1. do you go out of your way to be nice? yes. even in these dark times. why just last night i was a bellhop at a, well, well-known hotel. i left my post at the counter when i heard a stray cat mew from ALL THE WAY on the other side of the property. no light nor lights anywhere, it was midnight outside. when i finally get there i take my tall red felt bellhop hat off my head and give it to the cat, saying, "this belongs more to you than me, you look so kawaii in it!" to which the cat replies, "not cute, kid. you didn't bring any milk or anything?" to which i reply "yes, it's in my pockets" to which the cat replies, "i only drink milk in those cute little half-pint vending-machine cartons." the cat tells me, "you aren't ironic enough to work here. you have to be here." later that night, which is the morning, i was seen taking golf lessons in the empty fields from Cat Woods. a tiger in a bellhop hat was tending the check-in counter..

2. some time ago people were buried with items they would need in the afterlife. what would you want buried with you so you could use it in the afterlife? just a regular ol' workable ipad to record stuff. i mean this would be the most valuable and controversial selfie-taken-on-a-cliff of all time. have you noticed that on all the billions of streams out there, not ONE has sent a picture back from the dead? are there not clouds underground? this worries me, it's not looking good, folks. but my ipad did send me the notice that Lenora Crichlow is fucking Poldark which makes perfect sense, they were castmates! you don't go into acting for money or fame, you go to find a mate.

3. what social stigma does society need to get over? mental illness. take a step back and think about this for a minute. more and more studies are showing that EVERY human being who has ever lived on this planet has had SOME form of mental illness, even however slight. do you realize the implications of this!!? that would mean that BEING HUMAN is in fact the mental illness.

4. when was the last time you told someone, "i told you so."? my priest. we were having it out on the street early morning at the McDonald's as we do---fries and fisticuffs---and i finally said to him all his confessional arguments were strawmen and I wasn't drunk, HE was drunk. he excommunicated me for that for being racist. he called me a socialist and said he didn't have time to vote. he did call me up later when we both cooled down after our McFlurries to grant that he was just really messed up lately after i had introduced that first episode of Father Ted into his life...

5. when was the last time you were snooping and found something you wish you hadn't? what did you find? my two best friends scrappin' at the medicine cabinet. i hate seeing that. Snoop Dogg and Snoopy going after it, each claiming bird was the word. Woodstock was nowhere to be found, he decided Green Day just wasn't for him. later the parties cooled down and had a joint burger---as in one burger for the both of them, they each bit into a side. Snoopy requested a turkey burger, to which Snoop lamented, "turkeys are for Thanksgiving, man!!!" they each agreed the pattie was already nice and yellow and didn't need any mustard.

bonus: what small seemingly-insignificant thing did your parents or someone else say when you were a child that has stuck with you all this time?

dad: READ

mom: GO ON JEOPARDY!, DEAR, MAKE US SOME MONEY

love you guys. forever. i tried but Ken Jennings blocked me on email. he didn't block me from his email, he blocked me from getting into MY email...

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

Mueller, still on top of the Cream House roof, hasn't slept a wink and is trying not to add to the color. he wearily raises his hand but it's too heavy even for a pen. he lies back down on the cold roof. he's never given up in his life but he's tired.

President Bump gets the lithe lilac curtain stuck in his hair.

Bump: you share my grogginess. are you still holding up?

Mueller: trying to. holding out. you're not gonna...you know.

Bump: i'm keeping my hands in front of me at all times so i can see them, which isn't an easy task. they're blue. always on lockdown watch.

The Doctor flies on Aladdin's carpet to the center of the Cream House staging area on the roof.

The Doctor: i'm The Doctor. fear not, i'll be taking over this investigation. needs a new face, new perspective, aye? you're not indignant of a female boss, are you?

Bump: it's getting hot around here. and there hasn't been any rain all winter, what's going on? this is not good for my farmers. i'm gonna rub Gina De Vecchio's tits together in my hands at my computer and see if i can perform a rain dance up in here to get some wet action going. i'll whoop my flat fingers, dick-tapping my circled mouth as i holler 1940s-Indian-style. right on the front Lawn. i'll be light as a feather cos i'll wear a headdress full of 'em. my hatchet will be at my belt cos i don't need no hatchetman, i do it myself. i do still need Teri Hatcher, tho.

Mueller: Cher called you sexy.

Bump: eh. old. flexible, bendable, but old. has a weird mouth like you, Bob.

Mueller: *to The Doctor as he points to Bump* i know where he lives. but i let him escape each night and the knight chase begins all over in the morning. i want it to be celestial, it'd be too cinchy otherwise. gives me an excuse for me to whip out my The Fugutive speech when i'm taking a dump in an outhouse cos i'm hiding, too. cat and mouse for the cheese. Heathcliff and Mickey Mouse.

Mueller: *puckered lips* the doctor?

The Doctor: Jodie Whittaker.

Laertus hides behind a bush and saintly snaps a selfie with him, the bush, and the roof above with Jodie, but when he develops it with his finger the button works too well and there's no image there.

Laertus: why can't i be happy? i ask for so little. Jodie's bucktoothed smile was so bright and warm it broke the camerascreen and i am satisfied with this. *hugs his phone*

later, at the pad in the woods, the birds are getting restless. not the brides. at the The Magical Fruit café tho:

Laertus: i like what they've done with the place. they added the The on Camus's forehead, classy.

Dirg: i really shouldn't be here. they're looking for me.

Laertus: especially after last night. first time I've breathed since hot yoga went out of style. the choice was clear: a vote for simple sanity. i must say the moon shined for me for the first time, the air felt heavy and grave with promise. like a brand new day, green was beautiful once more, so much so it was orange. i felt lighter getting up in the morning, light as a feather…

Dirg: stiff as a board for me. not a bard. not getting up.

Laertus: was it good for you, too?

Dirg: it's okay, we knew we'd have to sacrifice several election cycles to get the Court. you may be looking at a Reagan Bush Twelver in reverse and i'm happy for you. we're still ontrack for our long-term goals.

Laertus: speaking of bush, the new Doctor…

Dirg: too early. to tell. i don't want to watch it to give it numbers but it's the only thing i can glance at when i'm jogging-in-place past the Frye's Christmas window cos i can't stay in one place too long.

Laertus: holiday window, everyone skips right to Christmas. you've never exercised in your life. sweaty masturbation doesn't count. my heart leaps and melts when i see those fan drawings at the end of the recap. i see a woman's face lined in crayon and realize what an insane reversal this is, a fundamental shift, with an impact which would not have reached the blind girl by the shore who waits to hear the TARDIS hampered hum.

Dirg: too early. for specialty foreign covfefe. is that the red shiny Faema over there?

Laertus: Covfefe is now a featured artist on this café's official shrinkwrapped soundtrack which it sells on a cute cardboard stand at the counter. it can only be red. think of it as pizza coffee. let's toast you and i with a Guinness, for only with a frothy Guinness in a brown mug can we realize that our brown mugs are more alike than different. let's just pretend the coffee is Guinness.

Dirg: make and male mine frosty, and in a foam mug. i like how The Fly starts out…

Laertus: yes, grand, me, too. it's the greatest cinematic example of in medias res i've ever seen. and it starts the film! you're just thrown in there haphazardly right at jump like a lotto pingpong and you have no idea what's going on, it's some college mixer you've been to a thousand times but you're disoriented with the scientific gobdly and you love every inch of it cos it's new somehow in the '80s.

Dirg: i love how Goldblum doesn't drive, i latched onto that, i'm scared to drive, too, he's content to stay in the passenger seat like a good beta and just enjoy the ride. he's got more important things to do, like think in his lab his whole life. i'm glad we got that representation and he's still depicted as a cool guy.

Laertus: hey, nerds are cool. especially swole buff nerds who suddenly invented the rings in Olympic gymnastics and should go by the moniker The Jewish Hammer on NBC.

Dirg: i want the women to do the rings.

Laertus: come on. you already see they have no tits. heartbreaking, metaphor for AIDS which was raging back then.

Dirg: still is. which is a metaphor for all loneliness. Goldblum just doesn't look cool without the long hair.

Laertus: i'm sure i saw shortly after as i was an eater a McDonald's commercial with Jeff sitting on a beige table and his "cheeseburger" line with the fingers.

Dirg: yes i'm sure inside indie Cronenberg was just LOVIN' that. fixes?

Laertus: the telepods, they were out of a bad 1950s science-fiction B&W, make them modern and '60s Star Trek teleporters with ice atoms. swingin' bachelor telepad. i loved how intimate it was, all Vancouveresque street cinema is like this, all the streets are empty and grey save for our heroes, the heroes are the only ones who seem to live in the city, making the smoke all the more sewery. i'm sorry, but despite ALL that fluid being let out, i STILL can't find Geena Davis sexy. i realize she's intellectually pretty but she's never done anything for me. no spark.

Dirg: what a surprise. none of this would have happened if he had a better computer that knew it was silly to splice. anti-abortion which i liked, the message was women don't want a baby, they just want a giant vibrator that looks like a worm, it's easier.

Laertus: business women or women who mean business? after all these years the jumpscare WASN'T SPOILED for me. i still lose it at the abortion clinic glass, brilliant. like the robot from Alien, not spoiled for me cos i have self-control and am not online every other minute. this was really the first example of true body horror to go mainstream.

Dirg: the makeup guy won the award cos he didn't have to do much work, the face peeled off in short order, Brundlefly was not long for this world. dumb people don't realize "be afraid, be very afraid" came from this.

Laertus: no, "have some coffee with your sugar" came from this. which is what i'll have right now at this cafe. made me paranoid. now whenever i'm at a supermarket i make sure to wait an extra five minutes for all the flies to pass the sliding glass doors. i never turn on my windshield-wipers.

Dirg: no rain.

Laertus: i open the door to our house to let all the birds AND bees out, i wait five minutes, i treat the straggler fly as if it were a human, i afford them that measure of respect.

Dirg: or maybe you see the fly as human-sized.

Laertus: tragic. poor guy just wanted to be so human he was a god. he wanted to be more human than human, a creation that never before existed, we all want that. YOU, dear Dirg, are something which has never existed before and i love you for it. i'd never terminate our baby, i'd raise him by myself though i'd make sure to burp him over my shoulder and over the barrel railing of the toxic nuclear plant just in case.

Dirg: the The Joker-style. weird ending i approve. the weaselly alpha with the beard ends up being the hero despite no redeeming qualities or values or earns. janky. but i suppose they had to end it that way. which of the many alternate endings do you sign up for?

Laertus: Villains Act, Heroes React. dammit you, i'd been trying to push out all that stuff from my memory bank and into the sayings stock market to not use it anymore in daily life. which alternate ending? the one where there's no sequel. Hollywood if you're listening, NO good film EVER needs a sequel, movies were not MADE to have sequels, NONE of them!

Dirg: and why o WHY did the buxom butt babe in the jean jacket Blum picks up at the bar NOT do any more movies?!! her career abruptly disappears after the decade asudden like a hot match and no one knows why, she was on the fasttrack to soft-core greatness, she coulda been a contenda for Joan Severance! why does this always keep happening to me!!?

Laertus: the fast life has no path. she went into mystery-writing. which explains why her publishers thought her first short story would sell more than your usual autobiography.

Federer is trying to justify to himself while he's still out on a tennis court. so late. it's like shopping for groceries at midnight, it seems cool in concept but it ends up just being uncomfortable. the lights on on Savannah Guthrie's court somehow makes it worse, it amplifies the silent loneliness. the balls don't carry in this grief.

Guthrie: i shop wayfair. i do the dance and everything in my living room. and sing the jing.

Roger breaks the awkward in his customary way of pleasantly answering his Pear Watch.

Roger: Rafa, buddy, what's up with you? are you holding up? and holding on...to your pride?

Nadal: as best as i can this month, but it's the missus mistress. Chris Evert wants it BAD again. that's why i had to cancel the rest of the year: to fulfill her animal urges, it's gonna take a Christmas miracle to release all that fluid. i'm holed up here in Rome for the time being but no mucho worry mate this isn't a Cobain situation, i've already died and gone to purgatory. it's a Spanish missile crisis. i'm using that Brett Favre medicine and hope it's enough.

Fed: i feel ya, buddy, over on this pole it's...……………..aughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…….

Fed turns around to bright lights but it's not the lights! it's a whole mess pile of cracked hardboiled eggs and messy yolks everywhere taking up space in the center of the court, dropping on the net disgustingly and with sexy smell.

Roger: what? what?

Savannah: you're an android, right? all the best tennis players are. i do my research i'm not just another face, how do you think i got that job? i want to make love to you in Paris. or Rome...as the song goes...but save that let's enter each other on this bed of eggs i've prepared, soft as downy dirt from down under. this gives me the best chance to conceive a side-family with you and to continue the rich legacy of tennis!

Rog and Guthrie fuck intensely and intently and ignominiously all night long on broken shells and broken dreams and broken promises. and a broken backcourt. her creamy screams are so loud they fall and fold into the silence of the hills, his wanxious wails so whale he speaks French for the first time in a long time.

Federer: do you have a husband? check, don't answer that, i don't want to know. why does this keep happening to me?

Savannah Guthrie: simple. your're irresistible. you're the best and yet you're not cocky, which is impossible, it's as if you're a robot.

Fed: it's all camera tricks, man. everytime i sit down for an interview i'm constantly trying to make myself laugh to get through it. i tell myself jokes in my head.

the crones do their due diligence to dogcatch every one of the precious animals they strayed to fate. they ship their way to Florida where a new law has just been enacted---well written in the books anyway---to ban all dograces from the face of the state earth. then, like any good Trappist trapper, they let their little legs out of the steel trap of their willful protection and set them loose in the wild. but a funny thing happened on the way to the duo restoring order and retiring for the night ondeck after this titanic task...

Doryce: i was just about to take a shower, care to join me?

Gladyce: it's too cramped in there, the showers are the size of matchbooks.

Doryce: clever simile, now smile. you've met your match. exactly. a slit for.

Doryce can sense other water whenever she's taking a shower. she sees the waves outside in her mind and glasses-ears...and she sees ALL THE DOGS! lapping up to the side of the Titanic after they had jumped back into the ocean from the woods!

Doryce: what the? wha? i'm naked over a railing over here! what do you want?

the dogs all speak in one unified woof but there's a head dog who does the panting:

head dog: we don't care about nakedness the way you obsess over, we are unisoned in this. look, thank you kindly, really, thank you for freeing us from that asshole who was making mommy money by selling miniature horse saddles he thought were cute---his stated typed reason in his online manifesto was to make Florida weird again---but the thing is, we came back to you with our kind radar cos we actually really don't want to be out in the woods wild and free. and dusty. we want to feel pretty again, can you do us like before? with the shampoo and spray and everything? the woods are actually a very dirty place. made under our fingernails uncomfortable.

Gladyce: jump up, dears, into the shower with the lot o' you.

head dog: turns out we aren't fish, the saltwater is corroding our coats. can we take a shower in you guys' and wash it all off? the salt and the shame? we stink.

Doryce: NEVER take a shower on a cruise ship.

head dog: bet on Beto, boy can bark.

Gladyce: organizing is all the game.

Madame Pons writes in her diary as long as the stovelight stays on in the LUSH kitchen:

Madame Pons: supplemental but official. and original. i've noticed a slight lift on campus, like a college bra. women are starting to sing as they step out again, smell the do-nuts on their way to the dairy, trying to move their professor crushes into a category something more serious. it's not much but we must have something to hang our hats on, even if we don't wear hats anymore. i'm still feeling unappreciated and underappreciated but i'm busying myself with the distraction of this egg, still can't crack the code. maybe now this opening gives me the hole i need to make me an honest woman again. brave, in need of tissues. i'm stepping out again as well, and i've decided to change the axis of the world. i'm gonna be a marriage counselor to those two rejects---rejected by their families that is---poor dears whose sexy pouts bely their grief. i'm gonna be a witness to their unholy union and hug all the hate that's been splashed on them with my hat. i'll sanctify it if their kin won't, i'll be their tribe as they set out two-by-two only two into their wilderness of loneliness. i've named this: i'm gonna be their 

wild witness

good night. and may we have good nights again…

Pons falls asleep on herself. in the still of night Taki comes into LUsh to clean up after her lost sister, long-last-seen sister, and her smile breathes out as she works. she scrubs with her ringfinger not a gold-haired brush all the caked-on grease and grime brown off around the rims of all the dishes which have oiled up at her sister's workstation but it turns out this grease was the Lush soaps used to grind grime to a halt with salt. Taki adds her sweet scent to the salt, wipes quietly, loads the steal into the steel sink, finishes before Pons wakes up, and drifts away out like a thought in the dark.

Madame Pons awakens none the wiser and tries to break the egg on her sharp nipples. no crack.

Dirg: UNBELIEVABLE!!!

Laertus: zip up your fly.

Dirg: not my fault. these jeans are button-fly.

Laertus: how are you holding up, buddy?

Dirg: i'm not getting up that's the point.

Laertus: huh?

Dirg: No-Nut November. i've already failed.

Laertus: oh come on! disgust! i haven't had my eggs yet! is this what you and your little incel buddies do on youtube comment sections to keep each other alive and up and prove you exist? to encourage your egalitarian efficacy and efficiency and good egg and e-peen?

Dirg: you normies will never understand. the struggle for a Stacy is real. YOU failed NNN, too, to celebrate, don't front, you just will never admit it as i, you're not as brave online as me. i will break into that mansion...

Laertus: yeah weren't you coming from a library lecture? the classics series? the Plum Boys, right? bastion of free speech and free thought and any thought. that place looks like a library but is really the terrible ideas of an empty warehouse.

Dirg: i don't need their front anymore, i got a back: a Plum Girl. that's what happened when i failed. to a picture of her.

Laertus: you deliberately don't learn here, right? to prove a point?

Dirg: yeah well, others don't, either. that bitch is still blocking me! she is so conceited! i'm blocked from watching her show so i browse the dailies of her daily blog, this thing is a litany of how she's a better writer than ALL of the books she reviews, she's just gonna keep doing this day after day, getting fatter and fatter off herself. expend all that eternal negative energy instead of trying to write her own book again and getting out there. and the worst part is, i leave her a comment and it gets BLOCKED! she has ZERO comments what's the point!!?

Laertus: the internets is for connecting competing nets...

Dirg: i wrote this lengthy comment in her box, ALL PARAGRAPHS, the exact same lengthy conversation we had about The Fly earlier this earlierer, burying the hatchet, all cordial-like conversation and TED talks like our talks. growing my olive branch, letting her inside me. some may say drawn-out but i wanted to get all the details right, and she doesn't have the courtesy to read it? i wonder if she just glanced at all my hard work for an hour and didn't print it for spam. well two can play that game. she'll be sorry she didn't listen to me, she coulda had in. imma get into that mansion in my own way i won't share it with nobody. and i am NOT looking at her boring blog again!

Laertus: boi you could have at least done Movember. that's what i thought you were gonna say. didn't your dad die of testicular cancer? mustaches are sexy, not beards.

Dirg: yes he did, that's why i don't do it. tho i did grow a mustache instantly right after i jacked off to and finished on Eye Luggage's picture. No-Nut Movember. like the taco girl says, 'why not both?'

Laertus: *sighs and points his finger up* check please! i mean more pots!

notes:

* this house has people in it

* not the title of a porn (at least not that kind of porn) (unless you mean weird porn)

* Alan Resniock has the coolest last name. and he has that gentleman's bears. hje lpooks like if Trent reznot were a normal citizen.

* vowboty boots havenlt been on the street so fDSanm frabcisco since......oh waoit, nevermind…

* Alan: that;s natira; siunlight. this isn't a set, they're real kot houses/

* yellow trash cans always empty bit it's not what you think, and city lawns fenced in by warped ranchwood lattcies for some reason

* the pne on the hrassy knoll, the Wright one

* Alan: my kercgied can be oink or red depending on the angle of natiral light and the sitoatuioon. qe got this location frpm google maps but this oeice nisnlt reakly about the house, thos time.

* I knocled like a motherfucking creep and the obly doot that let me in was the bacl of the white cvan with the stickers

* Alanm: oh, it's one of those Willy Ewonka doorballes. shoots out candy dip that';s not the crystals or the podwer, it's the liquid variety. problem is, your finger has jkust been sharoened off like a oencil so I don't have a finegr anymore to hook the dip. got any chiups?
couple: uh, yeah, the door;s not supposed to make that doomy echo sound.

* Tania: that was gnna be my glue rope. for my arts and crafts, I propject.
Alan your feeling sof isnecurtity onto my cownot hat.
Tagia: no, I do art projects. as you can see, ilm Tania Gunadi.
Alan: …
Tanbia; that girl with the weord voice who does all those vboiceovers. ilm from Inodnesai that;s why.
Alan: illegal.
Tania: no. I loom digefernt cos I shave dmy ehad and joined a cult. bit it's a jippie cylt so it's okay. I was on that good Tranformers show.
Alan: Cyberverse?
Tania: The Hub, rememener that channel.
Alan:L why watch tv when il  in the hib iof civilization? in other words the den of iniquietyu.

* Gunadi: this is my hiusband, let's clal hum Fred. he;s not THSAT Fred.
Fred: that fred is gay. and ironically doens;t ive here.
Alan: I want to sell you something.'
Tania: no thanks.
Alan bloicks the dooe with his boot.
Alan: karate lessons is what ilms elling, legsweep. your house is so beaitoful.
Tania: thank you I am beaitiufil.
Alan: can I come in?
Fred: not unels sit;s kifnight. yous eem all hat no cattle,
ASlan: ic an assure you I have bno catle. they've all been sucked upo into my UFO.
Tabia: can we have a sidebar?
SAlan; nothing worse than a pair of San Francsico linberal lawyers. can I keep the front doot open? il  cold.

* Tania: I;m a fee spirit bit the whole colonialism thing.
Alan: that wasn't my fault, Chrostianity took of like a global woildfore and soon we realized it couldn't be contained...
Tabnia: too soon.
Fred: come in. NOT!
Slan: this is s '90s of you. or '80s? anyway, you have to say yes.
Fred: what, are you tryna Kavanigh me?
Alan: no, it's just this is an 11-minutes epical...
Tabni; take off your sheos, you animal!
Alan: do I tap my feet in my shoes like in Japanese anime?
Tania: ilm nondescript Sdiuanm, not cool.

* Alan: this couple are from that paint commercial. this isn't a huse-0flipping shoe, it's more of a brain-flipping show. they are not married or even dating, they live in sin  openly and egregkiously. and they tell me after 10 years they've STILl not tried all the psitions.

* Slan: do you lvie under these stairs?

* Fred: please don't rub my guitar like a vagina, the strigns are meant to be strummed.

* Fred: the foyer...
Alan: the Compiegne? the Compiegne Wagon? you Frenchj traitor!
Fred: like my small cute silver disc around my neck? I;m in a band and my fiorst record went silevr.
Slan: congrats, how many units?
Fre: just this one I;m waering.

* Tania: hget want tos ee something>'
Skanl oh the horroe! what are they> they look like spooked animals.
Tnai: they're Sesame Street kletter and number balloons struggling to gasp their last breath. you never knew those letetrs and ukebrs you saw on tv were alive. they;lre not props. they're the last line of defense against igmnorance in this contry, we keep them here on life support. heakth care is fere only in this city.

* Slan: do you believe in guns?
Tania: no, we believe in weaponizing love...…………….don't mind my uusband, he gets the blues everyday around 4:10Pm. he wanders the halls of our house, looking down over the balcony, for safety there;s a glass ceiling right there so he canlt jump.

* SAlanL; how manyu halfeaten tin bags of Dritos are under tghsi couch to make it so spongy?
couple: we're vegetaroans, we don't eat chips. we atch telecioson in the night.
Alan: *peering across* thatls not telelvison, that;s rwality teleciison. Sirvivor sucks, tjhat fufe should have just married his contestant and run away in  the coean.,
Fred: no, that;s BVigfoot. you mopw, Lou ferigno?

* Alan: oh, I;m the one who's spongy. do you ever fp into that patio uside the glass slide doots?
Tania: no.
Slan: no one ever doe,s it's always just for show.
Tania: y suabns likes to pretend he;s ay the grocery store whe he goes in there.
A;an: how many rcors do you own?
Tania: nbeevr ask a hipster that question.

* Tabi: animated, not necassruly anime.
Fred: this one says "imagine you're so wealthy your body stops mocving."
Alan: that will NEVR happen to Olivia Newton-John.
Slan; thatls wny reed is good. the stock ,market must continue climbing up, it can never stop.
Fred: this one says "boudnaries"
Alan: it was upside-down so I dodn;t read it.
Tania: I;m using smaller white men ehre to mean racists, not dong ssize. like my hsuabnmd.
Alan; where'd you get them?
Tania: a con.
Alan: you were conned.

* Slan: is this a mirror?
Frd: bno thatls my clone.
Tania: that;s mu sister.
lan: you ook alike.
Tani: *punching her bald head* oh shiot I just relzid you're a vamoire and we fucking let you in, I hate muself for dsoing that!

* AlanL chiuckenbutt.
TaniL what>/
Slan I p]brought cookeis and coffe. you know, like chirch. let the spiruit in here...………….I;ve having trouble sitting back up I got a bum knee from having to wtersle my horse.

* Alan: hey si these look like those miniatuire marzipan anuimals on Addventire Tie  wwhoch came to life and syrated nbretahing cos they were possessed by an Existentialist Satan. fogurines of fitre.
couple; they look delicious! yes I;m sure they were fired in a prsoanl pan izza oven or soemthing tuck in!
Alan: language/. want;s woth the painting of a milk bott;le?
Tania; I have issieus with my mom.
AlanL you love your mom and dad, Fred?
Fred: they dkisoned me after I bcame a youtube star.
Taini: women should wn property. tale me and my huabnad…

* Slan make the sound aof a mohign wave at a Samshing Ounloins coneert. hey yu ever gone swimming and your shotrt come off in thr sea and you're ;eft woth nothing bit a big bubble in your crotch? hasn't tv gonna way too pkiitcal?
Tania: this is a loaded danmgerous question to answer at this time.
SAlanL I wouldn't know, i only wtch one channel. is this music?
 Fred: ANTHIOMG can be music.
Alan: even the souds n in my head? do other people live here with you?

1. name 3 things which most excite your imagination when you imagine doing them. (i know TMI Tuesday Blog is Number One, so name three other things)

1: TMI Tuesday Blog

2: the psychedelic ending sequence from that last episode of Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown. who says CNN is not cultural? and who says there have never been ipad pics taken from the afterlife?...thanks, Tony.

(and Lydia Lunch is STILL lookin' like a scrumptious lunch i want to eat. no wave, no time for formalities, tuck in)

3: like, this photography-from-the-grave thing tho, is it that the Angels no longer have the thumbs to push the button? or is it that the Angels are too cool to bother with taking a pic of the Heaven they're in?...

2. when sleeping with your SO (yes, actually sleeping) do you like to cuddle up or do you prefer sleeping away from them nestled in your own blanket cocoon?

i have a soft spot in my heart for Wilford Brimley. his last name sounds like his mustache. he was the first Hollywood person i encountered when i was a fisherman in the L.A. River. we rendezvoused by chance at a little out-of-the-way watering hole on the corner of a pink tapioca fortress which served Russian tea in the '80s. despite his bigass iconic Santa Claus mustache, he was very demure and demurred to me during the conversation, he barely strung two words together and said them very quietly, he was painfully shy which is the case for most actors. as the jazz started playing over the moon, Wilford sidles up to me and we knock shoulders. he tells me, "kid, you want me to give you the D?" he was talking about diabetes, he flipped the small bone-china restaurant tub of sugar packets on the tableset between us over so i couldn't reach them. and then he gave me a pamphlet.

3. would you rather a) drive 200 miles well over the legally-drunk limit? or b) drive 200 miles after being awake for 72 hours?

i don't drive. i don't like to drive. driving scares me. i proclaim i'd rather WALK 200 miles, *cue that Scottish song*. The Proclaimers. or is it the Pretenders with their Miles song? everyone has a Miles song. if you're awake for 72 hours you're legally considered Woke. or dead.

4. would you rather: be topless all the time or pantsless all the time?

FOUR WORDS: WINNIE THE FUCKING POOH. LOVE IS NOT A FOUR-LETTER WORD TO ME...

5. what is something you could talk about for hours? other than TMIT, right? i talk about TMIT on Tuesdays AND Thursdays to cover all bases. i like talking about old television shows, old films, you know, craft. i talked to Wilford Brimley about craft but he thought i meant craft service and told me never to eat ham again, ham is bad for actors. i guess there is too much sugar in ham. i never check to see if Wilford Brimley is dead, Wilford Brimley will never die, he will always look that way and old but he will never die, he will always look grandfatherly, it's like if Keith Richards got a better deal. you have to understand: Wilford Brimley is an Immortal, he is one of the Original Thirteen Primes. he is Maccadam in real life. we talk about Bumblebee for hours on the phone...i talk about the Transformer, Wilford talks about the bumblebee which flew into his mouth when he went fishing this morning...

bonus: what is something you could talk about for hours and not bore people to death? see above. i know, i failed. too late. the ipad didn't even capture THIS death. you were already bored, you're so bored you're not reading this sentence i'm typing now

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

Robert Mueller III is shaking his head. and when he shakes his head, the whole world shakes to a side and feels cold. MEANWHILE Jodie Whittaker is relaxing in the hot tub on top of the Cream House roof.

Jodie: what's the S stand for?

Mueller: Superman. but it's not about me. i am so heartened and disheartened this day, and frustrated this fraction of time. at the same time. call me the Grinch, my heart has equaled out. while i have confiscated the boxing gloves and plastic handcuffs of my protégé, i stand out in this cold without a successor to declare time's up. for me. i feel it in my gray bones, i am not long for this world, the investigation has given even me stress, and it's weird cos I'VE forgotten how i sound like. don't know how much longer i can hold out.

Jodie: *arm in a rainbow sleeve over the railing of the jacuzzi* he was such an ingenue. when his head shook there was only a blinding light. Time's Up, amirite? too right. are you talking about No-Nut November? i'm doing just fine meself.

Mueller: would you care to train with me? i need a new Naruto.

Jodie: trainers? i quite like the pair of '70s slippers i got as shoes from Yaz. taken a shine to them.

Mueller: slappers? no i'm not calling you fat. Long Live The Yas Queen.

Laertus sneaks onto the only bush on the roof to take his selfie picture.

Jodie: oy, freak. feminist here. don't let my laissez-faire hair and toothy grin and horse laugh fool ye.

Laertus: you have it all wrong, ma'am, that's my friend you sensed. may i soak my feet in the tub? i've climbed a long way. i won't look at you in your swimsuit, i'll merely close my eyes and enjoy being in the same pool of presence as you. my smile will be one of platonic power. and i shall be a satisfied man with that.

Jodie: you a kooky bird like me, i likey. is this the cork-soakers thing? i've always been more fascinated with your side of the pond, like my favorite show ever is anything with Brooklyn and Andy Samberg. alrighty, tuck in. i only wear swimsuits when i'm on the beach with my Latin lover for sneaky The Globe snaps.

Laertus: *gets in eyes closed* thank you. this means the world to me. and the universe. suddenly i have all the time in the world...

Mueller assumes the kneeldown of NFL players and The Thinker.

Mueller: one thing buoys me in my hour of grief: the display New York City showed me, especially Brooklyn, that hour of unprecedented kindness shown me on the Arab street. i mean i never thought in all my years as a hardnosed prosecutor there'd be a protest march for me, ME! when i saw the dude with the sign which read

Down With This Sort of Thing

i knew i was amongst friends, amongst my people. i started eating apples again, even at my late age. the poison apple is a sign of hope and love.

Jodie: those strange NYC birds really get up there, you have to understand something about them: they will do a parade for ANYTHING, literally ANYTHING. they will run just to jog. oy, okay mate, you spill your apples into my jacuzzi pool here and i'll dunk my head to bob 'em, Bob...you tell me when to come up for air...

at the MSNBC Studios, Katy Tur is on remote:

she accosts an ordinary plain non-scary black voter in Florida.

Katy: ma'am, i'm not Jim. whom did you vote for today?

black woman: but this IS Jim. i ain't got to tell you a damn thing, princess! turn around, let me see your ass in jeans! who do you think you are!? this is MY county! did you wait in line? as it snaked all the way to the other side of the Border's? did you get your hyphenated-name misspelled and disrolled? this ain't cinnamon buns, this is real-life Leia!

Katy: my last name is Tur. many have wanted me to disrobe but i've only entered a wet t-shirt contest thus far. not in college.

black woman: turd. you look turnt. imma sue. get yoself some hot-buttered rolls and some Keith-lime pie while you down here! we ain't got no time for the elites and their separate but inequal nappyheaded rolls! know your role and slow it!

Chris Matthews: *in the studio* and thank you, Katy Tur. are you still glad all this happened to you? anyway, i was thinking of something...on the tip of my green tongue...amber tongue...the many faces of?...of?...it'll come to me...EVE! EVE!

Gordon "The G" Chang: no, ITO! you're thinking of three faces like my wife.

Chris gavels for the day, blank look across his stare.

just next door, Pete Davidson is having it out heatedly with his ex. on the last coiled phone in the city, spraypainted yellow and no-wave:

Pete: *waving* no, YOU listen! you really dumped me cos you thought it was time to be with a black man?

Ariana Grande: babe, just listen, podcast voices. i thought Mac Miller was black, too. it's just, with this body of mine, it would be a waste not to, don't you think? it's high time. the only shade balls I know are those in the L.A. River and the ones in boba tea. but that's not the issue. get your tissues. you are a comedian. repeat: comedian. your job is to disrupt, to chaos-agent, to chaosicitate, your job is to tell the offcolor controversial thing outloud others are afraid to. don't apologize EVER for ANYTHING you ever say or do, you lose your edge. real edge. only issue some penis. that's what made me fall in love with you in the first place, you looked like a cow who didn't kowtow.

Pete: i do look like a cow,

Ariana: but you ain't brown. you got a lot of parking tickets, you were living on the edge. of the curb. don't you get it? the more people hate you, the better. don't let an eyepatch patch over crimes. legislative crimes. the troops are jerks, that is straight from the horse's mouth. comedy is never supposed to be LIKED. you don't "like" comedians on instagram, you learn from them. wow, wish we had this conversation before. oh well, too late now. now do you feel better? pep in yo step from the pep talk? no more Pepe?

Pete: *sobbing indistinctly in the background in the far corner of the SNL Studio*

Ariana: Pete? you there? babe?...

Pete: ……………………………………………………………….*softly* shade balls are black balls...

Melania storms into the white doors of the West Side from the East Side, a room she doesn't like being in very long, it gives her the creeps. there's an air of decay, old power flustering, and charred wings.

Melania: MICKEY! get right here right now! what is going on! where's my husband?

Ricardel: dunno, senora.

Melania: Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucy, i'm hooooooooooooooome!

Ricardel: that is not cool in my fragile state, ma'am.

Melania: i am your mirror, Mira.

Ricardel: why'd you say all those harsh things anonymously online about me? you called me fat and said i'd never find a man. you said no fat man would ever love me. you told me to kill myself cos i never made cheerleader in high school and i wasn't one of the original Jamestown settlers. you told me the quickest way to die was to eat the creamy Cream House food! and what's this final request to take the green jacket?

Melania: that godawful ghastly olive-green jacket, take it with you as i kick you out, it's yours! you caused it. that jacket was the remnants of the Christmas tree you picked out from the Obec Woods forest which was gonna be the Times Square Christmas Tree but it died en route on a logger! everyone around this staff called it Frogger! never want to see that article of tatter again, such terrible melania melanin memories! i like BLACK olives!

Ricardel: it wasn't my fault, Madam, i didn't know that forest was Black!

Melania: *softly" sorry but...ya fired...oh yes, *yellow glint in her cat's-eye* now i remember...i suddenly remember the power i actually wield...i wrapped up my husband cos he was getting out of handsy...unmanageable...you need to be a manager...

President Bump is stuck on the Oval Office ceiling, inside a tightly-wound cocoon of grey spindlings and insect tape. it's uncomfortable in there but he still manages to breathe.

Melania: Mickey why are you sulking and skulking all of a sudden?

Bump: i don't wanna talk about it, Me. leave me alone.

Melania: address me from now on as Lady Macbeth! it'll be the first time you ever address me as a lady! what's this i hear about your extramarital affair with Kyrsten Sinema?

Bump: no you don't understand, you never do! it's not what you think. i went to the cinema to indulge in the latest Orson Welles picture cos we're both misunderstood fat men. Orson told me through the screen that i was a windbag and that i wouldn't get it and i would never get in here. the blonde happened to be in the same club, Kyrsten is just a Krysten who's porn-curious. i took my sticks from out my pocket and banged them on her tits SIMPLY as a rain dance thing, we need rain. that's what Hollywood gets for those Midterm results, it's punishment, fires direct from Codrus Himself, He was angry that day my friends. the woolly mammoth has come back to life. Gina has been mysteriously absent since the drought started. and the famine, but i didn't indulge to eat her. i can't dance, you see.

Melania: i know. in a bed or otherwise.

Bump: that's the reason Sinema won, bigger tits, obvi. needed to recount those puppies. she opens up wider everyday. dogs can even make bitches happy again. embarrassed from the farmer Orson quotes in the New York Times, i set about to lose a few pounds. all my friends are proud of me. i don't exercise so i holed myself in this spiderweb and went on a starvation diet, that's the quickie Hollywood way, i like crash. so don't send up any McDonald's burgers tonight, well okay one, and one can of dirt soda uh diet soda cos diet soda doesn't cause cancer that's fake science---unless it's Taylor Swift Diet Dirt Coke---but it does cause diabetes but i have bone spurs sours in my feet to protect me from diabetes-foot-cutoff. won't get carved like a bumpy Halloween pumpkin down there.

Melania: don't remind me of your dirty coke. and why did you lock me in my room in Paris so i couldn't see anything!? that was supposed to be my Jackie O moment! i can relate to that Tim guy who always sues you, we're both frankensteins! his is more in the forehead and me the face.

Bump: TOO MUCH RAIN!!! too much rain down there. and Macron STOLE MY UMBRELLA!!! yeah yeah, that was MY umbrella but he stole it from my locker, like a swiper fox, just janked it from under me while everyone was gathering for the group photo at the UN for Champs. the Champs is for chumps. what's the point of global water rules? as long as Patchy the Pirate supports me i'm buoyed.

Melania: at least you aren't bouncing off the walls like earlier. what is it that you're wearing? a second change of clothes?

Bump: you can see through to in here? just my Packers Cheesehead hat, don't call me Dutch. yeah those are still my people down there. Plum Boys, right? don't worry, i'll buy them all the Lucky Charms they want, only i can. and no girl over there ever stays missing. don't ever say i don't shape the minds of the youth, the disenfranchised society has thrown away. everyone needs a club. it's the only hat which fits my hair.

Melania: maybe it's time to get out of there and go meet with your friends. go to Moe's. i hate having you stuck in the house all the time.

Bump: i would but nobody wants to play with me. i had a sauna setup but the one guy said he had to get his batteries recharged that night---which is guy code for he's washing his hair. and Wilford Brimley told me like a hot gun to my face when we were hothousing that i was too old. it was the stranger thing, his mustache told me, his mouth never moved. like an angry caterpillar straight from Wikipedia. i saw it all: the wandering waves wafting on the surface of the jacuzzi pool like a celestial startrail, the stucco-balled sides and the mint-green tile floor, the stage was set for something special or even serial, for an apparition to appear.

Melania: your boss?

Bump: no, i was hoping for a naked angel intern chick with a sword or something but it was a naked Jim Acosta wth a microphone whacking me in the balls. that foamhead hurts! microfoam. made me pee coffee. don't ever say i don't protect women. and that i don't know where the camera is at all times. hey can you give me back my twitter phone? i'm gonna get a call soon from my friend.

Melania: your friend?

Bump: yeah, Draymond, he's like family. hi, Draymond, no this isn't about the cheeseburger pizza. well i've been feeling down lately cos i ate that green burger. been trying to get it out of my system but the system's rigged. *points at the phone* hey, yous a bitch!!!

Draymond: what, nigga!!?

Bump: see how it feels?

Draymond: thanks, man.

Bump: *hangs up twitter* oh me oh my, i think i'll stay up here longer still. i do this in remembrance, as a tribute, see i've seen the future, i already know what happens. he was the mentor on all of our sides, not just mine. he was our driving creative force! he got me through my childhood and saved my life! he rogered Mister Rogers. the father of modern mythology. TH is a big word for him. if you didn't self-flagellate before the flag before, he will certainly whip you good till you self-flatulate.

Melania: your mentor? whom could you possibly mean?

Bump: Codrus of course. God is dead!

the crones are preparing for supper. Gladyce happily sets the table happily floating on top of the ocean while Doryce sets up the Vienna sausages. some witches prefer to fly hover just above while others like to keep one half swimming like a dog but the reminder of drowning is too painful for some.

Gladyce: love the everlightburning candles, dear, nice touch in these stormy swells and grey skies.

Doryce: OMG these little hot dogs in the fog are too adorable! too cute to eat! pigs without a blanket i just want to cuddle them and kiss them and give them my blanket to keep them warm, not heat them up inside my mouth and pic them. spread the blanket over the water, pigs will never drown they have wings!

Gladyce: yeah but the water they come in, is it canned water? it tastes like pool.

Doryce: you know Vienna is where man first conceived the atom bomb, man's clumsy attempt at matching a woman's power. where the most delicate Classical music was birthed, keys needed to be slayed by ladyfingers, like Mozart. where the first warlock, Freud, elevated mothers. here Klimt first painted an ass that wasn't him. and where the first Federer came.

Gladyce: sorry, dear, i can't eat another bite. of this crunchy toenail? it's just all these look like dog's toes and i just came from grooming a thousand dog nails, clipping them on a clipper and painting them pink like this shade. they look like dog toes. if you squint, they look like squinting dog toes.

Doryce: okay. well I can't eat another bite of bacon or bacon bits, so what do we do? besides being even.

Gladyce: that's okay, i'm sick of bacon.

Doryce: yeah i'm sick of bacon, too! yay! we're women again! we can be ladies again, not hags! we can be pretty again!

Gladyce: yay! let's make love on top of the sea by matching our vibration to the potential energy of an ocean wave.

at LuSh, Madame Pons is meeting with an important member, big woman on campus:

Madame Pons: hello, Eye Luggage! no need to introduce, you're a big star! i get your podcast at my kitchen. you're a little mini heroine of mine. it's a big sprawling campus that gets lost in the woods, many voices unfortunately.

Eye Luggage: hopefully that's a temporary kitchen. i'm blushing but you didn't notice cos you were no doubt looking at my eyes.

Madame Pons: what can i do you for, superstar?

Eye Luggage: you're a wild witness, right? i read the youtube-comment annotation you left and verified with the matched blogs. let's keep this hush-hush, i have a reputation to maintain. online reputation. take a long look at the barrel of my slim thin silver Harley Quinn hammer here and tell me what you think. gaze at it from the end to the head and let your eyes sparkle with its grace and nobility and savagery.

Madame Pons: oh...…………...oh...……….okay……….now i see what's going on here, no worries your secret is safe with me, i can transform my mouth into a zipped pursebag that's the only spell i've mastered. let's get to work! oh, but first, can you use that hammer to smash this egg here?

Eye Luggage tries with all her might, she gets a running start and pushes down with all her latent strength, but fails. nothing, no crack.

Madame Pons: huh.

Dirg: i am so funny.

Dirg is at the Mansion, in fact he's already jumped the gate without having to jump. he's crawled over it and decides at this moment of triumph to call up his best pal.

Laertus: congrats. you're a webcrawler. but how? i saw google maps, the Mansion is crawling with guards and brown packages. and guards with brown packages. when did you learn parkour online? it's not like pushing a button and making video-game characters do impossible parkour jumps over gators. forcing into questionable territory.

Dirg: oh but it is. my package has a nice tan. i don't do exercise, even cool exercise.

Laertus: are you using those illegal football gloves the wide-receivers use to transform the funny ball into velcro JUST at the moment of catch?

Dirg: fuck the NFL! nope. i'm a superhero now. oh have i got a secret for you! but i'll tell you later.

Laertus: i've got a surprise for you, too, good buddy. you'll see later, too.

Dirg: great, can't wait. spring it on me in autumn.

Laertus: remember, dear Dirg, i'm your mirror, you need me to see yourself through...it's impossible to see yourself...

Dirg crawls up the side of the stone gray-brick mansion, turning each brick his hands and feet touch red in the process of leaving his trail up to the third storey and into the big bay bigass arched window. he enters sleuthly not letting the lilac lithe curtain drape over his head.

MEANWHILE Keya Morgan is coming from downstairs upstairs using the spiral. he passes by the groundfloor room Eye Luggage uses to tape her youtube show. her door is ajar and he can see the glint of purple.

Eye Luggage sits down in the center frame of her study with books in the background, lit library. she pushes the button and her camera rolls:

Eye Luggage: sorry, online fam, for the delay. i was at an important appointment. now where were we...

Keya reaches upstairs with a quickness and locks on Dirg's eyes immediately. Dirg's eyes widen as he gazes on Keya's haircut, focusing on the front, it just misses being an Undercut cos it connects pointedly to the purple triangular eyebrows Keya sports. like fuzzy caterpillars.

Keya: i know you. you're disgusting and derelict in your duties and a disgrace to the cause. alert, intruder. i'll kill you myself, don't touch Master.

on a bed in the corner three rounded floormirrors look down on the person sleeping like a beauty on the outside of its covers. an old man holds a bouquet of pink flowers ansd wears a red sweater.

it's Stan Lee.

eyes closed still wearing his customary glasses. his hands form the Spider-Man thwip-shoot fingerguns which are perfect for holding the flowers like a human vase.

Dirg: OMG! is he?...on drugs?

Keya: the fuck?! you assume he's on drugs instead of dead?! i've NEVER received that reaction, you are a black swan. reception is perception. how could you have possibly known i mean chalk one up for experience, aye? get 'im guards i'm the only guard here, prepare to fall!

Keya lunges and charges but is stopped long when Stan Lee sits up on the bed and speaks.

Stan Lee: *grandfatherly in his radio voice* we all need to exhale in our lives, it cleanses the soul.

Dirg bows and doesn't kick and pulls his portfolio out of his pants.

Dirg: Larry Legend, please take a look at my work. i've worked on it.

Keya: sir don't listen to a lie this man says! i've seen his work, we all have here. i can boot up some of his glorious underpinned undertakings on my Pear Watch right now for you, my legend liege...look! see? here. this is the character we're dealing with you would never draw. at the latest Doctor Who AV Club comment section---those boys known for their commentariat---he leaves a comment "adding to the episode conversation" that is simply a picture of Jodie Whittaker from one of her movies naked topless, and his comment above it:

I don't know what a Whovian is, but nice tits!

Dirg: *gulps* how'd you know that was me!? i left my name and address off the comment box and it registered as blank and anonymous.

Stan Lee: let me get my glasses on...and take a look at your portfolio there, young man.

Stan pulls the papers from out Dirg's grasp. Dirg looks up.

Dirg: *surprised* wait...these aren't my drawings...clearly not my clear linework and pencil prowess. these are…

the three large cream-coclored pages are the artwork of the Thirteenth Doctor crayoned by children with special needs inspired to draw for the first time that were featured on the Doctor Who aftershow.

Stan Lee smiles.

Keya Morgan scowls.

Dirg, wide-eyed and red, is embarrassed for the first time in his life.

















 

notes:

* this is when the season suddenly turns and i wake up each morning at 5:30 bitter breathy dust with chills up my spills. with my foursquare blanket crumpled up in my mouth and my hands continuously frozen with liquid dripping from my cuticles and yet i still forge on and forget i still have to type today...and so i type...as i always type, i will forever type...no matter what...seemingly till the end of time

* Scratched In The Head. not on the head, in the head

* Joy Non-Division: joy gained from bringing everyone together, everyone deserves to have fun

* Joyride Division: Ian Curtis's last ride......into the ether…

* Cobain girl in open plaid shirt: you got the moneygram? direct account from your parents? an Instagram moneygram DM? into your bank account with the push of a button?
guy: yeah, why do you ask?

* girl: got your sunglasses on?
guy: just made it getting them on inside.

* ironically the gas station is quite '60s hipster throwback with the deco neon lights and big triangular shapes that are more bulky than pointy. a very Warhol water closet.

* girl: hey man, got the Corolla all pumped?
third wheel: oh yeah, it's pumped to get out there on the midnight streets with the neon yellow and cause mayhem and havoc.
girl: no but is it filled with gas?
third wheel: i thought gas was dirty to us. this isn't electric? i thought i saw green fumes coming from it.
girl: i'm just gonna say it out front, i like the black dude better than you. not cos he's black, cos he's more fun.
third wheel: this car has three wheels...

* third wheel: BURN RUBBER!
girl: no, dude, we're running, we don't have the car here.
third wheel: i thought we were gonna fly like on a suncloud or something like Goku, cos Corolla equals corona equals sun equals corazon.
girl: as long as it doesn't equal Solara.
guy: here, man, take these pills, will instantly make you forget you're unloved by making you think we're your parents.

* third wheel: why do these dogs hate us?
girl: we fed them the Rachael Ray dog food! run! run, they are pissed!
girl trips over herself and does a wheelie.
girl: my parents are so disappointed in me, they wanted me to be Bruce Jenner.
third wheel: wait...you mean by that...?
girl: in gymnastics.
guy: or in the makeup sense.

* girl: go go go!
guy: can't, the car stalled, it's raining outside.
girl: we've waited so long in this getaway car the dogs' tongues have wiped away all the drops from our shields.

* nurse: stop running in the halls!
hoodlums: sorry. but we have our hall passes.
nurse: are you racing with a wheelchair!?
girl: but i broke my arm. which i did deliberately so i could paint the cast aquamarine like my favorite Pokemon.
nurse: how did you break your arm?
girl: wheelchair-racing.
Nurse Ratched: that wheelchair is needed. your mother is in the other room on our last bed. she's not doing well since you've been born…

* girl: watch this. as i spin, the car spins. i'm like a more evolved form of human.
the Corolla transforms into Bumblebee.
Bumblebee: the focus group said me painted blue would appeal to boys more. why are they making a separate movie about me that'll only remind the public of Bay? and Baymax. and why wasn't i allowed to use my radio voice?

* me: this is like that scene in Skins...
gang: the one on MTV?

* guy: the fuck? what'd you put in my face?
girl: now you know how girls feel when guys do that.
guy: is that a pizza with pineapple on it? subtle. well at least it ain't anchovies.
girl: that's not a pizza, that's my smelly finger. i don't wash my hands when i use the Warhol toilet.

* third wheel: the sign says hot dog but look just below it at the snake. that's really the meat.

* guy: yo, did you bring the masks?
third wheel: yeah but i worked all month with no sleep slaving away at my cosplay atelier. yours are rubber.
girl: now we can ruckus anonymously and the cops will be none the wiser.
third wheel: except you're wearing a raccoon mask which is hard to not spot for its unusualness. i thought this was gonna be a Gatsby theme not a Wind In The Willows theme.
girl: both books banned fom our library until they are Colonialism-Cleansed.
guy: it was gonna be an Eyes Wide Shut theme till you came along early.

* third wheel: look at this closeup of my teeth. notice anything?
girl: they're yellow.
third wheel: no, that's the lighting. they're clean. i brushed my teeth. you know what that means...

* girl: hey take a picture of my cast! so i can post it on instagram and others can write on the pic with their white pens on their screens. that's what comes closest to our generation signing a cast and showing sympathy.

* fourth wheel: is that a Pikachu on your cast? i'm the fourth wheel btw, want to go home?
third wheel: is that a frosted Christmas tree behind you? and why are you dressed as a '60s scientist with glasses?
fourth wheel: that's a meth-lab explosion which crystalized.

* third wheel: got any polish?
girl: we don't polish round these parts, we scratch, we're the new age!
guy: yeah, i'm a dj. everyone on youtube is a dj.
fourth wheel: i got a scratch on my jean jacket, is that woke enough? animal tans and such?
third wheel: no, i meant polish for my teeth.
girl: toothpaste?

* third wheel: HEY i know you! i finally got it! you're that girl from Degrassi, right? the one who went goth but it really was more like '80s New Wave than goth?
fourth wheel: this whole time i thought it was Corolla Hollaback.

* JFK: ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country. hear that, millennials? I am a Millennial!
*the entire country and world cheer for the voting bloc now is all kids under 11 years old, online voting is now allowed*
JFK: before you get too nostalgic, times as they're lived in are never nostalgic always remember that...but anyway realize that if i had not been assassinated: men would still wear stovepipe hats, Bobby would have been President, Marilyn Monroe would have been the First Female President and First Celebrity President. i choose to go to the moon cos i'm too handsome to stay on Earth with all you kids. my charge is to go to the moon and repopulate the Earth there---free from prejudice, poverty, and war---i am the only one handsome enough to do it! i will take my goofy brother Teddy with me on the rocket so he gets used to another mode of transportation besides cars. or cahs as we say.

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happy weekend, my babies. this Thanksgiving choose that Thanksgiving Sandwich from Denny's, that's what i'll be having, meet me there Thursday, i'll be there, i'm the one under the table in the far back with the stained glass lamp heating the oak. smoking. not pot, real smoking, cigarettes, i'm back in my retro '60s groove again. i'm waiting in line early for those pancakes inspired by the Detective Pikachu movie...

riddles make the world go round. and love. and the triumph of the human spirit. to stay locked up inside makeup.

1. who in your life do you wish you'd met sooner? Juli and Cheeky and O Captain My Captain Baranick and My Mother Fucked Mick Jagger and all my old HNT friends, all my blogger buddies who sustained me through the decade and gave me purpose again, after twenty years of doldrums and detergent. i'm not sure blogging saved my life, but writing certainly did.

2. who in your life do you wish you'd never met? why? me. cos it'd be easier that way. but life is hard, that's the point. otherwise, where's the fun in it? i mean you have to earn going to Heaven, right? thing is, it's harder to earn yourself a place in Hell. cos Hell is more fun than Heaven.

there was that time i random-chance met Dick Cheney on the street. he was coming lumbering over the crooked street alone from a lecture at Berkeley in which there was so much security no one came. he held a large bar of soap in his mouth like a dog like the picture above...i guess that was part of his act, he was a props comic like Carrot Top when he got up on that lecture stage. i told him he looked like Wilford Brimley without the mustache. he told me state secrets. like where all the missiles were buried, he had missile props in his pants pockets. how he cultivated MBS in a Pentagon petri dish when he was De-Facto President for the past 20 years. MBS of course is the secret government-tested-in-a-lab new flavor of Ben& Jerry's ice cream: Molten Berry Sizzurp.

3. what personality trait or description that others attribute to you do you hate? that i'm crazy. don't you guys watch Killing Eve? never tell the psychopath she's a psychopath, psychopaths really don't like to hear that about themselves. psychopaths want you to tell them they're cool guys who wear nice fuzzy sweaters even when it's not the holidays.

4. if you have children, do you want them to be just like you? no, that's why i have none. no but seriously, i want some. now, my biological clock is ticking. what legacy will i leave behind? a blog? a fucking blog? that's it? that's what life is: a blog?

5. what have you given up but yet used to love? Froot Loops. can't afford the expensive brand name anymore, so i reach for that generic-brand beige box on the bottom shelf with the nondescript kangaroo on the cover, Sugar Os.

thought experiment: if you're crazy, will you like Froot Loops better? i used to love sex...till i found out there is no sex without love...so now i love love...and don't think about sex no more...i think about love...

bonus: why do people say "heads up" when you should duck?

cos "heads-down" means something completely different. why does duck mean put your head down? duck should mean put your head up and fly away high in the sky like a duck. i will never think of a duck forevermore without thinking of Dick Cheney.

and you can't believe it but it's true: yes, THAT's Christian Fucking Bale as Dick Cheney! i know i know. that's the thing to do in Hollywood now for Oscar-bait: you literally transform yourself into a creature completely unrecognizable to any lagoon but Hefner's to snag that gold statue.

you must turn into Churchill if you're skinny, Freddie Mercury if you don't have long hair or a mustache or skinny white pants and you're a robot. what's next? Zayn from One Direction is gonna play Trump? he will. and he'll win the BAFTA for it, too.

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Mueller's pace is afoot but cautious, he keeps to the roof and hangs with his long fingers on the cornice like a monkey. Melania sticks her head out the Cream House window by turning it 180 degrees.

Melania: sup, bird?

Mueller: where's your husband?

Melania: out.

Mueller: that's for sure. but i'm on the way, out.

Melania: what's the delay? i mean you still need MORE time!!?

Mueller: hey it's Thanksgiving, man i mean ma'am! we need a break for all our hard underground silent work. i gave the troops the day off to spend with their families like Cratchit. we'll return rested and ready Monday with the sealed indictments.

Melania: i believe my husband rolled those up and lit them and he doesn't even smoke. he crumpled them up into a ball and let a seal balance it on its wet whiskery nose.

Mueller: don't be a turkey! THIS is the day for turkey burgers! and it affords me one more chance to up that poll when the public sees me feeding the homeless along Times Square where there is no tree to block me. i'll be there next to the New York Post office with my waders on and bigass wooden ladle in my mittened hand and the other mitten around my neck and no hat with a warm smile lookin' like John Kerry's brother. give Americans a taste of what could have been.

Melania: you know what they serve those poor souls? slop. with tree sap. like it's chicken wings but all the chicken has been stripped off so it's just bones. bones served with a tongs. imagine that Post headline.

Mueller: hey can i do one thing? let me try something.

Melania: knock yourself out. like Avenatti.

Mueller spider-walks the brick wall down to the window and gets in. he takes out a cigarette from his pencil pocket and lights it. the flame is a bright yellow, no hint of orange or red. he takes one puff and it disappears into the air, becoming a green gas instantly.

Melania: that's not enough light in here.

Mueller goes to reach for the light bulb sleeping at the corner of the famous desk. his long arms stretch and see around the corner of the ajar inner door. he rubber-plucks a funny-looking bald man from among the staff meeting and hits said bald head against many on the way out, the press pool looks like a stack of fallen crackers after.

Mueller: Uncle Fester! i knew i recognized you! that was you! we go way back, to the very formation of Transylvania!

Uncle Fester jumps in place.

Mueller places the light bulb squarely in Fester's festering mouth and screws it all the way in. it lights up! Mueller's eyes light up! Melania smiles cos there's light now.

Mueller: *smiling for the first time in a long time* ha.

President Bump is indeed away. in California. he surveys the land. his land. he is the master of all of it. he starts to fly aboard his rake but lowers before the Secret Service can see him. they spot too late anyway. he doesn't want to give away too many secrets just yet. all of the beds of burnt-out crispy leaves stay yellow despite so many wanting to go black.

Bump: yeah it's over now. i made the rain come. before the rains come. i made them fall with my finger, my middle finger, i solved the problem. can i go now?

Pence: stay a bit longer, until i get this selfie.

Bump: it's a cold world out there, we need the fires to come back to warm me up. my toes especially, they are filled with bone. Mike, how'd we get here?

Pence: by car.

Bump: exactly. with no regard for human life.

Pence: what?

Bump: i'm talking about LeBron James. why is the campfire at 90 percent contained? campfires are fun, they bring folk together, by tying their mouths shut with kinky gooey marshmallowy ropes.

Pence: that's Camp Fire, sir.

Bump: hey you tryna undermine my authority? that's why i hate authority. yeah, see, look over there. Miley Cyrus's house. that's what she gets for defying me.

Pence: she just wanted to talk to you, sir. to see if you could pick her brain on how Generation Beta thinks.

Bump: beta leaves a bad taste in my mouth, like that salad i ate last night in bed. she was in Kanye's good graces, right?, his orgy video. i should regulate that stuff. oh, i was thinking picking her up, different pick.

Bump instantly returns to the Cream House longtable through the lilac drape with one flip. "Mile" Mike Pence greets him in a white apron with the hood back and tuggable yellow apronstrings.

Pence: sir! when'd you get back!?

Bump: well it's Thanksgiving so i made sure to stay away from family. don't you know i'm a ninja? i ate that green burger from Burger King and it turned me into a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. i like it cos the shell hides my fatness.

Pence: but sir, i was getting ready to grill you up some green burgers of my own! Oprah owns OWN. with romaine lettuce inbetween the buns.

Bump: hey the Romans had it right! but you're the cooker now? where's Mooch?

Pence: who's that?

Bump: hey don't YOU go gaslight ME, okay, I'M the Master Gaslighter round here. the lighting's just fine in this room, okay?! what are you doing in front of my shoulders, Mike?

Mike: preparing is all in the cut wrists. muscular wrists. i'm cutting your salad into little pieces the way you like it. into shapes of stars.

Bump: as long as you include Michelle Wolf. wolf-shaped. that's all fake science, i am man enough to combat E Coli. my intestines will flush out the intruders and squeeze the life out of that cakey centipede till it becomes a shell of itself, like Eli. can you believe i once rooted for the Giants? even after they booed me which is a cheer in New York?

Mike: i like the NFL team from Mississippi myself.

Bump: this won't stop me from eating lettuce, i love salad, salad's all a fat man like me's got! salad sprinkled with salt. i mean i had some of that same romaine last night and i'm fine now. though i should probably sit down and poo some more just to be safe. admittedly i jump every time a burp comes up, i'm scared shitless to death that it's gonna be more. i can't be sick right now, i've got a lot to do! it should be fine, right? i mean how long will this moratorium on mud minerals go on? forever? indefinitely? so humans will stop eating salad forever? what are they gonna serve at all the Thanksgivings? just the plain white light-green lettuce?

Pence: iceberg lettuce, like found in your precious Big Macs, your McDonald's is safe.

Bump: the iceberg lettuces are not melting. shit now i'm paranoid. i don't know what to do, this is driving me crazy, this cuts into my very life and existence. what if i just drown out all the lettuce leaves with Russian dressing? i should be okay, right? my stomach's too big to fail.

Pence: here's something to distract your mind and palate, sir, which is really what America is all about. a plate! let's end with the appetizers. here's a nice grey Mexican Aztec-stone mortar full of chips.

Bump: ah, in commemoration of El Chapo. no more salsa for him.

Bump takes a crunchy bite of his lettuce burger, a dollop of a mixture of Caesar dressing and mayonnaise resting on the right side of his lip where his mustache should be. he reaches with his rubber arms all the way to the other end of the empty table to turn the small black-n-white tv over to the side of his direction so he can watch the game. he chomps down on yellow freedom fries as a chaser.

Bump: ah, this is the life, this is living, watching the greatest regular-season football game ever at the greatest spot ever, Azteca Stadium in Mexico City. as a sports spectacle it doesn't get any better than this, i love the NFL, and i love my native Mexico. *closes his eyes in prayer* home of the Catholic religion, the real Catholics. more poo, less vomit. in the stands and that's my motto tonight as i sleep.

downstairs in Stan Lee's mansion are the guest quarters, where a very special select few of Stan's menagerie are chosen to partake in this lavish lifestyle of comic-book learning and erudite education of animation and the animating factors of humanity. no animus here, all in a collegial setting at a college. PhD-in-pop-culture candidates, toy shills, lucky online entrepreneurs (as in they got lucky to become online entrepreneurs by some quirk in how youtube counts views), finicky freshmen, advanced sophomores, anyone looking for a leg or web up, financial-aid sob stories, and people willing to forget the stuff they see happening here in front of their eyes. for the greater good. to bring the community and by extension the country together again. Stan's Stans they are informally called---though Stan Lee himself hates that moniker, he doesn't understand it---and one of these is none other than Eye Luggage herself, she prepares as she always does for her weekly discussion webshow.

MEANWHILE just inches from here directly upstairs on the third storey is the gift shoppe, where one Laertus is roaming the four corners aimlessly ears occupied waiting for a pickup from his friend.

Laertus: it's weird that you can purchase a meal at the gift shoppe. and that the gift shoppe isn't on the ground floor it's on the same floor as the bedroom, isn't this a private residence?

Dirg: *on the phone* hang tight, buddy, i'm currently getting grilled but i'll get out of this jam as always.

Eye Luggage moves the heavy ball-and-chain microphone to her pert purple lips and spits on it to begin speaking.

Eye Luggage: whoa whoa did i plug it in? okay. let's get started, i'm hearing a hum. so, intial thoughts? oh, we got a call. this is my new old coiled telephone i got from my grandfather who's a veteran. you see that on cam? dusty-green like his torn uniform, he died in battle. drowned while eating salad. some say he became Aquaman that day. huh, the caller is saying...what? i can't read his type...

Dirg: *texting under a table* the troops are jerks. and EVERYONE's grandfather was a veteran, it's no big deal.

Eye Luggage: but mine was a vet and a vet. who is this? i recognize the pattern. it sounds like someone i want to forget so i'm trying real hard not to remember too well. which is not how the brain works, the more you try, the harder it is to forget. your opening statement?

Dirg: Tosin Cole is a shit actor.

Laertus: come on, man, even I heard that from here. and leave that poor girl alone.

Dirg: what are you wearing? i mean eating?

Laertus: you mean earring. i purchased the lettuce in the paper cone like my namesake. actually, e-celery sticks but they still maintain those small dark-green leaves of romaine on their tops.

Dirg: excellent. no, it's true, sorry Tosin, yous a tosser, it's not cos he's black, not about his last name, he's just whack at drama. it was an interesting concept but what a muddled message for the ending. i mean you had that poor girl Kira dying for nothing and no one gives a shit, not even Social Justice Warrior Princess Xena herself. why is it always the good ones who leave us?

Laertus: not nothing, she died for love, that is always something, we should all be so lucky.

Bump: yeah, see? sometimes you have to take the hit, one life must be lost to save the whole ball of wax, like Khashoggi. just gotta fuhgeddaboutit and move on, they're already dead, there's nothing more you can do for them. i gotta go, i'm starting to sweat strangely.

Eye Luggage: um, i guess we have to allow this line to stay open for SS emergencies but it just got weird here. oh good, the President left the chat. Resident Something i couldn't read it. okay, caller, i'm hanging up. no, not you.

Dirg pounds his fist on the nightstand by Stan Lee's bed. Stan's stand.

Dirg: Disney will not outlast Stan Lee! i say there ARE times when mass murder is justified! when you have a righteous cause, a crusade against technological evil, they will not replace us! the robots i mean.

Eye Luggage: so why does Joe Rogan get to philosophize about everything? you know? what made him the expert on EVERYTHING IN LIFE? it was bad enough when he was bad at analyzing the most disgusting sport men ever devised, and this is coming from a cock lover. the chicken fights i railed against on my previous blog for two years when i freelanced in Mexico City. but kickboxing is banana-republic stuff.

Dirg: hey, women kickbox, too.

Laertus: lesbian, bi, from Kansas, and Native American, she is the REAL American: my dry dream.

Dirg: i love my kickboxing Banana Republic longboard shorts, wear them often, i am from the streets, not when i'm walking down the street mind you i prefer there to Donald Duck and Winnie the Pooh it...

Eye Luggage: only if the women are hot. they only do it cos we have to flood the zone whenever you braindead men do anything, to keep it under control. civilization is always one penis away from totally unraveling. like how does Joe Rogan of all global Earth scholars on this planet slurp the keys to the kingdom, the reins, and can spit off on how to live your best life the meathead way or whatever? spit his "lit" shit on how sport transcends Transcendentalism. there's more to life than pop culture and getting your name on any of the various gawker sites you know, even the one on cars. how not to be offended by anything, even murder and rape and violence and blood? i know, everything's a joke, right? i guess only another bad comedian can understand a bad comedian. for fuck sake this guy used to get paid to force people to eat shit like infected romaine lettuce against their will.

Dirg: hey, as we are all hurting from currently, what is said on tv is fair. you're just jealous ol' Joe has a bigger...radio show than you.

Eye Luggage: it's not about numbers, it's never about numbers, it's about share. come on, girls, let me hear you, let's get those phones ringing, no more penis pontificators, eh? more princess pronouncestigators!

Dirg: let's get those phones ringing in your pantses!

some lights light up but it's unclear what that signifies.

Eye Luggage: well, dearie ones, another pass has come and i must retire. for the day for the day. i've got my partner beauty sleep to attend. think of me tonight as you sleep and the big blue sphere enters the orbit of your eye.

Dirg: speaking of passing and retiring, what is up with Durant?

Laertus: i know, right? he's breaking every pro-athlete rule. you NEVER engage with your audience, there are stans in those fans, that's troll city right there, i should know, i saw the keys.

Bump: hey Durant, want to come to my party?

Durant: pizza party again?

Bump: no, my pox party. you can die if you don't come to my party...

Dirg: yeah but the thing is, Kevin's alright. i mean he's fun, he actually talks to random fans online, the smart athlete is the boring athlete. we want to brawl with the best.

Eye Luggage: i think there's something we three can all agree on---and thanks for calling in today, you two callers---and that is the fact that Emma from Jeopardy! with the lilac lyrical elven-maiden voice is EVERYTHING.

Laertus: she's my number-one elf, girl, woman, and fantasy character from a fantasy book. my faerie of flowers. i mean was she BORN with that voice? i know good acting and that's good acting if it's acting. my heart swells that she must get teased mercilessly at private school but maintains that voice cos Odin-dammit she's smart and she's gonna get to that public school someday with the money she earns! *pounds fist on air*

Dirg: plays should be written about her...no, TV-MOVIES should be made which feature her! she should never dress in a business suit again, only casual silks and tutus. it's finally happened, someone attending a con who doesn't need to cosplay, she need only paint her face to point to her mouth to showcase it. she's the Sia of Dragonforce! she should be the bride prize for every con where they do that stupid dating-game panel for losers henceforth, her voice shuld be utilized in every video game ever, all the CS Lewis ones, maybe the Tolkien ones. she should deliberately get lost in the forest and let the pale ones out of their cages so they can capture her at night if they ever find her. she should not have to hold her staff. if they make fun of her, we should be given permission to start a race war, elves vs. humans i mean. to protect the honor of the light lady.

Laertus: do NOT ruin her voice by letting her do ASMR. or Disney princesses. she should narrate Tetris, make that game more fun.

Eye Luggage: yes, absolutely, agree with every one of your points, i'm cosplaying as her at the next Anthro Con in Seattle. it's not a nerd thing, it's a nature thing. adieu. no aftershow tonight.

Laertus doubles over in pain and clenches his heaved waist.

Dirg: what's up, buddy bird? lovesick?

Laertus: *struggling* no...…………..just sick of YOU.....

Dirg: okay, brothers, i gotta go, i have a call on my other line, thanks for watching and waiting.

Dirg stands buttfaced across from Stan Lee and Keya Morgan who have waited patiently throughout. Keya taps his watchface.

Keya: The Master doesn't have all day, moron! ask him, sir, ask him!!! he's on the shit list!

Stan: wait, give the boy a chance. i'm all for chances. and seconds. so, are you registered at this school? i can only help you if we know you're for us. you don't want to meet my lawyers, they're real assholes. like getting a stomach virus from drinking.

Dirg: *red* well...not exactly...but i will resign.

Keya: see?

Dirg: no, re-sign, not resign, i will reenroll. cos it's you, Mr. Stan Lee, for the first time in my life i'll have a real pro. professor that is. i want to learn. again. i'm like a sponge under your mustache. to collect the bits.

Keya: don't talk to sir that way!

Stan: it's quite alright, i've heard worse. do you know what a catharsis is, young fella?

Dirg: depends.

Stan: i wear those. a catharsis---not a catheter---is what this is all about. at the end of the day and one's life, all we have is our character, our kindness. i'm a legend not for anything i drew but for my kindness. people won't remember the lines of a thought bubble but they will remember how you made them feel when they waited in line in the rain for an autographed web sticker to place on their skateboard bed. missing their own bed for it. you have to draw what's in your heart, son, the scary bits you keep hidden and want no one to find out about, because only then will you be drawing truth. i had dreams, too, but they all got dashed before they could materialize again in the transporter, that was not the dust i was expecting. but i still have hope, you must always have hope. no matter how old you get.

Dirg: come on, Stan, why must only the few get a charmed life? why can't the farmers, too? enough with all the socialist shills and crackpot communists who infect the Marvel boards with their DC values. we need to get back to real values, rural values, you know, morals and stuff. true uninhibited art which proudly expresses the manly point of view. that's what's really in our hearts: freedom. us real Americans, as all-American as the red white and blue of the Spider-Suit. guns, naked women, beer, and kicking.

Keya: *eye-roll* naked women? come on.

Dirg: hey i saw your stuff, too. that Marilyn Monroe erotica? those illustrations of yours in your signature lead where Marilyn is laying naked parallel to a supine prone Bigfoot on a moonlit pond's edge?

Keya: *flustered* that's for something else. sir, you said after five years of service, which is more than undergrad, i could finally show you my stuff. not my stiff. i held to that promise, my end. of the bargain, not my butt. it's a play i've been working on since i became a collector. you know the one: the one which posits that Marilyn Monroe was actually the greatest actor of her generation, how she acted the part of Lincoln's assassin, everyone else in the world thought she was John Wilkes Booth when they saw that man before them. see, no subpar actor would be that concise and heartfelt with words in writing their regret letter like Booth did. when you realize you can't ever go back, that is truly a scary thing. witnesses still don't know if Booth was killed in self-defense or cold-blooded murder. they don't know if Marilyn Monroe killed herself or was murdered. see the connection?

Stan: yes, i know, you've been telling me. all these years. but i'm still confused. cos why would Marilyn do this? and you say this story does NOT use a time machine?

Keya: no, it's just good acting on Marilyn's part. this is not a séance, this is a documentary on The History Channel. see, poor Marilyn just didn't have the strength to go on with her glamorous career and stylish bombshell life and all that sex when she got back, cos she had been shot by Booth's killer. all that ragdoll sex can be tiring on a wounded body. so she lay on her bed and looked up at her stucco ceiling and perished.

Keya leaves just to the shadow wedge outside Stan's door. Keya turns his back and slides in two illicit pill capsules from his front shirtpocket---gained on the hard campus streets---into two blue teacups of tea which he rightawayingly serves to Stan on a tray which rightly turns gold. just before, Keya takes a sip of the tea himself.

Keya: ta.

Stan swipes at the tea and the two cups invert and spill their contents on the brown rug. tray of contents, the menu. Keya gets on all fours and like a dog frenetically laps up all the missing tea before it blends into the many carpets on the floor.

Stan: no, not tea! who do you think i am?

Dirg: yeah he ain't British!

Keya: *bowing his head* no, i merely thought you sophisticated, sir.

Stan: i'm not old that i have to drink tea!

Dirg stays in his chair looking on Keya's actions quite spectacularly, silently, Dirg takes copious notes on his pad. or perhaps he's started a new sketch on that pad.

the crones have landed in Micronesia cos that was the only place Gladyce could find with her glasses.

Doryce: so this has been a horrible outbreak. a perilous punitive pandemic. don't you think we oughta fix it? after all i think we caused it.

Gladyce: sure. that sounds right. just lemme do something first. *fingering in the air* fog dogs and dog toes, toil and trouble...

Gladyce removes ALL of the green chip clips which had been holding together ALL of the hundreds of bags of dog treats they had been clipping and storing on their clipper. all the dogs from all around the world come swimming in to lap up the last wave of treats. a least a million treats are soaked in the ocean, some float.

Gladyce: see what happens when you have space? when you can see? we have ALL of these clips free now. we kept buying more clips at the Store for no reason. now we'll make man and beast happy.

Doryce: and machine.

Gladyce plants all the green chip clips in a soft spot of soil on one of the islands. fresh, bacteria-free sprouts sprout up, a different shade of green---more tea-green, Dartmouth green, Pakistan green--- which she distributes all over the globe with her finger cos it's hard for cruise ships to get to Micronesia.

Madame Pons holds the coiled coil of her phone around her neck in desperate desolation.

Madame Pons: i just don't know anymore. this hurts, imma hold the coil in my palm with the receiver instead, anyway, i can't believe i'm doing this. but for the first time in my life i'm canceling Thanksgiving with my sister. i am swamped with work and the swamp of my own vagina, well with figuring this egg out anyway. and i think subsconsciously i've lost touch with my sister for awhile now. either we're not connecting or i'm not seeing. as much in touch. i don't feel wanted anymore, i feel needed. this is such a shame, but a consequence of growing is sometimes the apart part. i feel my sister is taking advantage of my graces. or maybe i'm jealous of being alone for the holidays. but I was the one who helped her find love! that dude was mine first! i gotta work.

she tearfully moves the retro phone handset to her lips. and speaks into it. she dials on the rotary with her finger. it's unclear if she's using her green Ericofon to call her sister or to cancel the reservation. but the reception is clear.

notes:

* i'm doing this instead of experiencing Macy's Black Friday at a Macy's. Black Friday was rained out today...i live in California.

* the Macy's's in the commercials are always nicer than the Macy's's in real life. not to throw shade or nothing but the trees at my Macy's are brown...but they still provide shade just the same so...it's okay.

* woman: i look like Monica Lewinsky. isn't it TIME? i mean, come on, let's all move on, this is the one thing from the '90s we DON'T want back, we all watched the A&E special. let's get this look back to Parisian-chic where it belongs. have you noticed no one ever actually eats breakfast at Tiffany's? and btw, why do i spritz the perfume on my front wrist like this? when did that tradition start?
counter girl: suicide-prevention thing. late '70s, first sighted at a The Good Earth restaurant in Fresno. also where the first furry con happened. yeah, at the old Oakland A's stadium by that dude's farm's green creek, the first furry con wasn't filmed...

* man: my Spidey-sense is working overtime...i have my Spider-Man pajamas when i was a little kid still on under my Tommy John underwear and business sweater.

* woman sneaks in on him with snow in her mittens.
man: see one you like?
woman: what? how?
man: this dog is a Golden retriever.
woman: wait, how? like that's impossible for you to know. why'd you let the dog go?
man: he was telling me he really hated this job and was too young for this and to be tied down like this...to the job and the leash...and just wanted to run on the beach before his puppy days ran out. i took no offense. see one you like?
woman: maybe that one.
man: sorry. this lot is not a lot. it's simply the forest, we're in the middle of a forest clearing and none of these trees are for sale. they're just here for us to see and enjoy. nature: don't mess with it like men do.
woman: this should have been a bigger snowball, like that one that Jets player threw at the fans.
man: why exactly do you still root for the Jets? at least my Giants are sometimes good. why are we together again?
woman: you had a cute butt, you reminded me of the Butt Fumble.
man: cute butt, that is so '90s. hey i'm a cool guy and all but i'm jus' sayin', most guys wouldn't like their ladies walking around and sneaking around and steppin' out with white stuff in the palm of their hands.

* man: you're back.
woman: how do you do that?
man: what's with the red bags?
woman: Macy's.
man: but why are there seven red bags? i was listening to music on my headphones.
woman: exactly. you are impossible!
man: they're Beats by Dre. they're Aaron Rodgers's favorite, so. yeah, they don't work. i didn't get into Cal like Aaron did so that forever makes me hate the two coasts.
woman: brah, how was he supposed to answer such a clown question?
man: folks, look at my pretty woman and not my eyes.
woman: as you can see, we got the tree anyway...illegal lumberjacking...

* woman: honey, what happened to all my perfume?
man: drank it. and melted the diamond glass bottle for spare parts and recycled arcade tokens.
woman: next time ask me. i don't like to be reminded of all the empty vessels in this house.
man: OMG this orange juice tastes like shit!!! it's all vinegary!!!

* counter girl: here, sir, like this?
man: i LOVE this smell, it smells like my wife's cooch. i mean couch. are you Asian?
counter girl: yes. but hot Asian so it's okay. i have green eyes.
man: i just don't want to get ripped off.
counter girl: i'm not the Car Fox. not all Asians are into furry anime tropes.
man: it's just that this smells awfully familiar like Blue-Flavored Otter Pop. do you perchance partake in the writing novelizations of Steve Martin? who's known as a book author?
counter girl: the guy with the arrow stuck through his head?
man: don't tell my wife about this...

* woman: how did you know this was my favorite perfume?
man: a woman's favorite perfume is always the most expensive one on the diamond glass shelf.
woman: that's sweet, a hug...……………..you can let go of me now.
man: just one more sniff of the back of your neck...………..this isn't creepy, i'm blind.
woman: okay but it still is kinda shuddersome and unpleasant.

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happy weekend, my babies. yeah, i'm with the Amazon strikers, imma just walk out on the third-busiest day of the business year. and go to a brick-and-mortar and buy my shit there. Small-Business Saturday, right? cwoissant. does anyone even do that, though? i mean you're either gonna shop at a small business or you're not the rest of your life, right? this entire whole holiday week is nuts. the Amazon workers ain't stupid, they're sophisticated, they watch high-brow sci-fi like the rest of us, they saw that Doctor Who epsidoe "Kerblam!" and want New York City to return to when it was cool in the '70s with the porn theatres and soda stains everywhere. can you believe that was the first Doctor Who episode with an exclamation point? <---question mark to exclaim my point

it was always so special cos you never knew what you were gonna get: sometimes the Garfield would be color, sometimes black-and-white. and Drabble, never forget the brilliance of Drabble. Drabble got this tennishead into golf. and made me take a second look at Jon Arbuckle. as a design for a man, the nose and everything, big head caused by having his beltbuckle cinched-up too tight. now when i talk to kids they don't even know what paper is. i have no kids of my own, so i bother my weird uncle's kids on the phone. they each live out-of-state. and out-of-country. and out-of-world.

these are gonna be awkward to answer...but i'll do 'em anyway. i don't do long...

1. if married, had you slept with any of your wedding guests not including the person you married? how many of the guests had you slept with?

weddings are always tricky affairs, wink wink. you gotta bring together and handle with hot glue two differing groups of people, folk on either side of the love spectrum, not willing to give the other side a chance, thinking their guy or gal is too good for you, without it turning into warring factions and devolving into a nuclear holocaust. at least for those 30 minutes of the ceremony.

i remember my wedding...i think. it rained the whole time, right? some thought that lucky, others unlucky. Alanis wrote a song about it.

i remember my weird uncle slept with my newly-minted wife's sister...that's when the weird moniker got attached to him the first time. i think i married the wrong woman, yeah the priest asked for the mother of the bride to come up to the ivory steps and say a few words and i thought this was the ceremony starting and i wed the mother instead. i was really out of it that day. good news is the in-law visits are never awkward.

2. weddings again---ever gone to a wedding and hooked up with another guest? yes. but it's okay cos it was a wedding i crashed. that was back in those days when i drank a lot of champagne for some reason and still thought Ashton Kutcher was cool.

3. do you get along with your partner's family? why or why not? Yoshi's family have been nothing but kind to me, i love them as my own. it's more than tradition with them, it's trust. they let me sit on their egg and everything. from now on, all music commemorating any of our family functions will be honored with Utada and enka. Utada, i didn't know till now, god bless you.

4. who in  your romantic relationship is usually the first to apologize after a fight? oh wait...……...long-distance doesn't necessarily mean long-term relationship...…i was wrong about this and i am sorry, i got confused…….I LOVE YOU, BABY!!!, she knows who she is...

5. when was the last time you dreamed about your partner? was it a good dream or a nightmare? i'm dreaming of him right now...………….after many centuries of meditation i've mastered the secret technique of never having to sleep again...……….you see i simply LUCID DREAM FOREVER....i'm constantly in that state------it's like a spiritual enlightenment in which i never close my eyes...….

my partner is Freddy Krueger so it's both.

bonus: do you think that fate or destiny play a role in love? no. it's all very scientific, cos the universe and the stars are scientific. the folk in the Middle Ages had the right idea, and they were forethinkers when it came to science. those weren't witch-dunkers you saw by those boggy ponds by the thatched roofs, those were the first prototypes for seesaws. you know bobbing for apples? well they'd take the apple, skin it alive, and leave the skin---the red apple rind. you place the long curly apple rind over the back of the woman's bare shoulderblade. it was hard to see cos all women back then had long hair. the natural apple string will point to the lucky bloke the maiden is to marry. backwards, cos all the villagers are staring at her butt. even Alan Cumming.

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Stan Lee: *spiritedly* please, son, no more swear words, my grandfatherly ears haven't the wax nor hair enough to take it on the tender skin.

Keya's eyelids are holding too much salty water and about to break but he helps the old codger up by the reinforced leather elbowpads of Stan's maroon smoking jacket. Stan blows a kiss in his general direction imitating a cigar which Stan never smoked. Keya fixes the affixed paper rose on Stan's laminated lapel.

Stan: cry, son, cry. let it all out. there is nothing more beautiful and more human than crying. what a wonder crying is! i mean you just start turning red and bustin' out with fucking water dripping from your eyeholes and noseholes, it's a bit alien! let that dam break, we all return to cradles and boughs.

Keya: thank you for the second, well third, chance, sir.

Dirg builds up his potential energy by swinging his forearm in a circle till it becomes an invisible Flash and just plants his dress-shoed foot on one of Stan's many carpets and just WALLOPS THE FUCK out of Keya's face, smashing it into billions of pieces of wet clay and tooths. the poor dude goes flying out the window with a crashing glassing sound even though there is no window on the high arched rectangle. he tries to hang on and shoot something from his cut wrists but they aren't developed yet and Keya can only shoot spit on the way down to his doom. landing in a trash bin which converts anything to a dry recycling product cube and tranforms like Bumblebee into a black rolling cart with 4x4 tires that tho black is still Autobot and gets transferred to the nearest recycling plant in the center of the sea on a conveyor belt in the vast Asian sea.

Dirg: see i don't trust recycling, it all has to go through China. never liked the name Autobot, auto implies automatic responses, like it's communistic, without thinking for oneself.

Stan: what the fuck, son. that nice boy was just about to tell me how he had taken care of me all these years…

Dirg: it was a gaslight, sir. he was just using you to further his career. to sell his script.

Stan: he kept telling me not to trust the woman...

Dirg: women are good at being nurses in porn but not in real life. and especially not YOUR nurses. those were obvious set-ups and clearly certain scams. and honeypots. and just plain honeys. i wonder how those women feel about what they did to you now? so close. I am your Full-Time Boy now! count on me for anything. ask me anything, not in the reddit way, in the way that i shall serve your every need.

Stan: every? i'm so old i don't care anymore. faces change but my place remains the same.

Dirg: Keya was feeding you drugs in your tea to keep you down. so he could have a hold on you till you'd owe him your debt and your death. you'd have to agree to sign on the dotted line before your eyes went dotty like a thought balloon. but not even deliberate drugging could keep down the spirit of your Force and your general cheery attitude about people. you trust too much, so that is why i know you can trust me on this.

Stan: maybe i'm being selfish...yeah has to...i'm just a selfish dottery old man who has been an old man even when i was young...always with the simple view on life...i'm never satisfied despite everything...i've been lucky, so lucky, too lucky...but...well...will you help an old man fulfill his final fantasy?

Dirg: *making weird hand gestures* i'd do anything fo' you, pops. i mean pop. fo sho. even give up my life. as a nerd. you're my father. thank you, sensei......so uh does this mean i can clear all the other applications off the glowing green screen of your old-skool computer?

Stan: who's there? other people applied?

Dirg: just Bill Maher…they cancelled his show again...

Eye Luggage: hello everypony! i hope you slept non-drug-induced well. this long holiday weekend. Thanksgiving is the worst, right? you're forced to cramp in and fit in like sardines with these strangers you've never met in your life! these strangers called family! you have nothing in common with these people the DNA tests must be wrong! i mean what are you supposed to say to them? of course your life sucks and there are no updates! your carefully-constructed cartoon schedule is suddenly upended in favor of some strange communal meal that starts at 3PM, no other meal will ever start at 3PM again! even anime wolves have the courtesy to eat the anime foxes on time! and in some cases some of my poor brothers and sisters and thirds listeners have sardines instead of turkey! no thirds nor seconds!

Laertus: romaine calm and carrot on. *he eats a carrot like Bugs Bunny* i've entered the chat. on the food front.

Eye Luggage: i trust all of my followers out there got a good dose of my livestream during the ENTIRE Thanksgiving weekend to give you a little bit of me to keep you warm like a glowing flatscreen. little bit of home, your e-home. a little excuse bathroom break you know, to stay plugged in to your real family during those awkward pauses and trying times. when you're trying to throw up.

Dirg: yeah what was that? my imagination ran the gamut of rampant tryna come up with it. it was you and your cute face and cute freckles popping out of a wedge of your huge blue fuzzy weighted blanket. but the viewing screen was a wedge, too, it was just this little sliver of lifecasting livestream that barely covered a column vertical. and every so often around noon and lunch and 45-minute intervals you'd smile and giggle and moan and an oddly-shaped hammerstick would rise the blanket like a teepee and go back down and you'd gasp with your eyes closed.

Eye Luggage: oh that was my Harley hammer under there. but it's not what you think. that blanket was covered in lice. had to poop under there.

Dirg: are you sure that wasn't your elbow-padded elbow that looked like it was armor-crested by a valkyrie?

Eye Luggage: today we have very special guests, in an effort to draw more viewers to my totals...

Dirg: you mean black voters. the urban collection. the UPN conglomerate cohort. and some woke WB whiteys in tightie-whities. to boost your sagging ratings with falsies.

Eye Luggage: ...my show will feature those with black features. my soul sistas! i'm so excited, finally my webber is cool! we've even...yes as you can see here. hear here...it's being rolled out right now like a wedge of cheese, thanks Jerome...

Jerome Corsi: part of my labor...

Eye Luggage: the famous and infamous Red Table all those cool black chicks gab on with their famous Hollywood friends on tv on bout the lesbian skinny REAL real talk when it comes to love and family and marriage. i can't get enough of this shit, it's the hot shit, and it's what keeps my troubled fragmented millennial mind wired to some good old-fashioned ancient spiritual wisdom from my Nubian princesses straight from the Homeland Hinterland Herself, Africa!

Dirg: this is hot shit! come on, you have Will Smith's wife here. she's not even anything spiritual, she's a Scientologist, that was the first cult in Medieval times, you know alchemy? anime, anyone? they even admit out loud that they're the Proud Illuminati. though i will say their headquarters are very filmic, bigass cracklin' neon letters to the sign with a S and a Y for psi on top of the Marriott Hotel where they filmed all the '30s movies. what happened to that dude's wife? Leah Remini wants to play her in the tv-movie.

Eye: hello, Jada. excuse the mess in the studio, just move the books from the background, Jerome, like you had to do with your show. make sure the red table fits in and replaces our old newsdesk. that's it. looks great up in here. how have you been? how's Will in his slim-fit pants? and your will? and the kids?

Dirg: the kids are ruining Pokémon.

Eye: your show is the best, so fresh and honest and unblinking, you get down to the nittygritty about life, you even talk about black depression, and you don't let Will off the hook at a wedding!

Jada: spit fire ho, welcome. i'm praying for you, EL. just feel it's time to talk. talk prevents wars, within families, which lead to wars. and misunderstandings. oh those motherfucking misunderstandings, they can last a lifetime.

Dirg: everyone and everything is misunderstood. but each side is too proud to admit it. your auditing is cool, unlike the stupid IRS.

Jada: that's why i'm brutally honest with my kids at the table, no peas but graphic depictions of me and Will's sex positions. i want them to learn about life, how it really be. we talk about my movie career and how i had better green lyrics than most California rappers but was not given my chance to shine on tape and how 2Pac was better in bed as a Hologram.

Dirg: speaking of hot shit, damn girl, you my chocolate sister! you hot fudge! what is your name, sweeties? you look like those bus-tour college students in Alabama with long skirts and even longer books who stopped giving a shit in the '60s. with butterflies in your hair and nets over your eyes in the Deep South.

Aisha Moodie-Mills: don't talk to me, i'm moody. i am wise beyond my years which i will not divulge my age and i make many cogent points but my smile is shy and i do it in a quiet coy catlike voice.

Dirg: break rye bread. i know, that's what makes yous sexy!!! you're black goth! your husband is a lucky man, does he have an instagram? i can get into your bed okay i can get into this show now, for manufacturing jobs! *Dirg raises the black-power fist* who else you got here guesting? Robin Roberts with the name that rolls off the tongue in a nest, with balls the size of robins-eggs, you are brave and ballsy and inspired me to truth, say what you said to that fake republican again, it was hilarious!

Robin: Omarosa legally changed her name at the courthouse to Felicia cos she wanted the rights and the royalties so she could be royalty to get paid on B.E.T. everytime that name appeared on a tv line. i talked her out of it cos Omarosa is such a distinguishing beautiful African princess native name. she's royally comed around.

Eye: and we welcome Mia Love, who got no love from the President. see, we're bothsidesism here, too. all that matters is that you're cool, so what happened with your race, Mia?

Mia: my political race, right?

Dirg: it was right. but you aren't appreciating the President's calculus. he sees that one thing about you and runs with it, regardless of party or named party. he's a maverick thinker. btw i know i say this to every woman i meet and encounter, but with your name you really should go into porn. or at least women's wrestling, which is a separate thing from men's wrestling, one is fake.

Eye: oh, here we go again, i can't block him for security reasons. the President has entered the chat. Mia Love has left the chat.

Bump: leftist. okay folks, country, i did it, i dared and you can eat romaine lettuce again like a man. i put out the fires myself, i went to each coast, the top and bottom of California…

Eye: you ruined all of our Thanksgivings!!! when it finally rains it rains on Thanksgiving?! come on! and then it rains again a second time on Black Friday!? that can't be a coincidence.

Bump: it's not good to buy too may things, that leads to consumerism and a bad economy. besides, the only water which matters came out of my penis, i watered down all the lettuce on the central coast and purified the romaine with my magic yellow pee. i made sure to save this precious water for that instead of the fires. and then i took a joint-shit with Adam Schiff into the soil ground of the largest lettuce farm in the world in the largest doublewide outhouse in the world which helped heal the rows more. see? bipartisanship. i shaked each farmer's hand afterwards.

Mueller: hi. hi, guys. what are you doing to me, guys?

Corsi: this is for sending those Mexican actors to the border of my courthouse location at my trial-set date to razz on me like i was a comedian or something. Honduran hecklers. they interviewed some dirty kid named Tres Leches holding up a sign saying Coming To America, You Old Fuddy-Duddy! i took it to mean he thought i was a Neil Diamond fan.

Mueller: those were some classic NYC signs.

Corsi: i'm a coarse negotiator. and a shrewd liar. anyone can write a book, just rub off the section. hi hi! there are no standards to publishing anymore, the printing press was a miracle but it's since lost its keys. it's called self-publishing, bitch! it's good that you thugs picked me up, it's good for my image and my listeners to have that Kenyan vase you broke over my head in anger for the back-out.

Mueller: i should have known better. never call to the carpet of my office a self-incriminating and lazy witness who has his own radio show, he's just gonna go back to that damn radio show and blab his fat gut and spill the beans he knows are Mexican and shouldn't spill cos they'll jump at ya. does a sealed indictment mean nothing to you? you're not supposed to talk about it, talkie! learn from my weird mouth! so much time, so many still hours, the case was airtight till you let the air outta the thought balloon! this ain't the latest sportsball game score, airhead, puck you! i burned your book at a university, we had an office party to relieve all the shouting tension.

Eye: okay, friends, that's it, make sure to take your rolled-up brown headband in your totebags by your waxed legs i left for you as gifts, not a Judge Judy loan. don't worry, there's a blacklight in there but no blackfishing line. ugh, those instagram influencers, amirite? all night long, is it lunch already?

Dirg: *his hands clasped in prayer and bowing with eyes shut* meet me in the Panther's Cage after the aftershow, my Dora Milaje.

Laertus: it's like Dennis Perkins from AV Club being called out by that latest Simpsons episode about tv-recappers.

Dirg: that was classic and brutal. his headline read The Simpsons Made Me Kill Myself. his review wasn't at all about the episode or if the drama was earned, but a kind of note to his doctor. he really reevaluated his whole life after that.

Laertus: i hear he's on the Spongebob beat now. his first assignment was the obituary for Stephen Hillenburg.

Dirg: Hillenburg, Hillenburg, sounds Jewish…

Laertus: no, Hillenburger, get it? died on the hill. of his real passion. that whole revolutionary cartoon was sneakily teaching us about marine biology.

Dirg: and sponges, guys don't know about that stuff. when he was showrunner Spongebob was adult swim. after he left, it became Nickelodeon.

Laertus: speaking of Nickelodoen, Amanda Bynes…

Dirg: wow, a Bynes sighting! a non-fat Bynes sighting! hey you having your dinner now?

Laertus: yup. my breakfast. drunk noodles. Thai-style. hear my slurping sound through the large mic?

Dirg: wish i hadn't, killed the mood. i was thinking of Amanda in her glorious prime.

Laertus: give the girl credit, she didn't blame twitter for her problems. and she is a veritable schizophrenic success story! i mean she actually overcame her mental illness instead of drowning to it to her dank detriment, coughing up cash and pearls of cum and coke instead of wisdom. parents, not pills, is the answer, they have psychiatric hold and influence over her. now she's ready to act right. she had a thing like Britney with the shaved head and a wafflehouse but it was less-publicized, more Mueller. it's never too early or late to throw it all away.

Dirg: i want to see her in binds. gotta hand it to Dan Snyder, somehow his toesucking survived the MeToo era. but what is she gonna return to? All That for adults? yeah, that's the ticket, have the show still be on Nickelodeon but the cast is all adults, that's the only way for Nickelodeon to out-Nickelodeon itself.

at the Tiger Woods/Phil Mickelson livestream, the only thing being filmed is not the golf tournament but the two blokes behind a desk parsing out and separating and dividing and divvying up and halving all the prizemoney in clear glass Deal or No Deal suitcases. the audience at home and crowd there live are less than enthusiastic and generally disappointed.

Tiger: thanks, Chuck, now my swing looks like yours, you couldn't keep talking the whole time and ruined my concentration during the tournament.

Charles Barkley: no problem, *belly laughing* i'm just turrible like that. *hits cigar on course*

Phil: *waves his hand to his face* oh you are so terrible, Chuck!

Tiger: i'm dead serious, can't you tell from my expression? i can't drive anymore, either. like a car. i picked a nice restaurant for us to post-celebrate, not that KFC on the corner who are just tryna sell out on the backs of our people. my back hurts. want some real waffles?

Bump: hello, i just came from lunch there at KFC...

and then the rest of the broadcast stream is just Phil trying to get Tiger to get him a date undercover with one of the Perkins waitresses. Phil has been lonely ever since his caddie Bones turned to bones. Phil still wants to be the family man taking pills on tv like Tiger, he wants it both ways. adding those pills on tv ads. Phil orders with his left hand.

Phil: waffle waitresses are the best…

Tiger introduces Phil to Dennis Perkins…

Gladyce: have you tried these Lindt chocolates, dear? they are so luxurious! cream in a bowl!

Doryce: oh my!

Gladyce: can't say that anymore...

Doryce: you are right! they are balls! good balls. remember when fudge was a thing? to eat and to play with in the bedroom? what mien! they taste like a mean match of European double-dutch rope! not double-dutch chocolate. the old country. when the name has a dt, you're in decadent territory!

Gladyce: i love all their wrappings and trappings, so festive! and they look like little mini Death Stars. they have the small indentation circle at the top of them and everything.

Doryce: cos chocolate is the enemy. death by chocolate. i have a middle waist that needs to be rounded up and go round and round like that Death Star laser. i need to do more exercise, more round and round on the double-dutch to swing my ass into dough ropes. speaking of the old country, wanna bagel?

Gladyce: are you asking me you want to eat out? on a date?

Doryce: truffles are Nature's way of telling us to have our bacon and eat it too.

Madame Pons: i'll be right with you, sir. have a seat in my backroom barbershop chair, sit back, it pumps up and down with air! like Air Jordans! you're my best customer, so best you're my client! i've been working hard for you!

Dirg: are you sure no one can see me here?

Pons: don't worry, everyone's in class it's the middle of the day in broad daylight! want a refill on those three there Erlenmeyer flasks you brought into my lush shop impressively holding all three with just your one hand?

Dirg: please. i love those long necks. do it under the counter, the physical counter so no one sees. you got that red spray that detects cameras in a room? if only Erin Andrews had had that spray she'd still be poor. and when you're done potioning please drop three drops of purple food-coloring into it, Purple-Drank scent. and can you trade the flasks with those Medieval glass bottles with the cork stopper that look like a Smurfs vinegar set? the ones Gargamel always used, the fatbottoms.

Pons: i just got the green Gargamel bottles. you stole these flasks from the college chem lab didn't you.

Dirg: project. pop-culture project. i saw the vaunted pilot of Breaking Bad finally...it's good but would not watch the second episode...did you know drugs make you thirsty for anal?

Pons: yeah they dry out your mouth. now please, sir, gently insert the egg into your dickhole. it should feel like a prick at first, but then you'll expand like female thought.

Dirg: oh. *breathes heavy and tries to look up and down* oooooh. ahhhhhh. agh. don't tell nobody but this is the best orgasm i never had!

notes:

* i know i know, tech and cars

* Chris Hardwick: i'm trying not to blame my name for my troubles. but it's hard. see? sorry.
Dick's: don't blame us. we offer sports equipment mostly for boys. what did you expect?

* Croce: that band stole my song! i can travel time you know. i'm coming to get you!......dammit my bottle broke when i was playing 99 Bottles on the hull of a pirate ship!

* that baby chair is not good for serving food…

* remember the '70s?: the basement was used to do laundry. caves were still in nature. the washer and dryer were still separate but equal, they only made circular glass for that one item, you could see your dirty clothes spinning in bubbles and it was like cheap therapy, saved on drugs. the arcade was in the laundromat, that's where the idea for quarters came from. inchworms after rain were set free, not stepped on.

* mom and dad: remember our faces. we're gonna be wearing wigs.

* sister: dad, why does everyone in the Seventies wear rainbow-sleeved yellow sweaters?
dad: two words: Jim Croce.
sister: mom, please, no more watermelon in my lunchbox. the kids are starting to make fun of me.

* sister: dad, the kids are starting to make fun of me at school! why can't i play REAL tennis?! you got this table-tennis set at the board-games section of Toys R Us!
dad: only rich people play tennis, dear, we're not rich people. i run an arcade in the afternoon.

* dad: now honey, i want you to take this weird small racquet made of many bubbles and smash your brother's face in. like you're hitting a real tennis serve. don't worry, your brother is wearing glasses.

* brother: felt?
sister: not yet...……….oh you mean the court...

* tv down in the basement with stacks of ATARI cartridges never turned on in favor of ping pong. laundry basket for ping-pong balls only.

* mom: honey, where did you win all these trophies?
dad: the arcade. video-game sports.
mom: one day that really will be a profession. but not today, me and my hair are stuck in the '80s. my mother wanted me to marry an athlete…

* sister: dad, what do you think?
dad: blue paint, bold choice. Bison? are you hunting behind my back again, missy!?
sister: no that's just our sports team at school.
dad: Alexis For President, nice. who the fuck is Alexis!?
sister: your stupidity made me spill the blue paint all over the goddam table-tennis table it's ruined!!!
dad: one day all the real tennis courts won't be green , they'll be blue...

* sister: how'd you win? i'm smarter and taller than you.
brother: i'm shorter yet stronger than you. i know, it's not fair.
sister: at least i still got my Harlem Globetrotters basketball and you got your roller skates...we're a progressive family.
brother: watch: table tennis was so good to me i grew instantly into the body of a college student!
sister: how'd you get the money for college?
brother: i joined a frat.
sister: there are no frats for girls.

* sister: wait, what is this? the low-humming blue light? the red cups? but this is still the basement.
brother: yeah there were no table-tennis scholarships in the '90s so...mom and dad retrofitted the basement to become my "man cave" and we pretend i'm in college and this is a hostel party.
sister: wow. they even hung STATE flags and everything, this is one big snowjob.
brother: hopefully later tonight. we couldn't afford to wash our togas.

* brother: how are you getting by life?
sister: i won a rollerblading scholarship to a junior college. i invented the sport by retrofitting your roller skates. became a mogul. they wanted me to be a machinist and marry up to the ATARI guy but i blazed my own trail. it wasn't dorky for girls to rollerblade in the '90s, it was cool.

* sister: how are you getting by life?
brother: completed college by suing that dude that broke the table-tennis net.
dad: son, here is your brown cardboard box. get used to it, you will be fired many times. now forget what you've learnt on tv, all you need for college is two bigass giant gallon-bottles of both ketchup and mustard and TONS of socks.

* dad: let's see, ORNAMENTS. is it Christmas already again, dear?
mom: yep, i can tell by that cheap plastic surgery on your face and bad gray dyejob on your head.
dad: sigh. that WEDDING box, never got to use it...
mom: for the tree ornaments this year, dear, just use your ben wa balls.

* brother: hey sis, want a game? WHOA what happened to you!? why are you Hispanic now?
sister: game? LIFE is a game. look, i can't tell you where i live, work, teach, and audit, but let's just say my name is Suri Cruise now. and this is my son Little Tom Cruise. he's wearing the snow sweater of course.

* sister: this is perfect cheap therapy. i'm gonna beat you the fuck down, brother. get out all my aggression and disappointment about the way my life went on you!
brother: that's okay. that's what brothers are for. this is how love was shown to us by mom and dad, you're only a mirror. as you can see, i never left this basement. and we root for the Jacksonville Jaguars. we don't get out much.
dad: that white wig looks so ugly and fake on you.
mom: fuck you, dear.
dad: fam, for Christmas this year i got us the table-tennis court fixed!
brother: *checking his phone* no buyers yet cos it's lost all its nostalgic value.
Napoleon Dynamite: sentimental value: one million dollars in elongated coins. actual intrinsic value: fitty cent.

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happy weekend, my babies. don't you want to be a fly on the palatial wall of Nick and Priyanka's wedding this weekend? or at least an inchworm? watch, eventually that palace will overtake the Taj Mahal as the greatest constructed symbol of love. it will be the only thing up to code when The Big One hits. Priyanka Chopra, not Deepak Chopra, made me believe again......i took a dip in the Ganges, opened my third eye which was red from the chlorine of the spirit---it hurts to heal---and i have never bathed since.

1. lingerie---do you like to give it as a gift or receive it? it was a gift, Judge Judy, not a loan. i was a young hotshot reporter fresh outta law school. my first assignment was on the local-courthouse beat for the biggest decision since Marbury v. Madison. Judge Judy was gonna determine whether or not The Two Coreys could be legally divorced. sure, Feldman and Haim agreed they were shacking up in sin in that house carved into the Hill for that reality show, but who exactly owned that Malibu mansion? the company? the estate was awaiting ruling. the three of us were called to chambers. inside the interiors of Judge Judy's private room the walls were carpeted. there we three were greeted with a treat: Judy stood on top of her desk and disrobed to reveal nothing but black lingerie underneath. we had long suspected and the rumors proved true. that was the first time an official procedure of any matter was steno'd with the word gilf. and the first time GILF was used to headline the front cover of a New York Times broadsheet, top half, best 8th.

2. what's a good date-night movie? i wouldn't know. because i had a thing for John Ritter in those days i went to see Stay Tuned in theatres. big mistake, despite it being a '90s film this was not the best. my date turned her head to me mid-showing and told me it wasn't deep. the only part worth seeing was that Chuck Jones animated interlude, there i learned for the first time the thing with the electronics in the bathtub, i didn't want my date to see that part just in case we had wine or port afterwards. Tim Burton turned down this movie to direct Batman Returns…...i think he made the wise turn for his career. years later, the only thing i remember about that night was the theatre's long winding spiral staircase carpeted with red felt and Ancient Roman stone and it was raining outside so hard it seeped into the carpet fibers. many fell down those stairs. i dropped my paper cup full of ice on the stairs and no one noticed. it was playing at an unusual filmhouse at the way outer edge of Los Angeles town, we had to drive a long distance out-of-the-way to see it, was the only place screening it. the bus driver did most of the driving. my date was so bored thoughout the whole affair she looked down at her gold legs the whole time and had time to invent the Thighmaster. my date was Chrissy Snow.

3. when your partner asks you "what's wrong?", do you most often say "nothing" when something clearly is wrong? why?

cos that's what all humans do, have you noticed? that's the default defacto position answer whenever someone asks you, "how are you doing?", we say "nothing" in a kneejerk jerky fashion.

for me this spreads to everyday life. i answer "nothing" when people ask me "what is your name?""what is your favorite color?""what time is it?""what are you gonna do with your life?""are blue raspberries a real fruit?"

i have no friends.

4. to keep the fires burning and the relationship fresh you send your significant other just one text. what is that text?

FUCK ME

but see, it will get misunderstood as i am. she'll think it's me like saying fuck me like my life sucks. not fuck me i want to have sex in your holes. in the holes in her Santa Fe-style adobe bone desert home. so she'll agree (not on the holes part) and hang up the twitterer. so i'm left with nothing, alone and cold. and so i send out the text FUCK ME meaning the second meaning this time...

bonus: what was your last grand romantic gesture? stood outside the fluttering window of her two-storey cottage house on the browning lawn in the middle of windy October and held up a boombox with both hands. my arms started to hurt and she wasn't home anyway, she never is. the cops later arrested me as i stood on the spot cos they had never seen a boombox before and thought it was a terrorist bomb.

doble: and then there was the time i had it all set up at the Philadelphia Flyers game to announce Will You Marry Me? on the big jumbotron screen but Gritty the mascot hit a puck right into my tits deflating them. it somehow got past the glass plastic screen it was that fast, Gritty is a nightmare with a stick and will strike you down. you know if you get up close to Gritty, you can smell the sawdust on his breath, it's like the mouth-section of the muppet costume was never finished…

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the crones have spruced up quite nicely for their date. Gladyce has even put on a spruce tree as her dress. Doryce has gone the more traditional route wearing rainbow-striped anklesocks which stretch right into her cooch inside the folds. and a smoking tophat. she's obviously gonna be the one paying.

Doryce: i'll pay. no sudden moves or i'll know. it's a killer to walk in this but this is what i do for you for beauty. let's go, it's a walk in leaves wetted by freezing rain. it's been awhile since we've been back to the homefires, Obec is looking rainy and damp.

Gladyce: tis the season. i am so excited! i've never actually tasted lox before. i've seen bagels and lox since Night Court since forever everywhere on screen but this is my first time. i'm a bit scared, what is it exactly?

Doryce: i do all the fishing in this relationship, huh? it's like thinly-sliced veiny Heathcliff-fishboned barely-tasteable orange fish that won't scar you the way anchovies do with their pungency and eyes and paws. by night's end it will own the key to the lock of your heart. it looks like bacon but everything looks like bacon.

Doryce: huh, we're at the Bagel Bakery, it's a fancy restaurant, yet there is no line. i swing the door open like a swinger...

Euroclydon works here. her face is pale despite being dark and she wears her tangerine hair up in a high beehive to match the piles of food she serves on a silver tray. the mood is atmospheric with purple and blue dinner music being played surrounding-out the boarded-up Barded-up windows. the food is aligned in neat rows of wood for the public to pick at. overhead yellow lamps on swings heat the food and set the light mood to a dinner-light dim.

Doryce: wer're the Bagel Bakery Broads! oh my! you are one hot babe, dear!

Euroclydon: thank you. i'm getting used to blushing practicing for my wedding.

Doryce: do you mind if i turn you around, dear---watch the tray and your tray of tits---so i can get a gander at that insane ass you have tightly wound in jeans? i mean that thing is strings pulled up to perfection! your ass is bigger than your entire body yet smaller than your head, it's a miracle!

Euroclydon: not offended despite my cohort. i've been called worse here. it's nice to hear a compliment every once in a while even if it's couched in the old language. besides, you two are legends of the greatest generation we owe our freedom to you guys! i'm gonna blog this encounter when i get home.

Gladyce: oh you have a destination blog, too? you young people how you have to pay for college now, traveling from Puerto Rico. i'm guilty, too, but mine is murder. in order to publish a cogent post i have to skip lunch every Tuesday. yeah. bad for a batty like me but i'm sure your young butt bones can handle it, dear. you've got a figure to look after after all, it's good for you.

Doryce: don't explain, maintain. the old language? Euro? are you by chance from the Old Country!?

Euroclydon: everyone's from the old country. now what the hell do you want from me? sorry there's a lot of stess in the air like hay fever.

Doryce: *winking* gotcha, yeah it's true, it's like life was a certain way since the beginning of time and suddenly these last three years a blue-bolted swinging door came in and changed the fundamentals of how we walk on a street.

Euroclydon: what'll it be? i've lost my black pencil.

Euroclydon comes back and forth many times to that table offering many more views of the ass. for condiments and napkins and stuff. she returns with on her tray a huge long pile high up of their specialty.

Doryce: looks like a lot of hamburgers. they're halved but there's nothing in the buns, unlike you. oh no please, no more black dots on the bread i can't do that anymore, had that episode.

Euroclydon: all seven of these poppy bagels stacked high have a hidden compliment condiment in them, inside their buns, spread on in like butter, schmear. see i was called the Schmear Queer here for the longest.

Gladyce: people are cruel. every people. luckily we're not most people. in fact we're not really people. in the classic sense, more the Classical sense. this is delightful dining, dear! thank you for all your hard work which goes unnoticed daily.

Euro: *smiling* thank you. my wedding will be a thumb-to-the-chin in these times. i wear my SJW as my badge of honor instead of my nameplate.

Doryce: well that's a lucky woman *lazy grin, tongue out* i smelt you a mile away, you were sisterhood from the start. good luck on your real destination. may the world bend to your love. in order to change the culture, you have to change the culture. and change it back. when it inevitably strays. that's your job on this planet, caretaker. take care.

Doryce: oh and for dessert on the way out the door, how about two well three of those green-tea boba shakes?

Euro: um those are actually drinks.

Doryce: *drinking* oh these little cute gummy roundabout brown balls, they look like my poo pellets back home in our home toilet......oh wow, how many of these boba things are here in this cup? i've already counted 100 bobas. there are fucking 1000 bobas in this damn cup! i can't eat them all, they're starting to replace the lining of my stomach they're too gummi! i think i'm gonna be sick, i'm gonna have to spew out the rest of the bobas like a Ms. Pac-man who realizes she's eaten too much for her frame! it's cool, right? you won't have to worry about us putting the bagels on our dicks and eating them that way taking each bite counter-clockwise and chewing.

Doryce: don't wash that floor for like an hour, like the bathroom. wait for it to spic then span. so was it good for you?

Gladyce: you paid the bill?

Doryce: sure i wrote something down. bagels and drinks all total came to 2 hundred bucks. the lox interestingly was not the most expensive, they catch 'em local. bread and water. but it was a steep price well-invested in order to eat well and to look well. as in looking at that ass the whole time was worth the money.

at the MSNBC Studios, Katy Tur is crying.

generic had-it black woman: i'm sorry for earlier at the vote booth, it's stressful down there. especially in Florida, you have to take your gun with you or you won't get registered. packing for progressives. can i make you some of my aunt's tater tots?

Katy: i'm crying cos i'm pregnant...

generic had-it black woman: oh no you dint! i thought that was your tit! i just thought your tit was that big and no wonder you were so popular!

Mueller: it's not mine, it's time. i don't have time for that, i'm standing up for the men and women of my FBI who do the work and get none of the glory on tv. they simply quietly go about their day doing their damn job, i'm proud of each and erry one'em! i mean can you imagine the stress of having to catch that crazed mailbomber BEFORE the fucking election!? i mean we couldn't catch him ON Election Day that would have been too suspicious for FOX. it's like suddenly our troops had this lifetime assignment they had to complete in a week! it's like studying the Bible and the Breaking Bad bible for a live televised debate that same Christmas Day wth Santa Claus himself Daniel Dennett. all of my men (and women) didn't have time to vote this cycle they were that busy. but we still won.

Katy: what's with all the black markings on your face, Bob? they look cute.

Mueller: this thing is far from over! hey ho tally ho mystery! i can do Skull and Bones, too. and keep digging for skullduggery. i've discovered my passion for art just as this thing was drawing to a close. i'd been writing discursively and typing fruitlessly for years but then i took out my black sharpie pen and started DRAWING! a whole new world opened up for me, i'm never gonna quit drawing!

Dirg: i know, right? the more you do it the better you get at it. the lines start to come naturally with erry stroke. shapes form. in your mind...

Bush 43: i started painting, that's how my drawing led me to salvation.

Chris Matthews: *interviewing Amy Klobuchar* you'd make a good President, run. more than anything else, not your mien or moxie or mothering, it's that you're hot. no i'm serious, now that i've got you up close and i get a good look at you under hot lights without your glasses on you are a fox! a real fox, not those FOX fakes. you come from the Genie Bouchard line of androids, right? i mean left. clobber 'em, Amy!

President Bump sits down at the pew and hands Michelle Obama a roll of stamps.

Bump: i'm giving these to you but you're gonna have to pay for them. they're fresh off the mint, no percentage price label on them yet. but they're legal.

Michelle really thinks about running at the moment of that handshake.

Bump: the only thing i remember about Bush 41 was the broccoli thing. if the President hates broccoli then i didn't have to eat any! oh and he was on SNL but so was i and i did it better and higher-ratingsier. i declared a Week of Mourning cos i just wanted a vacation from all this shit. plus it's raining. i just put it out there into the universe as we all do...

Laertus: sir you are a Squishy Wizard.

Dirg: stop trying to fit people into boxes with package labels to ship them off. enough with the lazy nerdoholic TVTropes, break free and through from tropes with TNT. or Trent Reznor's TVT label. if anything, our President is a black swan, there, that's more elegant, more ballet.

Bump: what is it with me and my administration and green vegetables? let's focus on the blue, i was looking at the map the other day and see all this blue everywhere all over the place and i'm like, so where's the global warming?

Laertus: sir that was the electoral map. the Denocrats took control back of the House. blue wave?

Bump: i catfished on that wave. looking for George Clooney. hoping our ally Japan would help us out with that wave, hoping it would wipe out Alaska so i wouldn't have to hear Palin's squawky voice on the phone again. Alaska is one of our trade partners, right? hoped it wasn't too big or bad so i wouldn't have to get out there in my surfer trunks for a photo-op with babes uh babies uh babies on boards. and did you see the strong calves on Gina this morning? she needs to workout those knees of hers to support her weight! her tit weight!

Laertus: sir, that wasn't a weather girl, that was Gina Haspil. maybe you should go to the hospital.

Bump: Erica Grow makes me grow.

Molly Qerim: back at First Take, how are you this fine morning, gentlemen? i'm happy cos Stephen A. is on remote location at some fleabag motel somewhere paid for by ESPN miles away from Bristol Connecticut, i got Max all to my lonesome self. everytime i look into his baby blues i am starstruck! you were in Creed II!

Stephen A. Smith: Molly the fleas are teaching me how to act. whenever i throw a brick at them, heehee.

Molly: you were born to act, Max! you were in Dirty Dancing my favorite movie of all time! i always wanted to do the Lift but i was always too ethnic for that, you know. us fatbottom girls.

Max: i'm not that Max Kellerman, though Jerry Orbach as you might suspect was a huge fight fan. he once boxed S. Epatha to a draw, she recounted as such at the Red Table. fat girls out there watching, just wait, you're young, eventually you'll grow into your body. all that fat will be transferred into your curves as an adult and you won't be able to fit into dresses, it'll be great!

Molly: you are so wise, Max. you came clean and talked about hitting your wife, that was so brave.

Max: i could cos there was no video of it. right, Bump? you bastard.

Bump: my sins?, just audio, no video. hello, Piers, my old friend, where the hell have you been?

Piers Morgan: you deported me back to Britain after Brexit, remember? left me on a lonely pier. the Plum Boys got scared of a foreigner on their soil broadcasting to Americans and flipped their shit and their Undercut wigs. i'm here with Ariana Grande...i've already won, debate over, my name's on the Twitter Trending. do you blame me? NOW snooty snark is acceptable, i'm just cashing in on my career.

Ariana: thank u, next. i don't remember you being this much of a wimpy wanker, you toned it down to honor Larry King which i watched with my Nan. didn't your mother ever...well ever? you watched Victorious? you better have a daughter. *smiles showing her sparklehorse gold teeth*

Piers: my mother taught me to seek truth and the falsehood of copy, not to speak it. you know, it was very surprising what happened after Victorious. the star of that show was supposed to hit it big, or even Liz Gilles in a Santa hat, but it turned out to be YOU. where is that Vega chick anyway now?

Ariana: MTV, the coffin of cuties.

Laertus: oh PLEASE let Liz Gillies and Matt Bennett be a thing! that would be a true babe-nerd pairing that would last! and a triumph for puppet freaks everywhere! Liz should do SNL.

Pete Davidson: what's the deal with getting breakup tattoos? what's the point of that? seems a bit counterintuitive. the love tattoo is cos you want to remember the person forever in permanent ink. why would you want a permanent reminder on your skin of a failure? a constant Memento you can't escape. your body is not allowing you to forget and move on.

Ariana: at least they weren't divorce tattoos.

Federer: speaking of SNL, i'm ready to do my podcast Detail now, my voice is relaxed and rested from the one-month offseason we get for opening Christmas presents. each year my wrapped Christmas packages are always in the shape of tennis racquets i can immediately tell what they are. racquets in not-so-good-shape. can't you tell how eased and easy my speaking voice is? and *push* the button with my ringed finger.

Chrissie Evert: like butta.

Federer: you're finally coming around. when it's just the two of us it's like a proper date. so how was your SNL experience?

Chrissie Evert: Dennis Perkins ranks me as one of the best sports hosts ever on SNL. after Joe Montana's masturbation nothing-in-his-head-but-echo-chamber skit. i had a Martina in mine and murdered Martina but it was all fun cos murder means nothing now. i wish the real Martina had been my scene partner but she wasn't cool enough yet then like she is now. i had just quit tennis then and really thought i was gonna be an actress...

Dirg: i don't care what nobody says, Perkins has the dream job, he watches tv because the shows offer him illegal rips of the show from the studio a week in advance, he went to his preppy East Coast quaint small-town Stephen King college to gain all those vocab words, he studied hard there and didn't watch tv, all so he could watch tv now. didn't have a tv in his dorm room all four years.

Laertus: it's not worth the soul-crushing comments he has to read which challenge his manlihood, livelihood, and leftyhood.

Federer: should i do SNL? there's no Swiss SNL late at night, just softcore cheese commercials with long pipes starring Mike McCarthy.

Chrissie: of course, Roger! Roddick sucked, take it from me.

Judge Judy: you know when people say my name now, all they think about is the obscene amount of money i make. it's not good for my image nor my tribe's. somewhere along the way i think i took the wrong track.

Bump: you should have been meaner, that's always the right tack. thumbtack up your doggy soggy bottom.

Judge Judy: i mean shouldn't i be a Chief Justice or something? like I should be Ruth Bader, not Ruth Bader. i look like Ruth Bader...without glasses...

Bump: it's yours if you handle Mueller for me. get me off on a tv technicality or something, like Mueller shouldn't have done that tv interview.

Eye Luggage: okay go, great show, why am i getting so many brochures at my doorstep? in the middle of my shrimp toast and kommunist kombucha from the Bouchard assembly line here at my desk, my mouth is a mess right now, looks a mess, my teeth are turnt, thank goddess for radio.

Dirg: fresh take: the little girl in the latest Doctor Who episode couldn't act for shit.

Eye: dude, the girl is BLIND!!!

Dirg: so? don't all you freaks want to be treated equally?

Laertus: i quite like how Chibnall hasn't used ANY of the classic Who monsters yet, let's hope that continues in the series finale, which doesn't mean the same in the States as on the Pond. that would be a fresh take on the franchise. and was that the first Doctor Who ever set in Norway?

at LUSh Dirg is on the blue bed in the private room apart from the soaps rack. needs a skeleton key to get in through the wooden sliding door, a skeleton key with the head of The Pope wearing a skullcap. he is lain there with his arms and feet in a cross, looking up and witnessing the myriad of dizzying blue-spark spells whizzing by his nose which Madame Pons activates with her wand wildly swinging back and forth causing the ceiling to rumble. bits of dried dusty concrete fall onto Dirg's catching tongue like a Slayer concert in a rainy white storm squall.

Dirg: i don't think this is working, Doc, you're freaking me out with all these ghosts but all i see are stars. the bed is soaking wet but i'm not feeling wet in my front.

Pons: you got the vaginal egg inserted in your dickhole?

Dirg: yeah but nothing. let me try something.

he stands up on the mattress and positions his penis into Pons's mouth pushing her down by her pointy shoulders getting his ringfinger stuck in her head of auburn wasp's-nest of fried coiled curls.

Dirg: it's okay. for science. it's not threatening cos i have an egg penis now...…...what if you join me? insert a vaginal egg into yourself and join me on the bed. we'll hold hands and not look at each other and everything, side-by-side.

Pons sweats it out but does exactly that. but she does turn to look at him on the bed.

Pons: anything for my patients. and my patience. hey, look at me, you've never looked at a woman before have you? i mean at her face. in her eyes.

Dirg: no. i don't get that in porn during the blowjob, it just freaks me out. those wiggling pupils while sucking.

there is no more action up top. only their words breathing a topsoil layer onto the chippy ceiling.

Pons: the zucchetto. the cap of skull. like a tight dress. capped off with a skull.

Dirg: and i like zucchini, it's as Italian as the Pope, looks like a cock. that should be the cap of Life not death.

Pons: fillerup?

Dirg: fill him up.

at the Mansion Dirg cannot be seen dropping two drops of Purple Stuff into Stan Lee's Coca-Cola cup. cos Coke is dark and hidden. Dirg is moving with his spindly ringfinger the dot which moves the cursor on Laertus's laptop desktop on Stan's desk. a Russian woman in a Mister Rogers sweater with an impossibly large model ass is asking silently if he can undress her?

Stan: *unparching* oooh that's good on a chilly night.

Dirg: pimp cup. Coke for the Bloke. a young person's beverage. yeah it's basically long-island iced tea.

Stan: where's your cup? aren't you thirsty?

Dirg: always. just look at the screen.

Stan: who's the woman?

Dirg: she's not important, i'll explain later. this is a foundational film about foundations. a guide not a gimmick generating geoducks with geodon inside. a manual not a movie. for form and function not fun. showtime...

notes:

* this is probably not the best thing to watch around Christmastime...

* Hunky Boys Ding Ding, that's what i thought the title was...see i was okay believing they were hunks just thought they were too hungry for ding-ding dinner for their own good like a pavlovian COME AND GET IT bronzed triangular dinner bell with an aspergillum to shake it with.

* this looks like the spooky start of that other Cartoon Network show pilot that didn't get picked up...

* Emo Philips, more goth than emo. you can tell from the haircut he paints.

* the problem was the bent weathervane. that's what doctors always told me would cure my depression, i just had to have my jaw realigned.

* nobody appreciates the fine art of typewriting while in a biker gang, or writing whilst dipping one's quill pen into a chandelier. Liberace was liberated, o why can't i?

* i've never died before...i'll be sure to DM you the selfies i take...

* don't look at the cameras, ruins the illusion

* why is everyone in such a hurry to die? haven't you read Sagan's assistant's letters? you ain't gonna be seeing Grandma again. as for Grandma's pussy...

* oh, hydraulics…...thought you said Hydra Headed

* it's all fun n games till someone gets an eye poked out...by a noose

* see this is the Looney Tunesization of death, making it all seem not so serious and camp and everyone comes back for the next cartoon

* Plympton pumper...is it possible for a taxidermist not to be creepy?...they say what we're all looking for in a sexual mate is the opposite-sex version of ourself

* maybe we shouldn't have built this house on the foundation of a single rope.
God: no, that was brilliant, it forced you three magi to work together whether you hated each other or not. who says you die alone?

* this is no time to work out

* your eyes actually do bug out like that

* life

* remember the days when game shows weren't sinister?

* this game show...is not an invitation for a four-square foursome

* Transylvania has the strictest gun laws on this side of earth for obvious reasons

* the tv studio is conveniently located next to our shack out in the middle of nowhere on a hill where it eternally rains and the lightning (like the stars) is so close you can touch it with your nose

* i'm a librarian and this blindfold was for our Fifty Shades In Fifty States promotional tour where we went around rest homes getting our senior citizens to read more.

* just looking for my true Sid

* Emo: this is the type of poetry only those with a high IQ would get. you know, like Rick and Morty viewers.

* if you take out all the philias and phobias, it really is quite the romantic love story

* we've been through this, Total Recall II would never work. don't you recall?

* that was sublime ventriloquism, even if the camera panned down

* think of me as Bart Simpson when he first burst onto the scene with that skateboard

* who is spraypainting all these Broadway backstages? Banksy?

* there is only Hologram Happiness

* love the lie...
God: this guy gets it.

* i have it on personal authoroity that Chaucer HATED the lute

* good seeing John Goodman getting work after Roseanne

* Chaucer actually came up with the phrase "what's your damage?" but no one noticed

* this is what youtube stage directors don't understand

* delayed reaction to the penis...

* so we needed Hitler to get Einstein? why is life so profoundly and prodigiously cruel?

* Bart: wait, is the man me or the woman me the real me?
God: both.

* it's a traditional Heathcliff Roger Rabbit candlelight dinner over a trashcan lid

* love hurts.
Bieber: i swatted you guys...for real.

* kissing yourself is like kissing your cousin. OH it's the Outkast Kiss where a kiss on the lips instantly makes the woman pregnant! i always loved that alternative take on life, nice and clean, fresh and clean even, less messy without all that sex messiness, very sci-fi fantasy human evolution.

* never trust a man with a potted plant as a hat.
Stevie Nicks: what can i say? i'm a gypsy, i need to be free.

* that saw makes me sad

* the lightning-round of every game show is rigged, you know that, right?

* fuck you maggot hearse Hava Nagila garam masal paint your wagon identical interests: i always trust the black guy in these situations

* Paint Your Wagon was when Clint Eastwood started to get angry...

* we're all God's doll parts, right, Courtney Love?

* woman: the devil tricked me! i had too much freedom! i choose the Pokémon Movie! but what if my brother is my soul mate? okay i'll go to Hell, but that humidity is gonna be hell on my already-frizzy hair.

* well at least we get to see three babes before our pants are pulled down to our ankles...in humiliation.

* Jesus was lonely like the rest of us so he started a band...

* priest: it's not polygamy if it's sanctioned by the Catholic Church. marriage is a sin, i can say that as long as i keep this white collar on.

* we need our guns, we don't have drums…

CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies! this weekend we're a Bacon Maple Chicken sandwich family at Wendys. what's your favorite holiday sandwich?

i've appreciated the Stones more now that i'm an old man. always thought they were just Beatles wannabes.

The Beatles=Nirvana
the Rolling Stones=Pearl Jam
the Who=Soundgarden
Nirvana the British '60s band=Alice In Chains

shit, even that is a generation removed. i am not a millennial...

1. which do you make more of, phone calls or text messages? i only have one phone in the house, a telephone magneto. i was into X-Men long before anyone watched the '90s cartoon, before all'y'all. have you ever tried to sext on a rotary phone call? it's like Scott Van Pelt stuff cept i don't get paid handsomely to sit behind a handsome desk and be handsome and talk sports all day and throw in an Aqua Teen reference now and then. how much analysis does sports need? Tiger Woods is jealous of Scott cos Tiger can't pull off the bald look as Tiger gets older. Tiger actually requires glasses but he lasered them cos the nerd image wouldn't have been good for Tiger's image. he wants people to forget he went to Stanford.

2. before making a phone call do you rehearse what you are going to say? why? cos i want to be like that credit-card commercial. and cos i'm training to be an actor. that's the thing, never monologue out loud not in front of a mirror, people will think you're crazy. they'll think you're talking to yourself or to your imaginary friend or that you're a vampire, no one knows of the three which is worse. keep those strange thoughts which pass your stem like a night wind every so often to yourself in their root where they belong.

3. name three things you and your partner appear to have in common. eyes. ears. hair down there. oh wait, i forgot to put on my glasses…...nevermind, i'm a werewolf...

4. name three things about which you and your partner completely disagree and often causes disagreements. politics. religion. sex. i think Perot would have made a great president, i only adhere to religions with black in the title, and i only want to have sex in my furry suit. she thinks Perot was "running for President" just as a statement and never would have REALLY become President, hint hint, she thinks my religions are racist, and says sex in the furry suit damages the suit's value at auction. we love each other and agreed to be asexual magi together, that was festive.

5. 74% of new couples buy a new mattress when they begin their relationship. as you embark on a serious relationship would you require your SO to buy a new mattress or would you buy a new mattress if your SO asked you to?

can i disembark? the waters are getting choppy. i'll use our waterbed as my paddleboat canoe.

only if the mattress was blue, with fleurs-de-lis and was soaked......okay NOBODY got that reference unless you were reading my Instagram or here-blogged stories. i'll try another reference: only if it's in a long smoking pipe and PURPLE

or if it had a metal ribcage choking it and was a yellow non-stained mattress from a '70s motel and ate up all your elongated arcade tokens. magic fingers just means metal fingers, right, Logan (Wolverine)? he gives the best rolling backrubs.

bonus: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about your future would you want to know? never. no. never know. watch sc-fi. and fantasy. never find out you when you're going to die. or how. never uncover your final last age. that's wikipedia wicca stuff right there. crystals should only be used on your backbone. or to make dark Muppets with one magic stitch…

CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK


HAPPY TMIT MY BABIES

Dirg: ready?

Stan Lee: i was deathed ready. i will die ready.

Dirg: delay be not proud. just follow my lead. my instructions are can't-miss.

he leads the old codger up from his forelimbs and onto the peeling walls of his dank dark mansion, this man lit with the watercolor eyes of an old man who had lived too long to see the good world he had built sour.

Dirg: you're doing it, massa!

Stan's both hands and feet stick to the walls with no help. he looks and feels a little funny at first, but Stan's excitement overrides his sense and he begins to maneuver the sideway lanes of the wallpaper, he is really doing it, he is carving a new ancient aquarelle avenue! he's floating on air! well, sticking. he is moving like Spider-Man, he can stick to sides and enable around edges and his reach exceeds his grasp for the egress now is unlimited and as high as a skyscraper. he is a parkourist without a parka or mountain climbing boots with spikes and his only poles are his legs whittled to nothing in his old age. a trickle starts from the cocktail onion of his eye and begins to damp the carpets. Dirg tries not to see cos he wants to be strong in these trying situations and seeing his mentor cry will turn him into a mentee manatee.

Stan Lee: kindness. i'll never have to jump again.

Dirg: don't get all Doctor Who on me, old timer. that's later.

Stan Lee: no, kindness. remember: kindness. but for you, it was kidness.

Dirg: *non-awkward pause* so do you want me to continue? with the lessons. you want me to film practice?

Stan: i feel like an athlete who can throw around dollars! i never played football. i would have gotten killed.

Dirg begins uploading the practices online to the official university website. it grows such an audience in four minutes and there is such demand for more in the subreddits even though they are only words the comments peal with loud doombell sounds in Dirg's ears. like wedding bells but funeral bells. he gives in not cos he ever wanted to be popular but because he wanted to be left off the hook.

Dirg: does this clear me? am i out of my contract?

Stan: you always were. college shouldn't be a prison. a box of section comments. but i hope we continue. outside of school. i want to date you, let's see each other out of the classroom. do you feel accepted again? that's not the same as validation, only i can validate you.

Dirg: well followers are fickle but i am relieved i have full access to the Marvel youtube comments again, i do my best work there, i really feel i'm contributing to society molding those maggot minds over there.

the first practice is livecasted at 3PM on a lazy Wednesday afternoon before Finals and all the park benches roll their peels back up like fruit rollups. it gets so many views and hits the internet breaks and shuts down cos everybody and everypony are literally hitting their computer screens! Dirg goes without dinner chewing two slices of gum instead preparing the next broadcast.

Dirg: the first broadcast was you, Stan, moving around the walls of your mansion, not venturing outside though all the bay windows have no glass, teasing like a good broadcaster and moral host and thumbing around the edges and proving the impossible true, especially to your young viewers. you even added a tag where you gave some nice anodyne biblical good-natured cheer advice for the holidays and a hot-cocoa powder mix packet recipe to end the video. you say add a strawberry in your hot chocolate for Spider-Man. it got a million views but more importantly it broke the million-comment barrier for a single youtube vid. we beat that puerile and prurient punk princess PewDiePie. he's not a cutie-pie and should eat a non-woman pie and die, whoa i just got that. i know i'm jealous, he films his sex scenes on Swedish-craftsmanship kitchen tables with his girlfriend that week like it was some ordinary porn to stream to his kid fans. in the second vid, i had you spider on the ceiling of the mansion, you even had requests from female fans wanting you to negotiate the chandelier and possibly ride it upside-down. that vid got a billion views and a billion comments, extending our Guinness record. Guinness is still a non-beer thing? i thought all colleges now invest in near-beer to avoid lawsuits. what could we possibly do for the finale that would top it off?

Stan: it's not about getting bigger and bigger, son, it's about getting smaller and smaller. limit your orbit to goodness, not popularity, but i think i am really for the fall. for the plunge. i'm gonna venture outside like a good little Venture Brother. take my chances as the cast of the wind, @ the wind! caveat emptor! *quietly* i mean excelsior *raised white-hair fist*

Dirg: okay wait i dunno we're moving too fast. i don't think a trillion is possible on this planet, not enough folk on this earth. i mean if you really want to the potion will hold i mean your spirit will hold. you onto the ceiling. you want to go outside? and do what?

Stan: just feel my bare knees against the brick laying of the outside mansional walls. wave hello to the beautiful humanity stationed outside waving at me. i want to wave back and smile.

Dirg: your smile will fill every kid's balloon with warm air. eh, as long as we're not handwaving this thing. it will be a spectacle of spirituality. it will be lovely......okay, do it, just be careful. don't wear shoes, it heavies you down. i won't be around, i've got errands and stuff. i'll set up the camera from my drone on a pod outside sticking to the smokestack of the roof, that should capture all your motions. see ya see ya wouldn't wanna be ya! peace and kisses.

the two meet at Good Times at Davey Wayne's on campus. the bros and the crones. yellow exterior, looks like a peeling wooden surf shack with no nails from the '70s. the interior of the club an exact representation of the brothers' dad's shaggy-carpet living room and fuzzy furniture and glass ornaments from the swingin' married family man's bachelor pad. and nachos.

Dirg: cool place. very indie L.A. club vibes look. quick scan of the menu and i'll have the hallacas. and agave lemonade? cauliflower pizza? okay, whatevs as you guys say.

Individual Brother #1: us Asians?

Dirg: no you cool guys who get all the chicks. you young entrepreneurs who get to own a club right out of college. heeeeeey, now i get it!!! you guys are the REAL crazy rich fresh Asians!

Individual Brother #2, who's a twin: funny you should say that. L.A. the two Coasts are the same, we borrow from them. we use only the freshest ingredients, daily catch.

Dirg: i like the ceramic dog, replica of someone special? i'm in a rush, go.

Laertus: i was just thinking of how the neighborhood used to be. remember before the endless construction? you had Do Re Mi Music on the flip corner, which is gone now. where am i gonna get all my Smashing Pumpkins and NIN albums now? those are the only two albums i actually buy as a material now, for the booklet cover art. the rest of the bands i stream free.

Diorg: hear ya. yeah, all the old pizza places are gone. Pizza Factory. why do stores close when the construction hits, isn't that a bit counterintuitive? are you noticing less traffic? these new lanes are supposed to help with bikes.

Doryce: speaking of, we're here, too, and want some service form those two handsome brothers. take your shirts off like in the old days in sunny L.A.! ooooh pizza, i am so horny for pizza. pizza is like horny food for females.

Gladyce: dear these will tide you over. get it? it's a new box i got at The Store.

Doryce: oh these are heavenly! Cheezit New Flavor. Cheezit that are cheese-pizza-flavored! these are the greatest squares i've ever eaten. and i've eaten my share of squares in my long short life. i've already eaten the whole box. and i'm still horny!

Gladyce: i got something we can order only here. it's gonna be delicious and delightful and surprising and you're gonna think why didn't they think of this before? from the Orient after all.

Dirg: the traditions are fading and no one cares. you're gonna miss them when they're gone. Subway Meatball Subs using garlic bread for the bread. Holiday Pie from McDonald's. you know i remember when my dad took me to Do Re Mi to get my first Rush record, our first, well his first, it was gonna be a bonding moment because the Rush record was so long we had to have a conversation to fill the time of the awkward silence. tht's all i remember, i blacked out, or the music did, i don't want to remember it anymore, he was trying to go over all the cryptic symbols and D&D monsters used in the lyrics but they weren't as cool coming form him, you know how kids are. anyway i just remember the white Pinto drive over to the Do Re Mi when they still had that cul-de-sac where you could hang your Pinto pistols kept on display in full view in the backseat visible from the small circle window back there. hey you getting on okay without your computer? i have to use it for very important matters.

Laertus: no worries. i'm using the ones in the computer lab. i go at night so i won't get spotted. i'm using my new friend's computer over there.

Dirg: oooooh, i must meet her if she exists someday. sucks now. whenever i try to reboot the movie again the hot illegal-bride bridey Russian lady with the ass the size of a Russian count's dining longtable no longer appears, it's just some chick from BeenVerified giving the intro that is always in mute.

Laertus: exists.

Dirg: *touches his shoulder then his own shoulder* gotta go pal, drinks on the house and i am the house, i'm practically a doctor now, i can pay for things, anything, i'm suddenly youtube-rich!

Madame Pons: you seem groggy, you okay? there's no more left, you used it up in one sitting. or standing. on a ceiling.

Dirg: i was practically on drugs when i started out. i had to get the hang of it myself. i was climbing the ceilings and bouncing off the walls trying to figure it out. literally. at night cos he slept during the day. it's okay, i can handle it, my head has always been airy.

Madame Pons: you still have the vaginal egg inside you?

Dirg: this whole time. i'm juggling a lot of balls but that one has remained firm in my body. i'm clenching it like a vise with just the one string of my cockhole. the X of a normal glans to pee has been opened into the gaping maw of a cuttlefish. forget it, screw it, i don't need to pee. i don't drink, this is how i really am.

Madame: i can tell. i can see your aura in front of you even if you can't. you're feeling feelings more. deeper. it's time you confessed. you did nothing wrong. i know i'm not your only friend. or even one. you have a better one. a longer one.

Dirg: best. advice. ever. okay, i know, i'll do it. if Stan can Man can. i'll do it later tonight when it's quiet at our cabin in the woods.

Madame: when you finally confide, the weight of hate is lifted into a stream. you find yourself with fins talking again, and writing. it's your best work cos it flows out of you. inspiration doesn't know which term it is. and plus, you shoulder the burden of responsibility onto another person who now shares your pain, it's kinda fun that way, gives them the responsibility.

Dirg: passing it off on someone else, like a blunt circle. taking no responsibility for one's actions, i like it. hey it's not my fault, right? laters, therapy toots.

Dirg: can we make the call from here?

Laertus: sure, it's all normal now.

Eye Luggage: go. Doctor Who finale.

Dirg: underwhelming. next series get rid of Yaz, she's worthless.

Laertus: you are too cruel for school.

Dirg: then when Team Fam is wondering why Yaz has suddenly disappeared from their close tightknit group, Jodie will clamly explain that Yaz has became her own grandmother from the Punjab episode.

Eye: no Family Guy Christmas special this year, bummer. tribute to Carrie made up for it. i've since learned to fish. you know eventually all my sisters with the purple lightsabers raised and the Princess Leia RESIST signs will become in reality the Resistance to what's happening in reality. it will no longer be a film with blue in it, it'll be a blueprint. okay, fam, i'm off next week, the pod will be cast in cooling blue. the relatives and descendants are descending on town, which means i need to come as soon as possible and leave...

President Bump is in a smock, painting away in the Cream House Green Wing. he is so splotched with the rainbow of caterpillar colors a mustache of paint forms below his nose.

Katy Tur: sir, i don't know what to make of these baby clothes you gave me. i didn't invite you to the baby shower.

Bump: thought it was another kind of shower. what, they say BANANA REPUBLIC STUFF, i thought it was cute, love that brand of clothing. Secret Service while shopping at a Baby Gap alone was a logistical nightmare. surfer, right?

Katy: at this point i would have rather one of your paintings, even if it's a dark Gumball painting. you might surprise and bush us.

Bump: i'd wear a beret but my hair......hey what happened to Robin Meade on HLN!? she's not there anymore! replaced by two chicks who wore the same red dress that one day, that was hilarious! she was an HLN Deal! what's up with Cohen? he looks so sad. he looks exactly like if the Sopranos were a real thing. very smart, bringing in his family like that for the first time at his sad-sack sentencing. that's very mob and mob-moll. hot daughter with the fur Tiny Tim crutch to influence the judge. in his chambers in December. how are you holding up, Theresa May?

Theresa May: literally not well. i'll put it to you this way: before Brexit, i didn't have a hump in my back. the MPs are snickering behind my humped back and coyly calling me Esmeralda.

Bump: i wish you were Nancy Pelosi, you're a nice woman, she is very nasty.

Pelosi: sir, stop mansplaining everything, i'm a crone, i've been around the block.

Bump spreads his legs more open on the sofa in the meeting. like a Chinese fan. Pence has a glazed look in his eyes on the loveseat.

Pence: sorry, i didn't read my lines for today, the script changed. i'm like DeNiro, i can't do impromptu live tv, i need a lot of preparation.

Chuck Schumer: H is for hell. the trick is to look directly at the camera.

Amy Motta: hello everyone! i am welcome at the Red Table!

Aisha Moodie-Mills: bitch whatcha doin' here? just cos you're an A like me? the only thing you're known for is that insanely freaky and scary white smile of yours! what else do you do? you're just teeth. eat yo applesauce bitch!

Stephen A Smith: *making the eating-with-a-spoon motion* okay, i'm not panicked yet. the Cowboys are in the Super Bowl. but there's still a chance for them to lose EVERYTHING.

Laertus: yeah, pass me the blunt...

Stephen A Smith: you smoke?

Laertus: when i see red. i want to live in a world that is justified for Julia Ioffe to exist peacefully and sexily with her puns. and to coexist with symbols on a T shirt. i am attracted to Maureen Dowd's frog mouth and weird middle-class accent and movie quotes and screwball comedy and reportette repartee. is Paganism our post-Christian future? Maureen is the sexiest dowdy person i know. you know she's a pistol in bed with her wit and bleeding charm. when everyone likes something, there must be something wrong with it. i want to travel the world and stop and stay in India and experience that fascinatingly insular exciting Indian cricket culture that is like Bollywood for sports, that stays secret to their sky, bright lights hidden by the city. that whole inroad where all the cricket stars marry Bollywood actresses and have babies who become cricket gardeners. i want to report on cricket like that English actor. the real cricket played in India. i want to be well-rounded and an all-rounder. i don't want to strike-rate out with the right person. that is the fame of family.

Bump: going to a Scientology Clearing. thank you, next. hello? Piers? who should be my Chief of Staff?

Piers Morgan: i really think it should be Ariana Grande. yeah, she has the ear of the public and she pulses when she dances. tremendous sway on that one, she really knows what they want and are after. the new voters, the young voters. she's so old she won't turn down the job. i can already see her plastic-surgery lines under my hot lights.

Mueller: i thought that was me. *Mueller kisses Comey on the lips* this is the ultimate Resistance. to Russia. btw, never noticed Ashley Parker's huge tits before till i saw that Washington Post article where the three all lined up as phalanx warriors for that The Front Lines press-pool feature. she always wore a parka with me.

Bump: you two disgust me! take that stuff to a college campus!

Comey: oooh, a new technique you learned from Melbourne? you're helping me get over, get off, get through, and get a divorce tattoo. Ash to ash. and that ass. when are you gonna finally invite me to dinner, Bob? i heard you got a mansion...

Mueller: you're not treating my star witness too roughly, right, Mick? no paddywagon pummels?

Bump: Butina? don't yous worry, she's not being tortured, she's just really into BDSM. pommel horse is a different thing in her country. we even took her blindfold off so she could see the Geminid Shower. again, different shower.

there's a rumbling at Davey Wayne's. like an earthquake that lasts forever. the roof starts to shake. the neon arrows which normally point to Live Nudes have been replaced with a neon sign, and one part of that sign crashes to the ground below in calm palm palmetto bushes. the graffiti which remains under the piece of sign reads:

BRUCE

the crones and bros and Reds all look up from their coffees.

Doryce: what happened? something happened.

Dirg races back home. then he gets a running start. then he hits the ground running.

and he finds Stan Lee has died. or is in the process of dying, Stan has fallen off the roof on the outside-bricklayed layer of the Mansion and he plunged into the green recycling bin. he lays. still. still quivering. Stan's head is no more, there is only his heart. Stan's placid face is now all smiles and is ready to give his last column of advice, cos he never considered his Last Words. he always thought of others, not the finality of himself. when you help, you extend yourself. he pulls a gaped Dirg in close with his sweater hand and hugs him to get close to Dirg's ear. meanwhile the spectators assembled are horrified, they saw this live! and in the livestream! in real time! they are hopping mad, they jump up and down and throw soy bombs in Dirg's face. then they storm the purple chainlink fence made of stone paper rings, pouring soy sauce all over Dirg's face and body so he is an unrecognizable venom monster.

mob-rule crowd audience: YOU ANIMAL! TAKE HIM OUT OF THE TRASH!!!

Stan Lee doesn't want to be helped out of anything. he kisses Dirg's ear.

words of wisdom are to be whispered.

notes:

* upfronts: Lorelei Ramirez...is brilliant...wish her nothing but the best...will be my next follow as soon as my Instagram 7500 lowers...

* i was pronouncing it Pervert Everything with the emphasis on the first syllable of Pervert like Pervert Everything was the name of some superhero or something

* PFFR is how you say pervert in pervert

* Buddha is a woman...

* how?...why?...Journalism 101 is such a boring college class to take...this is Pop Culture 101 of course

* what's the best way to have sex? you will learn in this hour. you see there's a myth on tv that sex can last for more than an hour but that's a physical impossibility. Sam from Cheers is the only known recorded case but the documentation there is suspect cos the only witness was the Pope. Sting has come closest with 47 minutes. Supermen can last the entire half-hour of the sitcom but most men will give you at best the commercial break

* how do you know you're doing it right? vomit.

* Steve Jobs early hologram with Zen fro: can you get consent from an animal?
Jane Goodall B: you see it in their eyes. they give you the evil-eye that's how you know......you know i was Jane Goodall first but no one paid attention to me cos i was ethnic. the media thought Jane was better-looking than me......anyway...
Steve Jobs: please, audience, no recording of this secret interview on a Samsung. don't want to see that shit out there.
Jane: PC culture…
Steve: rape culture...
Jane: touche. wanna touch my butt?
Steve: no.
Jane: good answer. you restrainted yourself.

* laughing cos he has a huge dick, he could easily push the elevator button with his dick

* back again, like Return of the Mackess. i made a bath bomb out of items i read about online. i'm like a spiritual terrorist. all of these plastic cups are from the mall that was gentrified last week, now it's just one big Disney Store.

* this is my giant brass knuckles made of ice. when i hold it in my hand i am forced to make the thumbs-up sign, which forces me to be positive. speaking of energy, see all these water bottles with plugs in them? i'm experimenting with electricity and bongwater, trying to ascend up the next plane...of existence...i know, the ice knuckles look like the bridge of a UFO ship...

* ropes, for jumping rope and sex, skipping and strangulation, both forms of exercise

* this Chinese hallway rug i got when i went to China in my mind. i have a box of tools in the bathroom...we're remodeling...

* i'm telling you, no seriously shut the fuck up and listen to me for once, let me sleep or you'll be sorry

* this is the one and only youtube video i'm ever gonna make

* ---whatcha doin'?
---i never watched Phineas & Ferb. that show was weird, it was, like, for hipster children. i'm writing the script of this special.
---this thing has a script? you look like a hippie child who draws mazes for the New York Times.
---are you being serious right now? this is a comedy show. i don't want to be filmed unless i'm doing the filming. did you get my water?
---your order?
---no my water order in order of water.
---did you get that thing i sent ya?...
---again, i don't watch adult swim...

* aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand scene! this is gonna win the Bounty contest, babe.

* Riley: you have to understand New York City parties. they're not really parties, they're crises.

* Riley: i know that alien. he seems harmless. he starts with the how he never got over Gumby being canceled but then quickly moves on to the part where he wants to probe your butt.

* we need name tags here, everyone here is a first-timer. we're not so much hipsters as sore losers. we drink from red Solo cups to recreate the college experience we were denied but deserved.

* i've learnt my lesson, let the alien make the scene, the party-circuit scene, more order for Halloween i mean water. to make saltwater-taffy Halloween candy i suppose. and the Mischief Night fires, never found those. i'll actually use some of those water bottles i hoard for water.
---remember to hydrate.
yeah but i don't exercise, i have to maintain the gift of my butt.

* Noah: i'm the other Cyrus child. the male Noah that's kept in the attic bathroom. don't worry, i'm sitting on my arm that's why you can't see it. are you sure about all this ice and mulch?
---well sure. ice are crystals, right? you need to learn to GROW...

* DIVERSITY: in the blink of an eye. keep subverting those tropes, Lorelei, we need equal representation in the weirdness game. i like Tim & Eric but they aren't the gatekeepers to this anticomedy thing, right?

* Debbie Downer: um, maybe if i wore that pink blindfold over there. can we do it on the pink sofa? i'm afraid the rug will catch on fire with all the candles here. i mean have you ever had sex on just a mattress on the floor? it's weird.
Riley: that's how your parents did it in the '70s after reading The Joy of Sex by Alex Comfort. that's how it's done in every frat and sorority house.

* Debbie Downer: i came here cos i don't have any friends. can we have sex without touching at all? i don't want to have sex on camera. can you be a virgin whore?
Riley: but nobody watches this...
Debbie Downer: thank you for my first karate lesson. the mall got closed so...

* Maya Angelou: you know why the caged bird sings?
Riley: sex with you in Heaven is my ultimate fantasy.
Maya: freedom...

* Riley: you look like a root. i'm tryna prevent you from becoming a dud root.
Noah: i don't feel so hot.
Riley: exactly. the crystals will heal you.
Noah: yeah but can you take me to a hospital now?
Riley: crystals aren't a religion, they're a lifestyle.

* David Morse from the first season of St. Elsewhere: is it true one of your animals is called Weinstein?
Jane B: yes but he was removed from the cage.
David: how do you know the eyes of the animals aren't just drowsy?
Jane: we make sure the animals don't drink anything but water. my favorite plug is a book plug. the wordplay here is all very Shakespearean.
David: did you know there was no wordplay before Shakespeare? did you know that Boston is where St. Elsewhere takes place? not many people know that. we're like the '80s Boston ER.
Jane: i thought that show took place in a snowglobe.

* Noah is gone. i needed time to myself. but now that i have it i don't feel so hot.

* at least there's not a knife at my back. 5 is a spiritual number, right? like the palm of a human or animal hand.

* first show in history to have the end-credits in the middle

* show-within-the-show backstage, behind the scenes. man playing boyfriend is the real boyfriend but playing the part in this scripeted segment that looks like a documentary.

* not Eric Andre: so as you can see i finally got sponsored, i'm gonna skateboard using ladders.
Lorelei: babe i'm too big for you now.
not Eric: i know, dat azz.
Lorelei: no i have a special on adult swim so my mom's gonna see this...
not Eric: i only have enough money for one pizza slice, so your choice. are you in love with your mom?
Lorelei: sure, all kids are. and kidults. i'm craving black food.
not Eric: like as in burnt food? i'm trying to be supportive but it's hard when you have that tv thing sticking out of your butt......as in that mic! you're still filming, aren't you? you sneaky shedevil.

* Lorelei: yeah so this is typical stoop conversation, even without the pot fumes. what were we talking about?
girl: we're all just hanging out, it's okay, you can kiss me. i'm not gay. well i'm not gay for you. but we're all hanging out.
Lorelei: sorry, you look like my mom.
girl: is that a good thing? so war, you see, stems from water. water had different molecular-compound compound chemicals back then, when war was peace.
Lorelei: yeah, the word 'war' can be found in the word 'bongwater'.

* Lorelei: i'm looking for flights into Miami right now. i'm gonna marry my mom.
Gilligan boyfriend: seriously, why does EVERYTHING happen in fucking Florida?

* counter cutie: shoulda went to Jared.
Lorelei: have you tried that new Kushner Kush sold by the stoop?
counter cutie: as our official travel blogger, you HAVE to wear the LIVE LOVE TRAVEL blindfold when you sleep at airports.

* Lorelei: mom, this looks weird but love is love. i'm not wearing this tuxedo cos i'm a lesbian, i'm a groom. and we are under a gigantic mistletoe evergreen wreath thing so that's perfect. and you are my real mom, right? not an actress.
mom: si.
(you KNOW that's her real mom, they look so much alike, gotta be)

* the one in the airport was gratuitous, but the grand longshot into the light of Lorelei walking down the sidewalk Brooklyn maples and treestuffs to her one side and the shadowed stoops strewn with elm leaves to her other all alone the lane all to herself strolling cheek side to side was regal and queenly and intentional art. bottoms line: Lorelei's ass is a masterpeice.

CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. i WILL eat that McDonald's Holiday Pie if i have to move to Brooklyn to do it. i mean it's gotta be at that Times Square McDonald's, right?...

Stan Lee is weak but his words are strong. his dying eyes bemoaning their thick-rimmed glasses slide back and forth and elide that he is just about to take in a huge windfall inheritance, a wealth of wisdom from above that he contributed to with small doantions each month of his life and is now the beneficiary of. he is about to become the golden balloon he blew.

Stan Lee: *patting Dirg's cheeks with his hairy hands softly* son, listen to me, there is no encore, this is all there is. and the world needs an awakening, an exodus, it needs to breathe again, new air, cold as the moon, or it will be doomed to failure forever. it's real this time, not next week's comic-book story wirebound in an anthology.

Dirg realizes what this is. he has to hurry, time is running out, and there will not be a scond chance to get at this. he is crying but doesn't notice as he shuts everything out: the atmosphere, the nailbitten anger in the crowd, directed at him and everything the world has to offer, the sky slows down and Dirg can see the flap of birds' wings.

Dirg: oh Stan! oh Stan! you are my father!

Stan: no i'm not, son, i'm your mentor, there's a difference. tho there shouldn't be.

Dirg: oh Stan don't go! the world needs your light! we are plunged in darkness and the war will never end! it will rend before it ends! i don't wanna be a soldier anymore, the world is not fair! and there is no magic. you had the magic, Stan, the mag fic, and it's gone. that's why i got those bottles of magic potion from that girl. she was just a girl after all, flawed as women are. there is no magic really in this world, you have to believe against all logic and reason that man can fly! that's the only way to get off the ground, to get ahead in this world, to make something of oneself, to leave a legacy, to get your cartoon published. the science of a magic potion is humans' certain ceramic scientific glue under one's feet.

Stan: no you are wrong, son. but it is about belief. but see, i fell not because i didn't believe in myself, or believe i could really walk on walls like my comic creation, i could be the Spider-Man only dreamt of, it was because YOU didn't believe in ME!

Dirg: how can you say that? you're everything to me!

Stan: which is the same as nothing. what film were you perusing on your little laptop there for your research on how to scale walls like a spider?

Dirg: The Fly. of course. it's all right there laid out in the manly movie how to become a Man, a Superman. Jeff Goldblum takes us on our steps, literally, climbing walls without adhesive. how to do it in real life and real time. see you need to technique your dream not just blow it like bubblegum, which once chewed can be used under the glove for sticky as well.

Stan: Dirg, you stopped believing in me when you took up your extreme views, and they are extreme make no mistake. they're radical but not cool. they aren't edgy or so against the norm so as to be populist and popular and normal.

Dirg: but Stan, Sir, what about all the conservative voices which are silenced in media? this was our one chance to fight back the crystal cerulean tide with our harpoons. don't you see? next election there will be a wave and everything WILL go back to normal. the normal Leftist way of the world which treats us as invisible sheep. for the slaughter. what about penurious Patreon patrons? free speech, true free speech, is impossible, like The Wall or Brexit. they're just symbols, concepts to be tossed around like a football from a son to an absentee father. what about Judd Winick's comics? the alt-right deserves to be heard like any other faction, isn't that only fair in war? we need to empower both sides, the left and the right, against the establishment.

Stan: both sides or bothsidesism? for every Patreon pat on the back there is an Eliza Dushku. see? the weather never changes, it will always be wet if we let it. society is insidous and will take generations to cleanse, till the Living Planet sees with Eyes not ego and Drinks a bottle of clean plastic and fresh water. not pours one out with that bottle like a pimp cup. these are problems which will never be solved. and which dry up our inkwells whenever we think up a new story, writing it with nervous squiggles and squabbles, appealing to our better angels, about a conflicted ordinary citizen who becomes a hero and invests in us. the logical conclusion of tolerance. how inequality is wrapped inexorably up in identity like a flag around one's boycott boots. art is not so much an answer as an atrium. but through it all you must help others. and you must believe in magic. there is no hatred in magic. there is no point in winning, winning just means you die after your enemy.

Dirg: i fight. i fight for all those on twitter who tell a perfectly reasonable dirty crass funny joke and then have to backtrack and delete or edit cos it offends one person on this planet. that ain't comedy, that's slave comedy. that stifles creativity. creativity helps us understand what it means to be human, right? what does it mean to be totally free?

Stan: it means to die. because when you die, you live, you live as life is meant. how do you sense if a joke is crass? a well of goodness deep inside us all. son, my lovely son Dirg, *Stan jumpropes Dirg's shoulders and plays Baker's-Man with Dirg's clenched gluey arms* you must love, son, YOU MUST DO IT ALL FOR LOVE!!!

Stan expires and blows his Last Breath into Dirg's left ear. Dirg quickly hugs Stan tight forever and, wishing Stan's red sweater would blend into Dirg's bleeding blood, Dirg hurriedly slings the deceased body onto his tearing shoulder and Spider-walks back in to the Mansion and lays Stan peacefully on Stan's bedroom-chamber bed and spits the drone camera attached to the roof off the roof and locks the windows...

Dirg: *in a lullabied whisper* for the Browncoats. for the Browns.

Mueller is riding on his Synergy lifecycle stationary bike to keep fit and exercised and rested.

Mueller: if i didn't exist i'd have to be invented in some way. i'm quieter than God. i don't quit, i go quiet. the American people are counting on me not to mess up, don't screw up after we've come so far.

President Bump: Bob this is agonizing, is this thing EVER gonna end?

Mueller: you tell me. before i left for this work vacation i took some down time to recharge. i closed off a floor of the Attorney Building Courthouse and set up a long waterslide i rolled out on the marble floor. like Big. my compatriots---who are the true patriots---and i took turns sliding and spinning in place, all with our suits still on---someone stole my Santa suit---no funny business, just a way to take a breather from business. you can't see us but we're working real hard. we're 17 angry John Cenas.

Bump: yeah well i have a stone fountain in my bedroom. i've overridden your sealed-indictments stratagem with my utter bald luck! the stone statue of limitations will expire if i win again, which i will by one vote, my son Eric will finally be mature enough to vote. i want to make history as President, i want to be the first President who was impeached and actually removed from office by the Senate convicting him. i will not resign, this game is too fun, i want you to literally legally drag me out.

Mueller: thank you for inviting us into your home. well your apartment. high up on the rise here of Bump Moscow Tower. otherwise known as BMT TNT. makes one poo his pants. cos they used TNT for the first time in this country to build it. Putin has banned the general politik public from TNT and only uses the red sticks to brush his teeth.

Bump: yeah thanks. it's gorgeous. the bathtub has goosefeathers scrubbed into it. yeahs those is really for Vlad Putin, this is his floor, his penthouse-suite level, specially signed over to him, for him to put his feet up. and poop on. i'm hiding out here cos there really is no reason for me to go back home. besides, Russia is my home. at least businessly. i got Loop here tending my every whim. aren't you glad i didn't deport you, Loop?

Lupe: my name is Lupe. i'm not that magic prostitute you wanted who could do the mythical Loop in bed.

Bump: if you open this closet door a million lemons fall out of it like a sitcom. onto Loop's head. it's like Publisher's Clearing House in reverse.

Lupe: you did deport me. that's why i'm here. truthfully, frankly, i like Putin as a better boss than you. he lets me play Pokémon Go inbetween my backbreaking shifts.

Bump: yeah, i love the level in Pokemon Go when the strange purple-and-blue big-yet-little monster flying over your shoulder poofs in midair and becomes a Russian agent sent to help you navigate breakfast. always follow what this person directs you to do indirectly to the letter and you won't get in trouble, you won't get a letter which in common parlance is known as papers. you'll know him by the color of his red. on the overview map. a guide like a bouncing wallball ball or Midna when she gets angry.

Lupe: when i work for Mister Putin he said he was giving me a coat. i thought it was a toxic-materials yellow rainwash coat for handling deadly airborne drugs, complete with gasmask hoodie. he said it had my name on it. turns out it was a coat from Burlington! a nice leather brown one! with a stitch on both lapels and an elk fur trim! it was a Christmas coat and his Christmas present from Senor Putin to me, with my name on the gift tag sewn into the inside lapel!

Bump: sit back and relax here, put up your feet, the gang's all here, soon. watch some tv and let's discuss. hey! i got a win! with no help, Sessions never gave me concessions. just a concussion. i fixed criminal-justice reform cos i might be in a cell sooner than later and want the place to be as Snoopy Met-Life sports gym on the beach as possible. i want to benchpress 300 pounds of weight with my feet. where women AND men go naked and crazy for volleyball. throwback to fiery jets. *Bump hugs the air with his curved arm and sings "Home For The Holidays"* oh shucks. it's just not as fun without my man V. Putin singing backup for me acapella duet. the Veester. the Veepster. well let's watch some tv anyway, hey! we got a new local weather girl! we got Jaclyn Dunn! not Smith! snatched her over from the ultraliberal insanity of San Fran! look at her pendulous eyes!

Maria LaRosa: she's actually a traffic girl, a much rarer breed of Pokémon. i'm a cool mom. there's gonna be an adventure here for me...soon...i am so bored and i don't do housework...

Mueller: sir, sit, i have but one question for you: WHERE IS PUTIN? that was the whole REAL reason for this entire investigation, i am here to arrest Vladimir! put the blood cuffs on him! HE is the kingpin, not you.

Bump: come on, everyone, let's all link up our devices and computers into one big happy world, this is my job as President, to come. together. let's talk like chatty catties about the world's and the universe of Steven's problems. goodbye starlight, gotta keep the room lights on. recap and summit, let's do this. everyone on and in the chat?

Eye Luggage: hello, i'm lurking, not talking back just listening from the great beyond, from the cramped sideroom of the church i'm about to enter. i have my powder-pink tuxedo on and am wearing cold feet. today is my marriage day. my nerves aren't steel but i'm tryna remain calm. this is a big stomp. i'm stalling cos i'm not sure about this but just hearing all your voices gives me the hives and homeelectronicfires warmth i need to be courageous and move. forward. upward. joining us at the Red Table for me as an absentee host are Tavis Smiley? Kevin Hart? oh hell no.

Tavis and Kevin: we're smart men, we really are, hasn't it been enough time? if we had just deleted our twitters none of this would have happened. twitter literally destroys careers and lives, leaves a carnage of counts-cadavers and growthless germs in its wake. it sets up a system that is impossible to solve because it's impossible to adhere to! a machine that doesn't take a talking humanity into account, only assigns your account. you can only be controversial partially. there are degrees to a pat on the butt, ask any baseball player. the system is impossible! whereby being in cyberspace you need to create your own tunnel. to plant your own seeds. space seeds. seeds only grown on Mars. we need a diversity of voices, black voices, or democracy dies. even down no-good drug-dealin' voices. the only thing twitter is good for is posting to showcase court documents.

Letitia James: hello, Mr Mueller *shakes hands* i'm new to the Red Table. which means i'm not damaged yet. i'm full of energy.

Bump: *resigned* no, not you, Bob over you anyday, you represent Vice. you represent two of my bitterest humiliations in one person!

LeBron James: *solid-gold tooth flashes* hey, ma. you know i got blocked---not on twitter, on the basketball court---cos i ran out of gas, which allowed me the time to study. i filled up my huge SUV smokestack tanks and it was cheap as hell on the dollar! like Randy Moss cheap. so i invested in gas to keep the prices low. win-win. we lost the game but still. hey ma, hey Theresa, how you enjoying the holidays? everything goes better with Sprite Cranberry.

Theresa May: can you get that in a pub? can I get that in a pub? i have a hunch......it's in my back...

JK Rowling: Brexit, like The Wall, is magic, it doesn't exist. YOU are just a thought as well, Mr. Bump, a concept which can never be put into practical practice. this is what we must realize. hopefully all those New Age predictions---the real magic in this world---happen soon and come true. waiting for the Global Consciousness to emerge and overflow like the L.A. River.

Theresa May: JK---if that is indeed your real name---JK, i feel you're approachable but it's hard to approach you in the first place. you're like Voldemort, you have the same nose.

Bump: thank god i'm not real, i don't want to really go to jail, i'll have to build the jail with that clear Wall material so i can stay looking at all that human nature Codrus created. adobe clay from Aztecs, right? The Wall is closing in on me. The Wall is like the Glass Ceiling For Men, right? you can see through it like the glass ceiling to your preferred destination.

Theresa May: that is a charitable view of your situation, it's about white drugs.

before Dirg logs in, he takes a very long walk on a very short pier, the hidden willow footbridges which dot the secret woodsy underside of the belly of Obec Woods where the two worlds meet, school and home. in the bungalow treehouse not known by man but two men. abandoned and full of adoration. along the way navigating the light spots and drone flightpaths he sneaks into the backentrance to LUSH.

Madame Pons: you heard about Eliza Dushku?

Dirg: do you Dushku? yes, just now. good luck with that degree, right? of fury. and scorn.

Pons: and ridicule. and reputation. no more reps. why do i keep getting all these brochures and pamphlets at my doorstep?

Dirg: it's your office's doorstep. they're all from Christian groups. you know what makes a real Christian?

Dirg points a gun at Pons's belly.

Dirg: a gun. to keep the peace. like Jesus preached.

Dirg punctures the sweater strings to Pons's belly with the tip of the gun and lays it flush against leaving no space between her and his belly. he hugs her passionately this way, with the gun squeezed in between their chests. the trigger goes off. blanks.

Dirg: *sweating and exasperated* don't worry, i'd never hurt you, i love you and appreciate you. thank you.

Pons: *sweating profusely from her tits, sweat coming off those mountains like a valley* fuck me. college life. fucking college life. i've got new congregations to officiate.

Dirg slides down the slide of the Treehouse knothole that's formed and caved over time under the pressure of life. or from erosion. or evolution.

Dirg: daddy's home.

Laertus: just in time for the ceremony.

Dirg: what's with this election season? or rather Election Day. or dan rather Election Day. it was whack as a wheel! it became Election Month!

Laertus: you've done permanent damage, but actually you've woke us up. we'll never be led the primrose path again, thinking everything is easy, we won't be lackadaisical and just assume you're not coming for us at every corner. we were sleepwalking through politics and you hit our shoulder. so many more women have been activated this time around and will have their word and save the world before they heal it. a sleeping giantess, like a spiritual sleeper cell that's been called up out of decommission. to officer. we know what's underground now, under the soil. my favorite color isn't red anymore, or blue, it's purple. the grass grows accordingly.

Dirg: what's with those BMW commercials, do they think we don't have eyes? sneakily tryna fit that gay couple in there in the tormado love montage. we see your split-second signaling. and it's not your turn signals.

Laertus: you do. and that Lighthouse commercial for that adult medicine we're gonna have to take soon, that guy looks like Tony Bourdain. makes me miss him all over. and that one hilarious commercial with Ray Liotta about smoking-quitting that represents him, or casts him rather, as just some ordinary jo-blo with a job. like Ray Liotta is just some barber on the street who needs to lay off the cigs. like Hollywood is just a cornerstore job like doggrooming.

Dirg: just an actor, like being a cop or a teacher, everyone needs to learn where the lines are. move the lights and get ready to shoot. and speaking of teaching, what can The Grinch teach us this holiday season? about spirit. Christmas season, he said in a low-voiced mutter.

Laertus: JUST DO IT, the classy man said in an emphatic high-moaned manner. about important life-changing matters. that require a cheetah. stop thinking, thinking gets messy. with all that fluid oozing out of your brain. your mind is a prison, your actual thoughts can paralyze you like a rope or stage hook.

the boys bow down to each other and supplicate on the tree carpets with their wings inserted.

Dirg: finally a religion we can all embrace. a famous faith. St. Benedict. has a nice ring to it.

Laertus: Cumberbatch the Catholic. coming for his batch . it's just New Age enough but diluted with some Medieval alchemy. the art of the spell. cummerbund graduation, i need one of those. i need to get spiritually healthy before my vows. clean. feeling the nerves but tryna remain calm. i don't want to retch all over my suit. i feel good wearing a uniform in college!

Dirg: do a power wash for your insides by downing a cucumber vodka at Bruce Wayne's to celebrate. before.

Pete Davidson joins them on the phone, a phone held up to Pete's ear. with Cecily Strong on the other line.

Cecily Strong: i'm a strong woman. i had some of my best acting work last episode, but it was all drowned out by your news. have we ever worked together on a skit? do we even say hi to each other when we pass by in the halls? you know how hard it is to act while singing Barbra? even Dennis Perkins thinks so. and he sucks gherkins. like he actually sucks on a pickle, i've seen him perform for me in my dressing room. i don't mind Dennis's Hard-Left-or you-don't-get-the-kinja-keypass but for fuck sake Dennis, stop linking to your own work, that is so solipsistic goth-poet!

Pete: i wasn't gonna let the trolls win, that's the only reason i was strong. the only reason i'm a remainer. that's my motivating factor for everything i do in life: twitter. it's cool, we both don't like to ice-skate anyway, that Ice Ending is getting predictable. every year. i was already in my gingerbread footie pajamas in your dressing room so i went to sleep. i'm learning to be strong from you, Cec, to take a stand and keep to it. Christmas suicide is so cliché. hanging by the Christmas tree branch?

Pons: ladies and gentlemen, only three of us here, i now present for the first time to society: Mr. and Mrs. Eye Luggage!

beside Eye Luggage is the long gazing profile of her Harley Hammer. Eye married her hammer. she married her inanimate cosplay tool. that she uses for anime and animation conventions. flouting convention.

Eye: love is the ultimate weapon. this is not a form of marrying myself. and i'm not marrying my vibrator or anything. we love each other, we have feelings for one another, and we've made a lifelong commitment. sorry, fellas, i'm a taken woman.

Pons: next up, as a wild witness, i see you two. and i honor you two. slow-clap from me cos we're the only ones in the room. wait while we roll on in the computer-lab desktop, takes awhile it's clunky. this is Mr. Laertus and his partner-for-life, what's the name again?

Laertus has married a creature he met while online in a virtual world. a cross between a purple Yoshi and the inside of an indie Pokémon egg. but with no tail. the tail is the tongue of the sentient being.

Dirg: please tell me this is just really-good CGI.

Laertus: he's real, not a computer fabrication, as real as me. certainly you. realer than me. he's my husband.

Pons looks at the giant platter of KFC chicken as it stays staid by the soaps. she throws up thinking of those who weren't lucky enough like her to be able to fly the coop.

Dirg: oh, well, that's the big news, you don't want to hear from me now.

Laertus: *touching his new screen and his friend's lap* please, Dirg.

Gladyce: it's time, dear. eat the egg.

Doryce eats the hardboiled egg with the scrape on top that looks like the Death Star.

Gladyce: and this.

Doryce: an India Pale Ale penis-shaped hunk of salami i get to suck on?!! genius. drunk love.

Gladyce: we're going now, to the Shen Yun show in San Jose. dancing till Christmas Day every night under the stars. aboard a grand glistening dragonboat of curled curved orange wood and red paddles. the dragon masthead spews yellow smoke from its nostrils. or is that the dragon's mustache? many muscular barechested Chinese men in fluttering see-through white balloon pants balleting upside-down. and holding ribbon.

Doryce: glorious. the male ballerina, what a concept! so ethnic. ethnic men do it for me, they're so different from what i'm used to. they are our future...

Dirg: *peeing his pants* i hate Christmas. every Christmas Eve night my dad would molest me while i waited for Santa by our burning fireplace. he went down the chimney in a Santa suit, cursed to Grandma who was dead, and then he violated me.

Laertus: *seriously* where was your mother?

Dirg: putting up the lights outside our home. the rest of the year she was gone from our lives, at the tupperware parties of her friends. she never cooked a home-cooked meal for us. never told her, cos it's the most ridiculous thing ever dreamt up. except it was real. it really happened, i saw my father sliding down those bricks. my father was a cool dad the rest of the year, something about Christmas triggered him off into madness. which is just another word for anger. and so the cycle continued with me. i guess he deluded himself into thinking i wouldn't recognize him with the beard.

Laertus hugs Dirg hard for five minutes.

Dirg: come on! why aren't you laughing?

Laertus: great. i guess this means i have to miss the next cycle, aye? gotta miss the next coupla semesters? thank goodness i'm a homebody and my spouse works, hope my husband doesn't get too jealous. to take care for you. to make sure you're okay. a wellness check which spans the wellness of a soul.

notes:

* okay the only thing Christamsy about this is that the babe's eyes when they go red and white look like peppermint mints

* Horseface: The Musical

* Bobby fLay was rtoo-boring a subject to psot, sorry Bobby fans, I know he;s tight with Giad and Scooby Doo and his wife is a lesvbian, buty he himself is a cipher.

* I could have featured Anna Paquin cos I;lm presently on a The Piano kick right now but I was informed that was Fly Aay Home, which carries its own set of nostalgic angyst for me., that movie was played ad nauseam whenever I went over to my cousin;s house, but I never really saw it, it was just backlground noise to drown us ut when we played Nefball indoors when we werenlt suopsoed to. something abour Canada geese and Elliott from E.T. but the sun this time and more of a Zelda glider before there was one. I think the erd hoodie remained tho. I fell in love with Canadian bacon from those visits, the sweet maple smell of that berfbakkl wafting at the doorsill each time.

* also not a layaway, as if I'd evr be not-nbervous enough to fly a place again. I got lost in LAX ocne, holsing up a sign with my own name on it......in gact I sthink ilm still at the sirpirt right now, wandering ainlessly...like Tom Hanks...

* Sarah Squirm and Cecilky DtrongL the wordness is strong with Chicago babes. all those SNL skits that were a little off cos they contained talking squirrels and stiff, tat;s all Cecily.

* watxch out, this thing takes a tiurn''

* dogs: hehy man io don't; like lorse. they scary, got those weirs muscles bulging out where theor arms should be.

* Sarah Squirm: my sui is peppermint, too!

* those clouds are made out od FlexSeal. this is a commercial for irish Dpring Fpr horses. donl;t be fooled, this piece is a bout haoir...but it's really aboiut being aware.

* the dogference between a violin and via? Stradivarius didnlt make no filthy violas, owuldbn;t even touch those bastard cousins.

*  is it poosible to ahmronzie with yourself> like can you do a duet wioth your own voice without using technology?

* the mother of all the Totans from SAtaack on Tiatan. You tell her to shabve her lgs.

* one doesn't identify with womanhood, one strives for it in all things

* piubic-hair bow is whatls sued to make thrash music.

* Bigfoot: I will love you, no mayter if society shuns you.

* vbody hair is a crime in some places in the world. let us pray. or rather elt us read a scinec book. use the jail in the desert of that The Shoevring Trith eposiode with just the bars and not the cellb.

* with all that sedv tome there would have been a Female Lresident by now!...

* only those that finish theor homework get to ride the pont...which is a eiuphemism...

* warning: do not eat food or swim for the next three gours after watching this. in face, might as well skip lumnchg for a week anyway, this is about ebaity stanbdardsm right> skip oucnh in ritest.

* many sacroifoces misy ne made to land on and search out Mars.

* guy here, so this is the art where my kom covers my eyes at the theater. why woyld yu want to trim your balls hairs? they'te the ebst part of the balls!

* balls are eyballs, makes sex funner, you can see the blowjob this way. I like wakward tiryles. the Tim & Eric prolongment at the end just makes it awarder.

* and this is when this thing became frevolutionary: it became the first feminist ESPN 30 for 30

* buns of macaroni

* sadly, there will be porn of this at the mext Horror Con...

* yur I nsides consist of Twizleer and fruit ounch. you cnal;t surf on fruot punch, makes your board sticky. I;ve always felt uncomfortable with the word :unclean:, it's not dirty, it's religios dirty.

* there is nothing hotter than aebairtugyuk woman imitating mastirnating by stroking her air oenis

* Batney Stinson: I was ducking convincing, wasnlt I? ilm agreat actor.
Polly: in the '80s I just wanted a cracker. in the '90s I just wanted to be ehard. I was the frst #MeToo. perched on Cionain;s shioudler cos he was the Imposble Pirate, sailing on an invisble sea onl he saw.
Aphex TwinL so whatever happened to me? tech made a comebacl, right?
Sarah: sorrty, I slioped there/

* gotta be the Your oreey face Is Goj ng to Hell butcher.graveayrd.mortuary sey.

* w women have always been trated like a piece of emat.

* wed on;t know why we ear these ywllo hardhats. to protrce usrlves from rocks beong theon at us from Sngels abive. emat dopesn;t look so goos when it's hung up on hooks like this, huh. always wear socks, even indoors.

* we are not doctors...

* cum-fileld cpndp, from a limp ugly ugly oenis: and this is wy Saeah Squirm beavcme a comedian, this was the trauamatic night which changed the trajectory of sarah;s life forever

* winter scarf. I was gonna get liopisuction on that ass anyway. this ice used to pack and preserve is so good it won't turn the cardboard vbox in to a pudle.

* Skin Kids: the precurosor toe Beta Kids from Wodner Wsjozen. complete with Xavier Renegade angel faceovers.

* #NOS kin: the energy drink which brigns tht entire working class tibgether

* a full Bush sounds good right now in these times. how is the Olumoic swim Committee gonna regulate THIS bodysuit? smells like picklejuice which is pfecrty for BBQ when you need the pickle to offset the richness of the ribs.

* but those whiteheads swuwzewd out whotre hearts. the whote heart enoji is rare on Instagram

* painting: PAY ATTENTION TO ME!!! (*thinking* it doens;lt workj thwn I can't speak and am just a painting, not a logo.)

* Sarajk: that;s right, we ended racism! it only took a few Instagram emojis of balloons and foves. amnd my Thord Eye which as yu can see I wear as a bowtie.

* Saerhl being who I am, I ingerently rekected the Alpha model. we jdews are real men, real mensches. foemer site of the Manhattab {Prpject and the "Unfotgiven" Metallica video.

* Saratl so what wr;r atying here is imagine if Deceratrai wasa llowed to eat bacon? imagine thsos times?

* this may be counterintuive, but the "fuck: is actually funnir whe itls bleeped.

* I don't wsnt to wade too deep in the waters here but it's cool to see a chuick this into outfoght blood and gutsm, you don't see this sort fo gory stuff much from gitrls, it's a berathe of fresh air,. well, miusty air.

CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekekd, ny babies. I;ve slacked off on my Christmas gifting this year so ui;m jjust ginan oush a buttoin and let an Aa,zon drone randomly flight-path all my stuff around the Tri Dtate Area. Merry Christmas. there, is aid it.