertus: it's everywhere, it's pervasive in the autumnal air. democrat, republican, and especially independent. when a blonde comedienne said she couldn't wait till your son flipped on you, his comeback was to demean her for not being funny in a crude way. on twitter.

Bump: but that's just science. women aren't funny. ask Bill Nye. and in fairness to my son, she said she would orgasm for the first time in 30 years after my son flipped on his own father. so. see i'm all about fairness. i mean she said she'd videotape that wet sticky orgasm session of hers at Lush and put it on her twitter timeline.

Laertus: don't take my wife. please. take the Mavericks. that was supposed to be a "fun"---fun in quotations---culture, boys-will-be-boys barf, roughhousing, loose and free, a player's dream, heaven for hunky jocks. but it turned into a hell for hotties and a lady jail. nobody wants to smell a jockstrap.

Bump: yeah i wouldn't know, basketball isn't my thing or my demographic. Cuban should go back to Cuba.

Bump looks up into the sun and with his finger's yellow lasers carefully pastes over the carefully-carved letters on top of the House Book tower. it used to read NATIONAL ARCHIVES but now it's just a bunch of Roman numerals which spell out an egg scramble.

Bump: i actually came here with a purpose. and some interviews. i'm here to officiate the divorce between my pals Brady and Belichick. two men should never marry, that is a crime against nature.

Bump thinks up to the sun.

Bump: there's one thing i can do for myself to get out from under the boot of Mueller. distract with a good deed on the other side of town. i have to hurry, time's running out, i'm late, and my heels just broke.

Dirg: he's gone now, disappeared into thin air, which isn't easy for him to do.

Laertus: actually it's very easy for him to do.

Dirg: now i'm bored. i'm cooped in this booth and hot. you keeping your third eye on the old bats?

Laertus: of course. time is running out for me, i'm on a tight schedule with this finals week. tight on time like my estomago enchilada. i'm not pregnant. i was given special dispensation from Professor James Gunn that i can take my final as a take-home final home with me. i told him i was on a boat and he misconstrued that as me serving on the Peace Corps. i am keeping the peace in a way. gotta make sure our witches are healthy to combat powerful men. i pattern my love after those two old birds.

Dirg: misconstrued, that is such a lovely word.

Laertus: the catch is the final doesn't count. i'm in a rush, go, ol' buddy ol' pal.

Dirg: The Last Uncorn. go.

Laertus: great great great film. a little long truth be told if i'm being honest through my teeth. a bit bloated in the middle. that annoying owl or bat thing in the beginning was useless and annoying. like that's the Gilbert Gottfried role. there are no Medieval tacos. and the unicorn was being a bit of a b.

Dirg: Gottfried got fried many psychedelic moons ago. she's a bitch, say it.

Laertus: yeah i don't know if all unicorns are this haughty and arrogant and dismissive or it's just her. i mean she is a unicorn i guess, she's earned that right. humans ARE silly. you get the sense she's a diva but doesn't know why. the writer said the wizard character's voice was played flat but i thought it was just the right tone of Jewish rye bread. i loved how it played with tropes, i use that in my own life, in fact tropes are my entire lifestyle. like happily ever after and the good guys and heroes always win. one thing which really fucked me up was this concept they brought up that there is no happy ending cos nothing ever ends... 

Dirg: please, i don't want that concept rattlin' round my brain when i booze. or worse, when i snooze, i'm already fucked up. i take drugs for that. street drugs.

Laertus: Molly Grue has such a standout voice in this, she's the surprise scene-stealer. the speedboat moral compass and glue-girl of the group, Molly Morality. i love motherly figures with warm-tone voices, i just want to wrap my arms around them and be a sucker for them. the entire voice cast is outstanding. superb Shakespearean actors who you think are British but are really just grand Americans using their high-registry voice of good breeding.

Dirg: Prince Lir was Finn before Finn.

Laertus: their singing voices on the other hand were.....sweet. i mean it sounded like a bunch of actors who didn't know how to sing but sang in the voices they use in their showers. they tried, it was heartfelt, but not exactly operatic. professional but on tape. it was like singing to your neighbor on the phone. they gave it the ol' college-theatre try.

Dirg: watch it while you can, you know Ronan Farrow will definitely be investigating this film!

Laertus: i wish we would return to this America. an America that only cares about producing the best possible epic nondenominational fantasy it can and delivering it to sinner and pauper alike. i want the America that's represented by America the band called America! righteous heavy metal slowed to fit a fantasy, that music was moody magic.

Dirg: rock on, sista.

Laertus: gotta go, the ladies are speaking.

Gladyce and Doryce are stewing in their pot aboard the doomed ship. Doryce is done with her "training" (in quotations) inside all the smokestacks of the Titanic. she and her body are completely covered in thick dark black soot, that when she smiles it's funny cos all you see are her bright white teeth floating, well bright white as against this black backdrop anyway, and her two floating white pupils for eyes. you don't even see her glasses she's wearing!

Gladyce: done, dear? please say yes, i hate seeing you go to all this trouble. you're seriously strenuousing yourself out, spreading yourself too thin.

Doryce: i'm already thin. and our relationship will stretch out thinner and stronger under this strain.

Gladyce: i'm starting to develop a taste for rye bread. like you and your garlic bread. not Jewish, though, i like it dark.

Doryce: dark meat. rock on, sister. uh, dark bread. good for dark magic. coming right up! i will prepare for you a feast! replete with vessel vinegar! where's the chef? i want to compliment him beforehand so he cooks a great job. who's in the kitchen this evening?

Laertus: i believe it's not who you think. it's not the fat guy with the beard...

Doryce: oh come on! he makes the best marinara sauce!

Laertus: all of his jars were taken off the shelves and all shelfies of him deleted after the Ronan Farrow investigation of him.

Doryce: that is not fair! why do WE have to suffer cos he can't act straight! so who's in there? i'll take the Mooch at this point.

Laertus: um, The Mooch is not available. he's busy thinking about why a chef would need a lawyer. i guess i can suppose and rustle up some ingredients and pointy spices up at The Store and dash back. and whip you ladies up something non-BDSM. i fancy myself an amateur sous-cook in college. i added a barbecue Pringle to my ramen and made it barbecue-pizza ramen.

Doryce: btw i died.

Gladyce: *bug eyes non-glassesed* what?

Doryce: it was the queerest thing. i was lost in the heavy tornadic cloud of the smokestack smoke, when suddenly a novice witch appeared spinning upside-down next to me in my tremors of cyclical wind. the circles were everywhere. i had a sense about her, she was ditzy but motherly. she cared. i was at death's door and this woman built a window. my eyes were all bugged-out, i couldn't take any more soot in my mouth.

Gladyce: and stars. Pumpkins. coming soon. she was the star this day! that's not like you.

Doryce: she whipped me up a concoction in a mule-alcohol tin half-cut-off-cup, a strange brew with spices and with her finger swirling in a circle in the air. you could tell she was good at manipulating liquid soaps. she said she was practicing teleporting and ended up next to me as if she inherently knew instinctively where warmth was needed. she mentioned she thought she met me and us before but i told her all of our kind have that ephemeral feeling of togetherness to us without meeting. telemetry. i told her to stop practicing. it was too dangerous. for her. i mean look at me. she wasn't meant to travel like us, she was a homebody.

Gladyce: bless her. what was the drink?

Doryce: golden milk. frightful stuff. delicious. looks like curry. has that distinctive saffron color. quite the jolt! one sip and my eyes popped back in. i was made alert and ready awake. i flew to safety and didn't let the nature of man hold me captive anymore. that turmeric burned the back of my throat like my best study session with Bama!

Gladyce: lovely lasting lashing liquid. for a quid.

Doryce: this woman laughed me goodbye. sweetheart. i believe i caught her name in the wind funnel before she snapped her fingers and was off to her next travel thinned out the tunnel, gone with the wind. Madame Pons? like the vagina?

Laertus arrives at The Store. The Store which is a booth inside one of the many myriad decks of the Titanic.

Laertus: how do you get the food to stack and shelve and sell?

Geoffrey Owens: they ship it to us by boat. it's quite the delay. it's hard to get to an island. don't mind my fatness, i'm an actor. gonna play Falstaff in college theatre.

Laertus: i've got my friend on speaker but he's cool. listen man, i won't do you like that. i use my pocket phone for good, i despise revenge porn and hate twitter. hey the way i see it, this is the fate of most actors. most actors don't become big---i don't mean fat---even after getting a big show, the show dies in the ratings and the funds dry up and you don't get another big break. that was your time as a tv star, you relished it and now it's gone. that one precious chance which never springboarded into anything else except video-game voices. but you'll always be an actor in your big heart. most actors you never see, they stock the shelves anonymously at your local grocer, struggling to make ends and endives meet. and making sure the relish labels are turned outward.

Dirg: Sondra was right to dump Elvin. no offense. she was right to dump all of Hollywood, you never heard from her again. i'm glad she got out of my country and went to France. she had the right idea. it's not the Cosby aspect of your plight, it's that you're a senator's son. people expected more from you. hey i'm just a brotha helpin' notha brotha out.

Geoffrey Owens: never slander the value and inherent goodness of work, a doctor's the same as a bum. well i will be one of the senators on the panel of the Kavanaugh/accuser hearing this Monday.

Laertus: right on, that is something Anita Hill was never afforded. she got railroaded........i've just read Bump's twitter. he says Monday will be the highest-rated tv show ever in all caps and exclamation points. and he says he needed to rush it cos November sweeps are coming up for the Nielsens.

Laertus returns. with the brown bag. from above belowdeck:

Doryce: now we can feed our famish. put your delicate napkin on your leg, missus, and chow down! you got the crab rangoon?

Laertus: yeah but it's frozen. it was right next to the nets. and there was no bread. out of bread. there was a shitload of quinoa but no technical bread.

Doryce: how can a grocery store have no bread? carry the bread on your shoulder. quinoa gives me the shits. excuse me. just thinking about them. you enjoy, dear.

Gladyce: no, stay. i love you. so much i won't let you go to the bathroom, hold my hand.

Doryce: shit. i wanted for you those two thick slices of nutty black-rye bread and the crab rangoon inbetween 'em for a sloppy saucy sandwich. dipped in marinara sauce! i wanted everything to be perfect and to your liking. like a first date.

Gladyce: it IS perfect, my lover. why all the fuss? don't tell me. okay, tell me. no, don't. i dunno. this crab rangoon looks good 'n delicious, i think it'll be okay swimming in its own Rangoon sauce. you know i can't ever imagine an occasion where i would have the time and energy to wait in line and money to sit down at a fancy restaurant and order crab rangoon for myself. so microwave-fresh is the best i'm ever gonna get and i'll take it. and i'm lovin' it. i suppose this is the problem with my life: i have to make time for crab rangoon.

Doryce: you would if you were still fucking the Gorton Fisherman.

abovedeck down below sits Taki and Melbourne exhausted after a quick spin. in the racquetball court.

Melbourne: YOU ARE NAKED.

Taki: what?

Melbourne: that's what the sign we passed said. i think. but you are naked. to me.

Taki: ohhhhhhhhhhhhkay.

Melbourne: want me to show you my boat?

Taki: now that is a line. please be a boat. okay i'm ready, what are we waiting for? take me up to the captain's steering wheel and let me smoke his pipe.

before Taki can smell, she is whisked away to the basement of the Titanic where Melbourne puts her feet-first into his yacht. the bow breathes the salt air and the stern salties it out, as the crystals hit hard against the ship.

Taki: i knew it i knew it!

Melbourne steers the yacht on a stick until they both see the disinfectant daylight. the sun is so bright it powerfuls a singe mark on the woven sail that smells of Triscuits.

Melbourne: i'm trying to breathe it all in but i can only smell you.

Taki: so tacky, as in a yacht tacking. so yachting...WHOA that was a small wave that becomes a big wave on this yacht! the appeal of this again is...?

Melbourne: well since billionaires run the world because liberal-democratic self-goverments have abdicated their civic responsibility, the world billionaires got together and decided to have a sort of privately-funded Olympics of their own. so they race their yachts representing their countries and various factions against one another to see who has the richest stick.

a series of cannonballs just misses kissing their yacht and splash hard into the winging wavecrests.

Taki: the fuck? remember, calm down. it's just like the air race which is just like the Formula 1 race through a sleepy bedroom village. watch for the chicane, it's colored blue.

Melbourne: see the yachts carry onboard them heavy cannons. they shoot their balls at each other like olden pirate times. but the cannons are so unwieldy and weigh a ton that they sink the yachts. the loser is forced to go on an expedition deep under to the oceanfloor with James Cameron. also known as Jim.

Taki: what, Elon Musk wasn't available?

Melbourne: no, he's currently indisposed at the moment. not in the bathtub. bathtub of butter. nor a basket nor bucket of butter. fighting a lawsuit on twitter. of his own making, not Ronan Farrow. the billionaires may have good intentions but you know the saying. so in an effort to remain aboveboard and show they care and are doing something, they collectively decided to have the billionaires do charitable work with their money, put it into education. of the sea floor. not to dig in more internet cables or oil or anything. James Cameron is the Head of the Department of Education. and temporary In-Charge of the Department of Povery and Poor Boys in Elon's absence. not a sworn-in position cos Jim doesn't swear. but Elon does.

Melbourne clears the cannonballs and puts down his yacht sail, whch converts it into a small speedboat. he navigates the speedbumps in the watery road and tells her,

Melbourne: y'know, i don't think i'm strong enough to be your man, as the Sheryl Crow sonor goes. you deserve a person as upstanding as you are quality. you need someone who will weather with you your dish-throwing torrents of emotion, your tsunamis of daddy issues and cyclones of being introverted and yet a world-renowned reporter and hurricanes of book tours. why do i always see your cat swimming the backstroke on the river that connects us? i assume you have daddy issues, all great women do.

Taki: i've found my person. not on eharmony. just don't tell me you also ride bikes like Lance Armstrong. that guy's arms were strong.

the two sit up and hold hands on the deck of the speedboat. they look out past their sunglasses to the yellow horizon falling down under the cantankerous clouds and misty mountains.

Taki: you're gonna have to be stronger than you ever thought you could ever be. strong for two. i'm pregnant.

at this very precise moment, Melbourne swears he sees five suns.

notes:

* me: can you spare a square?
Dr. Seuss: i was here first.

* alternative title for this post: Who? Lou? as in Lou Dobbs? Lou Dobbs doesn't work anymore. Celebrity Cable Considerations

* James Harden: this is not an Old Spice commercial. i don't need to shave my beard, it grows back anyway.

* James Harden: do not get a bed. sleep on the floor. if you have to get a bed get a California King, those are the only cool ones. those are the only ones which are prefabricated by LeBron James himself. he knew he was gonna be a Laker all along when he lived in Ohio. just like he knew he was gonna be President when he lived in Iowa.

* Sarah McLachlan: hey, thank me for not showing you the kittens and the sad music. this is even MORE serious. it's not enough to remove your yellow Bob's Burgers shirt and stop watching the show Bob's Burgers even though it's coming up and is currently the best show on tv. we are living in a different more enlightened time now, the post-Dominion era, are you a Dominion Warrior? never eat meat again or die.

* courtside boy: LeBron got me these seats. he loves me even when the President won't.

* Samira Wiley: i'm piloting my own helicopter ride to the Emmys. people don't realize how powerful Emmys are.

* Sarah Silverman: it's confusing i know, but this time i'm joking. i'm mad serious when it comes to this country. sometimes i wonder if my twitter love is enough. though i did save a life on twitter, what did you do on twitter today? end a show?

* Joe Manganiello: you mistake me for the burly dude with the Lucy spiked bat or the guy who was a Watcher in that Watcher movie.
Sofia Vergara: Watchmen, even I know that and i'm not from this country! Joe will put you off men forever...
Joe: why did you marry me?
Sofia: you showed my son Manolo love. Manolo is the only man in my life. you showed him how to shampoo his hair, i'll never forget that.

* Joe: never fly first-class, it's a sham...............it's all the same, you know? the airplane is still the airplane.

* Jared Goff: i am SO glad i signed with Hollywood! this NFL bump-in-the-road is my ticket to movie stardom and bumps of cocaine! see i have to keep a "clean liver" when i play sports, but not when i play in movies! i am SO glad i didn't sign with that OTHER Los Angeles team, that Chucky coach is known to ruin quarterbacks! they are taking a billion-dollar crapshoot with him...

* Samira: never mind that man, the future is female.
Harrison Ford: me? i told them not to kill me off. that new Han Solo isn't working out for them too well now is he?
Samira: no, not you sir, you are a legend. here, take this champagne, don't put your hands on the stick let me do the flying, and regale me with your misadventures in a parking-lot garage with Carrie Fisher.
Harrison: no please, no more frogwater.
Samira: so how is the future gonna look like in 30 years?
Harrison: ask Ryan Gosling.
Samira: Neil Armstrong showed us the future was space but Blade Runner shows us the future is virtual-sex with big blue bare busty hologrammic booth babes.
Harrison: the future's not lookin' so bright.
Samira: are you crying?
Harrison: well sort of, it's my tears in rain.

* Sarah Silverman: the whole "ply" thing is a sham, just like the "threadcount" thing is a sham. this is Hollywood, what do you expect? the whole place is a lie, that's why we love it. i don't use toilet paper, i use my hand, and you STILL think i'm the hottest Jew who ever lived after Jesus!

* kid: i'm LeBron James's son, probably. i like iced tea. i can take it or leave it when it comes to bacon. don't get it twisted, don't try to connect the two, playa, you ain't that smart. has nothing to do with that tan color.

* Jared Goff: my tv calls me Jared Goff, that's my dad's name. want to see my walk-in closet? it's not Walking Dead-themed.

* James Harden: i painted the painting above my big head. with my beard.

* Sarah Silverman: 1 in 10 men will think this commercial should have had "native" girls in grass skirts, grilled pineapple, and a big bamboo pole.

* Sofia Vergara: SPORTS!!!
Joe: what are sports?
Sofia: i thought you were a regular joe.

* Samira: i am Poussey.
Harrison: oh no, okay, this is where the generation gap comes in, i don't know how to address young people now, with all these Movements swirling around everywhere. i refer to all women as goddesses to square all my bases. Star Bases.
Samira: i'm in love with you that you think i'm still young. Hollywood is an older seasoned actress's game.
Harrison: hey, that black woman with the red-hair jheri curls and orange poncho in the basketball stands, if that is indeed a woman, she's on your Orange Show, too, right?
Samira: OITNB?
Harrison: Clockwork Orange?

* so i missed the Emmys this year. WHY did you put them on a Monday? people do still go to school and work during the week as difficult as it is to imagine when you comb through twitter comments nowadays. there were no new primetime cartoons this Sunday, it was your perfect window. i heard there was a lot of Roseanne living the awkward life, new celebrity couples living their best life, and Che looking around with his head on a swivel at Colin with Scarjo and Pete with Ariana and wondering when does his chick check clear?
Che: is it cos i'm a Communist?

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. not much going on this weekend, huh..................

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

i love this commercial. it's so reassuring. the man represents all Man and the woman is obviously God. despite the craziness around him, man can be comforted by a God who's just fucking with him with a wink, a nod, and a knowing smile.

1. how do you and your loved one connect? strictly by messageboard. we belong to a group which types our feelings everyday online. it's only the two of us on this messageboard, it's private and requires a password which both of us have long since forgotten. we can make it if we try. everyday we express our love to each other with the messageboard messages. flowering declarations of the chaste sex we have for each other involving words like McDonaldization and Starbucksification. we like it but in truth it gets lonely...

2. when did you last make a mistake and were you okay with that mistake? when i forgot the password. it's okay cos we never meant for it to be a party. i think. it's just in 40 years i'd hate to think i'm still gonna regret finding out the password was "password" and Steve Jobs could have been on the messageboard. he kind of is anyway cos his spirit inhabits the messageboard but it's not the same thing. like we get unusual 3AM posts about Apple Store-ification that neither i nor my lover can remember writing...

3. what are you just not seeing? dunno, not sure. i mean i get that Jobs’s a ghost, but isn't all of our jobs to eventually become a ghost? and don't get me started on the ghosting. do you know how humiliating it is to be ghosted by a ghost? i've been doing experiments when i'm not on the messageboard. i've been trying to see if a narcoleptic can still have a lucid dream...

4. if you could spend ten minutes with your hero alive or dead what would you ask them? i'd tell All Might you gotta stop it with that Burger King permasmile it's creepy.

5. who in your life do you wish you'd have met sooner? my past life as a page in the Medieval era with albino white-blond hair and a pageboy haircut using a wooden bowl. but in order to effect that i'd have to be SO SOON as to not have even been born. or construct a time machine with just wood chicken coops and moatwater in which case i will have never been born cos i would stay as the Medieval page forever.

bonus: have you ever won a medal for a sports activity? what sexual activity are you sure to win the gold?

yes. i defeated Nadal at the French Open. in Madden.

hacking (cough)

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

there's a rumble in the grass of the lawn of the circle table with all the guests around at Melbourne's estate. which is unusual, normally the pastures are quite pastoral. so microscopic you can see the individual yellow seeds jumping up and down on the blades of grass like Mexican jumping beans. soon it reaches a Jurassic Park crescendo baseball-fever on the cricket pitch.

it's Melbourne racing with a purpose past his outer edge hedge and into the main pavilion of plants that looks like a well-manicured golf course just starting to breed its seeds. each footstep he makes makes a print in the soft soil.

Doryce: he looks like a new man staring at us as he walks steadily towards us.

Gladyce: he's marching into a new phase of his life.

Melbourne: it's not that i'm transitioning to another life, i'm entering my first one.

Madame Pons: hey, witches!

she hugs her new friends and in the tradition gives a peck at their tits.

Madame Pons: when did you get to town?! and how did you know i'd be here? in this specific town.

Gladyce: what matters, love, is for us to hear you talking like that. it brings such bushies to our faces! you're realizing that you have a town now. and it's not your hometown.

Doryce: you're needed here, love. your love is fierce and will be the secret stalwart when this town goes through the crisis. i've seen it. you will be the anchor when the waters rise. the Academy will always exist. in some place. maybe not bodily but it will exst in the known realms at one point in time or another. it will be there to greet you and guide you when you are ready. or when your next life is ready. and it will be like you never left. even if you've never enrolled.

Gladyce: thank you for saving my love, love.

Madame Pons: i can't tell you what your words mean to me! words are powerful. like spells. the right words at the right time can change a life. like magic. you get the feeling that you lived your entire life to be at this precise moment to hear these exact words so the decision can be made for you. i'm blaming you if all of this goes to pearshaped hell and i end up dead or work at Lush one year too long past retirement. *laughing*

Doryce: hehe, death is funny. well it's better than being alone, take it from me that is shit that tastes like pears. that's why we chant the words, incant our spells, use our throats like an instrument front to back palate like Dee Bradley Baker, who has a humongous forehead cos like Nietzsche he holds more human knowledge than the rest of us like a cranial canteen. so we got a few specks to spare, moments to mess, while we wait for the mooring of the ship to take place. the process takes awhile, it's stationed in the middle pool of two huge icebergs on either end to keep it in place and prevent it from drifting off. like bumpercars!

Melbourne: hello, my friends, so gladly to see your smiling faces this eve! you, there, couple on top of the roof, please come down and join us.

Pete Davidson and Ariana Grande: no we good.

Melbourne: okay it's just that it's a fluted roof, you might slide down and break the gold chain on your ankles. friends, Ancient Romans, and worldmen, don't do the van Gogh thing with your ears i know you are all artists in your way. my honey is with child! wait that sounded porn. i mean my bride will bust a baby! i'm gonna continue in this world!

Taki: wait, we're getting married, too?

Melbourne: yeah that's how it works. fuck, torn condom which acts like the Trojan Horse, i become the Trojan Man, sperm, egg, baby, forced wedding so the baby will survive, poppin mcmuffin. i got a shotgun in the back...

Taki: i knew it.

Melbourne: just kidding. hey Tres Leches! i was just talking about you! devil, eh? have you secured the bib on all the garden hoses?

Tres Leches: si senor. i'm off now to my second job. got a job for a very special senor.

Melbourne: please one and all! join me for a celebration around the circle! i'm gonna be a Papa Smurf! we will be serving NON-alcoholic vodka!

Taki: so basically water.

Melbourne: i will prepare Taki's bedroom in the central suite upstairs. if it's one thing i know it's preparing mattresses. i'll sprinkle the sheets with rosepetals and spread a liberal amount of tempura-batter tonic all throughout each line of sheet to each four corner like a thick slice of rye bread.

Melbourne raises his arms into the air in a certain way.

Melbourne: COME AND KNOCK ON OUR DOOR

Ariana: so it's just so sad about Mac Miller. are you listening to me?

Pete: babe i'm using your laptop foldin thing to write my first SNL script of the season. or maybe ever, none of my stuff gets onair. at least i'm not like that guy writer who had an affair with Cecily then was never heard from again, disappeared away, secreted like he was Fan Bingbing.

Ariana: it's just as well, they say such hateful hurtful things about me online i don't want to look at a computer. normally my assistant is my filter, i had no idea what the truth was! is twitter really this vile?

Pete: i'm working hard on this skit script about this guy who wants wheat toast instead of white toast even though he's from the projects. i need to be funny right now in my set mind and not think of sad things.

Ariana: they're blaming me for Mac's death! saying if i didn't break up with him for you he'd have had a reason to live and keep continuing and going. that's not fair!

Pete: well we were cheating on him. maybe if it was a clean break he would have reconsidered.

Ariana: no, he'd still not have me. cheating is not why people break up, the cheating is a symptom of a larger problem. everyone's yearning for something out there they don't already own.

Pete: i thought he was black for the longest...which is weird cos we come from the same social strata...............in fact, now that i think about it and view his pic online, he LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE ME!!! WAIT HOLD UP, this whole thing, THIS ENTIRE THING, you with me, you are only with me cos i look like Mac Miller!

Ariana: let's not speak upon it no mo..........but yes it's some sort of deep-seeded way for me to preserve his memory but let's stop talking.........don't look at me with your sad autoimmune-deficiency puppy-dog eyes like that! it's so sad how much he drank.

Pete: i'm all for drinking the koolaid, just not the Grape Koolaid, that stuff sticks to your ribs. looking back, we were both of that generation that missed McDonaldland growing up. the white urban neighborhoods were decimated and McDonald's changed its tactics just as we were born. we were yearning for something missing in our lives. we both missed out on the grandeurous glory that is Grimace.

Ariana: who's got the keys to the Lorne Lambo this week?

Pete: Premiere Week we got Ariana Grande as host and Ariana Grande as the musical guest.

at the MSNBC Studios:

Katy Tur: so we're all just waiting for Mueller to show up at this studio...
Gordon Chang: i like your blouse, Katy.
Katy: hey buddy! my eyes are up here. i don't like that you wear glasses! do you ever get confused for Gordon Ramsay? y'know, cos you're both Gordon?
Gordon Chang: uh, no, can't say that i have. we don't all look alike.
Katy: i'm sorry, Gordy, but it seems we only meet when there's a nuclear disaster about to lemon. i wish we could meet under different cheerier circumstances. like a banquet hall just after the bell lights up and you push me out of the way of the falling radiator water full of radiation from the heavy grey two-ton square air-conditioner above so i don't get wet but you get wet but at least the banquet potatoes don't get wet and you slip on the slick basketball court but say you were just trying to prove gravity exists and you save the day and i pull out the joke cuecards i had in my dress pockets that i was gonna use to break the banquet ice.
Gordon: ...
Gordon: i'm sorry, Katy, i promise not to show up the next time i'm scheduled so there won't be any more bad news. i will do that, too. i've been known to do that.
Katy: sorry, i'm known as the awkward one here at MSNBC...
Katy: ...
Katy: are you upset?
Gordon: i am not upset. but i thought there was something between us. like we had that taboo racemixing Future War 198x romance thing going.

President Bump is conducting a very important interview locked in one of the many rooms upstairs in the mansion of Melbourne's plantation. the padlock has been painted over and there's a black sheet hung up on the far wall and it very much looks like a hostage video.

Bump: i get the distinct impression that this room smells of death and avocado toast. so, Jack Dorsey, we don't have much in common, you not in my bloc, but i get you cos you're a CEO. i envy your scruffy beard and Casual Fridays and Casual Days and general laissez-faire business practices. you look like some quinoa guy who ran a bike shop on a cliff in San Francisco, a shipshape shop with no cars allowed and the only way to get to the shop is a narrow road that only fits one bike tire. when you get to the shop you see billions and billions of bike frame structures mounted on the wall like endangered mongoose heads but no tires. you look like you'd rather be out surfing than here. which is why i offered pre-interview for you to go out surfing with me as a way to break the melted ice. i even flew out my Bermuda shorts so you wouldn't have to see my legs.

Dorsey: *awkward silence* yeah i don't want to ignite the wave of controversy. it's like with twitter. this was meant to be a forum to cheerily discuss K-pop with those in remote caves around the world. but you have to be smart with it like any technology. you have to know that when you're having a conversation that is slowly circling your eyes with toxic bubbles---and you so want to keep typing cos hacking is an addiction---that *dramatically* this is a conversation you walk away from...

Bump: like the twitter thing just fell into your lap or you hit it with the nose of your board when you were surfing one day at night. you're like those boring golf champions we have now, frathouse-boy ciphers with no personality who only eat meat and remain anonymous. don't mock me, i see that arch tattoo that covers the length of your pipecleaner arm, it's a violin symbol, don't play your tiny violin at me!

Dorsey: *awkward silence*

Bump: *ringing in* sorry, bud, gotta take this, business you know. gotta walk away from this conversation, it was getting too toxic. shit, i'm gonna have to do a twoway here. i CAN think of two things in my head at once. put em on speakerphone. how can i be on speakerphone but you aren't? okay Rod, thank you. for plugging in the cable rod. okay, questions from the audience. go.

Laertus stands up, looking like a mouse in a sea of humanity.

Laertus: sir, have you seen Future War 198x?

Bump on big screen: sure. i think. i have a tape of my nanny. watching it together with me when i was a tot. eating tater tots. these things take time, allow me to ease the tensions.

Dirg: don't take the bait, sir, you don't have to prove that you're a real fan to him. i know deep in my seated heart that you are a nerd.

Laertus: that anime classic spells out in stark fashion the destruction and horror of a World War III. the speed at which the Earth disintegrates is brutal and seared a lasting slice of salmon on my brain. i NEVER want to see that happen in real life! it was so realistic, the animation is so human, the justifications are so profoundly potent, that it really wouldn't take a lot to see a series of unfortunate events like this which would decimate three-quarters of the population and leave the rest of the Earthlings to walk across barren deserts like alien preachers. the mouth-flap movements are so good i felt i was watching a documentary by Ken Burns about war burns. i cried, they were still able to play the piano so well at the party knowing a nuke was the next guest come and knock on our door with cherry pie. that takes concentration. it's a chain of events that seems so cold and calculating and callous and yet so confidently clear. like this is what humans WOULD do to each other, they'd know it was stupid but do it anyway. they'd fight aboard a leaking red-colored inside submarine because they want so badly to hold the shiny two keys. let's PLEASE confine this sort of thing to the celluloid of imagination. let's not let the anime community give you any ideas!

Bump: ...

Laertus: do you know what an honor flight is? that's what you have to think about years down the road when you make your decisions now. make it a priority to give Melbourne an honor flight one day. it's a simple question: what kind of society do we want to live in? we must build it for ourselves. will it be built upon the totems of all people regardless of their chromosome config? or will we let lazy laxy laws define our energy, pen in our colorful constitutions, react to illness with our knees rather than try to solve it, as if the country was sick with cold and everything had a catch.

a donkey strolls across the stage, no one chases after it.

Bump: okay okay enough i get it. is that for the Dems?

Laertus: for the circus. these things take time, allow them to ratchet up the tensions.

Bump: so i've set up Kavanaugh and his accuser inches from each other. only the one buzzer red button between them. all on the same table. each contestant has five minutes to buzz in. if you win the car you have to pay the insurance. if no one answers in the five minutes, i get the car to break the ice of the awkward silence. one-time appearance fee, no refunds, i don't want to be late for the sex crimes on the Law & Order: SVU two-hour season premiere, i love that show. we'll use drone cameras if they both touch hands at the same time. i was wrong i can admit this. i was waiting for Saturday to occur before the massacre. i was waiting for October to happen before the surprise. calendars are slow.

Bump: i asked for a female to do the inquisition but The Pope refused. i love women popes.

Senator Grassley: *smoking grass* what do we call them? these men who have legs and arms and hair but aren't men? aliens?

Agent Scully: ... ... ... women.

Grassley: first question: who was the first MeToo...

Bump: *buzzers in* George Washington, he had bad teeth like Elton John and all Elton Johns. and allow me to do the pre-interview now and break the ice with some standup. wow, haven't done standup since college.

the Senate courtroom becomes a tapestry room. the lights dim and the spotlight trains. the law room is a ballroom.

Bump: so i like to fire people from job interviews...

stony silence from the audience and crowd

Bump: *passes the mic* here's my friend Rod Rosenstein! we were chuckle buddies on the comedy circuit together in the early '90s in L.A. when everyone drank and no one gave a shit.

polite clapping

Rod: *takes the mic* i used to play football...

audience and crowd: *stony silence* no way you played football. you look like the quintessential nerd.

only one person in the crowd laughs. Kawhi Leonard, and he laughs very strangely. like someone who has never laughed before in his life, doesn't know how to laugh.

First Take ESPN studio:

Stephen A Smith: now you see there! that is not a normal laugh! there is something wrong with this brother, check Kawhi for the nuts and bolts, brother's an android. that is a robot boy learning how to laugh for the first time from an exercise program. if it walks like a duck, and laughs like a duck, it ain't no damn mongoose.

Molly Q claps in Stephen A's face.

Stephen: oh, i get it, you black now huh.

Max Kellerman: i love you, Qerim. uh, Molly Rose. you're like those girls who take a few weeks off and don't tell nobody nothing and everyone wonders what happened to them and they come back with a ring on their finger and the whole wedding was so secret not even People Magazine nor MAGA knew where it was. and you never speak of it again, you are simply a baller's wife and never talk about your marriage. you don't mention his name when asked if you have a boyfriend, you stay in stony silence. now that's TRULY being a baller!!!

Molly Q: *wearing yellow lipstick* i gots the moves.

outside the Senate hearing, The Pope checks her phone alone by the three stone steps to the banquet hall. a parakeet perches on the lap of her shoulder. she finds out Rod has been fired and begins to cry.

Kavanaugh: i swear i never touched a woman. a woman never touched me. not even my wife. Renate? that was a real club. Renate Club, Debate Club. the only friend i ever had was when i was a tot, a girl named Talky Tina.

Bump: imma look into that. yeah, bro, but you did mention in your papers that you wouldn't watch the new Twilight Zone cos it was from that GET OUT guy who isn't our voting bloc. don't worry, i blacked that out for you.

in the back of the MSNBC Studios, Avenatti is practicing on the heavy bag with no punching gloves just his fists. he even headbutts it cos he can with his artificial bald. he hits the bag so hard it becomes a speed bag. which rips open and out pops a plastic baggie of shaving cream and razor shivs.

Mueller: slow down, my apprentice, you're burning the wick at both ends. and cameras don't have candles inside them anymore. you look like you're on speed, in the eyes. why are you on tv so much? i need you rested soon. to box for me.

Avenatti: the Dems need a fighter in kind, they've forgotten how to fight dirty in their quest to be the civil one. i do my most damage with my headbutt, people don't realize how lethal a headbutt can be. i go on tv a lot cos i want to earn my SAG card the way Bump earned his running for President. do you think i have a chance?

Mueller: afraid not. you're not old enough. you ned to be Biden's age to make an impact in Hollywood.

at the table, a blue sad fish with dead eyes is swimming struggling in the confined water glass which scares poor Gladyce half to death. she blushes brokenly into her chest and screams AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO. Doryce comforts her with a hug of the pelvis. Gladyce's eyes are bloodshot with fear.

Gladyce: I'M TERRIFIED OF FISH!!!

Doryce: we'll get through this, babe, i'm with you every step of the way. i will cure you with my love.

in the mistress bedroom:

Melbourne: you know about my dream, right, wifey?

Taki: sure. it's the linchpin. the key to uncovering where the bodies are if we ever decipher the symbolism of it.

Melbourne: no bodies, mannequins.

Taki: this dream is your block. to achieving a happy life.

Melbourne: not so fast. we are going too fast in our Formula 1 car to see the forest or the trees. there's a gap in my memory, i have the recurring dream where i'm up in the air in my airrace plane and i only have a POV view of the cockpit. a set of hands are on the steering wheel. well you've allowed me to fill in the gaps and i can see more out now, get a broader view. i can see my head in this larger frame slumped over on the stick. provides context. but the plane is not careening out of control.

Taki: you're unconscious? fascinating. what would that experience be? being unconscious in your own dream.

Melbourne: no, i'm sleeping, and dreaming a dream within a dream. it's of an angel in white with her hands up in a certain way. at least i always thought it was an angel. it is difficult to make her out at first she's so bright, just a ball of radiating white light, she looks like one of my all-white mannequins with their arms bent up at the broken joints. but my eyes focus and adjust and i begin to make out her white negligee. and then her face. her face is..............YOUR FACE! you're in my bedroom just as you are now, except standing up with your nonswollen arms up. you're staring at me directly in a POV view angle.

Taki: knew it. it's your gun trained on me. i got my hands up. i figured you out and you mad.

Melbourne: the airrace plane chugs along in the sky, giving out white smoke but never black. it's your steady hand, YOU'RE the one driving. you're in back of me in the back seat but you're no passenger, your hands come across my shoulders in a vise grip doing the steering of the plane with my head blocking your view, you can't see the controls or tiny clocks. but you don't panic, you're nice and easy and instinctive with the sky's road of clouds. the plane stays upright and turns and curves and completes the course. do you happen to catch the letters on the sidepaneling of the plane?

Taki: yes. they're a Spanish company, right?

Melbourne: wrong. it's Mexican. the side of my dream plane says TRES LECHES.

notes:

* only Barbra Streisand has the Jewish-motherly power of warmth to turn something which has been hotly debated and hotly contested by the greatest science-fiction minds of this or any generation that has lived in any dimension of space, this thing which most agree isn't such a rosy idea, could lead to scary consequences and the robot takeover of Man and Wives taking a Step down: cloning. Babs makes cloning fun n' cuddly.

* and only Babs can spell Barbara Barbra and not be laughed at (cos y'know bra)

* Alicia Vikander: this is my doing, i got myself one Fassbender for each season. in my native Sweden, we have two extra seasons of cold...

* dude actually looks like my friend Chad with the Canadian beard

* there's nothing in that Aztec stone coffee cup...it's tea, the Aztecs never knew what tea was, they went straight from coffee to chocolate.

* clone 1: am i the Original?
clone 2: there is no more Original, we killed the Original, remember?
clone 1: i do not remember this occurring.
clone 2: this must mean it was you and you are dead.

* clone 1: this watch screen is too small, can i get it in an ipad size?

* clone 1: what are you doing in my house?
clone 3: i'm not in your house, this is my house.
clone 1: it's technically my house once you cross that sidewalk outside.

* woman: don't mind me, i'm that old Japanese agony aunt from Paranoia Agent. you never saw me...

* clone 3: why are you following me?
clones 1 and 2: you're following us.
clone 3: is your girlfriend Sofia, too?
clones: this is not the time to talk about a Devils Triangle.

* clone 4: see? you were too distracted looking at me you missed the last payphone on Earth outside. the world is too distracted now, always on their phones to see the payphone.

* Rachel Maddow in Hawaiian shirt: you can't juke me, fellas, i'm Rachel Maddow. i'm only interested if this so-called Market has quinoa. do not talk to me till after the Midterms. if things don't go my way i'm liable to grow a beard and become an ol' salty sea captain, living out the rest of my days on lonely big waves. i got my boat and my sideboy and my parrot. i even went to another commercial which i know you're not allowed to do once you're in this commercial to check out ancestry.com. turns out my relative was also a sea captain with blue eyes like me. when i wear contacts.

* jogging clone: i'm running, well walking fast, in order to appear in the same frame as that UPS Brinks truck that will be the scene shortly of a robbery gone bad. i won't stop the robbery mind you, i'm running to be involved in the frame.

* running clone: excuse me, is this the Pizza Place?
attractive woman on the street: yes...
running clone: you didn't answer fast enough, gotta go, now i have to eat quinoa pizza.

* clone 1: why is it only I have sweat running down my front?
clones: it's a feature, not a bug.

* swimming clone: i look good with tan metal.
clones: remember, don't swim all the way out unless you plan on never coming back cos you're saving your brother.
swimming clone: the shark?
clones: Michael Phelps ate him.

* clone 1: but where do i come from?
clones: believe us, you really don't want to know how the sausage is made.

* clone 1: it's just that, well, if i draw a brown cow how do i know it's really me drawing?
clones: your drawing of the brown cow is the brown cow drawing herself. this is how God functions. God is a shrewd operator.

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. what is the Los Angeles Dodgers' Magic Number? don't tell me, i want to be surprised.................sigh...............maybe it's better to only have that one shining Dodgers memory cut in my gut where the cotton candy used to be. those 1988 Dodgers are fading from my memory like eating chili in a wheat forest on a hot summer day, like Pedro Martinez's tiny mustache and jheri curl...

i love that picture of him in the plaid pre-grunge shirt, makes him look like if Isaac Asimov were a hippie professor on a radical campus in the '60s. sure, there are other sex manuals: Aristotle's no-taboos one and the Vedas come to mind, the Vedas which is wisdom so old it's older than the invention of paper so not all the wisdom is there, but for my pet rock The Joy of Sex is the grooviest sex manual of all time. i mean it was published in the '70s, man, y'know, it's sex for shaggies.

1. what is the most annoying thing to you during foreplay or sex? going straight into the sex without any foreplay, do you know how difficult that is?! like not even a kiss before. it's impossible.

2. tell us something you really wanted to do but let someone talk you out of when deep down you wanted to do it?

become an actor. i was so close. i was in that line in Encino when i was 6 with all the other Hollywood child actors. but i got out of that line when the original Annie on Broadway, well the local broadway production at our town, dropped some knowledge in my ear. she whispered to me that i was doomed if i continued onward down this road line and forward in this line and life, my life would never be manageable. it would consist of beatings in my dressing room with stool legs and pee running down my leg in the hot circular lights of my mirror.

i am the only person who ever lived who WANTED to be a child actor! i didn't care about the burnout later, i simply wanted to be IN the television shows i was currently watching. i wanted people to laugh at me as i recited written jokes.

3. during sex are you more orgasm-centered or going for an all-out enjoyable experience with connection? i've never orgasmed. i know that may seem strange. all that cum on the walls? mayonnaise. even having "Mayonaise" by the Smashing Pumpkins playing in the background didn't help. that Iha is so cool he doesn't need an extra n. i do my best to try to make the woman cum but i guess i'm not a good lover. i actually like to read during sex. yeah i'm so busy sex is the only free time i have to read my books. my Foucault and Stu articles from the SNL Newsletter and some cold-pressed berry juice. we should all be making the male/female connection through books anyway, right? leave the sex out of it till way later.

4. when was the last time you sought to introduce new activities in the bedroom? what did you want to introduce? did you and your lover do the new sexual activity? Pete Davidson. not in a threesome, just having him on the couch chair in the corner there watching us. Pete with his hair dyed back brown tossing back green tic-tacs as he stares at us...

5. finish the sentence: i would enjoy spending an entire day alone_______

what, i don't get it. what do you mean, this is my life. this is how i've spent my entire life from day one of incarnation one. there has never been anything enjoyable about this. loneliness is crisp clean depression.

bonus: if you had to sum up the internet in one word, what would it be? regrettable

go Cubbies! win one for the Gipper, for the Vedder, and for Bill Murray!

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

the airrace plane is flying smoothly yet roughly overhead of Melbourne's plantation, so high up in the sky it's barely a speck in view even with no cloud cover.

Taki: i felt something.

Melbourne: yeah that was me doing a few loop-de-loops.

Taki: no in my belly. not hunger pangs. not turbulence, either.

Melbourne: but is this the dream or the real thing?

Taki: don't you remember?

Melbourne: i thought you would for the both of us. i'm the one in need of coaching.

Taki: we're in bed together. must be. at the estate. under your covers which smell of a new breed of witchhazel. i remember now. me getting up and placing my toe on that cold ground. i have a white negligee on, frothy and fluttering in the no-wind. i raise my arms up and look at you. and i say:

Taki: right inbetween the uprights.

Taki: i make the football field-goal shape with my arms framing my face and through my chest area. that's what the raising of the arms is. it's like a bigger version of the tiny one children do at the dinner table with their fingers when there's chicken fingers. i tell you to flick the grape like a football kickoff right into my mouth. i want to be treated like Queen Sheba but i'm a tomboy, too.

Melbourne: and that's why i love you. nothing better than a chick who loves sports.

Taki: but not watersports...

at the outside table, Kanye West gets up, pushes back his chair ironclad like his alibi, without saying a word, jumps the hedges and leaves the plantation...

the other guests call out to him KANYE! KANYE! but he doesn't respond. he wears a red Phillies hat forwards and Neo long draping leather black coat and black shades.

in Kanye's seat now, without anyone noticing, Leonardo da Vinci take his place at the table. Leo got a haircut, his beard is an inch shorter though he keeps his graywhite locks in the back which blend in nicely with the bluehair-color folds of his robe.

da Vinci: he goes by Ye now, that's why he didn't respond. it's a very Biblical name, Ye. like you oldentimes. he speaks for all of us now. do you have any questions for me?

Mueller: EVERYTHING.

da Vinci: it's an honor coming from you, i will consider it an inquest. you want the code to the safe?

joining us all at the table this late afternoon are guests three: Maria Butina with a tiny dolphin in her glass, Reality Winner, and Soda Popinski downing his own bottle. the two ladies nurse their clear cups.

Reality Winner: i have the greatest name of all time, seeing as i come from Russia.

a chain links Maria's leg to Robert Mueller's leg and vice-versa through cuffs underneath the table no one sees. she stays quiet as a mouse from the Eastern Orthodox church.

Laertus: *speaking through the tiny screen of Mueller's prepared pear watch* please speak, Maria. you know your redhead made me think back to all the redheads i've admired through the ages. i really have a great deal of estimation for Jennifer Garner. i've never been too keen up on her for her acting, she's pretty MOTR, but she is a gorgeous human being with lips. do you know anyone else in Hollywood who would help their ex through his drinking like that? especially when Ben-dude is shtuping the latest brahmin bullette coquette Playboy bunny who undoubtedly hides contraband in her bushy backtail. this man will always be her childrens' father, i love her perspective, here's to reasonable ravisihing redheads i respect! brava approbation! go ahead and raise your glasses with me, in unison, it's okay, i heard Ben's problem wasn't vodka...

Ben Affleck: i lifted weights.

Ben's girlfriend wears a Neo coat spraypainted to look like Melania's jacket.

one of Soda Popinski's eyes has a red ring around it and a spark flashes from its iris.

Soda: that ain't sodawater you know. you know you Americans really are gullible. you realize that WAAAAAAAAAY back in the '80s, Mike Tyson had already turned. when that game was on fire and the only thing on the block, and you saw me swigging a bottle of swill, that was obviously vodka, not soda, Nintendo was bound not to tell kids that. my name comes from Popov vodka, not caffeine-free coke. the minute you slid me into your railroad slot and turned on your grey machine, i had already infiltrated all of America's systems and grids for a generation. I, yes ME, I was the ORIGINAL Russian spy! hacking right in front of your eyes!

Mike Pence rushes through the Old West cowboy saloon swinging-doors to the Hearing to break the tie. he is flustered and sweating but it doesn't show on his brow it shows on his tie. he wheels with him the polygraph machine with a rat's-nest of wires in his hand.

Pence: i'm here. unfortunately the drones don't seem to be working for this particular inquest so i'm gonna have to conduct the polygraph test myself. don't worry we are gonna plow right through!

Ford: do not say that again, Frankenstein. i am polite so i won't use the word i want to but let's just say you are rude. we built this city, you know, we built all the cars in the country. your voice chimes in my head and the cellular lining of my stomach area disgusts with puke.

Pence: *checks his pad* okay first question, is lodestar the strangest vocab word you've ever used in polite conversation?

Kavanaugh: *pounding the table and his chest* i've never even seen that word before, i don't know its location or the blueprint schematics! look, there is only one thing which will make this painful experience for me worth it: i want that new calendar! the new Putin calendar. don't get any ideas, media! it's not just the beefcake shirtless buff weightlifting stuff in there, there's pictures of Putin holding a kitten, showing his softer side.

we find President Bump eluding the view of the flying drones overhead getting his rumpity rump squeezed into the hole of a beachshack of piles by the angry ocean. the waves are high though there is no overcast weather. it's a very tight room of stone in there but he nestles nicely next to Mark Judge with no room for hands and feet cos of the fire bristling with licks of orange singing off both their freckles.

Bump: i'd warm my hands by the fire but i can't move my hands. brusk day we're having. the weather is not cooperating. so i liked your friend, Bart the Brat, in the golden Simpsons tradition, we fought for the misunderstood delinquent. i like a man who can cry and show his emotions. can you kindly point me in the direction of the zoo? not Washington. not the game. the boring non-dynamic board game. apparently i was told to do my research on hippos. i suggested a Wonder Woman con but my boss pointed otherwise with a pointed comment. they are hungry hungry for McDonald's like me.

Mark Judge: you like my French beret? please don't talk to me without your lawyer. i'm taking the same medicine pills as Rachel Maddow.

Bump: Rudy has flown the coop. whatcha working on there?

Mark Judge: my comic book. it's about this dude named Batman...

Bump: *eyes open* oooooh, it's my first biography of me for my library!

Bump has so much time on his hands he's able to stay there in the shack with Mark for weeks and weeks. he's able to finish reading every single one of the large stack of pile of comic books in Mark's collection.

Bump: which is weird for me cos i don't normally read. i've been that bored throughout this process.

Bump turns Mark's head around and discovers it was MUELLER all along this whole time!

Bump: Robert Bob! what are you doing here?!!

Mueller: well, since i have all this free time now.......................btw my acting has improved markedly through the years, you must grant me that in court. is this your first spy?

Bump: no i got a redhead. we all get redheaded eventually. look, Bob, don't put the cuffs on me! i swear i've changed! for the better! i was always a good little boy. i hung out with mother mostly, mother always told me not to mention i had a father, let him do his thing in the shadows, behind the scenes.

Mueller: as punishment i'm forcing you to read this New York Times article!

Bump: i knew i hated reading! you put this in back of the comic-book cover didn't you!? no, i'm melting, it's like a mirror, MY EYES MY EYES. okay, okay, i give, i'll show you. that i matter. this is what i should have done from the start of my presidency: INFRASTRUCTURE! bring the country together, heehee. literally through roads. i'll do it this time, i'll build things on my own! i'll repave all the country roads and smooth over new lanes and upright all the bridges again, make them all covered bridges like Colonial Williamsburg. there'll be so much construction all across this land people will get sick of it and complain!

Mueller: i'll let you have a head start. cos i love the hunt. the more dangerous the better.

Bump scampers away and into a ditch in the road.

Bump: now see this here is what i mean. hey, roller, what are you doing?

the Domino's Pizza guy in hardhat driving the cement roller comes to a complete stop but the roller keeps rolling. the roller pins Bump to the grey ground like a dough-roller.

Bump: stop. with my big hand, i'm taking over this operation, mobbing it from under you. all the roads are now presidential property, my responsibility to fix, i'll pour out all the cement till there's none left. I, ME, will plug up all the portholes in this country and I'll take all the credit and the free pizza you have! i'm gonna have that pizza party with me sitting on my throne from my childhood if it kills me! now who's in charge? uh, WAS in charge.

the men, all in mustaches, point to Tres Leches in an orange hardhat giving a rousing speech to the man gathered, the highway troops.

Tres Leches: men, and the one chick who likes sports, you are all heroes and hoes to me! this construction project is a project of the heart, a job well done that exceeds a job, it's more of a project. you took these empty barren grey streets and made them sing again! it was such a LONG project that i stopped counting the days. it ruined the summer to ensure that the winter the roads would be driveable again. take a step back and pat yourselves on the back the New England Swayze way! i mean this was a GARGANTUAN task! you took rubble literal rubble, and stoned it into fucking roads! and complicated rat's-nests of wiring for double-streetsigns and sexy poles and diagonal divisions for all the new diamond streetlamps and posts with purpose cameras. like one wrong wire and the whole thing explodes. you did this while all those fucking citizens were driving over your work! i commend your fighting spirit and courageous valor. i bet you never thought when you went to traffic school you'd end up here! this ain't no math test, this is a man test!

Bump: huh. all of these workers have brown skin.

Tres Leches: from working long hours in the sun, senor.

and with that, Tres Leches disappears from his makeshift dais addressing the street soldiers on a pile of crumpled black asphalt. a shovel remains in his wake and stead, half-smoothing over a tub of grey liquid concrete.

Bump: so as always it rests on my broad '80s-padded shoulders to finish the job. i liked your initial displays of masculinity, i agree with that expression of its definition, it's very SVU season-premiere and definitive.

Bump waves his little finger and all the potholes in America instantly get paved-over. the yellow from the yellow-dotted lines of the lanes reflect off his mustache.

Bump: see? i was worth it. good deeds, Christmastime nears. and now for the important part. who should i invite to my pizza party? i got this ridonkulous pile of greasy, nonrecyclable pizza boxes here. China's gonna be so mad when they receive all this trash that could have been recyclables!

Laertus from the wrath of Mueller's watch: what kind of country do we want to be?

Bump: not now, kid. let's see, the golfers started a fight with each other, that's finally very Bumpian, invite them. i love it when boring bros brawl.

The Mooch: they're standing up to you manly and not taking your calls.

Bump: huh too bad, i need to be more strategic in my insults. the baseball players are busy, the basketball players hate me, that just leaves the football players.

the two Bills, Nye and Gates: Colin Kaep is available...

Bump: *big smile* HI TIGER!!! you like pizza? pineapple, right?

Tiger Woods: oh. um. hi.

Tiger is followed by a sea of humanity behind him, still in a tight formation even after leaving the grounds of the golf course. a couple of those streetlights were a gamble to cross.

Geoffrey Owens: Tiger, man, not cool. i was up for that role of Moses you got. that should have been MY Moses on CBS, my jones! i mean i grew out this beard just for that to catch all the bread crumbs. if Falstaff fell through in parentheses.

Tiger: i got my jones back. the Moses (malone) magic mojo. i'm no longer just a black dude, my brother.

Tiger rips off his red shirt to show how much he's weightlifted in the interim to a gasping crowd and places the shirt inbetween the middle dividing line of the sea of people, slowly cresting the two sides apart.

Tiger: LET MY WAITRESSES GO!

Tiger takes out the red Batphone from out of his front pants-pocket and calls up friend Federer.

Federer: how does it feel, friend? after all this time. i haven't had that feeling of winning in a while, you're closer to it. i've lost that winnin' feelin'...that lovin' feelin'...

Tiger: is that a fondue fork in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

Roger: i can't see you, we're on a coiled landline. i'm still having fun, though. all that construction and asphalt paving-over hit us, too. at the Laver Cup. did you see how beautiful and different those grey-colored courts were? too gorgeous-looking to play on. i was happy to beat up on the ass of Kyrgios again, that seems to be the only thing i'm good at now.

Tiger: look Geoffrey, i gave you a ride to Nawlins, i'm done with you.

Geoffrey: i still gots toys. what about what happened in the Ryder Cup?

Tiger: i don't care about that, i'm a dynamic human being. this is the i-generation, the individualism-generation, and i talk like a robot. that's just Europe, who cares about Europe? ain't that right, exactly Mr. Bump?

Bump has long since disappeared.

on the Titanic, Laertus and Dirg are in separate hotel rooms directly above and below one another on separate decks. this is making for a most fraught relationship.

Laertus: *on the phone* this is silly. want me to come down? say you love me.

Dirg: you stay right there. up here, where i can see you.

Laertus: we can't see each other, these are coiled landlines. they're so cool, huh? love the dusty-green color. so Titanic and antique.

Dirg: so that's the problem with an accusation, he will be stained with this forever even if it's completely untrue.

Laertus: sometimes there is just one incident. eh, don't be so sore and looking for revenge. this is just for the Merrick Garland thing. we're even now, we're square.

Dirg: yes we are squares. he was loud and obnoxious but it wasn't his fault, Bill O'Reilly cut his mic. so did you FINALLY finish The Last Jedi with commentary?

Laertus: why yes! i managed to squeeze it in! okay, here's my takeaway, the one scene which will leave a shiny shint impression on my hippocampus forever. i watched it on campus but the mark is indelible.

Dirg: Wideboy? i've been inspired to lift weights to achieve that look.

Laertus: Kylo Ren has Rey down on her knees with his lightsaber. across that Lynchian red room is a sniveling sneering Snoke. he tells Kylo to twist the lightknife and finish the job on poor precious pretty Rey's head. this is how that scene should have gone: Snoke says you cannot turn the boy, you cannot enter his mind, his is a destiny he took on long before he was born, to be completed at this very moment, this very juncture in space time, his destiny will be fulsome and fulfilled, when he takes the next step and kills what's been tempting him, KILLS the block in his head!!! 

notes:

* Uber New Management uh Under New Management

* uncle: so before i jam you all into the car, you remembered your sandwiches for soccer practice, right?
children: yes, dad's bro. speaking of jam, they were peanut-butter sandwiches. we wish we could get ham sandwiches but ham sandwiches take too much time, we had to do the sandwiches ourselves cos you're always too busy.
uncle: did you remember the most important thing in soccer?
children: the ball?
uncle: shin guards. shin gaurds. kids are cruel.

* abuelo: okay mi nina mi corazon, we're gonna have to use that red-and-white-checkered-squared dress you have on for all of our picnic blanket if the weather starts getting rough. we only have enough money for the sandwiches. the ants live here free.
granddaughter: why do i get the feeling this is only the beginning of the treatment people like me are gonna be getting from now on? why did you have to buy a Ford La Migra?
abuelo: it's to fool them, miel, you gotta roleplay to survive.
granddaughter: i never thought i'd say this in my life, but i want an Uber instead.

* Loren Bouchard: hi, i'm the new CEO of Uber. we made some mistakes in the past, like that Wells Fargo stagecoach fiasco, but we're learning and more importantly we're listening. Arby's now has burgers...

* little girl: is daddy coming soon, mommy?
mommy: could take while. he's in an Uber.

* woman in yellow shirt: it's about a woman wearing a yellow hat. no pet monkey. stays in the country to help it out. i'm writing it now, can you please stop with all the speedbumps?
Uber driver: them's the breaks, ma'am. as in i have no brakes. those aren't speedbumps, they're potholes. we gotta wait for the Domino's guys to close them.
woman: you never know when inspiration will strike. this is my second draft. no my TENTH draft!
Lin-Manuel hits her plastic window hard with his fist and smiles at her with his Puerto-Rican profile Greek-profile mouth bearded with Grecian Formula.

* good on you, Uber. and it wasn't just a quick-as-lightning moment like Buick did to cover their flaky asses in Ginsburn panties.

* man: don't worry, my parents will love you. what they don't love is my The Weeknd hair.

* pregnant woman: what's with the unicorn bibby? do you have something to say to me?
man: ...

* old couple: so this is gonna be our first date.
man: yeah we wasted our whole lives just working. we never had any fun.
woman: what's a waterpark?
man: a park with water. like a stone Ginsburn birdbath i'm assuming.

* Uber driver: push the red hand for stop, that makes sense, i'm assuming that's not a bloody hand. and i proudly wear my BLUE hat...with the S for Slytherin, THAT's my tribe!

* pregnant woman: so we're pregnant and none of our family could make it, huh? we had to get an Uber.
man: wait, WE'RE pregnant?

* man: hey folks, this is my boyfriend. by folks i mean family in the South.
family: we love him, he's so cool and chibi and Japanimation! it's not that we don't love you, we just love your new boyfriend's Harry Potter glasses better.

* old couple: do we know how to dance?
woman: i thought the dancing was the getting out of the Uber, i'm bushed!
man: ah, the good ol' days...

* redheaded nurse: hi, get into this wheelchair, you're about to pop!
pregnant woman: don't make fun of my Donald Duck waddle-walk, i like the new DuckTales better, okay? is that okay with you?! i don't trust you, you have red hair! i'd point at you but my fingers are swollen.
reheaded nurse: you need not concern your little, uh, head, ma'am, i'm a pro.
pregnant woman: do you believe in Jesus or science?
redheaded nurse: well i'm a ginger so i believe in the soul but i have no soul so i believe in science.

* businesswoman: don't worry, i know this is a scary long grey pole i'm carrying over my back like a kalashnikov but it's just the blueprints of the building. not for any purpose other than to showcase my architectural designs for improvement! no powder in there just a portfolio and Bieber Wedding poster.

* parents: you look like that Alibaba CEO with the strange smushed face.
bespectacled boyfriend: are they? is this a test of my American citizenship?
The Weeknd man: don't worry, honey, take it from me, when they insult you it means they like you. they've insulted me my whole life. there is no such thing as American heritage anymore.
bespectacled boyfriend: Jack Ma? Jack Ma is what happens when God draws an anime character.
mother: *hugs boy with glasses* oh that is so sweet! you already refer to me as your mother!

* old woman: fuck this honky-tonk bar with salsa dancers who serve salsa and smoke coming out of a hookah fashioned from an accordion and dancing snakes! you never said there would be a dartboard! i got a dart in my spotty glass of tonic-water and my husband got a dart up his nose!
old man: cleared my sinuses.

* women: we're not lesbians, we just REALLY like antiquing together.
woman 1: you sure? i like 'em old.
woman 2: you trying to get me to reveal my age or talking about the antiques?
woman 1: that kiss on the mouth wasn't a friend kiss.
woman 2: i was wiping off all that oil from your lips when you went to kiss our yellow Victrola, its steampunk-umbrella cover has a lot of grime.
woman 1: i'm gonna need you to remove your dress and have it act as our picnic blanket, i spent all our money on the Victrola.

* man in blue hat: that's my daughter! she's gonna be in MLB someday!

* folk: are you an Uber driver or a cabbie?
George RR Martin: both, i have a scruffy gray beard.
folk: so.........
George RR Martin: not yet. think of me as the Mueller of Dragons.
folk: what does the RR stand for?
George RR Martin: Really Regretful.

* old man: i'm swinging around my new dance partner.
old woman: with my blessing. i'm just gonna stay doing the splits with my legs on this cold floor for 15 more minutes.
old man: i love you.
old woman: thank you. we've renewed our vows in spirit. and in the spirit world we will both enter anon.
old man: i don't know if my new dance partner is a girl or guy.

* warning: spoilers: Uber is not available in all areas. like it's basically just Brooklyn. and it's too expensive.

* son: daddy, can i look at the stars through a telescope?
dad: just use my hand, son.
son: daddy, are you gonna drop me off at school tomorrow morning bright 'n early?
dad: no, son, there's no point in learning about this world. this world is shit.

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. alright, Dodgers, okay, let's do this again as TOM introducing Pop Team Epic would say. it really should be TOMami, not Toonami. it's so funny, i ONLY become interested in baseball in October!

...and thirsty. takes time to do a proper reboot. like Regeneration it takes awhile to figure out who you really are...

1. if you had three wishes which would come true, what would they be?

* write a successful advertising tv jingle for Del Taco

* be sad as a reminder everytime i watch the music video for Carly Simon's "Let The River Run"

* grow my beard out like Michael Stipe and David Letterman. i don't feel like one of the boys, one of the monks, one of the wise men, one of the Magi Three who upload wisdom youtube videos to the masses.

2. what are your favorite things to spend money on? Boardwalk, Park Place, Pennsylvania Avenue...see where i'm going with this?...

3. if you could write a song about your life, what type of music would you use? industrial. not to be cool, but industrial achieved with just a guitar and drums and not electronica beats. think how hard that would be to do.

4. if you could choose your partner again, would you choose the same person? look, Goldie Gold taught me to love again. we would make love every morning so by the time we had to fight over gold at night, i was always too tired to argue and went to sleep. but when i started talking about my jacking with her, she would spontaneously cry and pine for her true love, Action Jack. i realized it was never meant to be and watched her as she walked out that door and i turned on the tv...

5. when it comes to discussing your sex life, whom do you confide in more than anyone else? my priest, he always has the latest tips for me in the confessional. you know the confessional booth is actually the only place in my life all week i can have a moment's peace, an hour to myself in absolute quiet. i can think for a minute. without the tv. you know those missals sure have changed since i was a kid, they're missiles now, King Missiles.

bonus: what's your definition of cheating?is there really such a thing? there has only been one recorded instance of cheating in all of human history, that episode where Joey Greco got stabbed. the details are still murky, did he get stabbed with a knife or a penknife? anyway, the main thing is that Joey survived it, at least it seems that way, there wasn't a report online or anything, so that's all that matters. tho the show seems to have quietly disappeared...

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

notes:

* we ALL want this coupling to happen.................EVERYONE, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

* what came first, Martha Stewart's oregano or Snoop's oregano?

* father: this place isn't for me.
son: COME ON, POPS!!! make my life easier than it is now.
father: look at all these old fogies doing yoga for seniors. this is clearly a sex-free senior zone. look, dude's using the pool noodle as his balance beam! you said Martha Stewart would be here.
son: she's clearly too sexy to be lumped into this group of little old ladies with blue hair and blue cats who need to be helped across the road cos they forgot their balancing rods.
father: you said Bruce Lee would be instructing this class!
son: come on, pops! you see what happened to us there? the one dude from our tribe got strung up...
father: ...the other went on to score the most air lay-up dunks in the League!
son: they ARE doing Bruce's technique, it's just only HE can do the HI-YAH! without it sounding like a death rattle.

* father: why does your phone go off when we're having a serious, life-altering/threatening conversation?
son: my CarFox came in, i'm selling this old jalopy.
father: you're referring to me?
son: i just don't want to be ripped off.
father: you'd sell me, too. up the farm. for glue.
son: never. you're a thoroughbred. i'd never take you out back for a shot. you ain't no Old Yeller, you're Snopp Doggy Dog!
the son turns up the volume knob and that Sarah McLachlan song about ASPCA animals comes on.
father and son: *both crying together and holding hands, the father yelling to the music*

* son: that last place was pretty nice.
father: you didn't have to drive this old jalopy into the pool to make your point. fine the pool's nice i don't need to dunk my head! i don't like this whole thing.
son: why?
father: i can't swim. look at our skin, son, we tan easily!

* son: dad, what the fuck! why do we live in a run-down shack of second stories and treat it like we live in a brand-new mansion?
father: cos it's Halloween or something. i don't do all that Wiccan shit you millennials indulge in like there's no tomorrow.
son: what happened to Rosie?
father: i let her go.
son: what the fuck, dad, i paid her good money to tend to your ass.
father: i can wipe my own ass.
son: she said you called her a ho.
father: from me that's a compliment. the worst you can call a woman is a bro. i let her go.
son: why?
father: she was holding out on me, samplin' the goods. never peck at the product. she had a whole stash of bag-weed under her shirt so i checked. she was my dealer and my friend. never mix business and pleasure. i asked her where the weed was and she suddenly couldn't speak English no mo, said her name was Mary Juana.
son: dad, she's a robot! she came from the Jetsons. she was programmed to help.
father: too fancy for my blood and crip. not for the crib. she always wore that dress with the lace. called me Mr. J in that creepy Harley Quinn voice you white folk are so fond of.

* son: dad, i found your weed! it was in the trash.
father: damn, i put it in the wrong bin, i was trying to recycle it. it's a plant so it should be easily integrated back into nature, cycle of life and all that. i'm the greatest environmentalist since Smokey the Bear, who smokes while he sutras---so deep is Smokey in meditation his butt is not fully stomped out and it causes a massive raging wind-swept forest fire in the Valley. sometimes when i don't get enough weed in my belly i lie down on the grass of my front yard and let the trash pandas lick said belly of mine.
son: that sounds like what happens when you DO get weed in your belly.

* the boy jumps out of the front porch onto the lawn-grass, pushing the banging screen-door the heck back, and trips over the red wagon

* son: when you swing that hammer around, it scares me, dad.
director Chip Lynne: it's clear that this is the exact same set, there's no effort to make it look like it's from the '50s or anything, we just hired different-looking actors. that sun is so modern, it looks so 2018...

* son: A TREEHOUSE! every boy's dream!
father: yep. you know why fathers build their sons treehouses? to keep them out there eventually when they turn into teenagers. and after they turn 18.

* son as a man: i think we can do better.
female Principal agent: please get out of my chair, sir, this is my office, just cos you're grown don't mean you can boss me around, i'm my own boss.

* son: change is hard, try to keep in this jeep an open mind.
father: says the boy who never finished his supper.
son: there's only so many boiled potatoes with jelly a boy or a man can eat.
father: i wanted to have an abortion but your mother wanted to keep you.
son: *smiling* looks like we BOTH fooled mom!
they both laugh and hug in the car, narrowly missing swerving into a tree.

* father: so let's see here let me get this straight you get to keep the new stockly-refurbished Jetsons-looking modern mansion built on the futurists' dream and I get this little white WHITE shanty out in the back?!
son: no shots allowed. you're gonna have to pay for the little house. and my big house. it's cool tho we'll use your money that you get coming to you every month.
father: that's my fixed income!
son: Principal will figure it out for us. it keeps coming to me.
father: whoa, son! stop swinging around that hammer! you've never held a hammer in your life, huh? you really want your old man on the same property as you, living next to you, bothering you for sugar, in your hair when you're having relations?
son: i have a fade. sure, i want to experience the millennial lifestyle from all sides like a 360-degree lifecast. millennialism is for EVERYONE.

* father: i warn you, i throw disco parties every Saturday night. with Stu.
son: disco is just sped-up yoga for seniors. since when you have any friends???

* son: gonna need a fresh coat of white paint. *sings the jingle* Ace is the place...
father: STOP SINGING!!! you're a disgrace to the family name. we rappers.

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies, i need to dunk in a cold jacuzzi like an E.L. Fudge cookie. my Dodgers are playing as i type................that's all i'm gonna say, beer 'n brat bring out the wurst-sounding loud stadium-shouting...............remember, the black in your Burger King frozen-coke isn't coke this time..............limited-time cherry sold but NOT on Halloween Day, it looks dark and disturbing but it tastes great!

1. do you like tattoos? do you have any tattoos? didn't used to. always thought they were the domain of the delinquent, prison wives, and those guys on motorcycles with the grey beards which would get tangled on the bike handles. but then something snapped in me in college...

...i guess i finally had the freedom and the whole 18 thing so i went for it. i went crazy for it actually, got three tattoos in one semester. four, there's one unaccounted for i know i got but it's missing on my body. this isn't a beer thing, i hate the bitter taste of beer, still don't know why beer is so popular, it tastes disgusting. (life hack: don't wear a toga while drinking beer, you're gonna do a lot of laundry later.) it's more of a coffee thing, i wanted to be refined and intellectual and a man of the people so i inked myself in accordance with the gutter i lived on. a tai-chi symbol which my fellow classmates called the Curb Circle (, dubbed me out for it, pointed at me sneeringly, and these were my friends), a brown cross that wasn't supposed to be so WIDEBOY it was supposed to be more angular and taller so that was a mistake, and a Chinese symbol on the small of my back that i have no idea what it means now after all these years. sue me, it was the early 00s still. (i have no money, i'm still technically a college student.) i wanted to stroll down the Berkeley boulangerie as if it were Sartre's Paris, wearing my beret and my newly-minted ink like a coat, these three tats no one could see under my clothes...

...i guess tho actually it came down to me proving to myself i was a man. i'm a very skinny boy so if i could survive the executioner's blood-tipped needle, i could survive life. did i scream? yes, later that night in bed...................alone into my pillows as normal.

2. how did you pick your online profile name? i used to write and compile endless lists but my priest-psychiatrist told me i had a psychosis: i was either a collector or a hoarder he couldn't tell. or an organizer, i should run for office. the phoenix is the bird of mythos who laughs---crows?---at death and rises from the ashes on its cheeks even after being killed in the ring of a disgusting cockfight for sport. but my phoenix is late to the party. or he's stuck in traffic. i'm not from Phoenix as everyone thinks.

3. what's one saying you try to live by? in order to live, you must die................i saw this on the back of a box of matches, or was it the back of the envelope? anyway, i took it to mean you must die from your old life and reincarnate anew into a new one. in the same life, not talking about past lives here, same life/different profession/wild calling. so, after that, i left my job at Cracker Barrel and became a fireman................it was my Cracker Barrel Breakthrough, otherwise known as my Cracker Barrel Croak...

4. what was the last bad meal you ate? why was it so awful? Cracker Barrel but let's not go there. it was a McDonald's plain hamburger. it seemed alright in my stomach but i came home to that Wendy's commercial about how McDonald's has always been flash-frozen from the start. now that i had thought about it, i had sensed an icicle in my McMeat which i used as a toothpick. i marched my skinny ass all the way onto the McDonald's parquet roof and asked to see the manager. the manager gave me a flash dance in the bathroom and all was well.

5. when was your last bad sexual encounter? why was it so awful? i'd say McDonald's but let's not dredge that back up again. i've been pretty lucky in my life, when you're a monk the ladies all want to be with you and the fellas all want to be you. but you have a nice built-in excuse and you just walk on by in your beret on top of your hood and your shaded eyeglasses from the '70s.

bonus: tell us something random:

where do you come down on the whole Coming to America thing? in this tribalist America we live in now we have to choose a side whether we want to or not, it's in our contract. Art Buchwald or Eddie Murphy? me? personally? it doesn't matter, it's a fine film. even John Landis who saw Murphy transform into Mr. Hyde on set and called him bacon said at the afterparty after all the pool-cleaning strife, he could still acknowledge that Eddie delivered a fine film performance. in the end, the squabbling fades, the threats hope there were none temper, and the art is what immortals.

besides, all that matters is that Eddie's progeny are members of the Spice Royal House, which is what the Zamundan government was based on.

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Laertus: so you really don't want to talk about it?

Dirg: let me ease into it, bra.

the two find their friendship firming with each passing day, as if the seasons all melt into and drip onto one another like layers of hot-buttered lassitude. they should always be on opposite sides, but even they recognize they are but two dies, and more often than not when they begin talking it's like riding a bike, they blissfully forget for these brief moments that they're warriors, they sense they are instead two boys the same age who do their best to hide their geekdom in public and privately haven't figured it all out yet.

Dirg: i figured everything out like a clean-pressed iron in high school. ironed on my skateboard. so what do i need college for?

Laertus: these days it's mostly to get a job. to make your family crest sparkle with spit. if it were most about swallowing the totem of pure knowledge that's why one wears one's Pear Watch upside down on one's wrist, a tiny little screen filled with all the world's internets. you can become smart with the touch of a button owned by google.

Dirg: yes, wear that watch upside down on your sensitive veins to save you from yourself when you encounter a desperate moment.

after the boat trip, on the Titanic, Laertus realized it was silly to live exactly one-floor-up from his best friend Dirg, especially after that big revelation, even with the knowledge that the shipliner they were on wasn't doomed to fail anymore. Laertus needed to be close somewhere. so Laertus---he of his own volition---skipped a semester, well he dropped out for two quarters---about 6 months---to tend to and try to heal the injured soul of Dirg.

Laertus: but i needed a place to call home, to pull up some hay from the moist ground of bed-leafed floor. i was desperate to make a hearth for us. we were banned from the dorms and the lecture halls and any hostels on campus full of hostiles and those not of our political stripe.

Dirg: or completely naked with big boobs and bush and b-u-t-t and painted in the stripes of the red white and blue. foreign-exchange babes are especially vulnerable in this current country climate now with papers waved in their pretty faces as foreplay.

Laertus: so i was hiking one morn on this grassy knoll which led into an area of orange leaves that should have been a clearing but this particular trail was unmarked on any map. i prayed to the Anime God for a sign and thought i found one cos God is love is blind is Ray Charles. so i asked the blind mountain man in the corner of the 7-Eleven built out of a wood outhouse for assistance: nothing. the blind are our last hope as a people, you know, they shall guide humanity out of the darkness. the knoll upside-downded itself and the crook of my walking stick got stuck in the many holes of wood planks, it was a bridge now, a sagging bridge which looked like it couldn't carry any more weight, even my skinny ass. they say luck favors the bold so i went for it, i jumped like a new Doctor over an orange crane. and thank goddess i found this beautiful tree-mansion nestled secretly in the middle of Obec Woods abandoned! just as i was running out of time, food, arcade elongated change, water, and will. it's like breaking your bike in the desert and you stumble upon the real oasis of Disneyland in the Anaheim desert. and you find that this magical Disneyland place full of fountain-water has no lines, you're the only one there! who would leave such a lush homestead alone at the mercy of squatters? and why are WE the only squatters!?

Dirg: robbery 101: don't ask questions. that's the problem with you, you never like the answers. squatters are fine, it's the ones who keep swedish fish in their peeholes i distrust.

Laertus: i can't tell if the lights are on cos of all these birds flapping everywhere. i'm tempted to get a job at the student bookstore, too.

Dirg: they're attracted to your green hair!

Laertus gently tucks Dirg in for the night. he makes sure his fuzzy-blue Linus blanket is hospital-cornered over his ankles, he brushes his hair like a bish with his palm and blows at the electric bulb inside the pirate lantern above Dirg's head but the bulb stays on. Dirg raises his cheek against Laertus's cheek.

Laertus: *breathless* OMG....are you.........going in for the kiss? goodnight kiss? i prayed for this day!

Dirg: what's that on your ear? it's silver like pirate and has stars at the top and the shaking-hands emoji at the bottom and held together with those chains they use on ship spoons. it is quite remarkable. Bajoran in origin?

Laertus: it's the new Doctor's ear cuff. single, not on the other ear, it's the most-beautiful addition added to the Doctor ever in all its lore-breaking lore. in all the eons! it's the coolest thing the Doctor has ever done!

Dirg: i still say the dog was the best accessory. not that i'm calling Jodie Whittaker a dog, far from it. get it right and lean right: she's fit and i am desperate to cuff her. but this whole thing has become a jokikal farce. the forced diversity of the BBC, which stands for Badly Bruised Cock btw, is downright cynical in that putrid commercial where the TARDIS crashes the ceiling, i mean come on. it's just another time-honored---time see what i did there?---institution which has been ravaged by the SJW agenda despite savage overwhelming criticism not found on AV CLUB. they're taking everything away from us, dude, all that we hold dear, nostalgia is being neutered. the culture we once knew and loved and counted on and died for will pop and fall, it will be forever subsumed by MOTR mama mediocrity. it's being systemically torn down by the fury of few feminism, this corrosive crashing wave which seeks to destroy this strawman ghost of patriarchy with a capital P and take along young helpless hapless female waifs in its wake just cos they now have enough computers to do the nonblow job, more than that chick with the fish on the bicycle had. at least the '70s had style, i loved her bead necklace and green turtleneck and orange shades. we must fight warrior to warrior on the cyberstreets at all costs till the last man stands.

Laertus: what is this, a '70s tennis match? are you spitting uh spinning of SJW or SJA?, Sarah Jane Adventures, which is what NuWho is anime-goddess rest her soul. the show has finally reached its potential and learnt the power of the matriarch to combat the world's old evils. that a goddess is a much-better-looking god. you're equating culture with civilization. nostalgia will be NURTURED. yes, a mother's love is scary..............for a mother's love is the most powerful force in the universe, capable of quelling all the man-made wars. it's beautiful that. so you're sure you don't want me to call the cops?

Dirg: i told you, they'd never believe me, i'm a ghost stat, a fiction. i don't want to put the police whom i respect deeply through my charade. who would you believe, me or Santa?

Laertus: okay okay, no forced here, i'm not rushing you, when you're ready. come to me in your own time, and come messy i don't mind. these things take time, it's about time. i'll be your Olivia with the cuffs when the time's right. speaking of, did you happen to catch last week's SVU?

Dirg: uh, sure sure, i was doing uh research. shopping around for tribes, grading representation in media on my blog. this one this week will be the most-anticipated they've ever done.

Laertus: preach. it is mesmerizingly meta. Accredo. can't wait. i always imagine if Allison Mack hadn't gotten mixed up in that jack SHE would have STARRED in this very episode as the recruiter of the cult!

Dirg: she's a fake Christin. she's like those Doctor Who Roman soldiers who wanted to talk about their feelings whilst eating avocado loaf in a circle. slapping their open-toed sandals together till their soles became rubber. sitting down and laying real chicken eggs from their bums whilst training their teary eyes squarely on the womenfolk and puffing red.

*ding dong* silently, the birds don't move from their perches eyes closed

Laertus: trouble not, that's the food i ordered online anonymously. from the Chinese place that just skirts the campus limits, technically located in the city suburbs, they won't recognize us. it's that cute little quaint Chinese cabin in the middle of Cal highway, literally in the middle of the road. *opens the grass-hut door* thank you, you included the rice? yes, tons of rice. and the chopsticks? one chopstick, thank you. and plenty of soy sauce, right? that's for me.

Dirg: ha! shaking my damn head. it's okay, fam, all anime fans look alike, he won't be able to pick you out of a lineup or be sure you're not his cousin or even be sure that it wasn't he who did the nasty deed. even the white weaboos who never wash.

Laertus: so, now my summer is ruined again cos i have a lot of catching up to do on languid lectures just for Larry and cumulative coursework. say thank you for this apparent arrangement we find ourselves in where i have to go to school and you get to stay home and do nothing and not have to work.

Dirg: hey, it's the American way, fatherfucker. nuclear family and nucular bombs. victims' rights.

Laertus: because i'm so busy and swamped i'm not gonna be around much. i can only spare the lunch hour each day, so i'll come back here from campus, take off the burqa i have to wear like a baseball cap, and we can have lunch together. the Chinese food now is a sample sampler of our arrangement. this is a very non-college-fratdorm thing to do, in fact it's more of a homeowner thing to do. not eating out everyday will save on bills. bye.

Dirg: as long as you buy the groceries from anywhere but Trader Joe's.

on the bowling green on campus, Takahashi is having a spirited impromptu talk with Pete Davidson at a little white circle table at a local café. well it's more like Takahashi is tugging on Pete's arm, his Superman cape---Pete's white cutoff sleeveless white T shirt--- to sit down and have that conversation.

Takahashi: stay awhile. you really don't want to go back home, Pete.

Pete: what, Ariana must be missing me something fierce. i've been away on a long spiritual safari in Obec Woods, gaining invincible strength, off the grid. i can't wait to get back into the bed of that large silvery urban mansion we share and do the dishes again. by putting the dishes in the fridge when i take long hour-long stare and leans when i open the fridge door.

Takahashi: buddy buddy, here, try the kopi luwak. why don't we bunk together, new roomie? even tho MadTV was always better, that Asian dude and there were no bad bands. i need a stable spot to search for my missing mother in earnest, she's been gone for months.

Pete: okay but i really do need to pick up my shoes at the lovenest. my she-shoes i call them, what's mine is hers and vice. Ari's gonna be so surprised to see me come home early! we're going to a candlelit memorial service for Mac Miller, it's gonna be lit. i'm so happy i don't care if i get sent poisoned Halloween candy this year!

at Melbourne's estate plantation, invisible lines are being drawn. Mel regales some crasher guests at his table, late to the party: President Bump and Kanye. with a story about the first time he met Lewis Hamilton at the F1 Osaka Grand Prix:

Melbourne: we were all jealous of him. he knew what he wanted to do when he was five. school was a nuisance to him, Lew Ham won his first pro race when he was 12. using a ham-radio.

Bump: and when he turns 18 he gets Picabo Street the lucky bastard, and airs his dirty laundry on front street in the papers. i mean that other ski bunny.

Melbourne: i would see Lindsey run rings round me on the cocktail circuit, parties where she wouldn't drink but regale me with her tales about how she was handling the black stick for the first time, my caroline. i'm assuming she was meaning driving stick on the F1...she couldn't have meant the club, she was done with that...the golf club...the stick does have a black coat on...

Kanye: *sings "Sweet Caroline" badly* he's no hero, he's the exception, the amendment. I was driving the culture before I was born.

Melbourne: Lin-Manuel whispered to me on Opening Night behind an iron-curtain Broadway blind that his masterwork was really about Lewis. hey you and Kanye, make sure to eat lunch out here, i don't want the silk sheets getting ants. and don't bother the lady upstairs.

Bump: don't worry, i just want to use one of the upstairs rooms to get me alone with Acosta for five good minutes.

adjacent to this melee in the adjoining room is Nikki Haley lying naked on top of the silk sheets. she makes it a point to rub the yellow oil on her body herself, not doing herself any favors cos the oil is really more like beeswax. she is terrified to open her double-locked door to anyone, but relents when it's Meghan Markle smiling widely and goldenly at her front door. Meghan jumps over the stoop and makes love to Nikki firmly all night until Meghan is pregnant, Meg lost track of time they were in such a hallucinogenic reverie.

Meghan: fuck. and i was getting on so well with the Queen.

Nikki: *sweat pouring down her chin equal parts nervous and exhaustive sweat* yes we did. i can already feel the bump.

Bump: *mid-punch and then he opens up his finger to push his Pear Watch* hold on, Jim, this is me. hey, can you clean up the room? tidy it up before the help arrives? i know it's completely trashed but we can at least empty the trash in the wastepaper baskets. yes, hello? New York Times? es yous? yeah, i know where Khashoggi is, i saw him lookin' like Shaggy sharing a room in a beach shack with Newly-Confirmed Judge Mark Judge. no on the other side of the shoreline. don't trust those turkeys, it ain't Thanksgiving yet! oh and can you remove that headline you were going with for next morn's paper? yeah, the MBS BS one. me? in hiding? nah, my brother Jamal's in hiding, not me. you can find me whenever and wherever you want. no the Royal Family never knows what's going on, their only duty is to attend weddings and weedings. i agree, here's to updating the tired institution of marriage to include strong independent women who don't need no man. yeah, it was rogue ninjas, who botched the job, YOU catch the culprit, that's what you do. they had green skin but didn't frighten the public cos they wore masks. they drank too many of those black Burger King slupees that turn your poo green. no, you misheard, it wasn't a bone saw to cut off feet, it was a ninja star to fight the Foot. the Foot Clan. what's so ghoulish about that, everyone loves Tamara Tunie!

the crones have been vacationing far too long aboard their eternal Titanic and decide it's time to find a nobby job which will fill their belly if not their desires and goals. Doryce throws up over the railing and into the banisters below. she follows her rainbow of barf and slides down it into the already-salty sea, crashing into the ocean in a wave and breaking her glasses. luckily they were near land at the time. she swims to the coast of the beach and lines up her eyeline to see a volcano-red taco truck parked in the middle of the grass.

Doryce: do you have free tostadas for senior discount? i can't make it over there on my crab legs, i'm crawling on my empty belly here, and i'm too bored to formulate direction, i'm gonna have to make the tosatada myself.

Doryce collates a bunch of grass she plucks and plops it on top of a circle of mud she corrals with her long fingers like rakes and heats up slightly with the red tip of her painted fingers.

Doryce: ahhhh, till it's lightly golden-brown. nice and crispy. and she takes a big smiling bite and...YUMMY!!!...food tastes so good when you haven't had any.

Gladyce: *from inside the Titanic's smokestack* *floating with her arms and legs crossed* that taco truck looks familiar, i've seen it somewhere before...

Madame Pons: *calling from her Pear Watch* hello sisters! what? i got a job. you're grooming? well i'm grooming a different species altogether:............*dramatic pause*...humans *laughs*. yeah i'm working at the Lush at Exodus College, as in i'm working here right now, i'm presently in a Lush Store. business is booming as you'd might expect. yeah the boutique that sells smelly soaps and nonlethal bath bombs. you want me to be one of those instagram travel photogs who make money off Instagram? i would but my camera broke. and i don't have a lot of exotic locales to snap. i'm not on a boat, i don't get invited to parties. and i can't afford to snap my one broomstick in two. in fact i'm using my broomstick as my wand. i'm looking at my present problem right now, muy fea, it's a white egg on the counter, i'm looking at it and it's staring back at me. what? i know, waving around my wand over its head frantically is not the most nonthreatening method of communication. i WILL discover what this egg is doing here and how it can help heal the world. what? my sister? oh she's fine. i haven't talked to her for months but she's going through a difficult labor.

Dirg: *on his Pear Watch* Bert? this is Ernie. the neighbors are starting to talk. they suspect we're a little too chummy to be roommates. the birds in here have been chirping up a storm. i'm hungry, where's my lunch?

Laertus: hey man, sorry but i won't be able to make lunch this morning slash afternoon.

Dirg: high noon and you've left me high and dry.

Laertus: don't get high over this. don't hate, conversate.

Dirg: did you see the commercial run constantly during the boring Kavanaugh Hearings?

Laertus: Lisa Ling with furries, nuff said. more research for you? more tribe-hopping? those Hearings enraged me so much i changed my position on horseracing just so i could see each of those old fogey crusty white-men senators get sold up the river to a farm upstate for glue. that same week, TIME Magazine had an unrelated full-page coverspread with a Playboy-centerfold of a pint of golden frothy sweating beer. it was their History of Beer Special Superbook. beer shaped culture more than anything else. now THAT was the fall of civilization. huh, maybe it was related after all. it was weird on Kavanaugh's first day. a defendant who was deemed too violent to appear on Judge Judy licked the fluted columns with the tongue of her ass and was before the Court. and there's Brett with a glass of wine on his gavel stoop wood circle as a sign he said that he was being fair. the defendant, she was in the right to complain that all of his decisions will never be taken seriously.

Dirg: Kava was a spiritual experience for me, it was my Joshua Tree. it was the right decision. a victory for the religious, it's our turn, liberal media! this one's for the boys. cheers, raise your party mug.

Laertus: you are not religious, you just love chaos. you're an agent of chaos. a chaos agent. they did Bourdain's last speech about travel heartbreak in the CNN Narrator's voice instead of Tony's voice, that was disappointing. it's his final column entry and should be all his.

Dirg: it's CNN, it will be CORRECTED. wait, i gotta go, i gotta take this. some idiot is trying to block me on the Marvel Youtube Channel comments section. they're saying my first violation is so egregious it counts as three strikes!? blasphemy!!! this is about freedom. FREEDOM, HEAR?!!! i've had it with your side for forever, at least before i was born. i've been working on my webcomic in the interim, in my head mostly but that still counts, and i finally landed on a design. i drew my first sample last night and i submitted it directly to Stan Lee for his tepid thoughts on thots and notes about how a pencil-sketch is as valuable as a painting and ultimate approval. now they're saying my picture was so obscene they deleted it and didn't even bother to lift a finger to show Stan!!! BASTARDS!!! hold up, imma deal with this guy *tap tap tap* bye

Laertus: heading out? walking away? hey you're not using my laptop, are you?

Dirg: of course i am, my laptop and desktop got "lost", remember?

Laertus: i always imagine where your computer is. i see it now, it's always the same picture in my mind, it's sitting inside a grilled SVU evidence locker in the corner with two padlocks over it.

Dirg: leaning.

notes:

* i know i know, all commercials now are uncreative and designed solely to pawn off on you the latest in tech-junk....................except this one, this one was actually good

* me: what's so funny about google?
google: nothing, we never wanted this awesome responsibility over people's thoughts. we wanted Beyonce to handle the hivemind with her Beyhive. we were once a modest mom-and-pop hanging precariously over a cliff in Manhattan Beach. we sold wetsuits, illegal fishspears, and goggles. and then came The Day of the Fatal Typo...

* me: do you have to be a pixie to use this?
google: we're trying to bring back the pixiecut...for boys...

* me: how many pixels?
google: how many do you want? we can go infinitely down the rabbit hole, or the turtle hole as you young John Green environmentalist conscientious-obstructers would say. we've been holding out on you for centuries this whole time, we let loose one of our secrets every decade or so and charge exorbitantly according to the cohort.

* google: we got 7 million youtube subscribers.
me: honestly that seems a little lean and inflated.

* me: what's bottom shot?
google: confiscated.

* friend: wait, i wasn't ready! my eyes look like i'm hyphy off Jar-Jar Juice!
other friend: it's fine, we can fix it. no problem, i'll just slide this new Pixel...
friend: i'm Amber Rose, bitch!!! i own the definitive quote on condoms!!! i married a cop, Ice-T, i'm the first sista who got in the inside!!!

* me: Sinatra or Sinatra, Jr.?
google: does it matter? it's not Buble. we need Canadians to heal the world now, we stopped doing it. i hope Buble starts singing again soon...

* Gilligan: hi i'm Gilligan. i've been away for a VERY long time, as you can see from my tan.

* that's not a thumb, that's a skin-colored UFO, which are the most-savage kind, their probes are otherworldly

* dudes: did you get our Black Swan dives? ironically we wouldn't have mastered this technique if we didn't spend hours looking at film of Greg Louganis.
chicks: you got our bikinis, right? okay, girls, let's bounce, our instagram-modeling is through for the day. i'm sure the fellas will be all right, they are Fellows at the college after all. quick let's get back! our moms are gonna kill us if they park their minivans at the park before we slide back onto the field. we should be at soccer practice right now!

* boy: this is my Jedi lightsaber.
mom: i'm worried, it's red. like your eyes.
boy: too much Cherry Mountain Dew. i'm already a gamer. that's not a moptop on my head, those are my headphones.

* aqua friend: Merry Christmas!
other aqua friend: it's Halloween.
aqua friend: then why are you wearing a candy-cane for a wetsuit?
candycane: where are all the hot guys?
other: this isn't water-yoga. you look like Jar-Jar Juice with that expression.
candycane: i like juice in jars.
other: no, Jar Jar Binks. he is now my friend and you are not.

* mom: your 1st-birthday party pics got a little gnarly there, dear, but you won't remember this party. neither will i, nobody comes to 1st-birthday parties.

* college student: what are you trying to tell me by flapping your long green tie in my face?
college student: that i'm a John Green environmentalist. i sting like the Green Hornet.

* not a photobomb, fat kid who genuinely likes cake

* no such thing as bad sushi/ eating hair is healthy/ a true love-bird will hide the kiss from the public so you can use tongue

* father: son, you're blocking the view of the breaching humpback!
son: don't talk about mom like that, dad.
father: hey, weren't you the kid from Free Willy? who got arrested?
son: no free-my-willy jokes at this difficult time.

* me: this is why i hate frats.
google: they're not from a frat, they're sick. alcohol poisoning.
me: well now i feel bad.

* google: these folk aren't disgusted at the state of the world, they merely shot the flash right in their eye and it took them aback. it's that thing where you think the camera is turned outward but it's really turned inward toward your face, we patented the name suicide selfie for it but decided not to market that and kept that in our vault.
me: the Grand Canyon can never not look pretty. it's probably better to get Grand Canyon shots minus the people anyway.

* Christina Aguilera doesn't want the world to know she really has curly hair...

* dog: what is humans' fascination with staring at a little box? when you have this whole big beach as your litterbox!

* girl: great. you fixed the picture of us on the beach with the dog. but i still look like a moron. we're breaking up.
other girl: who you callin' a dog?!

* frat diver: oh yeah, that's cool, makes us look like we're defying time and space. like all good Fellow college students, we're rebels against the system of the universe. are you not entertained and impressed? will you go out with us now? we're like magicians, dealers of the dark Mickey-Mouse-course arts like Thanos or some shit, we have a car like Thanos. hey, where did the girls go?
other frat diver: Tokyo 2020?
frat diver: i called Coach Louganis on my tiny watch and he said we were weak.
other: i'm sure he just meant our discipline is lacking. we could always become pearl divers.
frat diver: quiet, not so loud, they'd never understand our love for Pearl. we said we'd discuss this further AFTER the Steven Universe hiatus.
other: hey, i like Pearl as much as the next man. they say she's not real and just pencil-lines on a page but they're just jealous. although it is kinda weird how you're always licking the page when we're alone drawing together on your frat desk.
frat diver: liking the page, i'm liking the page not licking...

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. Dodgers and Red Sox, like those old-timey days back in Brooklyn. don't want to jinx it, i already did. it's gonna be weird rooting in the Fall Classic cos the Red Sox have already enacted revenge for us for last season, so i could go for either team. it's a San Antonio Spurs situation where they lose the ring that should have been theirs on a last-second three-pointer in the corner and spend all offseason in their dark corners and come back the next season with a furious push stomping out the regular season like it don't matter---like it's an invisible match---to get to the playoffs with a satanic quickness in order to capture that ring---by inking a deal in their blood---that was theirs last year. so now they have this ring that really counts as two rings and the devil is smiling cos most humans don't get such an opportunity for a grand second-chance like this to make amends. most have to live with the eternal pain of what-could-have-been, never getting another chance to improve their lives...

there is no more delicious word to pronounce in the English language than Cluedo.

1. what is the future of dating? an Instagram post i came across recently perfectly sums it up in a nutshell:

it was simply a bivalved picture, one on the left and one on the right. the one on the left read Courting in the '80s and showed a Dilbertesque man by his computer. the one on the right read Courting Now and showed same Dilbertesque man getting his penis sucked behind his computer by some one or what looked like the office ficus.

2. do you usually wake up with an erection? it's the only indicator i have that i'm still alive. once the happiness dissispates, i realize i gotta get that thing down, so i tamp it down under my sheets with a gentle prodding from my beach sandal. and then of course i get a hard knock on my breakfast door from my neighbor. he criticizes me for rooming-and-boarding Indians at my place cos he said he saw a teepee early this morning when he was binocularsing through my window searching for robin-breast nests. yes, he's THAT kind of neighbor. then we get into a scuffle on Hollywood Blvd over how it wasn't my cock he saw but a Titan and he complains that he thought i could get away with using a reference an old geezer like him wouldn't get but he does indeed get it cos he's a fan of Attack on Titan and that sappy slowy 3rd Intro doesn't fit with the darkness of the anime and i counter with,

"how can you NOT like Hyde? his songs are so beautiful, so heartaching so heavenly rending romantic they break the glass of human hearts. why does he get made fun of so much, i don't get it, is it jealousy? he pronounces the Englsih words fine. you'd get emotional on that 3rd Intro too if you read the manga."

that shut him up till tomorrow morning...

3. what is your most bizarre talent? CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

hello there, my real name is Whis. i'm an Angel. at your service, i have no business hours cos i'm an Angel. i like my blue skin, makes me different, stands me out. contact me anytime at this blog cos i'm bored cos i'm an Angel. life really is that easy.

4. do you prefer the people in your life to be simple or complex? i prefer simple salt-of-the-earth farmers for my good people who till the land from sunup till sundown and ONLY yield wheat crops full of complex carbohydrates.

5. are you simple or complex? take a look at the human eye. (get it? take a look, ha) for all the insane immense complexity of the human eye---and the human eye is in fact the most complicated organism ever devised, all those tiny blood vessels have to strewn just right and the glass is made of delicate cobwebs from the bumblebee---it is meant to collate the universe together for us into one simple mathematical equation. i'm talking about the third eye of course, not your two eyes. i just boinged your two eyes with my two fingers Three Stooges-style but you were smartly wearing glasses. it was a peace-sign i swear.

bonus: tell us a riddle.

a bird flew to the perch of Superman's large shoulder and said, "a flying shame what happened to that girl."

Superman: what?

bird: birds of a feather, they always come in threes. do you know what they call this panel? Time Flies When You're Having Fun. what's black and white and red all over?

Superman shakes his sizeable head with the curly q in front.

bird: *smh looking down below* tomorrow morning's newspaper.

Superman was on a perch of sorts, too, that ledge in that famous scene where he talks down a girl contemplating suicide. so, yeah, that wasn't the right moment for a joke. Superman stopped being a superhero from that moment on, he removed the makeup from his face, straightened out his sweaty brow, and retired to become a normal citizen in the vein of like what would have happened if the Joker never became the Joker, he'd be just some dude on the street telling dad jokes.

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Robert Mueller has been contemplating this for quite some time. he sits Indian-style floating not gloating in the air, inside of the substance of the Washington Monument, in the very fabric unseen to the general public, where he hides and thinks. he unlatches from his position and begins to scale down the long sharp pipe often mistaken for a really good smoke or Hawaiian skewer. he jumps onto the White House roof, just a hop and a skip, and raises his arms in the air.

the public has wanted more from him, have wanted him to speak, to counter the administration's rampant news conferences with one of his own. they were sure he'd make a small statement when President Bump insulted him on twitter, but no, Bob always kept his tongue and this ribald science of silence would spark wild flights of fancy, imagination nation as to what he had or didn't have, if they would be disappointed with the result. not quite the hammer but rather a ballpeen. like when you realize you're going to prom but the prom is on a basketball court.

Bob makes sure his sharp kneecaps aren't sliding together into a trembling puzzle and---in the shape of King Kong---declares to the world, who isn't listening at this very moment cos something else is going on and in:

Mueller: THIS ISN'T A GAME TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Laertus: the world is a scary place. the world is doing something which we nerds simply cannot countenance: it's not behaving like a scripted tv-drama. we geeks don't do well with reality. we don't like to think or react too much, we just like to be entertained. fuck fathoming the future, there are shows to watch and teach us!

Dirg: would you mind not sleeping and stepping so close to me on this chair?

Laertus cuffs his Doctor Who ear cuff with his fingers.

Laertus: tell me your problems. tell me how to fix the world. i'm listening. the first step is to listen to each other, really listen. it's cuffin season you know.

Dirg: SVU...

Laertus: what is up with that show? you got Amanda git preggers from some unknown cardiologist, the fans wanted her with Carisi, it's too obvious and a simple writing exercise! what's the point otherwise?

Dirg: and you had that strange tale were Carisi had a girlfriend but ALL of those scenes were excised from the broadcaat episode so it was like Carisi never had that relationship. i feel sorry for the woman who played his girlfriend thinking she has a steady gig. and don't get me started on the Rosa Parks Who.

Laertus: can a song be both cheesy and make me cry at the same time?

Dirg: come on, man! i don't go to Who for a history lesson. or worse, edutainment. i go for lasers and bloody fistbrawls Freddie Mercury and Queen would be proud of and things blowing up. i want to see can on screen.

Laertus: can you believe they replaced that poor girl who did a tepid review of the first Bob's Burgers of the season? give the girl a break, it was a long soccer summer, she wasn't into it yet, needed to get her feet wet at Seymour's Bay. wasn't back yet in the mind, i have them same feels. feel bad for her, she was so sweet they knew she'd never talk back and just accept it. girl with glasses and purple hair, story of my life.

Dirg: *sleepily* tru tru but it was nice to get Alasdair Wilkins back at AV CLUB. turns out for only a week.

Laertus: Alasdair is badass Brooklyn. straight talk like flat pizza. he's the one nerd who rounds his words into weapons of spear, not fear. makes us all believe for the moment of his review that all of us aren't wasting our lives away watching tv. that this is a noble profession, a worthwhile pursuit. that boy makes me feel it.

Dirg: just goes to show all these new fly-by-night tech sites fold flat like a deck of kit houses against the asphalt. here today, Frond tomorrow. what seems like the future now is the past if you stroll a campus hard enough. Diamond Is Unbreakable?

Laertus: i so wanted to do my hair waffle like that, but apparently the Americans and Armenians got into it too late, the Japanese were two years ahead of us on the hair head. thanks, toonami! at first i was entranced by the comic-book colors, i liked the different aspect-ratio aspect of it, all the bright pastel paneling, made the anime literally look like the manga. but then it got REALLY boring. it's only picked up recently with the Misery mama. i look for relationships in stories, ones that defy the tropes. relationships make series(es?) interesting, not bro fights. two humans interacting with tears and words.

Dirg: i've been telling you, womens be crazy. i gotta go.

Laertus: oh? you're leaving me first this time?

Dirg: i got a life. well i'm meeting someone. someone very important. will determine my future.

Laertus: you see these cheeks, honey? not blushing. i'm civilized and sophisticated. i had an apple for lunch. no girl ain't gonna come between us. a real man will.

Takahashi recognizes that Pete Davidson is in a fragile state and is in no condition. so it's the perfect time and setting for a nature walk! well another nature walk, back to nature-walking for Pete since the boy has no home no more to go back to.

Takahashi: this is perfect. you took so long talking i had time to fashion a walking stick from your straw. you don't have to talk anymore, my dude, just walk.

the two reach the end of the campus-line and to the spot where the clearing should be. there seems to be an invisible film just out of eyesight, but they can hear the cobwebs forming all around them like glacial airdrops. the bridge is out, like it was kicked out by a hobbit. a large soaked mattress printed with blue buds floats atop the dead waves of the river, unable to get through the watery path, stuck as if in a loop, blocked by some unknown force.

the two reconvene at the MSNBC Studios where they film SNL. Pete has been gabbing on his Pear Phone this whole time.

Takahashi: if you talk too much, your lips will get puffy.

Pete: babe, it's just that...i never got to experience being your husband.

Ariana: i know, babe, but isn't this better? my lawyers think so. we can sever and not have to deal with the fallout from a messy divorce.

Pete: please don't use that word. the first word. i'm in a very emotional state right now, i'm crazier than normal. you stabilized me. don't you think we should work on it some more? it wasn't even cheating which is scandalous! this is a meeting of the minds and the mating of a lifetime, and we let petty work schedules get in the way? we have to fight for our love, not fight for our various tours and circuits, we're flesh. we must stem the tide of that thing millennials do when they bail at the first sign of trouble. goddammit we young people get bored too easily!!!

Ariana: we would have made a committed couple, if we had put in the time.

Pete: *crying* it's just...….i thought after 9/11 my world was gone. i had no friends, cos all the alt-righters were shocked i didn't join them and shunned me. thought you YOU were the one thing i had to hang onto in my closet, proof that there was still some good in God up there watching over me. i had no dad but i had a dime.

Ariana: i'm crying with you, that isn't static, i swear.

Pete: we're gonna have to make fun of you now on the show. nonstop. well the writers will, not me. you can never guest on SNL again. who do you want playing you in the skits?

Ariana: Rosie O'Donnell. i felt bad she didn't get to play Bannon. or Steve Gannon as you call him. what do you want me to do with your shoes?

Pete: put them in the fridge. as a constant reminder. or storage, whatever. i'm still holding out hope we reconcile and FUCK are my toes gonna feel good in those shoes when i put them on again.

Ariana: here's to a thaw in our nuclear arms race, relations not race. here's to seeing Walt Disney emerge from that block of ice and walk again. the miracle of a magic meeting. here's to having life again be a place where anything seems possible. like Disneyland. kisses, babe, kisses through the coiled phone.

Melbourne is visiting with Roger Federer and a toothbrush.

Fed: is this toothbrush for me? i'm not staying.

Melbourne: for the missus. the little woman has sharp pointy teeth. i forgot if this is my toothbrush or hers. well i guess that's the sign you know you're finally a couple.

Federer: *on the phone* hello, Savannah Guthrie?

Savannah: omg

Federer: don't blush, i will be able to see and spot it. anyway, sorry i couldn't make the interview today...

Savannah: on Today...

Fed: there is no offseason. or finish line. so anyway the 12-12 final set is interesting to say the least, it's gonna make Wimbledon stick out like a sore thumb. tennis won't be tennis anymore if it's not standardized, it will be a different sport to different socio-economic classes of people. the U.S. Open fifth-set tiebreaker should have been the heated harbinger to which the rest of the Majors followed suit, so eventually we'd have the 5th-set tiebreaker in ALL of the Majors. now you're gonna have this uniquely British score of 13-12 that will never be achieved anywhere else, what does that score mean? it is worth more than the 7-6? the grand sacred hallowed sport of tennis is turning into world team tennis with those oversize-head novelty racquets the kids use. we've become the laughingstock of sport! it's a sport to make fun of tennis!

Savannah: generally agree but what about the grandeur of that last set going till there's two? the French might want to keep that allure that is uniquely of their particular Grand Slam. their tradition of time and existentialism, it's very Parisian.

Roger: why is it 12-12 anyway?

Savannah: well, two sets of 6, essentially two-sets' worth.

Fed: oh yeah, i never thought of that. i can explain this to you further in-depth Kobe-Bryant-style if you want me to come over to your house.

Savannah: i have a lifesize cardboard cutout of you that i prop up who tends my underground bar.

Melbourne: *cutting in* that's not weird, buddy, don't worry. need the phone, incoming.

Laertus: ask Roger about the World Series.

Dirg: he wouldn't know.

Roger: i don't care and goodbye. i'm gonna go get my free Taco Bell Doritos Locos Taco now.

Dirg: you still want to talk ball, just the two of us?

Laertus: might as well, this is gonna be a short Series. you know, i know why that pitcher got sick for two weeks and had to hospital. it's not easy coming out and being the first gay icon in the sport.

Dirg: what the hell earth you talkin' bout, Willis.

Laertus: that pitcher who got infected cos he had to take his bellybutton ring out. very-brave chap, i admire him.

Gladyce: Doryce dear, see the El Volcan taco truck?!

Doryce: yeah?

Gladyce: that's a real volcano stuck in that truck been causing all the recent volcanic activity in Guatemala and Peru. stickered on there with a flattening spell. i'll get it out with one stop of my wand. there, it stopped.

taco-truck driver: hey you gals want in on some dogs?

Doryce: not while you're serving, Pedro. your name really is Pedro. i'll make my own tostada with nature's lettuce: grass. you know the salad kits you buy, dear, are for 3 servings, yes, that's right, 3 servings of salad in one of those pouches.

Gladyce: THIS WHOLE TIME! and you didn't tell me? i knew i was eating too much, i always had the funny feeling in my turnt tummy afterwards like, man this is a lot of salad! and i don't even like salad! i buy it for you! no wonder i was feeling groggy lately. i couldn't float as high and i rememorized my entire spellbook cos i thought it was me!

Doryce: 3 servings, babe. i don't eat salad, i eat grass. i don't like food that isn't junk. take an insta, there aren't that many bonafide tostada-trucks in this world. endangered species.

Gladyce: next time you buy the salad for us at the grocer. i swore i read that package label. great, now i need glasses like you!

Doryce: you were never meant to read it, it was fine print.

Madame Pons: LUSH Ledger, day two supplemental. i'm typing to you today by myself like a crazy fox woman here on the company faltering HP laptop locked in the storeroom cos i'm bored and there are no customers, strangely, during school hours. i thought this was a college. oh shit, i've become a registered blogger, my life is officially over. i am so alone. anyway, no progress on the egg front. but some on the human front. i'm sensing such deep depression on the faces of those strolling the campus. they're like ghosts with no souls, expressionless, gliding, sliding, floating to destination unknown, with no purple-prose purpose. what they thought would be a bridge to a better life is now seen as no life. everyone's waiting, however long it takes, it seems like forever, for life to get back on track, to feel on track, for life to make sense again. for them to feel that these four years aren't gonna be a waste of waiting. these should be their coming-out years, not their lost years. especially the women, i see it on the girls' eyes, they are frightfully scared, terrified of no norms. they put on brave faces as all women in the world must to survive, but i can tell the crack in their makeupped wrinkle. it's like they're using all their pins and needles for the balls of their toes, to tickle them into submission before their men do, not for the patches on their jean sleeves. one young woman came into the shop with one freckle and one bell-push. she almost fainted over after entering she was so out of energy and drained in the lips. i was thinking hard final and offered her our latest soap, a melonballer-colored pumpkin-spice creamsicle ice-cream bar that looks like a double-sticked popsicle but is soap. she talked about how she was entering a new relationship for her and her parents back home would never approve. that she was cut off in college, not free. she staggered over to the bed i keep in my Energy Medicine Room and immediately wetted it firm to soft profusely with her sweat. slept the rest of the week there poor thing, but didn't sleep it off. here demons run deep, as does this sleepy town. i keep hearting posts hearing everybody telling me they want to leave the country but wouldn't know what nation to choose. i just hope the egg helps soon. it's gotta be an Easter Egg for us.

Bump: i'm searching for the real killers. with my friend OJ Simpson, he knows all the black athletes who did it and is an expert at this sort of thing. coverup is an art. we each beforehand sampled that Burger King Nightmare King green burger to get our tank full and our journalistic juices flowing. it's good that OJ is out and can help us like this.

OJ: i think that Nightmare King really isn't a real thing. like it was just for that DreamCorp LLC commercial skit. plus this thing was a burger with both a beef pattie and a chicken filet, it was weird.

Bump: green buns, those environmental chicks are hot and white, OJ.

Dirg: i'm at the temple gates, ready to storm the castle!

Laertus: like a good stormtrooper. true-to-form is an art-form. describe Shangri-la for me.

Dirg: it's a brick mansion...……………...with the red-and-blue gates closed!!! ugh. do love the lattice design in the holes of the gates, very '80s.

Laertus: huh, shoulda been pearly. i don't travel to the froufrou side of campus. like the Cuomos do every day, we just have to take what life brings us each afternoon. deal with the shuffle. it's unexpected, you weren't thinking your day would be like this, would turn out like a pear, like your watch. how do you think Jim and Poppy felt at the start of business today?

Dirg: has Poppy popped yet? the baby i mean.

Laertus: any more trouble online for you?

Dirg: i saw that one thing on twitter. someone replied back to James Woods, said his mom birthed a beta. how dare he scold a veteran of Family Guy! we both loved Family Guy at one time.

Laertus: oh pleeeezzz. not all heroes wear capes. see? tech is good for society! you can't get anything from handling an email but a nasty virus. sweep that mansion for mailboxes. and check Avenue Q. did you get that thing i sent ya?

Dirg: this picture of Patrick Leahy?

Laertus: it's like those kittens on twitter, instantly calms you down. the country will last forever, longer than any stamp.

Dirg: he's a patsy alright.

Laertus: now see it has the opposite affect on me. dredges up past horror-story encounters i've had with the Patriarchy, i need to learn to pat these images down or i can't function in society. anybody else there?

Dirg: just some stupid girl...…………...who looks okay

Eye Luggage stares back at Dirg with eyes which look like two black eyes but are just bad Harley Quinn makeup-jobs. she pounds the table of her lemonade-stand open booth on the edge corner of campus.

Dirg: and what you tryna sell me today?

Eye: the key.

Dirg: to in there?

Eye: i never forget an online face. i'd recognize you anywhere. i can tell from the callouses on your hands that you're a bad drawer. i've seen your work online. i'm everywhere online, by the handle Alexa_Pwns. you were using THIS to get in there?

Eye pulls out Dirg's drawing from the canyon of her blue breasts, one red. the drawing printed on old-fashioned light-green bullethole-sides printer-paper from the '80s.

Eye: what do we have here? so it's a sketch of Male Thor beating the fuck outta Female Thor with Mjolnir...……………………………*awkward silence*…………..bloodying up the beauty in her face......

Dirg: yes, what do we have here...………………………..*softly* whoa

notes:

* ah, the good ol' days of college football, when it wasn't a good-ol'-boys club. USC was atop its rightful place uh perch in the world as the eternal Number 1 and the world was basking in the California sun. and freshly-squeezed avocado juice. Pete Carroll was still the cool surfer-uncle who knew when to throw it and was Zen Master Jr., and the world could still enjoy a prank, and Lane Kiffin was......well Lane Kiffin but he schemed and sweated abnormally for our side. when Alabama started ascending the sport REALLY became boring, and civilization started to fall apart and crumble, did you notice that?

* spoilers: this thing starts off SLOW but picks up towards the end

* Eddie Murphy already did all this, but nobody seems to talk about Eddie Murphy anymore…

* not purple drank. purple seats

* Jesus rooted for Appalachian State in the Big House...

* born-again Christians are the only real Christians

* you had me at meemaw but lost me at chorizo

* i actually think the main character here has a fabulously unique look, that could carry a series WHEN NOT IF it gets picked up? adult swim is inextricably intertwined with the college scene, that's their audience, so chances are likely. they love all this college-football shit, even more than Claymation.

* aren't you a little young to be a university president?

* not Louis CK

* the dazzler new uniforms came from Carrie Underwood's line, we tried to get Kellie Pickler but those only came in one size.

* don't know a lot of daddies. i guess they were at work. working at a strip club is still honest work.

* your coaches don't know nuttin', they're the elites, they're the system that's bringing you down. psst, let me tell you a secret: they all work for a college. who you gonna trust, the fresh-as-hell dancer or Louis CK?

* pray this is half as entertaining as Paul Finebaum's Follies. you think those callers are plants but the beauty of it is they're not.

* Kendra is the writer's wife, must be

* why is there so much infighting in the state of Alabama? don't you know the war eagle is from there?

* a criminal is just a future Christ supporter with the praying at a football game, taking a knee.

* i'm fucking Ron Howard! nope, Solo was better than people expected! next time i'll cast Hope Solo as female Han!

* i was so tired from practice all i could chase was a chaser which helped me sleep...

* titties have nothing to do with this discussion

* see, this is why i never played college sports, i'm just not into PlayStation, never have been since the 1.0 came out.

* why is soliciting a prostitute such a big deal anymore? if you don't get sued...sue back until a court forces you to reveal records. do not get pregnant until you're in one of those ceremonies where you turn to your mate and tell her only you and she shall share each others' liquids. stay hydrated, my friends.

* if you eat all these sweet treats, you can ONLY be a linebacker. but at least you won't get a concussion. you're not sponging off your daddy's money, at least you HAD a daddy!

* have you noticed that NOBODY is celebrated for being a painter anymore?

* here's my stud wide-out. he's been confined to a walker but at least he gets to sit his fat ass on an official ANU pillow.

* don't worry, it's not the Kramer Painting.

* those aren't dimebags, coach, those are two doves. football is the sport of peace.

* crying bowls of soup………...oh god.....now that i think about that, is that what's in those tiny tin Campbell red-and-white cans?

* Bill Bisco: previous watcher of Roseanne. WON'T be watching The Conners

* Bisco: Roseanne!
pres: what!?
Bisco: Roll Tide!

* pres: get to steppin' and get that dimebag out my bureau drawer i use to pay the players' mamas. posthaste and with haste. hey man, what's with the red eye?!
player: roll damn tide!
pres: red is the color of ALL the state of Alabama, son, calm your britches, tiny. at least when people were on bath salts it was funny.

* spoilers: let's just say the special effects in this special are special, wink wink

* coach: here's what we're gonna do. swoop in and action plan. let's Khashoggi…
players: we don't know what that means! we don't go to classes!

* adult-swim president: we can't show that...even on adult swim.
pres: listen Lazzo, none of it will be real. the killer's a cyborg and i'm a clone...

* pres: i want get those good Doctor Who cameras on me! photorealistic filmic lens out in the South African desert where i'm from! am i glossy? talkin' bout already powdered my nose that's racist man. this knife is rubber, man, for Halloween, it slides in and out, up and down, back out and in.

* folks, this is the WWE hype part of the show. it's all scripted reality tv. hate doesn't really exist in this world.

* beef: making me hungry for chorizo

* get yer body right. get yer grades right. if your grades are sagging, get yer body right so you can tutor with your teacher alone to get yer grades right. men and women both have tits.

* pepperoni? nah, i always get pepperoni.

* bump baby...uh, nevermind. sell 'em out! then BOYCOTT BOYCOTT BOYCOTT!!!

* pres: i felt good about that take.
Lazzo: you were a little glossy.

* famous last preview for the next episode which will never air...

* dude is so fancy he keeps his candy apple in a glass case

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. things are not looking good for my Dodgers. whenever you get depressed, listen to the dulcet tones of Neil deGrasse Tyson explain...anything. even Tinder, which he did once.

1. tell us about the last road trip you made. when? where did you go? how long was the overall trip? did you go alone? did you have fun?

i figured out where Banksy lived so i went over there cos it's a national landmark now, his or her birthhome. still nobody knows who Banksy is but everyone knows where he lives. or she, could be The Doctor. just this month, after that youtube vid dropped. i think i'm still on the trip...

we all travel this life alone. fun is relative to the distance you are away from relatives. and potential new relatives who live in the future after you take your 23-and-me DNA test.

btw we got there in plenty of time. but then i had to look at the roadmap. it took an hour just to fold-out the folding thing. then i realized Banksy had shred the map in his shredder…

2. do you love to travel? in my head, yes. i'd love to travel for real but this costs a non-bitcoin thing known as money in the Lower 48. i still have the overarching goal to eventually become one of those Instagram travelogue bloggers who gets paid to post on insta and gets friends paid for him by the company. well, followers anyway, makes your statsheet look good as your heart slowly breaks.

3. what's the best place you've been? do you want to go back? going back is the inescapable truth of closure. and my closure is slippery when wet. you see for years now i've been on a wily self-willed quest to reach nirvana. i just thought they were a cool band and went with it. it's a spiritual journey undertaken which must take place inside one's soul, to look around in there and see what psych roadblocks i find. only through the path within can you achieve without. so i built myself one of those submarines that i miniaturized and have been traveling inside my bloodstream for years. i'm typing this to you presently inside my stream which honestly looks a bit low on cells. you know it probably would have been easier if i had just constructed a tiny submarine...

4. would you travel for sex? have you traveled more than 50 miles just to have sex? i have and it wasn't pretty, never doing that again, got in trouble. like everyone else, i fell in love with Ed Sheeran. it must be Ed's red hair cos red is the color of love. anyway i traveled all the way to his hometown cos google maps said there was gonna be a party and met with as it turned out his lookalike doppelganger who strangely went to the same school as Ed---at the same time? that's wild if so. the one featured in the video. so we hung out at the Castle on the Hill that night with no campfire, only lit by our smoky Skins red cigarette tips. then the bailiff came in the next morning with his hay-soaked baton and said to get the hot fuzz out of his bailiwick cos i had exceeded the 50 miles. i was at 51 miles...damn you google maps...

5. what sexual act or sex position do you struggle with doing? kissing. cos it's a trick. i don't mean there's a certain trick to it, i mean that it's always a trick. i've been fooled time and time again by practicing on a lemon. next time i kiss, i'm gonna practice on a strawberry cos i'm getting older and liver spots are starting to spot up.

bonus: what are you into but have not told anyone? Fortnite. look, i didn't want to join a herd, but, well, see, my dad plays it and i want to connect with him cos i think he's cool and this is the only way for fathers and sons to connect now. i know all sons think their father is their hero, but in this case it's true. my dad is so cool. my dad is Kylo Ren:

CLICK HERE

i'm not much of a dancer, despite my skewed delusions that i might be cos i'm double-jointed and all, but i did the dance. alone in my room i practiced---trained with a rubber grey forehead---day and night till my sheets became wet. eventually i got so good i was able to impress my local pizza guy who gave me free pizza but i still had to pay for the gaseous root beer:

CLICK HERE

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Robert Mueller III is still standing on the roof of the Cream House, he hasn't left, hasn't slept, hasn't batted one eye. his arms are still raised high and will speak to whomever will listen.

Mueller: ONE MORE DAMN WEEK!!! i ain't giving up the car keys this far in. i've come too far and we've come too long. loose lips sink Coast Guard vessels. you're gonna be disappointed like when you don't quite receive the exact Christmas present you were yearning for but that ain't my problem. i won't be lulled into thinking you're an okay guy and this is all meant to be parody and you did this all for Katy Perry and you're just an AM reality radio host who happens to roll the knobs.

President Bump looks up from his bedroom window at the Cream House, lilac lace curtain lithely blowing in the short wind.

Bump: get down from there, man, you look like a crazy person.

Bob: nice try siccing those Rapunzels at me at the last desperate minute. this is why i never leave my office, i bought a La-Z-Boy sleeping couch brand-new brand-new-engines expressly so you couldn't track where my home is. was. how much did you pay them?

Bump: enough to get their nails did. can't did their hair. let me ask you, Bob, from up there i can still see it, is that a bulge in your wallet or are you just happy to see me?

Bob: Rapunzel Rapunzel, let down your hair.

Bump: can't. it's immovable. like destiny.

Eye Luggage stands immovable in the wind, firework-shoots of her purple hair and her brown-rubber leg-band strings and the piece of evidence-paper gentle blowly in the wind like triumphant trusses.

Dirg is dumbstruck for many reasons. he doesn't quite know his next move. he stares at her in shock and uses the opportunity to scan her up and down.

Eye Luggage: the way things are going for us, reverting that is, your junk art will be the next framed Mona Lisa. at least Warhol acknowledged the non-subtle way he referered to cans. we've got to put a stop to this, nip this wildblaze in the bud before it infects pretty girls with low self-esteem.

Dirg: we? you and what posse? are you referring to Hollywood? nevermind.

Eye Luggage: a little army i like to call women. not little women. ironically we've been around longer than any relic rule which prohibits us from the front lines. we've BEEN on the front lines since forever we were birthed, taking all the bullets into our savage bosoms. bozooms bazookas. you know, the fairer sex? call us ugly but we've always been fair. why couldn't you draw a webcomic that was a how-to on how to prepare Toxic Masculinity Soup?

Dirg has his eyes kept wide-open for him from some unknown force inside air the remainder of this encounter.

Dirg: my best nesting friend would love you. he's done something similar, a short film that starts off as a cooking show but degrades into a Leftist rant on why the world sucks now. cuck carrots and pink pepper in the broth, that sort of thing. it's all very tricky and eye-popping. with a green background for the greenscreen. i'm sure it will win all the awards.

Eye Luggage: i believe in second chances and the prison-industrial reform system. if you write a longform letter IN WRITING---a heartfelt, deep, non-fake apology to Mr. Stan Lee---i will deliver it onto his fet and then maybe i'll see about your case. i might put you off detention and your account will be unsuspended. i may be just in my kindness. see you dudes just don't realize how hurtful you've been to us all these centuries. you thought your slights were homeslices but they were just slices. you're stupid, can't be helped, flawed genes. you inherited rockeater traits into your tongue cells when you ate milk for the first time. you are right now blog-banned from ALL blogs which touch this university of higher enlightened learning.  

Dirg: what?! even the official MARVEL youtube channel?!! not that! anything but that! how does that channel touch the school?

Eye Lugagge: Mr. Lee has taken up residency here at Obec C.

Dirg: i don't care about nothing wimpy weblogs but i need that Marvel channel! i've poured my heart, soul, and throat beliefs into that youtube comment section for a decade now, carefully crafting my message to troll out i mean elicit illicit responses from unsuspecting future conscripts to my cause. i've been shaping the debate in the dark i mean the shadows for years for just this revolution we're seeing now to break free into the mainstram like punk did with Cobain. you should see the deep detailed analysis i give whenever a new comic book is printed, i go over each line with anyone who'll talk well type to me. you can't take this away from me, it's my puppy, my identity-politics, actually it's my only very identity at all!!!

Eye Luggage: you've bared your soul instead of your butt at me and i appreciate that. i'm telling you, the climate we have now---no rain---we're gonna need an Alex Jones on the Left, a Liberal Alexa Jones, and i'm just that woman-person! you've no doubt seen my underground webshow have you not?

Dirg: now that i think of it, i might have in passing, like when i get those Comcast driveby ads of all of Hilary's good works paid for by the Dems Loghouse which gets me so incensed i break the screen of my Pear Watch. it's like paying for puttanesca and getting the spaghetti instead of the whore.

Dirg: i'm sorry, you gained a grovel. satisfied? no, you're insatiable, aren't you.

Dirg begins licking the lip of his tip of penis.

Dirg: *eyes turning red from water* i said i was sorry. i need to see Stan Lee. i NEED to see SuperStan or i am stained forever, the boy with the cobweb tattoo...

Dirg takes out his dick from his zipped pants and masturbates in front of Eye Luggage to her everlong disgust, she is horrified, mortified, but she can't yet look away. if for science if nothing else, this is a house of learning. in two seconds and but one stroke up and down, Dirg makes the gang-sign with his other hand and---it's too late---the green plants by his feet are now winter whitecaps.

Eye Luggage: what the FUDGE-WITH-NUTS are you doing, you sicko psycho creep cretin cartoon?

Dirg: this is the thing men do with girls now. our generation's never hugged a girl before, this is our version of sex: jacking off in front of the pretty girl we have a crush on. we've been crushing on them, they are crushed, we're relieved, they're relieved, no touching involved. emotionless embracing, we're so disassociated from our feelings we're terrified of the female presence to go up and stroke the hairs on her arm or say hi behind her back. women are images to us, not real breathing people. this is my altered attraction to you: a cum-connection made from my distant rainbow. of cum.

Eye Luggage: well it's working, i was able to draw that out of you, something i'm sure you've never told anyone, especially your mom. i can see your poor-pumping green heart running scared on fumes covered in gaseous green slime begging to be let out of the constrictive cage of the brittle bones of your ribs. i can see your crack, it's growing.

Dirg: one more thing before i vanish like a ghost: do you have a slim Harley hammer you use during sex back under your bedroom with a ballpeen to crush balls and peens?

Eye Luggage: of course i do. i already vomited earlier today so my tank is empty. i would arrest you, i'm a cop, college cop, the security-guard on duty and of record, but more than anything i just feel sorry for you. zip up, ship up, and escort yourself off. the grounds. you like escorts, right? you'll never be schooled here like this again.

Ariana: here was my idea: Seth Meyers should have done Weekend Update like he always used to do, no mention the entire time that he's the host or anything, he just does his normal segment. and Che and Jost are nowhere to be found. that would have been funny.

Pete Davidson: you're right, babydol. okay, i relent, you're welcome back on set. i'm using a coiled phone right now cos i got my dime back to work said phone.

at the Magical Fruit campus coffeeshop, with Camus on the front roof sipping air bubbles, a gathering of the Resistance stands ready for their renaissance. the only remnant from a previous more-strident more-militant café, the Bernie Furnace---which was ironically firebombed by ecoterrorists---the half-circular booth, is carried over and plopped into the temporary sanctuary of this present café. a booth crying on the outside, with one serrated left edge full of damp nails and cut-apart wood fragments which resemble toothpicks. brown Pac-Man. Symone and Angela flash their yellow-stained teeth as they smile-talk.

Simpsons Swartzwelder: this was my idea, divas. i did this first. don't talk to me. i've never once shaved my beard and my chin hurts like hell. i'm not hideous but i want to maintain my Pynchon popularity cred. remember when cool cats like Aretha wore brown headbands in global rainforests?

Symone Sanders: you a welder or an elder? i love your environmental Simpsons episodes. oooh, Sister Angela Rye, you know it's on when you ditch your relaxed locks for a head full of rough braids. and those glasses you never wear, smart-mode sista! warrior on, princess! we eligible for this election!

Angela Rye: Sister Symone, we look good with our brown headbands on, blends so nicely to us. we will fight. civilly of course, with out fistful discourse and diaphragms.

Symone: my belly is phat bursting at the seams with sustenance. Bernie Sanders was obviously my father. what is up with America? i thought Nazi rallies were a thing of the past. October Surprises were never like this. this is some scary shit in the simmer.

Bump: it's just a joke. you know, entertainment? the Doyers made the worst move! cost them the Series.

Symone: get the fuck up outta here! don't be a baby. how do you even know YOU were born here, citizen child? you were a baby at the time!

Bump: one more thing before i become the departed: if yous had just given me an NFL team, none of this would have happened.

Symone: i love baseball, all us folk do. i mean the dueling walk-off catches! the rubbing of those bats with that black book! that's a magical spellbook you know, i know it well, the players with the cute butts place their bat inbetween the covers of that black book and rub all that feminist witch wych wonderfulness salt into those bats up and down with each stroke till that bat achieves wood. reminds me of the book i'm reading currently, Narnia, off Serena Williams's recommendation during the Great Book Hunt where she wore the brown headband on PBS! who knew Serena likes Narnia?

Angela: hey man, it's the black-girls-are-magic thing. i'm honoring my last-name thang now more than ever, pass the black salt. newly-minted The Atlantic writer Jumpin' Jack Flash Jemele Hill and Dapper Don Lemon will join us later.

Laertus: i heard that, preach it, sista. we ready, we here, and we seen.

Roger Federer arrives at Savannah Guthrie's house which coincidentally is a sprawling mansion of rye in Savannah, Georgia. just at the tip of American Gothic before it went American Industrial.

Fed: so this is your backyard court. on the front lawn. grass tennis courts, you don't see those anymore. nice. go for your lesson? let's start with the basic stroke: the tweener. you'll get it fast, you don't have a penis. to worry about. down pat, it's all in the technique. wait, where is everybody? you said this was a charity-auction tournament thing, where's Everlong Effervescent Evert? where's Bud Collins in the chair-umpire chair?

Guthrie: i'm afraid this is gonna be a private lesson. i need work before i can show my stroke in public. girls just want to have fun. hold up while i don my pink Olivia Newton-John legwarmers.

Fed: okay. let's ready.

Guthrie: can you do me a small favor, you fondue fireman? you frenchie-swiss dripping with sex sweat fighter. instead of using our racquet strings to hit tennis balls, can we use eggs?

Fed: shit. reminds me of the days of cat-gut.

the crones have lithed their way back to a backroom on the far reach of the decked but not stacked Titanic, a small square with no smoke alarms. there they busy touching up the dogs in the area, cleaning them, fluffing them, tonicking their tails, shampooing their coats and conditioning their schnozes, alleviating their allergies, fitting them with little baby-powder bows, even bowed that last nail on the inside of their paw wrist, hemming up their nails with the lightest cut, rolling their tongues neatly for fresh breath, and generally opening up their yellow eyes to the world of earthly luxury.

Gladyce: you think the Titanic will like running on electric from now on? instead of those toxic steamstacks? it's more efficient in the long run.

Doryce: they won't know who to blame, it was you all along who did it, who made it happen, a woman. dogs did. they're sure to score high at the show. coffee break? NOT Magical Fruit, their stuff makes me toot. we have a Faema at home, let's use it. in our ship room. oh, and you know how that Faema coffeemaker works, right? that blue flashing button you always push? yeah, well, that's actually for THREE cups of coffee, not one. you drink a lot of coffee unknowingly. you have to read the icons more carefully, the thin icon you always miss is actually a pictograph of a teacup for 1 cup of coffee standard serving size for 1 human witch.

Gladyce: let's not start that again, dear...………………….what? i'm getting a message in my coiffed coiled ear-cuff...……………...yes, Sally, thank you, thanks for the heads-up and florist flowers...………..well it seems we got an intercept from Headquarters. apparently all these dogs we've been grooming are not for a pageant, they're for fucking dograces!!!

Doryce: *punching her fist with her other fist* disgraces! grab my coat, let's go. imma fuck that man. up. i'm not voting for Pedro for President or even dogcatcher!

a quiet girl storms into the belled glass door at Lush and sits down on the ball sofa. you can tell she used to be a go-getter but has since turned mousey from her college experience. not looks-mousey, manner-mousey.

Madame Pons: hello, Pakora. nice to finally meet you non-online. we've typed by tea so much we're drowning buddies. wait, you're white!?

Pakora, with the pink headband: yes, and my white girlfriend is Euroclydon from Europe.

Madame Pons: wow.

Pakora: i always see you here. you're burning the midnight oil.

Madame Pons: only with LUSH officially-licensed candles. i'm committed to this work---i WILL third-see it through---not just sit through it---so i sleep on the ball couch. this is my office now, where i sleep. haven't been home in weeks, forgot what the place looks like. haven't spoken to my sister in ages, sometimes i think she's just using me for money, to pay off her house, that she doesn't care about me as a woman-person. i've electrocuted myself more countless times than i care to remember trying to get healing spells right, or help spells left. but no call. except from customers. scrapes, bruises, and a loss of energy befall me, literal loss of energy flowing through my body, zapped and sapped.

Pakora: i've lost the will to write. my diary is dormant. i feel like any art i do is ruined by the times. i'm waiting for it to be over so my art and allergies can flourish again, so my poem stances and entry engagements can mean something larger again, not just about the one framed thing it always does or gets accused of. i must wait: 2, 4, 6 years. i'm waiting to wear a thong again.

Madame Pons: i know about diaries. but your block comes not from the writer but from the non-reader. step into my chamber and let's begin. btw hey girl, you know what this egg does?

Pakora: *quick scan* not a clue.

Dirg: *by modem* so i tried to get that new Picard series on CBS All-Access but they said i will pay for that.

Laertus: *by phone* um, chief Mahomes, that series hasn't been made yet, dudey. you seem stressed, bud, something happen to you? you're relaxed, dazed, and distracted.

Dirg: just my vertigo rearing its pretty head again. gotta sit down by a tree.

Laertus: make sure to get plenty of rest. rent a cot at the student store. come on over to the Magical Fruit for a late-lunch, everyone's left to battle. the place would be dead with you here. rest your back on the heated throw i've laid out for you on the boothseat. or table if you prefer. sink your cock into a cup of iced coffee and cool it off. hey, so is it still a joke? mild meme-warrior mayhem on Mischief Night?

Dirg: um, sure...……...i think.

Laertus: oh okay, just checking. taped can of beans for your thoughts.

Bump: *by threeway using Dirg's Pear Watch* yeah i can use him either way, he looks Middle Eastern, right?

Laertus: you're invading my space, sir. Dirg dear, just don't pick up any suspicious brown packages on the way over, they could be Maury paternity papers!

Dirg: or from mestizo migrants. signaling their skin color, heehee. sorry i'm not into it tonight. it's depressed for me right now and we still have to have energy for Halloween. i was gonna go dressed as a Mexican Cowboy and run to the border to join the posse comitatus---i was committed to the comitatus as a patna---but, eh, it seems like too much work, i'm too depressed to down. i haven't looked at any college babes in cosplay all day. cos i've been banned from college. hey where's your costume? no makeup, outfit, get up, or green hair dye!? i can see your hairy freckles, you're so plain-looking.

Laertus: so i won't get recognized. i'm going this year as the White ghost. she was such a beautiful soul, a librarian soul, her funeral was on Halloween which is goth but damn. *muffling cries* why is everyone dressing up as Maleficent this year? even my mom!

Dirg: *stumbly*…………………….cos...……….Maleficent is magnificent...………..she's the Avenging Angel for all women...….

Laertus: wow, you didn't even inquire as to how hot my mom is. something is definitely wrong with you. she is not milfy enough for you, she is a beautiful soul i'd die for, that's all the makeup she needs. Salvadoran sunglasses not required, her lines and white jeans tell her tale. and her '70s puffy off-raspberry beret. cos she's metal? two horns? nothing? gang signs lead to wars? anything? don't worry, i'll hand out all the candy back at the house, in your state you really shouldn't be giving kids those Halloween Hershey's Kisses with the CREEPY tissuepaper tags on them.

notes:

* i can't believe Off the Air hasn't yet done blah blah blah just noise i mean sound

* first vertical video used in Off the Air history...this show isn't elitist, it's a list, it's of the people...

* it's like one of those handheld horror gonzo films but the real horror is what we're doing to the environment. that tsunami is not CGI...

* her: are those your pills on the dresser?
me: depends, how much is that gazebo out there for rent?
her: you know the Real God only understands and speaks Spanish, right? we've been the only loyal ones through the centuries while Europe wavered.
me: wait, God is a clown?
her: think about it, God made us in His image.
me: God was the first garage band?
her: He created music where all there was was a space.
*i turn my phone vertical to catch the clouds*

* don't feed ducks bread

* THIS is why babies come out the womb terrified

* Mike Lazzo: hey guys, i know this is adult swim, we're into that art-at-the-curb that never sells, but we can't use babies as drumsticks. too much of a message.
redditors: is this cos of the Dan Harmon thing?
Lazzo: admittedly is has a good beat.
redditors: this is how all European techno gets made. hot-dog factory and all that.
Lazzo: no wonder they're so mad they're punching babies, take off your black hats in this desert heat!!!
Black Hat Triforce Illuminati Trivago Guy who uses Android and is an android: hey baby, look at my keys! i don't have a use for keys anymore, cars are pollutants and i live inside my head.
Dan Harmon: that poo was as dark as your skin.

* baby: i was never alive. tis but a human machine who never got rebooted...

* Big Ears: hi, i'm that Wallace and Gromit reject who got burned in the fire. ALL of my earwax forms the Earth's clouds.

* Big Ears: i'm okay with the drilling, infrastructure should have been our first priority. okay with the blaring sirens, vote for the Proposition which will let the paramedics have a nice lunch. what i can't stand is the keystroke-tapping. do you know how silly you look placing your finger on a glass screen? typing serves no purpose unless it's texting the kidnappers to let Gromit go.
Russians: this isn't just inane chatter, we're actually doing a hacking job over here.

* that was Nirvana's first drum. and Nirvana's first drummer Chad Channing.

* pink dolphin: i speak in early Nintendo sound-effect music. have you seen my eardrum? it looks like one popped popcorn kernel. hey before anything, scissor that soda plastic ring into nondigestible slivers would ya.
Blue Man Without The Group: sorry bro, i drank too much soda and root beer. it'll cost you 100 bucks for me to find it. and fish it out for you. i may not look it but i'm still a child.
pink dolphin: i had 100 bucks but i lost my wallet weren't you listening? fuck this noise i'm going back to SpongeBob's pineapple house, at least THERE everything is still free, especially fun.
conch: it's dangerous for me to be on land. no more Of The Flies unless it's a Lordess this time.
Blue Man: i may look like Guillermo del Toro with my eye-hands, but this will NOT be a freaky water love story.

* stop hitting yourself...………...in the eyeball-iris, pupil, you know how painful that is? everytime you place your finger on glass, you're poking your own eye out. cos you have a glass eye.

* the first wheel was made at the push of a button

* my sliding lantern lights are up HERE, buddy. don't look at our dicks! we have NO dicks!

* something went wrong today and choir practice will never be the same. it's not the emasculation from trolls, it's that we turned into what we feared the most, WE'RE the trolls now. look away, we're hideous on the inside! hey, stop singing and maybe practice will be called off due to darkness.

* CTHULHU LIVES MATTER

* for Cthulhu, the struggle is real real

* the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe Malfunction (all feel like hell)

* hey, it's the worm from Sesame Street!
worm: i've always wanted to be on Monty Python.
Terry Jones: i am God. impressed?
statues on either side: our faces are frozen not in astonishment but because we sniffed too much glue.
Terry Jones: speak in your native tongue, bellydragging commoner! speak in sitar, you worm!
worm: can i come? in? i'm not a mouthbreather, my mouth is in my butt.
Terry Jones: ok. how's it growing in there?
worm: i'm God now. but i need water to maintain my leaves.
Terry Jones: sorry, my jar is clay not water.
faces: so THAT's where the Greek Gazebo went.

* Jim Henson: these were all the "123456789101112" Sesame Street segments Mike Lazzo rejected. you realize entire generations of kids learned their numbers off hippie acid, right?
Dave Hughes: sir, i'd like to shake your hand. if not for you i wouldn't be standing here today making this stuff. i'd be dead. everyone has their drug: women, religion, glue. my drug is Jim Henson.

* bubble tape

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. the choice is clear: sanity or chaos. as the world gets less kid-friendly by the plummet i'm struck and starting to feel my mortality more. in my palms and chest. i'm realizing that i'm of the age where i should have had a son by now. but i don't have a son. so i'll go this weekend to Beautiful Boy and cry into my popcorn cos it's sad but i won't be able to relate to it really, you know?