1. do you like where you live or do you wish you could move? those months and endless dragout months of road construction right next to my house were murder i won't lie. they ruined my summer......mostly through being so loud i couldn't concentrate on Lucas or any of the other films i watched on putlocker shut in my room all summer with my iapd mini that gives me a splinter on my thumb each time i use it. i once saw a butterfly fly near my room and i became that anime butterfly meme man with the glasses. i need these movies to harken back to my nostalgia and think about what could have been, and let my heart have a good winge. when my heart has a good hard cry, the blood flows more circulatorily through my clogged veins and healthy blue arteries so i don't develop early-onset heart attack as a man of 40 who feels 80.

HOWEVER MEANWHILE once the roads were smoothed away and paved over like they never existed like my life i started to have a good time. the area was quieter cos more cars could get through each loop now due to the double-lane. nights were frozen and eerily noiseless. i could walk to The Store again thanks to the new black bike path in the middle of the highway, before i just starved. BUT i was still craving something missing, i needed movie popcorn. i wished all my favorite fast-food joints were along one thoroughfare like i had at Berkeley. there i could McDonald's it, then hop to Burger King, skip to 7-Eleven, and jump into the arms of a Sizzler waitress.

EDIT: i JUST RIGHT NOW RIGHT THIS MINUTE received a red paper-sailboat box of McDonald's Cheesy Bacon fries from my neighbor who crawled in through my bedroom window. my neighbor is also my plumber and my priest, i'm not handy nor handsy. i'm nibbling the fries to the side of me like all good side-food as i type this. they're pretty good. and now my neighbor is throwing a paper-menu pamphlet in my face from GrubHub and telling me never to bother him again...

2. no matter what life throws at me, i believe that i can deal with it. agree or disagree? everything except a GrubHub pamphlet. the fact that i'm blogging to you today instead of speaking with you gives you your answer and insight into my soul. life is hard, and i am soft. soft like a gelatin teddy bear. but i'm working on it. why just this later this afternoon i'm gonna go out with my friend Lucy van Pelt. i told her expressly no hunting for pelts or the friendship is off!!! she assures me we're just gonna have a nice day at the park and she's gonna teach me how to field-goal-kick a football......Australian-style...

3. a dear friend is stuck in an unhappy relationship. what advice would you give to the friend to cope---how can they make lemonade out of lemons?

first of all, deliberately misspell lemonade on your stand, like call it LEMONAZE or something, the public always finds that cute. and charge 5 cents or a nickel even though you'll go underwater quickly with that business model. underwater with sweetened water.

to my dear friend Bambi, i urge him to protect his mother at all costs, secret her out of the forest under cover of night shrubs before it's too late. and for god sake let everyone who can vote vote in the next upcoming woods election. Bambi's father, who is anti-gun, is running against the hunter. you know, Bambi is a cultural icon, he was the first person to bear the name Bambi using it seriously as a male name.

4. nothing of value can be learned from failure, true or false? let me flip Two-Face's coin...…

not true. like take me, after the carrots thing i invested my life savings into bitcoin. everybody and their grandma Chuck Schwab investor is telling me my bitcoins are worthless, but that's real money i have in my pocket there!

5. even if you are sure about your ultimate choice, do you still ask others for advice before making an important or risky decision? i asked my friend Chuck about it the other day:

i asked him if i should try out for the football team. Chuck said he knew why i was doing this and it was natural selection that Chuck got the chicks, not me. she wasn't seeing anyone and i'd get killed on that field cos my glasses would crush me. i retorted by throwing Title IX back at his faceguarded face. then we had pizza from a cold Chicago hot-dog shoppe. Chuck asked her if she liked politics and she said no. Chuck asked her if she liked cars and she said no. i told Chuck this line of questioning was incredibly sexist but he said it was the '80s. then he kissed her as i watched from my bike...

i trust Chuck. Chuck Sheen.

BONUS: what is the sweetest or most rewarding moment of your life?

well as you know i work at a casino in the middle of the desert. i can't hide my mouth when i'm pleasing people with my words as i deal them cards and determine their fates, whether they're gonna be rich or poor in life and have to take out a loan. so i was swimming at the last Y one day, the lanes with the rainbow flags overhead, swimming while chewing on a piece of hard candy. i bit into that sucker of a hard candy and my entire mouth's teeth shattered into white dust. if it wasn't for the Invisalign mouthguard dental implants surgery that was the clear choice i couldn't go back to work. i became self-conscious and depressed and hangdog. i was so embarrassed i covered my mouth whenever i was eating and didn't look at nobody, not even my mom. never took pictures unless it was just my eyelevel. but now my customers and potential jailers look at my teeth and call them GORGEOUS!!! they tell me i have a million-dollar smile! they ain't lyin, my teeth are now green poker chips...

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

Pedro: I donlt care anynmore! throw me out again see if I care! I need to go home anyway! i'm going to Miami!

Pedro slides down the Inverness canyon natiral slide of grass weted by the mist and into a narby crystal-lake-clear tributary. there I branches out into one larger tirnutary and then into an unknown green gulf, where pedro sails on his pristine shiny shapey boat that acts as the most=perfect red rudder to guide him to land and safety and coastl.ine. he finally reaches Miami thought it's hard to tell where the plam trees start and where the ocean ends.

Pedro: fuck this! what's going on? why is there only water in Miami? where are the Cuban-style roads and outdoor cantinas with bell lights? where's my childhood home of abode and Grandma's tortilla powder and determination and grit and margarita mix in the face of wintry mix on the edge of the pier?

Jared Goff: *chewing on an avocado pizza* I;m afraid your hosue has been washed away to sea. there;s nothing left, you are a stranger and a wanderer forever the erst of your life. see our Blade Runner movie was surely unrelaiztic, there won't BE a 2030 much less any futher year!!!

Pedro swims his way past bouklder and stone like a human gondola cos the city is now just one big successful waterworld. he manages to spiot the last splintery piece of wood from his house as a raft and is able to climb Alex Escarno out from drowining by his big manly shoudlers and plop him on the raft while Pedro catty-paddles to the side.

Pedro: BRO! I SAVED you! just like i'll save the world! I'd die if you had died! I can't do this without you! e;pseiclaly noe, the entire world is against me, but you will always be ,u childhood friend and defacto uncle and kind of spiritual brother and fasiled lover.

Alex Escarno: yeah I was never gay. but I love you like if you were my husband. we grew up together on the mean streets of Cuba. then we both closed out eyes, got enhtered into sugar-potato dugfffel bahs, and wound up abandone don a beach in Miami. we thought this was a family acation, it all looked the same, it's all one countey on the end,m right? I love you, man, no mattwr what.

Alex wears a rainbow short that is more white strueps than rainmbow, he looks like if pedro was even more handsomer and sported a Ted dabnson beard to garland his short trim hair. he is tlalwr and has one more kuscle than Pedro, and could pass for pedro if piush came to shoev for police lineups.

Pedro: *shouting over the fierce winds* I was always jelaous of you, Alex, you were better-looking than me, you didn't beat up etahcers at school, you werer a good Cuban Catholic. the family and my mom loved you best, I never got over that, just know that all those tiumes I ounched you in the face I only meant it as a kind of rough foreplay thing. you must follow me, to wherever this lad, howvere far, I am so closw to the potion formula. I;ve got the rght mix in the palm of my fingertip. you must always be there for me, you are my only freidn left on this erath.

Alex: what about Dean> arenlt yiu gonna marry him even though you can't?

Pdro; oh yeah, him.

Alec: I peldge.

Alex hits himself on the gorhead woith the wooden plank in solidarity, the two friends and comrades paddle their way to the shore which is rwally an island now. on the way they finish theor cold nonheated conversation:

Pedro: *playfylly and nudging Alex in th shoudjer hard* I'll never forgove you for forcing me to do Real World. that hsow sukcs. what a crisis! such mentla and psychological and worpdlay anguish my body doesn't need now. they kicked me out! yeah, they actually kicked me out! that;s a first for the hsoer, it's like beinf the frist resient to ACTUALLY get imepahced!

Alex: hety I didn't force you, thatls yoru style, not mine. you actively petitioned me to do the auduiotn video, youwWANTED to be on the showm you said ylou;d kick all the other castmates; asses, you wanted to raise your progile--your brand,m yuc alled it---to better achieve the inredients.

Pedro: well tru tru. true enough. but I didn't know how puitanha-y treality tv is! levehroud and shamless and LCD. backbiting, I;m all about back-loving, fucking in the butt.

they erach the AIDS clinic shack, the onkly one for water miles in Miami, a dilapidated shack ready to turn to dust at any minute. one brown palm terr serves as the cmnopy instead of a redtile roog. inside, Pam is the nurse-in-charge!

Pam: doctor. doctor. Pedro> Alex? what are you two doing here!?

Pedro: I should ask you the mae thing! you're a doctor n ow? how; smarreid life triton; ya?

Pam: this isn;t about me, this is anout you and your edmeise. sure sure, well you know us homelss folk, we just sort of wander from town to town.

Alex: how do you know my name?

Pam: *flippinf* so going ovcer your chart, I ned to know your name, and yoiur PIN number, and what can I do for you tofay< whyld you come in> what condition are yu suffering from?

pedro: um, I have AIDSm rmemebr? I'm here for myloointhky T cell count.

Pam: have you been epderiencing any unusal stress in your life presently at the moment lately?

Pero: um, you guys kicked me out of the House!!! REMEMEBER!!!?

Oam: want the T short this time after the test? it's a novelty, noly this office carries it.

Pdedro: yeah no fuck the T shirt this is rious. what am I carryong?

Pam: so your T cell count from alst time has lowered......but Pedro, rmemebr,r don't evet ,let the numbers dictate how you feel about yourself. remain smiliong, no number can tell you how to feel.

Pedro; I already have a psychopath;s fake smile so I;m all good, Pammy. well if there is nothing else, vulture adieu...

Pam: suriving relatives?

Pesro: Sean.

Alex: hold on! what about next of kiln> sort, bro, this is morbi, biy we need tot ake care of these things while you're still ticking.

Pedro; I beqiuath all of my soul and savings to mu hisband, Sean. let him make my medical deciopsns if I;m incapacitated or othersiws on a bveraging machine,. DSean and only Sean may ukll the plug. and I'll be damned if I have to sip peas thrugh a straw the rest of my life, just end me and let me become a martyr! and I WON'T be damned for my lfietysle!

Alex: no way, Pedro! not Sean! I don't trust ghim, he;s not one of us. it isn't a black thing, it's a legal thing, I mean marriage is not a thing yet. hes still a starnwegr, a shadfow, an outsider, an agitator, again, not a skin-color thing. he;s not family. Sean will never habe the tight-knot bond that develops between two black-faced-from-cvoaldust boys thrown intot he eman streets of Cuba and told to survrive with sgtreetcats. they did a documentary on us, Streetfight. when you were thinking of running. leave all your bits literak life0anddeath decions ans your vitsals to me. don't you tryst my miustahce?

Pdro: Alex, Sean someday may save my life. if you let him. he;s alteady avde dmy life. he;s rich I mean, he;s the heor to the Stissy fortunme,t at;'s gotta acoounr for something, sign over yur eroights way and I promise I won't throw you in prison, Seam will continue my work after I become Kinf of the Underworld.

Pam: move it alongm genbetlemen, I have customers.

crickers on the beach. the beach swallowed up by the sea.

Mickey Jr. is having a seceret conversation with Geoffrey the Giraffe in his office. this call is being traced ny Mueller once it tries to get blocked. the two aren;lt compating the size of their encks but rather the spots of their backs. and Mickey Jr, wants a free Dosnmey toy.
 for someone.

Muelelr: FUCK. I mena really, i';ve watded three years of my life on this, and nothing. NOTHING??!! nothing. I could have ebnn on a beach in Miami tanning my New englsn white whale-blubber alabaster skin. I;m too old for this shot!

Prwsidtn Bumpo: where's the club? the one Bouchard is in?

Pence: um, that's Klobuchar, sir. in the snow. global warming, eh? *needles the Pres*

Bumo: I can;lt be out there in the snow ,like that, I can't even do rain. I wanted to like Pricne but I ende dup liking Elton John, Meghan is gonna be the enxt Diana. yeah, se,e it's my haor, people will think my godlen ,locks of hair have tirned white and ilm an old man, I can't have that. I love thatls she talking akut the Green New Deal in that weather! remember, folkd, all gold is green underneath, trsy me.

Jared Godf: in Calidornia, rain is like snow to us.

Bump: hey, Jared! *uts hos arm around him* let me see the ring!

Jared: ilm not the Kusner one! I;m the cushy one. I don't want to talk about it, olay? you eman a diamond ring?

Klobuchar: WE WILL FUCKING WIN!!! how;s THAT for Minensta-nice!

Ocasio in the crowd: YEAH FUCK YEAH LET KYLIE JENENR BE FUCKING KYLIE JENNER RIGHT? I OWN YAHOO NEWS NOW!!!

the entire kawn of the slouth end of the Cream Hosue is uorotted in a cviolent manner up which takws the House clear into the cliouds, one big brown taproot dfanfgling from the bottom gorfds. sounds like a volcano eruitng upside-down. sonic boom. the femce canlt hold it, the entire Cream Hosue is one big giant drone!!!

Bump: whoa, vertigo. *on the hone* come on, Jeff, hasn't this gone on long enough< now yus aid in your aurogbiogtpahy youwalways wanted to be a circus performer, see? I read if it's ineterstong. I always lookd upo t you, you were the last Awricna oligarch. besides me. I always emvied our hair.

Jeff Bexos: you're like postmodern comedy. the death of ourage that was blown up again into a blowup doll. a bug whose saliva it spits out in battle is bug sray. I eman I published your bus video in the Post. but there was no reaction. ike there was 0 comments under the youtube vid. swhat is going on?

Bump: hey it; not etortion, it's a negotiation between two rich men. wait a minute, isbalcmail sddd? it is huh, I mena now nobody will ever be therattened aion, they'll jyst self-publish their own naked pictires online. yous ee all those teenyboppers on mysapce just show everything and not care. cos society dorsn;t give a shit anymorw about this sort of thing. there is no more modesty, no more embarrassment. today, threats are just the regular commensts of a oyutube vidwo. gthere;s a gun meoji for Cidrus sake!

Bezos: look just get Lauren sanchez off Fox, okay? and Fixtail Cgannel. she doesn't need any more of those Fox ho lights. or plastic surgery, that stuff is exenisve. did you eally think I cradd about a marriage?, I have nmoney. and mob0ptactocs her brother. and for fuck sake no more sunscriptiond of md Magazine in old-timey newsbot bundles to my house, that magazine isn't funny anymore. and no more 50-box cases of Honey Nut Cheerios in the shape of a Happy Meal to my doorstep. I;lm too busy toe at cereal!

Bump: bzzz bzzz bzzz bezos. I do the amzes on the back of the cereal box. and I always love ot when the eyarly glossy of my facorite comic book comes in the mail of my mailbox. yu gurt me, Jeff, hit me with your words.

Vezos: yeah you jst piured honey nut over the magazine. the wlosr thing you said at your rally was for the mailbomber to sue Amazon!

Bump: u;d say let's continue our oisisng contest but well...…...I use yout enis as my contact lens.

Bexos: at ,east one works.

Bump: waiot, where do I get one of those Sueprman capes everyonme eas wearing the other noght? you; are Lex Luthor after all.

Bezos: those were ueprwoman capes. you can't weara a white cape.

Pecker walks by the residence to find aor.

Pecker: turns out, mine waa bigger than his. this whiole thing was a waste of time and resources. I'll be living in Saud Srabaia now, bit theylvbe taken away my drievrls licnese…

the croenms are at the Chevron Dhootour in Obec Woods. not fudned by niog oild oney.

Gladyce: dear, this is an aemvornmentlalypspind prkect, keep that in mind.

Dorce: *swinging her club* I love all these mniatore-gold -style holes designed by local schoolchildren and math nerds and the public using Dtanucks brown-paper ridged circles. like Ruibe GFodlberg machiens that are impossible to hole out! okay, imma lay my naked vody down on tbhos soft grass and I wante ahc of you strapping lads from the local golf college to whack a swing with your drievr there. on my butt. let's see if ilm the odl slapper everyone says I am! go on, don't be abshfulm give it a good hard swing...……...yay gole in hole!

Gladyce, despite her age, notices many whte balls sunk to the bottom of the gulch of the golf golse. it's impossible tos e ebelow cos the water is all dark blue-green, but she does. and, despite her age, she gets into a skintight wetsuot and large oversize novelty goggles and Flipper-stickered flipeprs and dives in full dibe. she cleans up all the balls and saves the gulch, chalks one up for the envborinment and the power of pullition lulverixation by one person.

but those werenlt gold balls. those were dried balls of cum...

Eye <LugaggeL halsey has joined the chat. and the red Circle table.

Dorg: now I gte it you're black. that explains your ass.

halsey: uh, I don't know...

Laertus: uh, upside-down painting, impososble hard,m good job! don't ereval isd there was a enchil outline before, retain the magic. this ian;t tats.

Dorg: that Omar. she was so hype to get that SNL sketch treatment of her she started to talk too real.

Laerts; stay strong, dennis perkins,. you know you're in trouble when your SNL revew suddentl ghets 300 cokmets, that;s never a good sign, those aren't gonna be praising comments. you're not too old for the gig, Den, stay woke af. there always seems to be time for pieple for hate, where do peolle fins the time?

Eye Luggage: *mouth and hand in a horn* KIIIIIIRRRRIIIIIIIIIITOOOOOOOO!!!!

Dig: oh god! god yes!

Laertus: I;ve never seena  rfanchise that so ardently divides up the populace, bitterer than the fascism v socialism thing we have going on in this cointey. tbsoe thatd efend it defedm it to the death, ans those that hate it see it as a stain to all naime, and the fact that its massiv epoular make ther wounds more salty.

Dorg: Sword Srt Online is the ultimate espression of finding true love online. of the enrd becming the ievrpowered jock. not that il;d lnow anything abiut that or ahv the psoetr udner my bed. it's how gamers get through Vmentine;s Days. people base their entore maroages around the day-tday sqaybbles of Kirito and SAsuna, that vouple is so important it's saved my mores than drus which make you question your reality. it's more than a Hollywodo Cuple, it's a Video Game Couple.

Laertus: *falls out of his chair* and it seems to weirdly condone and revel in rape. my ehartw a crestfallen this korning when I heard that pack of pelicans screeching cos of the hellbent gorriucane winds we experienced. so unusal, I hope that family reunited and all are safe, I climbed a tree for the fisrt time, a tree in the back of our treehouse yard, amd spotted a man giding on a branch.

Dcarface Tony: where's Pedro?

Laertuis: *holds his chest* breaks my heart.

at the Hosue, New roommate Sudiitons are being held. the three line up one by one by the bay window and get looked over, buyt not slalciously or sinkisterly cos Pedro is gone.

Bunim: olay. Numbah One, why should it be you?

Alex Escarno: I;m not sure, I giess I had a plan before to infiltrate and spy nut now that my homie hi,mems from the home countryis gone there;s no point.

Cory and Rcahel: we think your tom Sekelck mustcach eis sxey! you're like the Weekend at Bernir;'s guy if he were alive!

Puck: i';ll take it from here, I feel so free, my feets tink letisterely now that pedr is gone. Number Tewo, hehe.

#2: if you were stranded on a desrt island, or in this aapetment, and you had run ou of ood and waterm which roommate would you eat forst and why?

two roommates from last season's Real World are intrigued and pop their siky heads in in the dining room, but this guty is too much dark even for uck. Judd ikes him, though.

Jo: *quietkly confient* hello all, my name is NJoanan biit my fiends clal me Jo. I;lve traveled many roads. in my life, and to get here, thatls wy ny last name is Rhdes.

Judd: tell me more aboyt that ickax you're wielding in front I fus? 8salicvates*

Ho: *looks at the seesaw blade* og this old thing? it's mkisy some show-andptell, this is what I sue to liv my ebst life, to ecpae my prblems atop a hill so I can shout out my pain to the clouds. to kee my feet miving and my mind niumble, my body energoed when my spirit sies. I;m a rockclimber. I;lm always climbing hiugh tyring to chieve my goals. my mum says my ehad is in the clouds. daior warning: I ain;t no weekend warrior, I take this boudlering stuff seriously. yu want to join me sometime climbing? it'll a neat bonding epeience fo rthe whole cast!

Bunim :touching her back* not crew.

Cory and Rachel: 8gigigling like sororotiy sisters* SURE! that sounds like fun! we need something to cheer us all up.

Puck: sorry, I called you Ho that;s my fauly. I like that when yoc eym it starts raining, I have that, too.

A;ex: it'll be a STEEP climg, my last name is Escarno.

Jo: great! I;m haptp for now, not sour. it doesnlt last bt whatever. let's get started! I'll mett you guys broight and early tomorrow morning at the crak of dawn and the crack my small little arse in climbing shorts to begin lcinbing mount Rushmore.

cast and crew: wait> Mount Rushmore> that;s illegal to climb.

Jo: right. it's the perfect way for this Brot to feel more Semrican!

* Branson: Virgin Airlines? poppycock! what a turkey! if Virgin Cola couldn't sell how could this? you can't even fit turkey inside a picnic basket like you can coke.
focus group: sir you've just eviscerated this entire marketing campaign with those statements. please get off twitter.
British game show host: TURKEY TURKEY TURKEY

* spyess: i want it all. and i want it now.
Jack Bauer on comm: this isn't GrubHub.

* Jack Bauer: this isn't a long advertisement. this is my comeback. i hated being the President. do you have your disguise on as we planned?
spyess: yes, i'm Kim Basinger as far as the American audience knows. you think this is fun? you think this is fun for me?
Jack Bauer: only if you get naked. naked with your feelings i mean. you have to be honest with me if this is gonna work and be successful, don't hide any of your patented knowing smirks from me.

* stewardess: what are you watching on that tv in the back of the seat?
spyess: i think Clue or something. i'm undercover, i'm looking for clues. hey, you got Do The Right Thing?
stewardess: online-only, no inflight. coffee? tea? me?
spyess: i like the little cage it comes in. what's better, Turkish tea or Turkish coffee?
stewardess: the answer is bath.
spyess: England's too showery for me.

* Jack: *with his eyes in the sky* what are you reading?
spyess: the last-ever issue of BLENDER. remember that magnificent music mag?
Jack: learned about Priyanka's nups from it.

* spyess: can i borrow your red hat?
stewardess: not cool. i'd never vote like that.
spyess: no, for disguise and cover. up. are these your drawings?
stewardess: for the aborted Carmen Sandiego game-show reboot.
spyess: *cries*
British game show host: TURKEY TURKEY TURKEY

* spyess: save this notebook! it's special! it's got a red tassel down the middle so it's obviously a bible. a show bible. i wear a patch but i'm not skate-punk. thank you, airport, for reminding me to take my B12 shot, makes me run faster in airports.

* spyess: *running* don't look at my insane ass in jeans while i'm running, passengers on the people-mover, that's rude!!!
stewardess: it is a bible but the tassel's from a strip club...
spyess: thank you, i need a club soda after all that running.

* spyess: *flipping* huh, these are sketches of me in various states of undress. how could she have known what i looked like?
Jack: um, those are my off-duty scribblings. i do a lot of a-la-carte homemade porn in my spare time.
spyess: excuse me, does this yellowcab transform into one of those ships along the marina Bond-style?

* Jack: are you sure that's the mark?
spyess: pretty sure. i see a Turkey flag so...
Jack: you are too pretty for your own good! the pictures you gave me are fuzzy! send better! update your ipad mini! once a month like a good little Jobs devotee! do your job! you're in the wrong commercial, this should be another Apple ad.
spyess: just say MAGNIFY.
Jack: that only works in cartoons!

* spyess: why would the mark telegraph where she's going?
Tattoo driving: she's not telegraphing, she's drawing. welcome to Fantasy Island. no i am not a licensed tattoo artist, i live off your tips. may i take your white luggage?
spyess: Tattoo! you're alive!!!
Tattoo: hey, have you seen my helicopter? i lost it.
spyess: it's right over there.

* spyess: i suppose there's time for a leisurely sip of Turkish coffee. oh come on, this is from Starbucks! and why are the teacups always so small!?
mark gets up from the balcony.
spyess: *whispers to herself* don't mind me, i'm a ghost......like i'm literally a ghost wrapping myself in this room curtain.
mark sashays and ponytails back her hair.
spyess: when a woman goes to ponytail back her hair, when she goes for the scrunchee, you know it's serious. blowjob time.
Jack: don't blow it.
spyess: wait, why is she getting into a black-and-white police van?...

* spyess: do you understand the language i'm speaking?
driver: no.
spyess calls the mark on the phone.
mark: what.
spyess: i just want to say as a compliment: i LOVE how you draw ducks.

* Hannibal Lecter: um, you're not supposed to see me here, don't tell anyone.
spyess: what are you working on, your first novel?
Hannibal Lecter: this commercial's script. i'm a doctor. a script doctor. punch-up man. i use fava beans to punch myself up. with farts.
spyess: shit.
Hannibal: don't worry, i own that houseboat, she won't get away. looking for someone?
spyess: yeah, what's the deal with all these breadsticks? way too many breadsticks here.
Hannibal: i'm gonna call up my black comedy friend and tell him you stole his joke.

* Hannibal: don't feed the pigeons bread, it's bad for them, scatters them away when they were peaceful on the village-square cobblestone for all to enjoy, performing with Cardi B. and it's a waste of bread.

* spyess spots the new GM electric bike and hops on.
spyess: ARIV. did that name really need a crowdsource?
Jack: i was the only one who funded it.
spyess: it's only cool if it's pronounced A-REEV, not A-RIVE.

* mark sashays elegantly then crashes into the glass she doesn't see.
spyess catches up.
spyess: *rap rap rap on the glass* hello? sorry, i'm late for the Indiana Jones ride.

* spyess: it's hard to breathe in here, i'm thinking too much. please.
mark: what?
spyess: bring back House of Anubis like you promised. you're a tv exec, right?
mark: i'm too expensive to have any lines...
spyess: what do you keep under glass here?
mark: books. it's pointless cos you can't read them when they're under glass.
spyess: snakes. why'd it have to be snakes who have eaten boulders.
mark: no that's my S&M whip.
spyess: what is the Goden Dome really for? a tv signal to broadcast back to aliens who are gearing up to launch an invasion?
mark: we like our Golden State Warriors here in Turkey. there's a certain NBA player we'd like to get our hands on, just waiting till he eventually gets traded after the deadline.

* spyess: hey Jack, like my flamingo glasses?
Jack: i can't see you. why are there 15 teacups of Turkish coffee on your tray?
spyess: i have bladder leakage. hey Jack, ever learn to swim?
Jack: you can't swim? i thought you were trained by an Instagram accountability coach. take a pic of me naked-breastroking at your hotel pool, look below. i will be your guide in all things stealth.
spyess: very funny.
Jack: no, that's an actual stroke, i'm not masturbating.

* spyess: Rambo...he escaped Nam but he didn't really ever escape Nam, you know?

* spyess: what!!?
bellhop: take off those silly glasses. do you want a different room number? i'm an amateur numerologist and i've just found out that all numbers are unlucky.

* Jack: Tokyo is on my ass! this better be the last time. anime is serious!

* spyess: ah, time......it's like a flat circle......it endlessly loops......that's the thing about life......it just......continues...
Jack: okay, now you're having fun.
spyess: got any limeade?
stewardess: fuck you.
Spike Lee, onboard passenger: 400 years.
spyess: since slavery came to America?
Spike Lee: that's how old these saltines are. buncha oldheads.
spyess: peppercorn?
Spike Lee shakes his head.
spyess: Oldboy, playing on the screen now. you should have gotten nominated for that one.

CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. it was gonna be the Wendy's Peppercorn Burger this weekend but i'm gonna have to scrape off all the mushrooms from the pattie and leave them by the side of my bun wrapper like i'm 5 years old. i walk little old ladies across the street. because i'm scared of the street.

Jo slings her ax over her back.

Jo: wish i could sling my ex over my back and have him gone for good in the rearview of my life forever. but i gotta continuously go to court.

Puck walking, behind Bunim walking: no more court.

the ax is twice the size of the diminutive girl and yet it appears Jo is twice the size of it the way and manner the girl handles her piece.

 Cory and Rachel: *hiking and sweating* which green mountain is it?

Jo: *sipping Green Mountain Coffee* oh just aways over there. see it? it's my side-hustle. Glencoe.

Alex Escarno: Glen Coco?

Jo: thank you, Alex, for carrying the hot cocoas for all of us while we climb. it must be tricky balancing the mugs whilst you hold onto your piton.

Alex: oh it's just like when i was a kid in Catholic Cuba, i was a streetkid who had to make ends meet so i joined the circus of course. i liked to balance impossible things on a spinning stick. sometimes that stick was my dick. but it could be a piton, too.

Jo: feel ya, mate, i shuffle a lot of balls in my life as well. i go to school while i work. and i climb mostly, i like bigass boulders, i climb a shitton all the time. okay, gang, i want to see your butts! i'll be behind inspecting all your arse muscles making sure they're moving as you put one foot in front of the other like you have to with life and slowly ascend---no indoor mountains here, this is the real deal, the real thing---going through each crag and jumping over each waterfall, like the song.

Alex: that's the IN song now. Left Eye for life.

Bunim: so Jo, funny you talked about Mount Rushmore, we talked about it in our production meeting. some not naming any names wanted a Rushmore Rush Mush---or Mush Rushmore or Mushmore--- using mush dogs but i said no pets. sorry you had to redirect your plans but the whole illegal thing, you know? but i put in a call, a call was placed, to George Bush and Georgey has agreed to let us film at Mount Rushmore! yeah i'm thinking of having the next season of Real World be on Mount Rushmore!

Jo: really? that's wonderful news. i got a secret flat overhanging there. what changed Bush's mind?

Bunim: oh i happened to call him JUST as he was tearfully watching an anti-drug PSA 30-minute cartoon he intro'd.

Jo: come on, gang, a few clicks more! push yourselves past your limit! *stomp stomp pick*

the group reach Mount Rushmore in a bug. all catch bugs and are sneezing profusely. they try to stop the bleeding brown mucus by sticking Tootsie pops with Bill Murray on the spooled cover up their noses. underneath Lincoln's nose is Jo's timeshare, a quaint cottage of a house that is upside down acting as Lincoln's nose-hair mucus. wild sprouts and shrubs and wheat stalks encircle the area. upon entering the house the cast and crew see it is nice and cozy and hygge with an upside-down chimney flue spewing black smoke and a general sense of comfort and pre-911 security besides being upside down with the green windows always open letting in the windy draft of presidential sneezes. there is one huge beige bed in the middle and the walls are all carpeted for soundproofness since this is of course a sound studio which has never been used.

Jo: well if this doesn't prove the Earth is flat i don't know what will! i'm a geology student. yeah i was thinking of using the home studio for something i'm inventing called a podcast but i've been too busy.

everyone settles in as Alex slips out to do some more personal exploring on his own. he eases into it, very carefully, scaling, pulley-systeming it to exact toe-points and locations, as his steeltoe boots chip off ever so slightly little pieces and crumbs of Lincoln's stone nose. then SUDDENLY he loses his footing and slips off the face of the disc of the world!

Alex is never heard from again. at least for these next two episodes...

Bunim: where's Alex?

Judd: prolly went off to pee off the side of the world like i did. i hope i caught a midget's mouth. what do you want, bitch?

Rachel is sprawled out naked on the tiger skin rug near the fireplace.

Rachel: draw me like one of your real-American girls.

Judd: *begins sketching* only if that's REAL tiger blood on that carpet stain.

Cory climbs up the steps with her new-forming friend Jo. she accompanies her for moral support as Jo is ordered to honor a subpoena issued by her ex-husband who wants to challenge the restraining order Jo placed on him. Cory holds Jo's back through the whole proceeding, behind her out of camera view.

Cory: this is the first time i've ever sat in any sort of pew before, i like the feeling.

Judge Berman at her tower: move it along, people, move it along, people vs. who, next case. no subpoena jokes, i've heard them all. Roger Stone, what the fuck were you thinking? you glorified camerahog and B-rate Batman villain. see this bedazzled silver glove i wear? this gives me authority, i don't even need a gavel.

Roger Stone: not as sharp as what i have on. pinstripes. if it pleases the court, you have some nice pouches, your honor. i will pull my punches for this grave proceeding. what's the big deal? did you see the picture i used of you on  Instagram, Judge Woman? it was a very flattering pic of you, you should see some of the filth on Instagram. yes that was a crosshairs, you're for gun rights, right, b? i mean b as in Berman.

Judge Berman: you have sullied the air of this courtroom by breathing in it. your immoral support has dishonored your sub-penis. you can only go on MSNBC from now on. next case.

Roger Stone: fine. i won't crack. want some crack? you fine woman? retrial maybe? Sully wasn't a hero anyway. Nixon was.

Jo's ex-husband arrives and stands on the plaintiff stand, he is shackled and shackles himself to the podium.

Judge Berman: sir you're representing yourself cos you say your ex-wife took all your money. i am sympathetic and not automatically anti-MRA but you don't have many rights being a convicted felon.

Cory: *nudges and punches Jo's back* be strong, girl, you got this, you can get through this.

Judge Berman: after hearing both side arguments and side hustles i've come to my conclusive version of my verdict: the restraining order is hereby upheld. only in Lake Tahoe. that's where y'all going, right?

Jo: *meekly with her head down* yes 'am. thank you, Your Honor. Her Honor. he was a fuckload for me but now that load is off my back so i can put a pack on my back.

Judge Berman: just need Rachel Maddow to go over the documents to parse out anything i missed and...…...*banging her gavel* HEAR YE HEAR YE. i hereby. that's it, throw the book at and close the book. the appeal is overturned. in my usual appealing way. my customary cute way. one last thing before McDonald's breakfast: i need to see the drawings that were made of these proceedings to document them and their outcome. will the courtroom sketch artist please stand up and submit her work?

Judd: it's me. here you go, hear ye.

Judge Berman: *flipping* this is a paper of a crayon drawing of a cartoon character with a big head, no hair, and no boobs. stick figure with four lines for limbs. and a triangle in the middle, is that her skirt?

Judd: her vagina, sir.

Rachel: *redfaced and incensed* what a horrible depiction! i am so mad. i am shocked SHOCKED. and i am shook. i am so gutted i will not be drinking my Yakult gut milk tonight! you said you won an Annie and an Eisner and a Michael Eisner! i thought you were gonna paint me French! i have long luxurious flowing hair! not to mention my tits, which i keep hidden in a modest pink fuzzy university sweater for just the right moment for only the best guys to peek!

Judd: at the peak? hey i'm a cartoonist whaddaya want from me!? it'll look better when it gets colored. but i'm not an inker. jesus………*within earshot* got bitches comin' outta my dick's ears. cartoon cunts on my cock.

Rachel: there goes the affair! *whispering in court* unless you promise to use that language on the carpet. jesus, i thought you were a real rightwing artist.

Judd: there is only one Frank Miller. we call him the batwing.

Rachel: *loud* sigh, i need another tattoo to get over this humiliation.

Eye Luggage: okay, joining us at the podcast today is not Marc Maron but rather Jussie Smollett.

Dirg: see? see? this is what i mean.

Eye Luggage: AFTER his successful surprise hosting of the Oscars. how was it, Jussie?

at the Oscars, the opening number is scrapped at the last minute and Jussie Smollett comes out from behind the blue carpet to address Hollywood and the world. there is a loud hush in the room.

Jussie: see? when i first told my story, it WAS believable in these times. THAT is the only point. sure, i was acting out, a scene i wrote i thought was good but the producers rejected it. but that's not the point. violence against the other is alive and well in the street of this society, and it's all too real. what can i say? i like magazines, not maga. Hollywood is rife with piles of cocaine everywhere on every craft-services table instead of food, it's an epidemic worse than opioids. Ace is the place where i turned my software into hardware. Empire's costume department needed hats, their stage department needed pullies, theirs were fraying. this was Chicago but this will NEVER be SNL. this is REAL, this is AMERICA, and this is no sketch. and with that, i bid all you fine folk adieu. and good night, i won't be validating or valeting your parking tonight, i gotta get up early. apparently i still have an early call to the set tomorrow, so...

the whole world cheers and applauds.

Eye: and i've just come across a paper which has been flung on my desk right now this very minute, urgent breaking news. it reads that...the Bump Administration is setting up a space force which will systematically go through each country eliminating homosexuality from the face of the Earth like the scourge it is, spokesman Steve Ganon says, that's the REAL class struggle? the struggle for class?

President Bump: no no that's not right. you read that too fast, assuming. see? see? this is what i mean.

Laertus: and in closing to close, let's take a minute summons with this podcast to wish a fond farewell and angel delivery to one of the good ones, a bright spark of creative spirit on that comedy stage gone too soon: Kevin Barnett. the genius behind Rel. fresh voice. i was waiting for Rel to do a tribute to him in its next episode but the series ended before this tragedy happened.

Kevin Barnett sits at the Red Circle table, stunned into stony silence. and blue. a blue hologram.

Dirg: that's the basketball Celtics guy with the Bezos hair, right?

Laertus: i can hear all of Kev's many jokes in my ear now, and all the audience laughter. he was an up-and-comer, as we all are.

Dirg: now that show DEFINITELY won't get a second season. Sinbad is once again out of work.

Eye: guys, gotta close up shop early, i need to take this, my beeper's blowin' up. getting many texts, a scroll wall, from Michelle Carter...

Osaka holds her first press conference since becoming #1. it is and goes awkward.

Osaka: hello. people don't get my sense of humor......oh, and i didn't fire my coach once i became #1. not a diva move. see i'm painfully shy and NEVER talk, my coach thought i didn't like him and he jumped out of our hotel window. don't worry, there was no glass in the window he's fine, he just left, never to be seen nor heard from again. my new coach is Anthony Davis.

at FBI Headquarters:

Mulder: Andy!

McCabe: Irishmen are the best. the best workers.

Comey: it's all very simple. the country is divided up evenly between those that call you Andrew and those that call you Andy.

McCabe: thanks...Jim, nyuk nyuk. i love being in the FBI, all you have to do is get on tv and say i'd rather not say, i want to respect the integrity of the process of the investigation going forward and not get into the details, or no comment. it's easy! just like Inspector Mueller does, right Inspector Mueller? my wife is running for President in 2020, why not, right? she'll run for the same reason Bump ran, but in reverse. it's Rod RosenSTEEN as in FrankenSTEEN, right?

Scully: the flatfoots and the rank and file and general public at large don't get to see your sense of humor like we do, Andy. we are so grateful that you let us in to experience your funny, you undo your tie with us and around us in secret coffee rooms. now that's what i call FBI witnesses!

Comey: you are so lucky, Ashley! you had a baby at just the right time! you can block out all of this noise and pretend America is normal again in the room of your tyke's crib.

Ashley Parker: not really. i left just as the Report will be coming out. i see all the tv reporters rushily getting ready, putting on their blackest dress. and me with this basketball in my belly. i play peek-a-boo hide-and-seek with a basketball with my kid.

Comey: as long as you're not feeding it lettuce, i have the real romaine case file on that and it's not a pretty picture like you, Ashley, it's a horror show you don't want to know. sir! you have entered the room. are you ready for your big day next week?

Mueller: nah. our longstanding AG Matt Whitaker told me he wouldn't release it even if i wrote a big 5000-page tome, so why bother? i'm keeping my hands clean and without bruises and scrapes and callouses and New York nicks and holepunch-punctures for when i throw out the first Nationals pitch! no one can accuse me of being a bleeding liberal when i haven't bled. with all the money i got from hawking that hand-cream on tv, i'm set for life! yeah that was something. i had never been in Whitaker's office before. the meeting consisted of the two of us sitting side by side on Victorian velvet chairs and staring silently at the crackling fire in the fireplace for two hours...

Avenatti: *hangdog eyes, which are still pretty and blue* sir, can i please rejoin the team? i beg you, i've learned my lesson, i won't run and divide the Schultz electorate. i can't do this anymore. i can't do pee cases again. i'd rather do President Bump's pee case, not R Kelly's.

Mueller: no. and that is my final answer. my final Jeopardy! All Stars answer, which i was a contestant on recently.

Avenatti: come on, papa! puh-leezzze!??? let me do the Jussie case! i have to have an in back to the Red Circle table to build my street-cred up again with my audience when i run again. either side i argue for i win.

Mueller: where is Matt anyway?

Matt Whitaker is roaming the backwoods of the FBI Facility in Quantico, Virginia. searching for grenades. he scratches his bald head in the twilight sun.

Bump: Matt? what are you doing out here? we out here.

Matt: don't make a move, sir, you might crunch the leaves. you smell that?

Bump: from afar you looked like Bigfoot.

Matt: i am. i'm the Missing Link. you smell that? it's the timestreams coming together. you don't feel that?

Bump: okay, before you disappear, give me all your stash of Bigfoot porn, i can use that, distribute that out, farm that stuff out to the other races.

Comey: Bob sir, you have the fattest goldmine in your hand. think about it, the Report will never be released, it will become the biggest X-File of all time, the Ultimate X-File!!!

Dirg: i mean the Report the Report the Report, that's all we hear about.

Laertus: it's not so much an X-File as a Project Blue Book episode, for it is the truth, a real case.

at the Obec Women's Club, purple tile roof:

Doryce: where are all the men? i thought this was a women's club! just a bunch of old bags i see!

Gladyce: well yes, dear, this is a safe space for all the biddies from area art schools and retired professors and waitresses to hang out, hang loose, undo their dresses, and not have to worry about acting polite prim and proper in front of men. a community organization for the betterment of all women in solidarity. the mayor's wife and dames of high society playing bingo and broadly being broads of a past age. playing pinochle and tinkling pee in front of each other.

Doryce: oh hell no, this ain't no sorority, you need to have a fashion show with naked men parading around showing off their latest wares. preferably of the Australian revue persuasion. i mean that's what a women's club is, right!!? what's the point of having that stage that looks like a pier up there if you don't use it. it's getting dusty and looks like it was from the '80s with that holey tile.

Gladyce: it was. used in PBS children's puppet shows.

Doryce: let me see what i can do, let me pull in a few favors and place a few calls from back in the day at witch college...

only one man struts his stuff on that stage. the Gorton's Fisherman. at first the other women think he is a stalker cos he looks weird in that yellow trenchcoat. but Gladyce calms nerves by assuring the rapt crowd of nervous nellies that he is in fact a fisherman in a yellow rainslick who sails on a boat and the whole nine...yards...of rope.

Gladyce: love, come out next time holding your ship's wheel so everyone knows and the audience is softened. and beer-battered. don't fall off the pier, love. oh Doryce, it looks like he hasn't done much of this sort of thing for old ladies.

Doryce: yes, love, but hold onto your pole. your fishing-spear pole thingee you shoot. like a gun. what you got under that yellow trenchcoat, love? show us, take it off, strip it off! like fish strips! and what's with that naughty kinky blue heavy rope tightly wound around your neck? it's very BDSM.

Gorton's Fisherman: it's my rope for catching fish sticks.

Doryce: you know believe it or not i've never actually had fish covered in cocktail sauce before. make a note of that for my next birthday, Gladyce. even fishsticks dipped in red stuff will do. now what's the deal with fish sticks, Mr. Gorton? seriously, i go to The Store this morning and there are NO microwaveable fish sticks! they're all for the greasy oven!!! how can i trust you? i can't have that, i was having a hankering for fish for the first time in like five years, i wasn't craving carving steak. come on, love, you gotta work with me here, you gotta reward me, i was thinking eating healthy.

Gorton's Fisherman: *tries to tip his hat but it slips off wetly* sorry, ma'am, it seems there are no more microwaveable fish sticks on stock. anymore ever. again. just the filets. but they're at Costco 30 minutes away.

Doryce brooms over to Costco and buys the last bag of microwaveable fish sticks in existence ever on Planet Earth again, a bigass bulky bag of 50 fish sticks with a Buddha on the cover, gish sticks. she eats them all in one sitting and spends eternity on the toilet……...until Gladyce learns the spell to break the curse of the bad fishsticks and release her beloved from the pain of an aching sore butt not in the service of butt sex.

Cory: great job in there today, my friend, i'm so proud of you!!! you were a strong mousey moody woman!

Jo: thanks, Cory, but stop hugging me, we English have pale enough skin as it is, you'll rub all the blushing red right off me.

Bunim: so we can still stay here but we can't film here anymore, i didn't get the locale permit. of course we wouldn't film anyway, we don't film anymore.

Steve is making the bed in the centre of the room. he hospital-corners the sheets.

Jo: oh, this is Steve everybody. he's been with me since the beginning, we go way back, since before geology was but a twinkle in my eye. i'm hard on my staff but it's only because i'm hard on myself. we're childhood pals, always strictly platonic. he's the best trailguide in the world, he'll whip you up into shape tomorrow morning, follow him for all your success. he's got a motor that just won't quit. he's always at the top of the mountain before you can drink your first coffee sip. i've watched him with one eye sleepwalk at midnight, roaming around like a silent-film actress, like Lillian Gish, bumping his head into the walls like a wild caged tiger. i've seen him hang from the rafters without him knowing he did it, completely unawares and unconscious of this house's ceiling. i've seen him from that high perch stare at me in bed naked all night. it's creepy but his eyes are closed so...it's even more creepy. i'll sure be glad to get back to thinking about trails again, not trials.

Judd: is your name really Steve? of course it is, of course you're a Steve, Steve.

Cory and Rachel: we love your hair, Steve. curly and looking like Mario with a fro. nice mustache.

Steve: uh, thank you. the girls i talk with online tell me that's a sexy look, to look like Gabe Kaplan, my favorite poker player. at least i think they're girls.

Pedro on the ceiling no one noticing Pedro: talking online?

Rachel rubs Puck's tummy from behind. and his back from in front.

Rachel: how are you feeling, honey? it was brave of you to make the trek with us feeling so under the weather.

Puck: i had a bout of pneumonia. cos it's raining on me all the time whenever i cry. i mean they wanted Whoopi Goldberg to host the Oscars but she was brought down by this same pneumonia. but i'm okay now, i think. perhaps some horseriding will do the trick. i'm well so i'm not gonna wait for the group and i'm gonna horseride on these mountains by myself alone. see ya!

Puck takes the green bit out of the horse's mouth, it was a 100-dollar bill. he gallops fraughtfully and focusedly along the grey mountain of Mount Rushmore. before the horse can neigh and buck up and draw a heavy breath through its mucus-gilded nostrils, the horse and Puck slide off the cheek side of the facing silvery mountain!

BUT they make it! the horse flies in Puck's reinsless hands!

Puck: *softly to himself so no one hears or can hear* SEE! i knew it! i knew there was magic. i knew i had the magic if i trained hard enough for it. it's magic powder and potion and mist, sure, but it's mostly belief.

notes:

* Frieza (or is it Frost?) is saying WE'RE NUMBER ONE. this species of rare alien only have middle fingers for fingers, it's not their fault, Gaga made them this way.

* Frost: i made it snow on Jerry O'Connell.
Jerry O'Connell: honey, can i stop calling you Rebecca Romijn-Stamos now? it's hurtful.
Rebecca: reconciliation, there must always be a chance.

* you have NO idea the pains it took me to discover this commercial. i remembered it but forgot the impossible-to-remember name. Daenerys was easier to remember. shouldn't there be a mnemonic for EVERY word? i knew it started with A, so this was a Sesame Street case, right? so i looked under "drugs" on Wikipedia under A. my counselor checked in and thought i had a problem. i did, i was on a mission of love, to save my addiction to words. well guess what? i checked back and AFREZZA wasn't even on the list! i wouldn't have seen it anyway even if i checked the lists forever. so it was all in vain moot! my soul search was simply not meant to be.

* i had to wait to see the commercial again, and of course it never came. i changed up, i took bathroom breaks DURING shows now instead of at the commercials. every single DAMN commercial i memorized by this time i saw. not AFREZZA. a month later i happened to spot it on the way to mow the naked neighbor's lawn. i thought i was dreaming. but no, my neighbor was still naked.

* i want to refrain from talking about diabetes, that scares me. yeah i just don't want to come near that hot stove, put my hand on that third rail. with all the Coke i've drunk throughout my life...

* Mario: some mook threw a purple frisbee my way.
Mario's wife: maybe it's from Prince.
Mario: no, it's from King Koopa. a lot of gold potatoes.
Mario's wife: you like gold coins, don't you? that's how you pay off your whores.
Mario: hey i told yous, that was Luigi playing a prank on me.
Mario's wife: what's with the cute little brush? you're a painter not a plumber, my mother was right about you!
Mario: no that's so i can delicately brush off the area on my arm where i inject the needle.
Mario's wife: you're so finicky. don't you regularly get in fights with dirty plants and crawling sidescrolling bugs? whatcha reading?
Mario: the first issue of Nintendo Power magazine in book form. no pictures. hey, are you Princess Peach?
Mario's wife: nope.
Mario: then what was the point?

* Mario: doc, i was always so embarrassed. i always needed to find a safe space to inject. and had to buy an airport sandwich.
Dr Mario: stop insulting me with your insulin. it's okay, Mario, now you can be a huffer.
Mario: so uh doc, what exactly does this do?
Dr Mario: it FREEZES the inside of your throat and tongue so it's blocked from anything entering.
Mario: but i'm not trying to lose weight.
Dr Mario: coulda fooled me. the r in my name is for the Prescription Drug R with the cross through it.

*  Mario tries it and immediately has a spasm attack.
Dr Mario: use your nose! use your big nose!

* man: honey, a hamburger just fell from the sky on a parachute. it broke your phone, no selfie.
wife: you think you married an idiot? i TOLD you to cut your friends when we got hitched, Wimpy is a bad influence on you.
man: this is how China will invade America, they know us better than we know ourselves.

* woman 1: omg that is so cute adorable! a hot dog carrying a stand of a pile of hot dogs!
woman 2: not really. child labor laws. animals used as slave labor is abhorrent. what is that dog? a fucking reindeer on a circus leash pulling a circus sleigh for human spectacle?
woman 1: i thought you liked hot dogs.
woman 2: sure, but these are too many hot dogs, if you eat that pile you'll die. this is a commercial for cholesterol medication, right? we're just friends, right?
woman 1: yes, you made that abundantly clear this morning.

* yogess: right, blame the yoga chick. yeah, sure, only the yoga chick will eat the dry salad cos she's a health nut and not right in the head.
tree: that isn't a salad, it's my thumb. i'm extending my arm out to you. in friendship. but you are crazy. those aren't your hands you have clasped together in a pose over your head, those are your feet...

* first-dater woman: look at the trick i can do! *rolls out and spreads picnic blanket with all the food popping in*
first-dater man; oh, i thought it would be a trick with your tongue. i don't like food, food is why i'm online. instead of outside.
first-dater woman: it looks outside, that's all that matters. is it VR if you don't know it's VR?
man eats all the food in the spead on the blanket. and has a smoke which catches the blanket on fire.
first-dater woman: you owe me 1000 dollars. there is no such thing as a free lunch. that food cost pixels. didn't you hear the Pac-Man sound?

* fisherman: this only happens in my dreams: i go fishing for the first time, first time since my dad died cos he never took me fishing, and i catch a Filet-o-Fish in its original wrapper on my hook.
sandwich inside blue bubble: you are sleepy, i mean you are hungry you haven't eaten me yet to be sleepy. i am the sandwich of your dreams. but in order to remove this blue forcefield around me, you must perform an impossible task.
fisherman: what. i'll do anything. i even wore this bucket hat with a feather in it which represents my father. my father feather. and i blew bubbles in the dirty water of this bog.
sandwich: you must be pregnant or breast-feeding…

* man in purple T shirt: hey, you work for Benihana?
chef: that's racist. just cos i have a big square cutting knife and hibachi hat? who are you, Prince without the mustache?
purple T shirt: yes. and not just cos we're by a lake. next time i'll take the stairs. orange breadsticks?
chef: yes. i'm not even a chef. these are poorly-prepared churros, okay?

* Mario: can we get some dessert?
lesbians: typical man, never satisfied. fuck you. no chocolate soup for you.

* Robert Kraft ambles his way on set.
Robert Kraft: i need some medicine.
director: too much cholesterol? cut down on the cheese.
Robert Kraft: no, i've had too much excitement these past few weeks. i'm an old man, i can't take it. my chest hurts. from getting stomped on. i need to relax my muscles. i need a massage. is there a parlor near here?...…...no i really am looking for JUST a massage!

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

OR HERE

happy weekend, my babies

prediction: Cuaron's Roma, right? Netflix certainly paid enough for it.

WAY EARLY prediction: Biden won't run, Klobuchar will get the Nomination.

i'll have what Spike Lee is having...at press conferences…sipping tea...

1. what are your romantic needs? to have game like Rami Malek. THAT's how you go on a first date with a woman, that was their first date, right? you know Rami is a name which means Romance, it's in the name. i've always wanted to have eyes that others called dreamy...instead of calling my eyes blasted out of their gourds, stoned to high heaven, or weird and shifting. when i do the Rami Malek stare in auditions, they tell me i'm the perfect casting choice to play a robot…

2. what are your sexual needs? i can only achieve orgasm when i'm doing it on a roof.

3. do you agree that marriage was a pragmatic institution and in today's society traditional  marriage is not a need but merely a want?

i still maintain that the best most stable relationship between two people is friends with benefits. back in the day, people were sold as other people's property. that still goes on today. in lighter news, the NFL Combine's starting soon or something, right?...

4. do you find conflict in your romantic relationships exciting? necessary. conflict is what initiates the sex. without conflict, there can be no sex. well no exciting ribald rompy syrupy saucy liquid-y fluid-y sex anyway.

5. during sex are you focused on positions or the quality and connection with your lover? quality and connection, that's all that matters, it is about love after all. in fact, my lover and i don't have sex, instead we push our beds together so they touch at the tip, then we get in separate beds and lie down like a worm until our heads are facing each other. we look at each other staringly for five hours, that's our sex.

BONUS: men, what do you have a hard time talking to your lover(s) about?

am i a man? what is masculine anyway, what does that really mean?

anyway, when it's one lover it's nice n easy. we talk about love. as Mark Twain says, if you don't lie then you don't have to remember. the problem comes in when it's me and lovers, plural. that's when the mess happens, and not just on the sheets.

well, when i'm talking to lovers, the conversation usually stems from the fact that i have lovers...

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

Bunim: well it's time for the gang to go on a field trip as we always do with these reality-tv show casts. it's a way to go away so the people who have had their relationships and entire worlds tossed around and upside down and reputations permanently tattered by their misplaced maladroit misinformed quests for fame and endorsement-deal fortune can come back tighter and knitter and neater and kiss and make up. and hopefully fuck. fuck in a waterfall or something by disclasping coconut bras and coconuts over dicks, that sort of thing, mama still needs to pay the bills, even though MTV is not filming any of this. make-up sex with an ex is the best sex, but vacation sex is the most scenic. i for one won't be accompanying cos my back still hurts. besides, i just need an ipad from 1994 to watch everything unfold from the comfort of my buttoned couch-chair. the crew will be there on the trip, help them up if they trip while filming your sorry privileged asses who get to go to Hawaii for free.

the first stop is a surfing cove beautifully encircled by bright blue stalagjites, the icicles which grow BOTH up and down. the water is so blue it merges with the sticks and is made hidden by an avalanche of palm trees gently swaying and made heavy by the weight of vaction cum on them.

Aaron from last season is the instructor, his Viking locks of goldenness make the girls scream and seam, and Rachel and Cory especially are interested. so is Jo but that footage doesn't get shown, Cory's interest is tempered a bit. by the volcano's temperature heat nearby.

Rachel: Aaron, what are you doing here? you're on the wrong season.

Aaron: i am forlorn. i miss Dom, Dominic said he wanted nothing to do with the show after it wrapped. we had such a good time traveling to Ireland with him to visit his hard-drinking grandfather who died on the couch. that's where he and i really bonded at that event. imagine a more unlikely mateship. me, a SoCal surfer dude with the chipped cheeks and fake plastic smile from Manhattan Beach, he the pasty-white Irishman who is in a band but not U2 and wears a black leather jacket to sleep. and had spiky hair when spiky hair was still cool. Dom didn't attend our reunion special show on MTV and left me in the lurch with an irish goodbye, all i could say during the special was how great a guy he was. i wanted to branch out creatively, maybe start a college UCLA band, i wanted to start a band called Radiohead, but it seems i'll just be a boring lawyer i guess.

the girls take to the lessons like dolphins or black swans to water, the boys not so swimmingly. it appears the boards don't work great for guys with their penises in the way, it's hard to steer. the girls have more of a shape to attach onto the surfboard and steer it with their tits. the boys start to grumble.

Judd: can you believe this? a big dickus is a liability here! i'm trying to flirt but Rachel's taking up all the oxygen, overwater.

Aaron: hey, there's nothing special with the boards. they're just boards. guess it pays to be flat as a board, down there.

second, the group try out a new technology called a zipline. it is wondrous. and completely new so the sensation of flying down a thin wire attached to the tip of a volcano to the bottom pier of a cove cave is, well, extraordinary. the sensation of air makes one super. holding onto a bicycle crank as your only savior is damn dangerous as well. one of the crew with a green feather in his soapbox-derbycar helmet tries to camera while zipping down to maybe download the vid to a sharing site or something after but unfortunately he lunges to the depths below. but the camera remains in place on the crank and saves the footage so it's a win for Bunim's online site. Bunim breathes a sigh of relief which is caught on her hot mic.

Aaron takes the trekkers outside the cove's edges to a canopy of sands heated by hidden rays of sunlight. tourists are gathering to jump in a hole in the sand, the newest path to self-actualization by tiki torch.

Aaron: nothing to it. it's like the Smurfs only underwater.

Rachel: you're cute when you speak, blondy, i like the muscles in your mouth. we'll follow you to do anything jackassy.

but Judd is having problems. he tries to blow on his snorkel but his ass is getting in the way, his farts go into the tube so he's left coughing and unable to breathe underwater.

Aaron: bro, it's all chill, just look and listen at me. do the hang-loose sign in your mind. you need to suck that pipe like it were your own dick. go on, lower your shorts, loosen the strings, and actually suck your dick. you're sucking your ass, you're talking out your ass, you need to swim with your ass out.

Judd: no, fuck this. i don't want to do this anymore. i cancel vacation, is it possible to get even angrier on vacation?

Aaron ages ten years when next the cast meet up with him for martinis and margaritas at the thatch hut. he explains he's been on a spiritual awakening that took place back at the lobby of his corporate hotel. to Puck, he looks like his long-long father.

Puck hugs Aaron by hitting his back brostyle.

Puck: dad, you gotta tell mom what you did.

Aaron: uh, let's just move on. to the journey, you like my scruffy grey beard? grew it in one day. and aged ten years in one day.

Puck: it looks caring, dad. i'm crying. on the inside so my internal organs are getting wet with rain.

Aaron: when you're riding bikes along the curbed windy molten paths of the volcano, remember that this was never meant to be a road. you're on your own and at your own risk, that is true travel-guiding right there. image in your mind that the bike is something more, more than nuts ans bolts, that it can fly, like a reindeer. that's when your tires will achieve max tread. think that you are floating on those raindrops, like wispy clouds, up up up to your dreams. it's slippery when wet but also slippery when dry. it's coming down hard now, like cats and dogs, i literally see cats and dogs.

Puck: yeah those are my exes. lost dogs and cats in the rain...

the rain-soaked avalanche douses the entire Big Island with so much rainwater the gauges break, the coconut geiger-counters' wires bust, and the Big Island squeezes and wrings itself and shrinks into the Small Island.

Puck decides to go it alone and takes an unmarked map path up to the caldera of the volcano. he peeks his spiky head out to see if the crater is steaming or not. when he determines and deems it's safe he takes his bike by the handles and jumps his butt on the seat and metal-pedals and whooshes and rides and gets a running start and jumps over the crater with his 4x4 bike. the bike instantly disintegrates, his hair all falls out, but Puck makes it out of there alive with just third-degree burns all over his body.

Puck: i got my bike-messenger back!!!

MEANWHILE Pedro is in no mood. he stews and locks himself in the hotel bathroom and spends the entire vacation in a Yakult bath.

Pedro: i will engorge with any paste or liquid which has the possibility of curing or healing me. *looking down* is that my snake? this was called Turkish bath in the brochure. harrumph.

Jo excitedly pitons to the top of the volcanic crater and squaws in delight.

Jo: not squealing like all those poor pigs on spitroasts i saw on the way up here pitoned to death and stuck to the side of the mountain on spikes. this is a check in my achievement booklet! this is my first successful climb out of the lower 48. the mountains in England are rubbish, except for that one encircled-flown-over by doves and madmen dives by the cliff full of powdered cocaine.

suddenly the face of the volcano turns around and there's a face there! he has a big stone nose. he introduces himself as Olmec.

Olmec: i am Olmec from Obec, i used to be from Obec but the Dinosaur Comet came and you know, it transplanted me and transported all my raw materials to collect again here in paradise. this is where the fabled Nickelodeon Studios ACTUALLY are, that's always been a mystery, everyone thinks we film in Burbank by that watercolor fountain but that's just a front for the illegal trade racket of pixy stix.

Jo: who whoa whoa! that turn didn't bother me, i won't lose my balance that easily. you are a new life form!

Olmec: no, YOU are the new lifeform. let me make you a deal. i'm tired sitting here in this same spot for ages. study me for science and prosperity, figure out why i sneeze so mightily and violently, hardly---as in hard, not hardly---and move me with a van and crane back to Burbank so i can score. weed, not women. there are no women volcanoes, they were too hot and exploded. in exchange i'll fasttrack you to your college professors and make sure you get that PhD in geology sent to you by mail, like in two days. deal? it's gonna be a lot of intensive work.

Jo: DEAL!!!

Olmec: or no deal. sorry, reflex. and for sacrifice-to-the-gods-sake, woman, get that pickax out of my nostril.

Pam flies off the volcano, and sprouts wings! well, her prototype for the first Zelda glider used by Link first in the combined timeline does anyway. she crashes into a patch of brushy East India medicinal roots.

Pam: WHEEEEE! cliff-diving is like diving off the high tower in the Olympics. everyone is so scared of that high tower and would rather be cool and play it safe and flip 500 times with the safe spongy bendy light-green springboard, like two cholos on a springboard philosophizing about cum in Cuaron's masterpiece. here in Hawaii i have been inspired to eat more pineapple when it comes to said cum. you can do more stuff when you're not scared! there's no water anywhere so it's freeing! i'm finally feeling my Asian roots!

Mo is getting angry at the table made wth wooden swords on the hotel patio, even tho he is a ghost. vacation fatigue is affecting everyone.

Mo: what's the matter? don't you like the silver platter i laid out to serve you? with all the delicatessen delicacies and stews from my native homeland.

Judd: from Hell? that laid is played out, playa.

Mo: what's the matter? you don't like black food?

Cory: baby it's just......well, all the food is burned and burnt.

Mo: that's it. i'm outie 3000.

Mo storms out into the other room, a room completely outside. plus he's dead. but the stewing doesn't last for long. after the commercial, it CAN'T last for long, everyone has to take one last helicopter ride over the steaming caldera for some reason. last being the operative word.

Bunim: good luck, guys. operation went swimmingly. my back surgery was a success as well. you go on tour of the island now. a tour of the volcano hole. this is for those new postcard calendars for Maui Snake Park issuing out next year at the Chamber of Commerce. MTV does NOT take a cut, lawyers. need to have the whole cast of the show in the picture for the post so let's switch with the stunt doubles.

Puck shakes Aaron's both hands and kisses his both lips on the mouth.

Puck: it was a pleasure to meet you again, dad. we share so much more than Viking blood. we share desire of the impossible. to achieve what others scoff at. you drive those people well and safely. i'll stay on the ground here in case i become the lone survivor member of the family. i mean our family, not my roommates.

the helicopter slowly climbs up, inches up in the sky, the rotor whirlbirdying to their final destination. on the trip contours itinerary brochure pamphlet that is. the helicopter with that one singular noticeable black stripe flies over the volcano circle and into the ball of steam. it instantly disintegrates. the entire crew of Real World San Francisco is lost.

Mo could have helped. he stands there by the helicopter in the sky but doesn't lift a blue finger, he was still so mad from before. he regrets this, feels bad about it afterwards and cries. more hard rain falls on Hawaii.

Bunim is shocked in the control room with a gaping mouth and crunches the numbers of the revised budget in her head.

Olmec: ahhh, gulp, yummy, that was good, thank you, haven't eaten in ages.

later, or before, or perhaps concurrently, this volcano, Olmec, is befallen with many flakes of snow. until Olmec's face is completely covered up, his enormous eyelids glaze over, his mouth stays frozen open in shock and horror, he will never suck on an ice pop again, and the mountain is now ready for the Aspen snow season. skiers from around the world are here, and global gentlemen carrying hot cups of cocoa in their mittened pockets, and all other those who couldn't get the Aspen ticket flock to Hawaii for the summer break without their glocks. this includes one contingent of crones who use the cranked-out tram of the zipline line converted into a skilift to get to the top of the mountain.

Gladyce: you look so cute in your ski-bunny outfit, dear! those zigzags are adorable and to die for. i LOVE your Indigo plaid winter shawl!

Doryce: don't say die when it's a double diamond. it's actually a summer shawl, i'm a rebel. thanks. you, too, love accessorizing as we're matching. the trick is to insert your mittens in your vagina to keep the warmest. and keep them the warmest. suck on your green scarf for hops and jumps and prayers and luck and betterment with nature. and for practice before you suck for real.

Gladyce: oh deary, i brought my skis with me but i bet you can't find them! *she shimmies her hips* guess where they are!

Doryce: you naughty girl! Jonny! finally a young strapping lad in army boots. i always wanted to fall for a blackjacket backpacker biker badboy named Jonny! teach us your wares, darling.

Jonny Moseley: well i've just flown back from my first Olympic Gold medal from those Games where moguls were still an experimental contest so much so they didn't exist or have them. and boy are my arms tired……...but seriously, folks, my knees are tired.

Gladyce: handed to you at the three-uneven-cardboard-box ceremony by Olmec no doubt.

Jonny: the moguls are named after me, Moseley. not named after our current mogul President. i grew up in Squaw Valley, Indian country, when Manhattan Beach was still frozen over.

Doryce: is it true what they say, dear? btw i love your Justin Bieber haircut. the moguls hurt your knees when you go down that hill. all the jerky up-and-down movements and motion not in the service of butt sex.

Nadal: believe the hype. i went down ONE mogul mountain and my tennis career is ruined.

Moseley: they say it's a myth. but it happened to me. my knees got shot. thank god i have the one Gold Medal to fall back on. i can do tv and coast the rest of my life. my knees got so bad i couldn't do blowjobs anymore. i mean get blowjobs, all of us at the Olympic Village are very convivial and communal with each other, it's a friendly atmosphere, not competitive at all, we're all lucky to be there. and none of us have jobs.

Doryce: i was cheering for you. Jonny, did you see me flopping those soggy fishsticks in the stands? yeah, the last of my fishsticks went limp, they taste disgusting when they're not crunchy, when they're dry and callousy out of the microwave. irradiated beyond any recognizable form. i was still so desperate to have any sort of fish i smushed all the fishsticks into a ball, smashed it down with my magic palm, and turned it into a paste of tuna fish, had my first tuna-fish sandwich since i was a baby---that was a LONG time ago.

Jonny: let's celebrate where everyone in America is legally-required to celebrate now: McDonald's!!! it's the new Draft. and i'm not talking about draft drinks.

they arrive with Jonny on her arm at the Rock N Roll McDonald's in Chicago and Gladyce quietly orders a rare batch of Onion Nuggets. R Kelly is sitting in the booth in the corner, the Red Circle table inhabited by Jada Pinkett-Smith.

Avenatti: *on twitter* whoa buddy.

R Kelly: it's cool, man, it's not the Rock N Roll McDonald's. Chicagoland. they tore down the FryGuy playpen in the back years ago a long time ago. let me eat in peace, i'm innocent.

Jada: how could you do me like that, Robert? you disparage my Red Circle with your unclean hands leaving spots on my table. i thought you could fly. we all looked up to you. Space Jam is a kid's movie, man!!! we're all going on a field trip to Wakanda and you are not invited!

Jussie: for the record, President Bump says i'm too dumb. that clears me, i'm innocent, i didn't even know 45 existed. in the clear. the check clears. and if Empire uses this storyline in a future script, i want royalties. what kind of straight man kisses a green parrot?

President Bump and Kim walk hand-in-hand down the Red Carpet in Hanoi.

Bump: i lost my Oscars invite in the mail, but this red carpet is WAY better.

Kim: do you mind if we don't take the elevator? my fat short stocky ass needs to take the stairs. i know you're feeling down, my friend, maybe a new haircut will cheer you up? get a cool haircut like me. and also maybe a less-Mickey Mouse signature, harder to forge.

Bump: i don't want to be another Clinton. Bill Clinton that is. i don't want to be the first President who goes to jail after.

Bump accosts a local Vietnamese barber sucking on a pond platoon reed who cuts his hair. he shaves off all of Bump's golden locks. takes a long time to grow back.

Bump: *watching his twitter-feed live streaming video* thank you, i feel freer. open the flood Gaetz on that hearing!!!

AOC: *at the Hearing* no, please don't!!! that guy is creepy. i forward the rest of my time. *turns off mic*

Bump: so Kim, you know the deal, right? do i have to recite it to you again?

Kim: right, no, i got it. deal.

Bump: i officially end the Vietnam War. the Vietnam War officially never happened. then all those numbnuts at CNN will stop haranguing me over my bone spurs.

Eye Luggage: and...……………………………….Oscars recap go.

Dirg: it was all done by foreigners. the entire ceremony was in Spanish. later, i thought i was watching the BAFTAs.

Ted Sarandos: no relation to that lady with the big jugs, Susan. this did not turn out as planned. as Netflix CEO, i will now be forced to go on The Simpsons again to recoup the funds we spent on our presidential-sized campaign for Cuaron's indie masterpiece.

Laertus: Green Book should be called Whitewashed Book. they did it all wrong. i really feel bad for Spike and Glenn, they won't get another chance at this. Cuaron got WAY too many. they should have given Spike Lee the Director award, Roma the Best Picture, and Glenn Close the Best Actress as Lifetime Achievements. the first time a Best Picture would be completely in a foreign language, in Spanish, that would pave the way for getting rid of the Foreign Language category and combining it folding it all into one race. they missed their opportunity for all lifetimes and ruined at least three lives. those three actions would have righted a lot of past long wrongs, it would be reparations.

Glenn Close: i'm not mad. i won all the junior awards but not the big one but i ain't mad. come to my party later tonight, i'm holding a potluck, using my new boiler i bought. we're having hasenpfeffer. come early while it's still juicy and tender.

Dirg: all of the awardees, they ALL have mothers who are 94 years old. and they ALL have small children who are way past their bedtime and shouldn't be watching their parents in a compromising position to pay the bills. all the envelopes are always folded. i really want to wear Melissa McCarthy's pussies. Sean "Spicey" Spicer on the EXTRA mic being extra.

Lady Gaga and Madonna sit on a cloud of tuffet feathers for their joint photoshoot of friendship.

Madonna: is this goose? since we've buried the hatchet i'll use it to swipe dinner for us. cotton candy? my gold teeth can't take it. you are reductive.

Gaga: i know, my pussy has swollen shut to a little pea button i am so nervous being around you. i'm sorry, but every generation needs its Madonna. Jesus had His Madonna and didn't want to share His mommy with anybody. i'm the Millennial Madonna. just like John Mulaney is the Millennial Seinfeld and President Bump is the Millennial Obama.

Bump: not the Michelle Obama.

Ben Affleck: i feel better but i'll be giving up Batman. because of John Mulaney.

after their sultry performance, Gaga and Bradley Cooper lock eyes and look into each other's meeting eyes and mouth the words to each other, "i wish this kind of chemistry was taught in our respective high schools. instead of gym class."

Gaga: see this smile? i brushed my teeth for you. so, DTF?

Bradley Cooper has flown the coop.

Gaga: that's why i broke up with my previous man. some mook on the street told me to get a room so i did. now i'm in said room alone, i rented out the bridal suite. you know how embarrassing it is to order flowers for yourself? Diane Warren is writing the song as i speak. i thought you said she was just your girlfriend. Brad?

Diane: *on the phone* it's Diane, honey. that Shallow performance...

Gaga: you thought my performance was shallow? is this Jen? I write this one, Diane!

Eye: the Oscars are an institution which will never die! like SNL! i didn't notice the no-host after the first commercial break. that's-a what they gon do from now on moving forward: no host ever again.

Kevin Hart at the Blue Circle: see? if i had hosted, it would be gossip for one day. i'm more famous for having NOT hosted. the principle of negative space.

Eye: that was really cruel when they turned the camera on Emily Blunt in the audience seats as Bette Midler was singing Emily's song on stage. Em's eyes were blue from crying, not cos they're blue. thanks for listening, folks, and as Michael Cohen would say, have a good night.

Dirg: i would have smoked a blunt on those cush fluffy seats myself put in the same situation.

Doryce: excuse me, Brian May, it seems you have lost your ticket to the Governor's Ball. Guvna! right? i can conjure up another ticket for you with a snap of the fingers, i'm a real queen. it becomes merely misplaced IF you invite me to the Ball and i get all that free food. i have an appetite like that weird Australian hunk with the accent from Green Book. did you enjoy the show? my wife and i's favorite part was the menstruation.

Brian May: fraid not, miss.

Doryce: don't you honeyfuggle me, mister. you want to keep your hair like that? i can make that happen, too. it never rains in Southern Caifornia. all fritz and poofy. it's just dawned on me now you look like Sideshow Bob, a known murderer.

Brian May: Bob Mueller? can he help out with Brexit? sorry, may he.

Jo returns back from Hawaii to her Mount Rushmore thatch hut as Lincoln's nosehairs and a Tahoe green visor on her small square head with a lot of homework on her not-so-broad shoulders. she works feverishly night and day, without a nightlight, with a chewed-up pencil in her mouth crunching the numbers on her abacus.

Jo: all i ask is i come home from school and have a hot-cooked meal on the table waiting for me. come on, Steve, help a sista out, we're partners. geology is hard!

Steve: *with a stoned rubbery face* I WANT MORE

Jo: what?

Steve: I WANT MORE I WANT MORE I WANT MORE!!!

Cory crashes through the window, dons the white curtain for her cape, picks up Steve with one herculean fist, and tosses the man and his limp fishdick like a soggy ragdoll into the other window, crashing into a million little pieces of glass all strewn bloody on the outside hanging patio. Steve's rubber mask comes off, he was Jo's ex-husband the whole time. Cory beats her chest Tarzan-style.

Cory: god i feel so empowered! like a woman!

ex-husband: i'm gonna get back at you, Jo, you'll see! you were always so standoffish and oafish for this relationship, for me. i made the bed every night in anticipation of you coming home and we'd lie in bed together all snug and comfy and warm and watch my favorite film, Oliver Twist. for the M Night TWEEST. Oliver is the true-life story of my childhood growing up, but you said you never had the time, you got all twisted up in knots making excuses not to be with us for movie night. now i'm bloodied and all cut up and near-death. don't cut up this isn't funny! but i will convalesce in a basement and recover, and i'm gonna get my pounding. not from a woman, my pound of flesh. i'm gonna become an incel!

Cory and Jo: what is incel? a type of nightlight?

ex-husband: i'm not exactly sure yet, i just made it up now. but i'll set up the unknown parameters. once i get my computer it's off to the races! my bully's name was Chad and i like Stacy more than Stacy's mom, there i said it. Jo stands for jack-off instead of proper sex.

Cory: bro what are you doing with your life? at least become a film major like everyone else before you fail at life. you know how fat bald short guys with a gut and without mustaches get the ladies? they join a rock band, they play the rock guitar. practice. and eventually join a band called The Wolf Who.

the ex-husband straggles off to a mount and crawls away. to climb a set of rocks and begin his rock rehabilitation.

Cory: wow. i feel like a woman doing that, too.

at the Empower America By Pulling The Plug conference---the Empower America conference for Democrats---Rachel is intently listening in a blue dress while Judd scoffs the whole time, plugging his nose with a clothespin as Jack Kemp speaks, a former football player.

Judd: football isn't tough, Batman is tough. you see those shoulders on Frank Miller's Batman? Batman's built like a linebacker.

the two walk out in separately-justified huffs. they stroll up the Crookedest Street.

Judd: Jack Kemp's for the Green New Deal? jesus, you think you know a guy. fuck your beliefs, Rachel.

Rachel: i wish you'd treat me like you treat my beliefs. once in a while, my dry vagina's still college-aged you know.

Judd: *walking fast* how can you girls and pansies be so stupid? fossil fuels is what fuels America, fossils tell us where we came from, look at the Grand Canyon! look how blue the skies are! like a Windows 1.0 screenshot. how can you believe in science? it's science, not faith. why? it's boring like the Oscars. and you're for civil unions? you guys love to tear down our institutions. like marriage and the Supreme Court and National Steel. btw, you attending that marriage of Rachel and Puck?

Rachel: uh, yeah, i'll be there. i hear through the Inverness mist grapevine that Pedro is wanting to crash our ceremony with his Sean civil union. lock the doors to the House when we get back.

Judd: that man is relentless. Pedro swallowed his housekey in front of me like a frisky housecat and claimed he could open the House door with the keyblade sticking out of his asshole.

notes:

* Steve Jobs's final demonstration of genderlessness

* reporter: why are you crying? did you find out your fingerless gloves weren't goth enough?
bicyclist: this was my last chance to get the Olympic Gold for my mom dying of cancer.
reporter: is it because Sheryl Crow broke up with Lance?
bicyclist: no, it's cos Lance let all of us down. and stop crowing into your mic.

* thanks to this great ad, i'm on good terms with Victoria Azarenka again on Instagram, i'd just like to thank her for that. stay strong, Vika. she's had a rough go of it lately what with the custody and her depression, meditations and prayers.

* football itself is nuts.

* go on, take a knee, it's on shin guards so it's okay. that's the best haircut, not just soccer haircut. it's so New Wave, so That's So Raven.

* oh. i miss Li Na SO MUCH. she TRULY was able to bridge the barrier with her sense of humor, it was cutting in English you could only imagine what she was really saying in her native tongue with all the Chinese swear words intact. no lost in translation here. we're gonna need more Li Nas in the world if the U.S. and China aren't gonna destroy each other.

* don't know about you but an angry Sue Bird is hot. sup bird.

* let EVERYONE compete in the Olympics, and i mean EVERYONE. if you can win using enhancements, why not? let everyone have enhancements. men vs. women, illegal equipment. free-for-all battle royale like in Dragon Ball Super. what if countries didn't have to hide anymore under sealed indictments in secret court and just came out in a press conference and admitted their long sordid planned drug regimes and histories of paying off the judges for decades? what would a fully-corrupt Olympics look like on tv? where anybody could take anything and see who's the druggiest. would they even hand out medals? there'd be hella lot of wrongful-death lawsuits, that's for sure. and the Velodrome? let everyone use those Tron scooters.

* i'm wth you, girl, that jacket was ugly anyway

* yeah that was pretty brutal. a smashed racquet somehow led to a female tennis player having to take off her shirt and be disqualified for time

* wife: why did you hit me?
husband: we didn't get Bryce Harper.
wife: that's no fucking excuse!!!

* i GUARANTEE a woman would beat all the men in a marathon eventually

* women boxing...…...happens every Friday night in the parking lot of the club i go to...

* has anyone ever flipped, done a complete all-the-way-around forward flip then dunked an NBA basketball before? like during a live game?

* Candace Parker...is the height of hotness.

* i would perform better if i were coached by a woman. i have a teacher thing, i know. got a teacher jones.

* it's not called fencing, in my country it's called survival.

* why couldn't Ryan Lochte have had a surprise like that? a good surprise.

* that Chloe Kim age joke on Family Guy was uncalled for. even though everyone was thinking it.

* everyone has completely forgotten about Kim Zmeskal...

* LATER, at the Millionth X Games in 2030, held on the Moon Owned By Ukraine:
Phoenix: sup bird. i can say that cos i'm a phoenix.
skateboarder: have you seen I'm A Phoenix, Bitch! at the West End? i hear it's quite good.
Phoenix: yeah i heard about that. on Instagram.
skateboarder: i'm Tony Hawk's daughter.
Phoenix: yeah i know. sup hawk.

* Serena, we're all waiting with baited breath till you win that first Major as a mother. the Mama Major.

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happy weekend, my babies. Millennial Seinfeld on tap, i wonder if his SNL monologue will be about those Froot Loop donuts. Mulaney and Seinfeld apparently both have a thing for cereal. OH and Power Rangers are back!!! this is the one that's actually supposed to be GOOD this time!!!

love this picture of him, he's measured, relaxed, way beyond the bad-boy days but still sharp in a grunge shirt, a stable father and husband, full of wisdom growth on the wrinkles of that kind bearded face.

as you can imagine, i wasn't a big 90210 guy, being an uncoordinated tetherball nerd who could never join such a cool high-school clique. but we did one afternoon somehow miraculously watch 8 Seconds as a school thing. looking back, was it for a bullriding book report? no, more likely the teacher just wanted to buck regulations and go out for a smoke on school time. i was slow on the uptake in those days cos of too much lettuce so i didn't get what the title meant. my friend, who i assume now was playing a prank on me, said the title referred to why Luke Perry is so popular with the ladies. i should have called bull but i didn't know. i'll never forget the lasting image which sticks in my mind from that film even today: at the very end, i still see Luke today, in his dusty chaps after having bested time itself, he raises both his hands and closes both his palms in a strange ducky way to say goodbye to the audience. fade to black credits, wonderful. hey, we all fade to black eventually…

1. the first time i looked into your eyes, i cried...

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2. the last time i had a good sex session i wasn't eating pizza. it all involved a neti pot. allow me to explain. so i go to the town doctor, who also happens to be the town jester, move the large boulder myself which nearly cripples me, and sit down on the trunk for a talk. he informs me that i'm having issues. i tell him i'm having issues. my nose is always stopped up even though i don't have a cold. he says i have a fever. do i eat or starve a fever? he tells me if i starve, i could die. then again i could eat some bad lettuce and die, too. he steals the pretty neti pot on his desk---the one with the elephant on it---and tells me to get to work at home, homework, fun homework. i return a week later completely cured. i tell him i used the neti pot on my penis, stuck it right in there for a nice jacuzzi steam bath, really opened up my pores, especially the big pore that is my peehole. "that's not for your cock" the doctor screams holding a sock on his lance. a lance which btw does not lance boils. "this is not dick cream. the vapor is supposed to unblock your nasal pathways and clear out your sinsues.""but it worked, doc!" i enjoinder, "after lodging my cock up and down the neti-pot kettle spout, all the backed-up cum left my body and i was able to have healthy sex again! and i was able to breathe again, psychologically! now that's spilling my hot tea. and the tea tastes great! we're having a baby!"

3. the only time i danced to a techno song, i breathed, starting a fire using flint in the neighbor's backyard, it was a BBQ bonfire everyone invited, not a Wicca thing. and i smacked my synthesizer up when i started to cover a Prodigy song, was tasked with providing the entertainment and liquid entertainment.

4. my best...frenemy taught me everything i know. she let loose all her secrets about life, love, and litheness on my face, we'd snuggle under one scratchy blanket and watch Chris Matthews. but then there was that week that Chris Matthews wasn't on mysteriously even though it was a consequential news week what with the hearing coverage and all. this sweet mystery of life was left unsolved, was Chris sick? that's the only explanation, he wouldn't miss this otherwise. she said she couldn't do it to the substitute teacher anchor in the glasses...

5. my worst...friend was still a friend. i call him up one day in his office tower high up in the clouds. to see how he was doing. he proceeds to deliver over the phone a 2-and-a-half-hour-long rant on how white-collar crime wasn't that big of a deal. he ends with the capper that by white-collar crime he meant the priesthood. "those collars signal BDSM, right?" i asked him if he had had sex lately to ease tensions in his temples instead of the office Peloton gym. he said he had, that's why his building was all white, and why he had a white collar round his neck.

BONUS no one, no matter how much experienced, still has some unfulfilled desires. what is at the top of your yet-to-do list?

the mystery of where Chris went haunted me. then Chris came back and explained it himself:

Chris Matthews: i'm a Catholic so i leave a lot of sexual desires on the nightstand table if you catch my drift. i wanted to explore, get out there, get after it, and travel to see where my wind energy landed me. i had a burning desire in my formidable belly---you know how much i love film---i just, well, i just wanted to do the Farscape reboot, you know? i mean how long has that supposed film script been worked on now, a decade? i know Jim Henson died and everything but still.

Chris Matthews: excuse me, the President wants to ask me a question, i mean the other way around.
Chris Matthews: answer the question now!
President: don't ask me uncomfortable stuff when i'm entertaining sports teams.

Chris Matthews: so i set out to New Zealand and started filming. on my ipad mini. i play Ben Browder---btw, what the hell happened to Ben Browder? you would think those crystal blue eyes and brows and chowder and acting chops straight form the farms of Tennessee would have landed him the next Burt Reynolds by now. and of course Denise Crosby plays that Black bond girl love interest of mine. what the hell happened to Denise Crosby?

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there's a knock at the door of the House.

Puck: come on, Pedro, you're not fooling anyone. want me to dangle your restraining order in the face of the flappy glass door like a pardon?

Pedro: please, Puck, i want to make amends. i am a changed man. i have seen the light. even on this rainy day.

Puck wipes the tears from his eyes with his plaid sleeve.

Puck: it's my wedding day and i'm getting emotional. it's good luck when it rains on your wedding day, right? i never thought this day would come. most bike messengers don't see their 30th birthday.

Pedro: *smiling* just don't get any on the carpet.

Puck smiles and turns the knob.

Puck: don't be a knob no more. you've done a lot of stuff.

Pedro: i brought chips ansd salsa. cos everyone thinks i'm Mexican. where's the blushing bride? can i see her?

Puck: she's getting ready upstairs. it's bad luck to view the bride before the ceremony, Viewtiful Joe.

Pedro: i've already viewed Rachel as you put it. saw everything. i fucked her even though i'm gay. in her butt.

the ceremony is about to begin, and the crowd inside the House is intimate and small-gathering despite the large public interest in the event. Bunim calculates and estimates and finally determines that at one time during the two hours EVERYONE in the world with a tv watched at least a portion of it. the stair bannisters are festooned with pink bells and green holly. because of various death lawsuits there was no money for a proper church wedding or grand microphones or food so there's a small tray of stale cheese widgets and soggy Ritzs and coffee cube cake with icing like a paste brick and a box of day-old wine that tastes like vinegar that was taken out of the trunk of her ice-blue Subaru Forester parked by her apartment suffocated by streetlights.

Bunim: hey what can i say. vinegar is holy. it cleanses. extra virgin.

Rachel slowly and methodically parades down step by 12-inch-high-heel step, glowingly and gracefully like a human swan, her already-prettiness accented by rushed-red spraypaint on her cheeks and orchid garlic bulbs around her neck. her dress is dirty-white Courtney Love grunge chic with ripped tatters as coattails and a see-through aesthetic of clear glue. there wasn't time so her bouquet also acts as her headdress of flowers. despite all she is beaming and her smile reaches side to side the room. music provided by Mohammed who plays a kazoo.

the happy couple exchange wedding bands by poking each other in the bellybutton with them under their dresses. Puck sneezes on impact, letting loose a full-grown golden-nugget of a soggy mucusy snot-rocket for all time right into Rachel's unsuspecting mouth, the extra debris waters the hanging plants.

Puck: sorry i get nervous at weddings. shit, the wallpaper is peeling off all the walls which are soaked cos of me that's my fault sorry. that wasn't my vows, it's not Whitesnake i promise, i got better ones i wrote down, in my pocket, but my pockets are all wet so the paper has turned into a spit-rocket. fuck it, you know i love you, Rachel, poetry is a luxury, campaign in poetry, govern in prose. our marriage is not gonna end in divorce, not like my parents i think, i'll make sure of it.

Rachel: that is so romantic, honey! just making sure you're not a nuts-n-bolts robot, that you have a bellybutton down there not a red buttom.

they kiss in front of 100 billion people. China withheld its numbers.

the wedding bands are those bottle-rocket popup caps all the Congressmen wear these days.

President Bump: what are those golden pins all the Members in Congress wear now on their lapels? i want one. where is MINE?

Bush, the Father: i should ask the same thing, who's in charge here? they look like miniature portraits from the Haunted Mansion ride. hey, is there still a line to get into the Haunted Mansion like there is in my time?

Pedro: Puck, my new friend, after you get married, what say why don't you go back to Miami with me and live with me there?

Puck: um, no, i'm from San Francisco. i'm native here. i'm a wild native. Rachel's parents in Arizona have agreed to let their daughter stay here, tho admittedly when i last called them they were muffled, like their sound was curtailed by a cloth around their mouths or something.

Pedro: STOP THE PRESSES!!! and the ceremony! i've just received an answering-machine message, i'll play it now once i move it to the center table. *push*

message: uh, hello, this is, uh, Alex Escarno. this is not a threat. imma blow up the House. with my own party, i'm crashing this sham of a commitment ceremony with my own civil ceremony which will be more civil. America doesn't want to match or watch your garbage, they want to see two committed people get married, two men, that is real commitment, i mean imagine the sharing-of-the- bathroom situation between two men!!! WE keep civilization together, we've been through the fire so we'll keep each other, not some floozy bimbo dithead sorority sister and a weedwacker weeded-out pale smelly token hauler with big lips and donut eyes. America is tired of this, they want new horizons, new united states.

Cory: Alex? i'm praying for you. i've never heard you speak like this to us before. do you still have your mustache?

Alex: i'm standing right outside the House, but i won't be forced in, i'll keep my distance, i just want you to know, to inform you, i'm completely concealed under a bush. yeah, so it's what we call in the biz counter-programming. while you revel in your stupid straight affair, a current affair, we'll be showcasing on a media-sharing site i invented called YouTube a four-hour concert that came after Pedro's commitment ceremony with Sean. their wedding bands were revolutionary, chiseled made from Himalayan pink salt found only in the mucus of the nostril of Olmec.

Pedro: hey, i can't control my cunado.

Bunim: YouTube you say? look into that for me, babe, i want the first shares as soon as the Stock Market opens again. this sounds like it's gonna have an office building in Downtown SF.

Alex: Oprah will be hosting the after-show.

Oprah at the Red Circle table: i've weighed my options---i used to weigh heavier---and i've decided i don't want to be hated anymore...hey remember that interview i did with Michael on ABC that time ago that was, like, more watched than the M*A*S*H finale or the Beatles on Sullivan? back when people still talked about things over watercoolers? well hope y'all forgot about all that cos now i'm light enough to ride the Ferris Wheel at Neverland Ranch! secretly running for President burns off the pounds more than any Weight Watchers ever could. and i'm not talking about running.

Alex: we'll see who America believes in more. see you in Cuba i mean so goodbye, i'm getting off the phone before i say something i'll regret.

Pedro takes Puck aside at his own ceremony and has a heart-to-heart with him by the hushed bannister.

Pedro: come on, man, let's take a walk you and i just the two of us. down the street. i got your engagement gift at my old haunt. Macy's. i'll show you, let's go.

Pedro leads Puck past down the parking-lot escarpment to a deep disturbing unknown underground tunnel with a shaft but no elevator. they rockclimb till they reach the very bottom cellar of the Macy's shrouded in cobwebs and a big silver disc that may have acted as a stone sundial in a previous century. dusty pictures of Bull Durham hang on the ceded moist grey spotty walls.

Pedro: Puck, meet my lab. well my lab-away-from-home. make yourself comfortable, try the veal.

Puck: there's nowhere to sit.

Pedro: lie down on the white table i just want to try something.

he does and Pedro instantly socks Puck in the nose.

Pedro: come on, bitch, give up your snot, your liquid gold. let me have it, fight me! you want me to go get the lightsabers locked up in the storage unit over there? they're crystalline now, new look. just have to pet a few rats in there to get them out of the way.

Puck: no man, i'm not gonna fight you. i'm all about peace and harmonious non-tainted love. my namesake is a mischievous imp who just wants humans to blow. i'm crying cos i'm hurt, Pedro, more specifically my feelings are hurt. will we EVER be true friends? take whatever you want from me, it's yours! my shedding skin, my blood in units, my loyalty!!! rape me and take all my worth! i am sub-human in your eyes, nothing can change that. i'm but a pawn in your ultimate evil scheming goal.

Pedro: well that was anticlimactic. never matter and never you mind.

Pedro pours Puck's snot-rocket viscous into a bottle he already had on hand, a Specialty Smurf bottle that comes in a glass case and purple mini-jewel pouch with gold string exclusively from Macy's---when LUSH came to Macy's. and chippings off a purple crystal he got from earlier before.

Pedro: and voila! i just combine the ingredients to form a more bluer potion and...drink it and...slug it and...IT WORKS!!! IT FUCKING WORKS!!! i can already feel the illness in my stomach and heart killing off!

YOU CURED AIDS!!! I MEAN I CURED AIDS!!!

Pedro: oh, yeah, whatever, have a nice life. i get to HAVE a life now!!! MUAHHAHAHAHAHA. imma outta here!

Pedro gives the V Victory sign with his forked penis on the way out.

it's the Big Day, the other Big Day. Puck preps himself at the top of the Crookedest Street on the famous Hill which has seen many a cool-guy Eldorado Steve guy become the real Queen and ride off into the sunset by jumping into the sun.

Bump: Steve McQueen, he was cool cos he made McDonald's.

Puck squeezes his crankshaft and does his laces and latches his fixes and tightens the screws platonically with a screwdriver and fastens the bolts and lacquers one last time onto his wooden steed before the big race. with his tongue. he touches the tip of the green feather in his derby crash helmet.

Bump: i would never treat Dana Plato platonically.

Puck: i was in a rush to get married cos from this point on, i don't want to get divorced. my soapbox derby car is all cherried and ready to ride! it took extreme work and i have no money again but it was all worth it. when this thing goes down that hill, well street, and i'm in it with my bomber-jacket tails flapping behind my back in the crazy wind and my tongue hanging and wagging out, sunglasses split from sheer G-force, my smile will be so wide all of San Francisco will be gay. gay for me, happy for me, that i accomplished my goals when so many do not even bother to try. no need for seatbelt buckles here, it's a tight fit. i'll self-push me down and away we go! finally. this is for the record! everything is stable, including the wheel frame and my mindset's sanity. the steering wheel has a big knob in it. i want to feel the wind in my spiky hair! ready, everyone!!? thanks all for coming out, it's a big crowd.

Rachel: *on phone* no it's not it's just me, honey, member you said you wanted this to be our honeymoon instead?

Rachel waves her painted hand from way on the other side of town at Fisherman's Wharf. she's jostling through her purse and doing some afternoon sightseeing. of swole shoals.

Puck: i am naked before you with my naked bike. it was raining furiously and fastly earlier but i took a deep breath and it's sunny now. no excuses. *he slaps himself in the face* come on, gotta be clutch in this moment, gotta have muscles like Carrot Top even though i'm skinny as a bike rail. performing in dives. and GO!!!

Puck wheels down the first corner with ease, colliding only a plant and unsuspecting pedestrian. but the second turn is where things get dicey and the wheels come off. the plan. it's so tricky that all the crooks of the crookedest come crashing into his face all at once, he's gliding grossly, he's unable to steer cos he's lost his manhood and moral compass being in that reality-show House for four months. he screams in the spin and pain of not gonna do it, not gon dut, not gonna make it!

Puck makes one last push to stop himself. he reverses his ass so it goes high so he can put the brakes on the thing and abort. but it's too late. the soapbox hits a large boulder Steve is climbing and flies into the air uncontrollably, careening into clouds. it's here Puck sees his family, his dad and mom and sister forever together who loom and look like the same person but with imperceptibly-differently-cut gold hairstyles.

Puck: you're not Aaron. i don't remember your face, none of you's faces.

dad: i'm your father, Puck. we're all dead now, good job. you left the family, remember? that one day you went crazy with the aspirin and climbed our screen door like a monkey with no tail and sniffed the entire aspirin bottle and vowed never to return, you made your family worried sick. so much so we died from worry. but you never called after that, you carried on with your crazy travel plans. you said you'd swim to San Fran if need be, live on the folding Folsom bridge. you were just a block away from the water. you're dead, son. i see your bloodied body scattered in pieces all over Lombard Street.

Puck: this is a blessing. it took death for all of us to finally come together as a family.

Puck: WOO HOO! I'M FLYING!!! LIKE A REINDEER!!! I BELIEVE I CAN FLY!!! arms up.

Puck's derby car with Puck in it flies until it can fly no more, as it hits Fisherman's Wharf and the ledge Rachel is on on the other side of town, Puck goes to wave at Rachel but at that exact moment Rachel turns away to try the new sugary crabfish and misses the whole show. as Puck is flung into the ocean and Bay, a huge salty wave knocks him back the other direction antigravity onto Lombard Street with a deadening thud.

Puck: i died.

President Bump is on the phone with Kim in the Oval Office square. he puts his feet up and cracks open and smokes a cigar.

Bump: baby, baby, i got you, you want all the trains and cigarettes in the world all to yourself. you say trains are romantic and you're nothing if not romantic. and it's not sexual this train. got it, done, deal. America doesn't manufacture trains anymore, those were the good ol' days. not as a means of escape to blow up bridges, got it. just don't ever get on a train with my boss Codrus let me tell you, that is NOT a train ride! *hands up*

he goes to hug the American flag by his desk.

Melania: *her arms crossed and she cross* i wish you'd hug me like that, Mickey!

Bump: Melania, didn't hear you come in. that's the problem. you're a robot, right?

Melania: robots experience love, Mickey. let me tell ya about it sometime, inquire about my lovers. not a bot my lovers. ask your son, i tell him everything.

Bump: i'm down. i see Lawrence O'Donnell on tv saying that check i wrote out is gonna be the new Nixon tapes, the smoking gun, that image of the check with my signature is gonna end up on red caps and toilet paper sold from now on in all the gift shops in America. i wanted my legacy to be i was the first President to have 100-dollar-bills as my toilet paper, not personal checks! cash is always more impressive and balla, checks are weak! let's see how Roger is doing *click*

Judge Berman: anything to say this time?

Roger Stone: Judge Doom is the real hero of Who Framed Roger Rabbit. i'm known as the Missouri Huckster.

Judge Berman: Missoura. more like Messyri. Messy Journey. are you from Missouri?

Stone: no.

Judge Berman: another lie told in my court.

Roger: sorry, judge, but i've been down lately. David Gergen called me a dandy, a fancyboy. i respect Gergen, he was okay with Nixon, so this is tough to take.

at Inverness, a sleeping beauty is waking up, a sleeping giantess. Maria LaRosa moves her formidable backside and mountains form from the rumble. she is eating those Froot Loops donuts from Carl's Jr. and making a mess in her mouth.

Goody Paul: can i have some? i love it when you chinwag.

Maria: no.

Goody Paul: yes, Jesusa. we need you back on air doing these kind of things, eating food and dancing the fool and acting around and hijinxing.

Maria rolls the eyes to the back of her head in ecstasy.

Maria: oh my GODDESS these are so good! heavenly you might say, except you can't distinguish one color from another, they all taste the same.

at the SNL studios, John Mulaney is making final preps and reps for his showcase of all the scripts he wrote as an SNL writer which were burned and rejected before he became famous.

Mulaney: have you ever heard of a famous writer? you ready for the big live show tonight, Pete? you memorized all your lines?

Pete Davidson: i was born ready, you can tell it in my eyes.

Mulaney: i moved the Froot Loops donuts from out of your dressing room, i know for an E guy like u they look too much like colorful club pills you used to rave on about, that's too much overstimulation for your mind which you can't handle, your brain will explode with all those colors. you need to be concentrating with your brain, burn out on higher thoughts of wisdom found buried like gems in the script i wrote, not in your onair improvised ramblings.

Kate Beckinsale places a call from her hanging hotel suite overlooking the SNL stage. at night.

Kate: hello. you got my intel? no, Beck is not for sale he's just going through a hard time so his music reflects that. okay, thank you, just making sure, just checking. in on Pete. this has gotta work out, i can't get divorced again, i'm starting to tarnish my image, people are whispering i'm a difficult partner. the age difference is such that i am sure not to be a widow. yes i know i'm a vampire and a werewolf and i consulted all the tribes on both sides and they said i was immortal.

Robert Mueller is wearing ashes on his forehead. he puts on his priest stole and prepares to apply ashes with his priestly puncture of a pointer finger on President Bump's forehead but it doesn't take. Bob has laid out his briefcase all the piles of paper on the couch, he is at the Oprah show being interviewed.

Bump: for the record, it didn't take on Oprah's forehead, either...

Bob gets up on the couch and jumps on it, he is ecstatic on his face and begins to toss all the papers everywhere, like white birds filling the air of the studio ceiling to all corners of the studio audience, who eat all this stuff up with glee, collecting any flying paper they can, kissing the papers and crumbling them into their pocket as a keepsake momento worth millions.

Oprah: Bob, i thought you were gonna keep things quiet.

Mueller: YOU GET A REPORT AND YOU GET A REPORT AND YOU GET A REPORT! look at my cracked thumbs, i don't care anymore. the only way America will believe in me is if i trot my behind right up to Congress to testify. 24 straight hours, live tv only on CSPAN.

Bump: no, Bob! everyone in America is sick of hearing your voice!

Bob Barr: the Barrs and the Muellers will be friends after this, right? i can't lose this friendship!

Mueller: after this? my ex-friend, you fail to realize: like Neverland, this will never end...

Laertus: why haven't you thrown out all your Michael Jackson records by now? even the vintage ones. i thought YOU of all people would do it. the treehouse is filthy and needs to be fumigated!

Dirg: hey, he's still the King of Pop. *pops bubblegum bubble* oh you mean like a spring cleaning? i guess i could do that. after finals or whatever.

Laertus: you don't go to school. only i do.

Eye Luggage: speaking of, with us today is a special healer who works at the LUSH on campus. she's known by all, in the underground resistance movement anyway, as the wild witness. Ms. Madame Pons!

Pons: thank you thank you, is this mic hot? come on over to LUSH and let's have a chat. discounts for students and janitors alike! you know i'd just like to say to all my girls out there that come in and ring the twinklebell at the top of my door that it's not all rainbows puppies and unicorns out there JUST cos you bought our latest purple divining crystal. yeah, i know from experience and essence, that crystal isn't gonna immediately point you to your dream man, thank you for your time.

Dirg: Queen were wrong, if it wasn't for Wayne and Garth NO ONE would have known about "Bohemian Rhapsody". no one EVER cited that song before Wayne's World came out, it was completely forgotten.

Laertus: Selma Blair was a true hero. made me cry, she was MS Oscars, as in the classy Ms. Oscars out on that runway!

Dirg: i need that pimp cane. she's a real hero, unlike say a certain Kardashian. i was there at Selma last weekend, locking hand in hand with my brothas and sistas, commemorating the pressure of water-pressure.

Eye: well, i got my schedule cleared and freed up the rest of the week. you know what that means, everything we missed last week, we're doing Oscars FASHION!!! you, Dirg, will dissect each and every dress that came up.

Dirg: NO NO NO!!!!!! VERY NO!

Eye: hey, member i've got leverage over you, you do what i say or sing like a pig. you want a fate worse than death? see these tapes here? imma gonna FORCE you to watch Tropical Cop Tales.

Dirg: *head in his shoulders* *meekly* anything but that.

things are heated up at this morning's ESPN First Take:

Molly Qerim: *frantically* why are you guys talking about sports like it was College English? at a time like this? this is a crisis in America that goes unreported. or worse, underreported. human trafficking, um, hello!!? here's the number i put it up on screen if you suspect human trafficking at your local nail salon. this is ridiculous, why are we talking sports like it's some fun thing? i went into the wrong field, i'm gonna follow Kaylee Hartung's lead and after this show blows up when my tits start to sag imma moving to hard news and CNN. i gotta hard tongue, i'm an ethnic girl, i tell it like it is.

at the Hotel Theresa, the Red Circle table has set up shop. hot filling in The Breakfast Club takes over MC podcast duties from Jada.

Trevor Noah: it's so fun to bamboozle white people with foreign languages. i feel like Noah before the Flood and during Babel. we're due like the Big One in California for another one of those Floods. i want to host the Oscars next year!

Kevin Hart: don't do it, brah, have a heart, you don't have to to have an in with the gatekeepers, you're whiteskinned enough.

the crones are at that famous Rock McDonald's in Chicagoland. Doryce is cooking up fries with a latticed-basket deep-fat fry-cooker bath with hot hot hot wax and oil and grease in that basket. knob turned to 100.

Gladyce: don't burn your fingers, dear! you need those to cast spells! and for good fingering sex!

Doryce: they're not cooling right, do you guys have spaghetti?

R Kelly: McDonald's Spaghetti? maybe.

Doryce: how much was it again, dear?

Gladyce: remember? two minutes, two minutes to heat any water.

Doryce: *stirring the pot* undercooked is worse than overcooked. the water is not bubbling and boiling, needs a witch's touch. you know i tried this trick with my latest spaghetti, filled the pot up with hot boiling water to start, so it would cook faster, but it didn't cook faster, still took 12 minutes to cook. you still have bacon on all your products?

R Kelly: you're too old for me so i'll answer you. no, that was a limited time offer.

Doryce: but The Year Of The Pig is all year! where can i get some bacon around the corner?

the pair of eternal lovers finally broom their way to the Hotel Theresa and the galley of heat lamps out front in the lobby. a slab of meat is featured in the center. Spike Lee is trying to slice it with a knife.

Spike Lee: screw this, it's too much work.

Doryce: screwing takes time, and a gentle hand.

Spike: you have to cut this slab of meat with a knife to form the bacon slices. are you kidding me? ain't nobody got time for dat! no wonder this slab of meat was free! i'm too old for this shit. this meat is too hard and marbled. this slab of meat is gonna go uncut, uneaten, smelly and wasted.

Gladyce: wait two minutes for it to melt, dear.

the show ends with a final trip to Obec Woods for the cast. and the Reunion Special on MTV the  night after. Obec Woods unfortunately is closed for loud summer-long construction of a new two-lane highway down the middle of the sleepy village, so the trip and any subsequent last-minute bonding is scrapped. Pedro comes into the studio with his tats all blazing on his open one-hair chest and arms and elbows scaring the female MTV reporter.

Pedro: Allison Something, right? don't worry, i don't bite. are you black? i mean really black like Sean. Sean works for me now. you seem timid, do you even know anything about music? now, anyone in the audience have any questions for me?

crowd: yes why are you a hologram?

Pedro: pero i'm not dead. in fact i've been more alive recently than i could ever have imagined. i'm speaking to you from a projection cos i'm not really here. i'm in Cuba currently. i have taken over that country, military coup was successful and swimming, i have installed myself as King For Life and there was much rejoicing and rejoindering and the throwing of bananas in the streets. i get money by kidnapping and rekidnapping Rachel across the border once a month. she has developed an appetite to cope. the stupid Americans really love their sex symbols safe. i've introduced Cuban Capitalism into the bloodstream, a form of Keynesian and Adam with my own unique spin on it called Pedroism. basically consists of me selling my patented potent blue potion which cures AIDS to the masses. all trucks allowed to pass through the bridges. do you like my pointy crown? it's part of my head.

crowd: wait. if you're there, then who's the Pedro here?

Pedro in the studio puts on his rubbery mustache to reveal himself to be Alex Escarno this whole time!

Alex: i'm a good actor, huh. needed on a reality show.

it was Alex Escarno pretending to be Pedro in that famous last group picture of the cast hugging under a rainbow taken in the waiting room of the hospital where Puck lay broken bruised and near-death, taken just hours before Puck's death. that pic was turned into an oil painting and sold at auction for a million Banksy dollars. bank.

Bunim: got the shot. bonus! bingo!

the audience claps.

Alex: i brought the answering machine with me so you can hear all the disgusting messages to each and every one of the cast members left by Pedro in Cuba during one of his free-time periods he seems to enjoy after he had his T-cell count rise like his rise to power. i can't control Pedro, i can only love him. *push*

the tape plays, it's swear word after swear word in all the languages of the world, one after the other. said fiercely loudly and profanely by Pedro over the loudspeaker mic of the answering machine. the cast and audience assembled on couches don't know quite how to react to this since no one understands it, but they ooh and ahh and gasp in hushed tones all the same.

Pedro: bringing the world together, one language, one swear word at a time.

President Bump: hello. Judd? i want you to do a comic where Superman wears the American Flag as his cape.

Judd: no, sir, this is where i draw the line---get it? draw---i thought it would be a wet dream of mine to get a call from the President, but i thought he would be more like Bush, never dreamed it would be someone like you. you know i'm gonna assert for the first time my...creative privilege or something whatever i guess...do the work i want, you can't stain Superman's legacy with your rulebreaking, some things still are sacred. you can't get out stains on a cape by eating Tide. i did a show about diversity. and mathematical feminine Russian inequality. simple math. i'm putting my foot down on the Nam sand. i will print, edit, conceive of the dialogue bubbles, draw and yes even ink myself a tribute graphic novel about Puck entitled Puck & Me: My Best Friend Is Dead, it will sell in all stores, not just the alt-right stores, cos i need the money. out in paperback always. but i'm not doing this for the money, this is about what an icon Puck has become for our world.

Judd travels to Vietnam to work on his graphic novel. there he falls stricken to an unknown strain of dengue fever and is close to death. he gets fixed up with white bandages all over his body which provide him comfort no brown bandages could. no more sickness in him. he is warm inside and out. his mind was muddled thoughout the whole cot process and he doesn't even remember being taken out of Nam on the M*A*S*H helicopter. Judd could have sworn the face of that nurse who tended his psychological wounds was Pam's face, but it was all gauzy. and he tells himself they all look the same, to avoid having to deal with his feelings. he also had a dream where he was being interviewed by Ed Sullivan…

Mo has that same interview dream with Ed Sullivan for his debut reggae album coming out. Ed is not into black music except for The Beatles.

Cory urges Mo to break-and-enter for her, to break into the Macy's and steal all the perfumes. Cory explains that her parents back home in Fresno are lily-white and boring, and atheists, but not the asshole kind of atheist, they're nice people to boot. that's why she booted herself outta there. nice and boring, Cory thus wanted excitement in her life so she turned to crime.

Cory: otherwise i'm just the white girl from Fresno, you know?

Mo: girl i get it, but i've turned over a new leaf in Hell. i want to do good now. i want to be a beacon of hope, a symbol representative of my religion Islam, i will make Islam the religion of peace known the world over starting today, it all starts with me, good works...

Jo and Rachel grow closer. like, really closer. Jo discovers a brand new mineral on one of her nature hikes from drilling down on the Earth's core for hours with her pickax for oil and names it after herself, a new gemstone which bleeds blue and purple she calls BritBox. she puts it on the internet on her own webpage so that makes it official. Jo's nose starts to flatten as she ages, which proves her ultimate theory. the two girls yuck it up after marriage and permanent granting of restraining orders and giggle and have a good ol' time around town. the two are inseparable, lock arm in arm, and do something together which not many twentysomething pretty young thang girls do these days: chow down every chance they get at McDonald's. yet somehow, through the magic miracle of television, these two remain young and pretty and slim. and accented.

btw, Jo's ex-husband Steve has completed his rock journey and now works in residence at the Rock N Roll McDonald's in Chicago.

Aaron, Mo's girlfriend, Rachel's parents, the two other roommate auditioners, Dom, Dom's grandpa, Sean, Geoff, Randy Shilts, Jack Kemp, and Christopher Hitchens: whereabouts unknown.

Pedro: and now you come to me, you end with Pedro. i beat it. every night. i beat AIDS. throughout i never hid my HIV, i was proud of it, wore it like a sword. i never cried myself to sleep, i screamed myself to sleep. i cured myself with my immense power of will and volition. i directed my body to quit carrying it. i can love the way i want to now. forever. and the way i love, well, i hate when i love. everyone's got their own slant on things, right? left? some call me a trailblazer, others say i was a scorched-earther. but i was never a flat-earther. all of you blamed us for starting AIDS, before it was a mysterious harmless local disease entering the consciousness and stream and blood, one which nobody paid any mind to. not until it jumped. then it started to slip into your bloodline and you took notice, now suddenly it was a scourge on the Earth and capable of wiping away an entire population. courage for the scourge. well my plan didn't work. it would have been funny if it ended up wiping away all you bigots. all of the discrimination and savagery and hate and homophobia and podunkness, eliminated and laminated with fire. you blamed us, called us the bad guys, wanted our people to die off, our skin to suffer and drop, to collect our hides we had hidden, not knowing the virus had jumped off the island over water. it was a matter of hygiene for all of us now. but we're not the bad guys, you are the bad guys. you who would dare judge me. judge me for living, judge me for loving, like lice there will be a reckoning, and i shall lead it. it will spread from Cuba into the farthest corners. your systems are too slippery not to tumble and crumble. like a snake in the night. i will strike when you least suspect it, i will get you with my kiss.

i live. I LIVE!!! so now i'm trying something new, to achieve my ends. mark my words, i was the first, but i shall not be the last. down the road, in some years time, there will be a 2nd person who is cured of AIDS...

notes:

* Ebert would have liked this. Siskel not so much.

* Super Bowl whaaaa?...

* Keir Dullea: eyes so blue they had to invent a new kind of film to hold them. 420mm. unfortunately that also led to the beginnings of the genre of mumblecore.

* never mind the music, folks, The Ramones really didn't want their music used like this, they wanted to remain indie just playing small clubs in New York and Dubai.

* HAL: your eyes are a dull shade of blue.
Keir: i take care of them, two drops every night before my bowl of Fruity Lucky Charms. open the fucking pod-bay doors, HAL! i need to go pee!
HAL: what color is my eye, Keir?
Keir: do you want me to pee in your eye, HAL!!?

* George Lucas: can i use that outside-space shot for Star Wars?
Kubrick: which one?
George: the Space Baby one.
Kubrick: oh hell no! it's not my fault that you decided to blow up the Death Star thinking there would be no sequels!
George: fine. but give me back my charcoal pencil you stole from me!
Kubrick: i need it for the Monolith.

* foggy man: i have a picture of a tiger on my phone but i don't know how.
Zach Galifianakis: you were in that commercial with the loving dad and his daughter dressed in that tiger costume, remember?
foggy man: right right. i have a daughter?

* mother in car: what are your plans for the future?
daughter in car: i'm gonna go to city college then to jail.
mother: i am so proud of you, honey! that shows real work ethic! you're actually gonna leave the house!
daughter: and i'm gonna leave the car.
mother: what?
daughter: nothing. Uber or Lyft?
mother: none, both companies are full of perverts, it's safer with me driving.
mother: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
mother: why'd you do that!!? were you trying to kill yourself!!?
daughter: no, it was to show you you were speeding, i'm worried about you, mom.
mom: thank you. i got this daughter who gives me stress…

* Drew Barrymore: i filmed this Scream scene in the two minutes i was married to Tom Green.
Tom Green: that was back when you were still cool.
Ghostface: what door am i at? and is that World Book Encyclopedia set from 1979?
Drew: patio door. the po-lice are on their way. see ya. you know this cream scratchy sweater i have on went for a million Banksy bucks at auction.
Ghostface: okay okay i'll leave, i'm backing away. just don't ring the Video Doorbell alarm, it's so embarrassing when you have to run away from a house in broad daylight like that cos it's too loud.
Tom: who are you, Ghostface?
Ghostface: your cancer.
Tom: i am NOT cancer.
Ghostface: i'm a famous rapper. what's your favorite scary movie?
Drew: The Emoji Movie.

* Tom Cruise: what's with your shirt? it should say LIFE MATTERS.
Cuba: not this again, you will never get it. show me the money. i represent Cuba.
Tom Cruise: Apple stocks are down ever since Tim Apple announced. but Dianetics stocks have remained at a steady 35% since the 1930s.
Bill Gates: *at conference* so i was walking down the street and the President and Steve Jobs come toward me and i'm, like, stay the fuck away from me!!!
*crowd laughs*

* Deadpool: Google, what's on my schedule today?
Google: you missed everything oversleeping. your favorite inside-robe got wet cos you forgot to go to the bathroom. your Civil War reenactment was at noon sharp and all your fake war buddies went out for beer and a pack of cigarettes afterwards and were never seen again.
Deadpool: they're at my house holed up in my bedroom. they're all deserters. not cos they went to Desert Storm. that is grounds for court-martial and impeachment. i called Nixon on your asses, he's coming with his police.
war buddies: we know we deserted you. we deserted our friendship. good, we'll wait right here, Nixon will give us all pardons.
Nixon: hello, we've got you surrounded. is this Slade's house?
Deadpool: damn it.

* BONUS, CLICK HERE
random Hitchcock Blonde driving: any motels near by? i need new windshield wipers.
Google: Bates Motel. it's complicated. it's a 0/5 but a 1/10. shall i book you?
blonde: is there a bath? i really want to take a bath.
Google: i'll give you the room...…...as long as you're not Elizabeth Warren.
landlord: yes?
blonde: Google gave me a room.
landlord: i know your secret. i know your secret. i know your secret.
blonde: you're really creepy. what do you mean?
landlord: YOU'RE NOT A NATURAL BLONDE!!!
blonde: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. me at Taco Bell this weekend:

me: so the fries are made from rattlesnakes?...…

1. what curse word do you use the most? AZARATH METRION ZINTHOS!!!

2. would you rather take a picture or be in a picture?

i want to take a picture of me that shows me when i was older. thanks, Mitch, we'll never forget you, you were the thinking man's comedian.

3.  has anyone ever called you lazy? no. i'm a prime candidate for it don't get me wrong, they would have but they were too lazy to call me that. they had their condemnation of me all ready in a long long-worded email that was ripe to be sent, but they fell asleep before they could push the send key button...

4. have you ever dated or slept with a neighbor? how did things turn out?

i'm not proud of this but yes. he was a cool bro i hung out with---not that hung---we went to baseball games together, even played on the same baseball team with, Minor League.

well his mom actually, i slept with his mom. she was anything but, she was major leagues. all the neighborhood wanted to sleep with her, she was very popular. the neighborly thing to do as you know is of course to knock on the vented door in the morning breakfast to exchange pies, it's a nice way to introduce yourself and keep things civil, especially if there are no fences, so a different war doesn't break out every week. keep sending those pies over for world peace. but after he found out, my friend sent me a pie with a suspicious hole indentation in it down the center.

i asked him once, why is your name Stifler? he said cos everyone who visited his mom got one, even the women. i asked him if he thought everyone was piling on and making fun of him, taunting him with that nickname. he shrugged it off superconfidently and chose to view it as a badge of honor. Stifler's mom was such a nice woman.

5. have you ever broken up with a significant other then "cheated" with that same person while they were in a relationship with someone else?

is that considered cheating, technically? or is that legal revenge? that's how people interact these days, that's how people meet. i remember my aunt who wore a headdress even inside the roof of her beige rainbow flaming unicorn hippie van she used to drive me around Yuma with, around every single cactus in the state. she called herself a polyamorous free spirit who didn't want to be tied down, but i was too young then to understand the bearing of that descriptor word free. also it turns out she actually DID like to be tied down. i miss her. while i was sleeping one night, she flew into the sky on her butter wings and became a Goddess...

BONUS: tell us something good.

well Apple is no longer in the business of making iphones, the next iphone will be the last. Apple has moved on to making it possible for we humans to communicate telepathically. involves an earbud that looks like an apple seed with the Apple logo on it microscopically put on with a soldering iron. Tim Apple designed the tech one day when he got fed up and frustrated playing hoops with Christian Laettner on his apple farm, Tim wanted a way in to finally understand what the U.S. and China were REALLY doing.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

notes:

* is it a duck or is it a rabbit? or is it a both? or is it a neither? no, it is Nordy the Nordstrom Mascot you never knew you knew.

* gauzy: that was the number-one word scribbled on the lined index cards to describe this longform commercial of everyone who participated at the focus group behind closed windows and see-through doors. Management was pleased with the test results, and gave each a Nordy plush at the end of it. interestingly everyone used just the lead part of the pencil, no wood.

* okay, i've officially switched allegiances from Macy's to Nordstrom. don't tell Cory.

* sorry, i wasn't listening to you, i was looking at you.

* okay i'm feeling sad now. i should be at an auduiton and not doing this...

* pro-tip: go to an acting class that takes place during the DAY. you'll encounter more interesting people...

* E.T.: i want to have a human experience...i actually hate chocolate but i played along...

* reading a book outside makes the book better-written. horses HATE having to take a bath just to make the cowboy look cool.

* teacher: who are you in this sculpture?
Michelangelo: i'm the block of granite. it's not a block of Ivory soap i checked and ate some of it. thank god my leader didn't do infrastructure first or i couldn't do my art.
Elliott: looking back, i should never have worn that red hoodie, really made me spotable to police.

* swim instructor: stay with the backstroke, liability and such.
swimmer: 23, 24...
swim instructor: so i don't know how to swim but i know how to teach.

* student: okay, if i roll snake-eyes, i'm going to USC...

* mother: is that a big fashion-bag purse you're taking to class?
daughter: it's a basketball, mom, a basketball on a strng. i'm a Varsity athlete.
mother: nothing to do with Varsity Blues i promise.
daughter: why do you always sign to me?
mother: cos i cry everytime i start to speak.

* here, in this class, passing notes is encouraged. necessary even to connect us all.

* dramaturg: i know these look like pews but this is a nondenominational acting class.
actors: hello, we are Name and we are an alcoholic.
dramaturg: yes, actors, same thing. coffee and donuts will be served in those pews after.

* that feather had an arrowtip on it!!!

* bro: why you nervous?
bowtie: if i don't get this audition, i have to live in this neighborhood with you forever. no offense.
bro: homeboys for life. literally.

* Grandma: don't steal my sunglasses, grandson! i wasn't sleeping!!! i don't sleep anymore! i need these sunglasses for inside the mansion you know that!

* Grandpa: shouldn't you be cutting grass, young sprout?
sprout: my sunglasses are cooler than yours, old man. because your generation didn't do anything about the environment and climate change, we can't make any more new cars and have to strut around on lawnmower cars. great for picking up awkward promposals tho.

* teacher: that's it, growl like a lion.
student: i'm growling ike a Hobbit.
teacher: oh no, i thought we had weeded all you guys out.
student: you will never stop the weed.
teacher: don't be a strident student. i'm a dramaturg, i went to Harvard. before there was photoshop. i never thought my destiny would be to prepare young people for cosplay cons.

* --can i borrow your red dress?
---can i borrow your red wine?

* i went to Kappa. not a fraternity, the Mario Turtle thing, where i learned to karate like a Power Ranger.

* never wear headphones on a bus, you miss interesting and wacky human conversations.

* the ballet step is only learned after pointing your toes down on public-bathroom tile.

* mirror? or clone?

* black punkette who reads graphic novels: is that a rodeo lariat or are you pervy like me?
cowboy: big fan of Wonder Woman, ma'am.

* pastor: i don't know what this means, but the atheist in our group had the best church-choir voice. most heavenly reverb carried in that honey voice.
drummer: it's still weird to have a drums set in a church choir. my idol was Anne Murray not John Bonham.

* HELP! MY GREY BUSINESS SUIT! IT'S STUCK! TOO MUCH STARCH!!!

* theatre group: can we move now? can we move again? are we unstuck?
dramaturg: UNFUCK YOURSELF. that's always a good life hack.

* Louis Armstrong: i admit it, the fat Hawaiian dude with the ukulele's cover is better than my original.

* i'm that really old lady who only became famous in her 80s and can now wear pink feather boas down New York City streets and sashay without cracking my bones all fall apart. i wear sunglasses only inside mansions and i design Groucho-glasses for Great Danes. you don't know who i am, you never did all throughout my career, but you should. get to know me, i'm one of the eccentrics.

* dramaturg: YEAH! *clap* that was a great battle.
Hobbit: *puts PokeBall away in his back jeans pocket* hey, do you guys want to go see the Tolkien movie with me tonight?
troupe: is it a LOTR movie?
Hobbit: no, it's about the life of the writer himself, JRR.
troupe: nah.

* dramaturg: an open mind is the best look.
Pinhead: i tried that...
dramaturg: that's not what i meant, Pinhead!!!
Pinhead: mate...classmate...umbrella...i'm not acting here...

* drama teach: you blinked, your scholarship is rescinded.
acting-class student: but i'm 80 years old!!!

CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

happy weekend, my babies. i returned my strawberry shake from Carl's Jr.'s cos it didn't make me shake.

1. what qualities do you like or dislike about yourself? i like that i read...but i dislike that i read damp supermarket tabloids. it's just it's always next to the cube gum with the crystals so i get sucked in. i only get out of my room and forage for food once every two weeks, it's an event. this is TMIT, not TMZ, i gotta be the best version of myself.

2. if you had the chance to rename yourself, would you? if yes, what would be your new name?

Bogie. after my parakeet Bacall rest his soul. those two stars had the best partnership, they were King and Queen of their Royal Court in the '40s. in a time way back when when celluloid was pure magic. see that pic up there? that is the only known picture of Humphrey Bogart smiling. they had a Golden Whistle between them as you can see in the above pic, not the Golden Whistle of Drea Blackwell of KSBW, i miss Drea, wish she would return to instagram. Bogie & Bacall were a team, of lovers and trendsetters, they both could pull off skinny ties. it's weird cos in To Have And Have Not Bogie calls her Slim but HE'S the one who's unusually skinny in the picture. did she call him Hump in bed? i want a love where it's destiny and film magic and stardust and we don't have to say a word to each other, we don't even have to kiss, we simply blow whistles in each other's faces.

3. tell us one thing you wished had not happened in your life. what's the deal with the poop? you feel me? i had to go No. 2 JUST as Teen Titans Go waa starting this evening. i decided to hold it in cos, well, it's TTG. the episode ends on a song about poop. and then the commercial afterward is a board game where the object is to step in poop. not sure if that poop was plastic...

4. have you ever been in a secret relationship? why was it secret? yes, i'm in an ongoing clandestine relationship with Vicodin. problem is, it hurts my teeth. oh, and remind me, never take a Vanquish before you eat breakfast. my head is currently on fire, but if i hadn't take it this morning, my head would currently be on fire from having a splitting headache...

5. you must create a rumor about yourself. what is the rumor? Walt Disney created Spongebob right before he died. Patrick ate Spongebob…

BONUS: what would you do if you had 1 million U.S. dollars? immediately convert it to 111306000 yen and buy ALL the anime.

or give it all back to Wayne Brady in an effort to get Whose Line Is It Anyway? back on ABC. i did finally watch the pilot episode of Holby City, "Whose Heart Is It Anyway?". sure, it's British ER but it was good, British telly is always better than global tv. so good i had to look away, i'd be that way that patient was, too, the more i thought about death, i'd get all panicky and nervous and agitated and jumping and bargaining and loving and dramatic-soliloquy and regretful with my loved ones and soapy and hard to swallow.

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

Laertus clears his bobbing throat and attempts to stand up to the class. by standing himself up by his knuckle on the wood corner of his steel desk to address the large assembly of class all staring at him through their peeper eyes. it's dark but not so dark that he can't see their mealing faces. he can smell their breaths. it's been two years but he still can't break the habit of sitting in the way back of the auditorium.

class: hey! why do you always sit in the way back of the auditorium!? we all have to crane our necks to listen to you! that's not far, it hurts!

Laertus: but this is the first time i've spoken. like this with any conviction. i'm still nervous, i still get nervous public-speaking large crowded classrooms. cos i've never done it. and speaking in general. that's why i'm online. all the time. that's the point of all this. no online. but i'm gonna power through, i'm gonna drink my own flopsweat. this is too important to pass up like a four-point shot. college is not about honing one's identity---about becoming an individualism organism---it's about joining things, joining groups and weird clubs and heavily-slanted questionable political cabals, to see where you won't go. being a part of something bigger, a voice for the larger cause. that's what i plan to do as speaker here today, young folk, and old folk trying college for the first time, godspeed, hope you get wet. i'm but one man, well man-boy, but i represent a big contingent of humans, in fact i represent ALL humans!!!

class *turning their watches over to stare. at their watches. well, their large ipads rather* we're waiting...get on with it...

Laertus: i'm not a speech, i mean speaker. i am a man, manboy. folks, citizens, whatever, you must heed me. i am the messenger with goat legs. don't shoot me! i bring urgent news! we are dying. we are dying as a race. as a people. it's not a one-term four years of separation, this has been going on for centuries, it's just that the gatekeeper has never been known before to fit the key up his ass. after he locked us all OUT. if we don't come together soon humanity will perish the way the Earth will perish in ten years. we've got to start talking to each other again, face-to-face, not online, the internet has destroyed society and culture. hasn't helped at all, given us the illusion of interconnectedness while driving us so apart we don't know the damage we're causing everytime we elect to type rather than talk. follow the lead of the deaf and blind, they understand what true communication is, a healthy exchange of ideas not laced with vitriol, fossil-fuel gas to power your old hunks of carpiles, of not prejudging people.

Larry is losing the audience. they are beginning to REALLY stare at their ipad clocks.

the Professor in the front of the room is but a black speck to Laertus. he goes by Title because he's earned that right, he's one of those folk who seems to have been at the venerable institution forever but actually only applied off a damp index card last week. seniority is not a measurable thing anymore. he has always been known to brood, that is a requirement, he learned how to brood by watching the chickens in his backyard and through CliffsNotes. with his black skivvies and black madras shorts made electronically in an Indian cyberpunk factory and black ankle socks and black untied boots with the soles cut out. he wants to trip over himself but he never seems to. even when he's lecturing. he holds his book in front of his face so the class has never gotten a good look at him. plus he has insanely long black hair which he shampoos with stringy soapropes. he's a skinny man who wears ill-formfitting black T shirt series yet somehow strangely always incorporates weird shoulderpads into his shoulderwear. the one distinguishing characteristic Laertus will never get out of his nostril was when Larry had to walk the one mile to the front of teach's desk to drop off a pop quiz. Laertus took a large whiff when Prof wasn't looking or smelling and came away with the distinct smell of Big Computer.

Laertus: are you?...no, couldn't be...*and Laertus walked on without speaking*

Prof: young man, you in the back there, speak up or forever hold your war so the whole class can pick apart your spelling when they blog about this later.

the prof's hands wave magically on top of the lit ceiling from the glare of the glowing projector-screen on the stage. Professor Title sounds like if Snape were played by Rowan Atkinson. one time he let his hair down, to show his face, but his hair had formed two black circles around his eyes for a pair of indoor shades. his mouth looked like it had been eating corn-on-the-cob since childhood.

the Prof always had an interesting lecture to say, each day, that's why Laertus stayed.

this week Prof was contemplating the NCAA College Basketball Tournament Brackets. how so many people eagerly filled out these brackets such that their pencils whittled down to nubs the size of their respective peanut penises and peanut vulvas. and yet this was the perfect time to do away with the Electoral College. instead of deciding ONE person to President-vote, why not put all EIGHT of your choices into brackets on your ballot so as to say "okay, if my FIRST CHOICE doesn't win, give me my second-place guy. or girl."

Laertus: look, i know all of you are itching to get back to Fulldive Fantasy---i will be, too, after this---but do this one thing in the real world. i mean this is getting ridiculous. i'm scared to live, i'm afraid to be me! i am terrified everytime i log onto YouTube and see all those 1000s of comments under a video of a VW car commercial featuring two WW empowered loving lesbians---one black, one generally-unvisibly-asian ethnic---leaving their hapless white video-game-playing doofus boyfriend in an empty cleared-out-save-for-the-brown-boxes apartment they used to share together to begin their new adventure as free women finally. remember, cuckold comes from the root word cock. the boyfriend looks like PewDiePie if PDP shaved. or the one featuring all wheelchair-bound actresses racing. or the Pakistani Muslim man and the Kansas Christian whitebread woman in an apron having 20 babies all going to Lowe's. the comments stare at me, beckon me to enter their blackhole vortex of hate speech and attacks on weak-wristed SJWs and correct speech correctified and cancel culture and femme-zation not done the right third way. i share that weak wrist, my finger shakes, but i have to push the button cos i can't resist, i'm too curious to see what they have to say, i read them and instantly regret reading them. and then i feel bad the rest of the day. wherever there's another othering, another fly inside me dies.

Laertus slumbers slowly with an affected gimp-leg over to the new coffeeshop across from where he usually meets his soul mate---for better or worse---for coffee after class in place of a rushed lunch. Dirg is there by the window seat cracking open a fizzy can of Bang soda. Star Blast flavor.

Dirg: whoa! i'd wave but i was busy, you almost got run over crossing the street! something on your mind? how'd it go? this actually isn't a new klatch on campus, it's just our usual haunt is undergoing new construction, and new management, manager guy was a freak. should only take all semester to complete. move from The Magical Fruit to The Human Bean. coffee is coffee, tastes the same, all coffee tastes like coffee. hey, guess what color my Bang soda will be. i'll put it into my copper cup that was once used for a mule drink. i call it my Drawing Cup, but if you put your wrong lips to it it's your Writing Cup. working on a new script?

Laertus: are you working on a new webcomic? design is key. moreso than story for a four-panel weekly.

Dirg: you said penal. oh i always have some doodlesnacks up my asshole at any given moment.

Paris Jackson slops herself into the Red Circle Table pretzel-chair from exhaustion.

Paris: i don't know if i'm black enough to sit here, but i REALLY need someone to talk to. i feel isolated from everyone in the universe, especially my family, and my extended family, and they are the only ones who could POSSIBLY understand what i'm going through. can i go and leave my bros? for a wrist tattoo? and this is the exact moment that Marilyn Manson decides to start recording that long-awaited new album in ten years. wretched timing!!!

Dirg: sure, toots. if you'll let me get lost in your ocean eyes.

Laertus: busy? well, judging from the can, it's red, white, and blue, your three favorite colors. it's either gonna be blueberry, poisonberry, or, like, clear flavor.

Dirg pours.

Laertus: aww, it's white, that's disappointing. Captain America? yeah right, no such thing anymore. Superman, your after-death favorite. what manner of musclebuilding toxin chemicals are in this? Super-Creatine? what, Regular Creatine wasn't enough? you know that kryptonite creatine stuff stunts creativity and will make the muscles in your eyes shrink. hey Taka! how's your mom?

Takahashi: too soon, it's been a year. anyway i'm trying to get my drone-racing league started up. on campus it's a bitch. to get all the papers. but it's my dream. gonna be doing two very important interviews. and one from the grave. to secure funds and get this paper. i need that one glowing Illuminati brick-pyramid triangle to be the first hole for the drones to fly through or it's just not real to me, you know?

Laertus: allow me to orate my PhD dissertation on how so-called "eSports" aren't a thing. esports aren't real sports. playing video-games is not like playing tennis. is hammering a nail a sport? i hope i've hammered that nail into your sacred palms.

Taka: mama didn't raise no fool. i go where the money follows. i investigate. i'm the most levelheaded gamer you'll ever meet. get it? level.

Paris: but i've already met you. and you came across. hey were you the one who was in my Instagram DMs all night last night?

Dirg: but hammering Chris Evert IS a sport. i mean online on twitter. Jeopardy All Stars was a sport, it was the greatest sport ever invented. this year. i mean this thing had a fantasy league. a fucking Fantasy League!

Laertus: please, this really is too soon...i can't even think about Alex Trebek wthout my one tear turning to two ...i'd pray for him if i thought it'd help...i'd willingly cede my heart for his so he could be healthy again. the heart can replace any organ, the pancreas and especially the brain. this is multiple-stage levels of depressing, not just your standard testtaking depression. i mean how do you go on playing a silly little pub quiz game which has shaped the leading minds of the world and led to game-changing inventions and growing intellectualism? do you still taste the salt of the pretzel or is all the salt you feel inside you now? i mean how do you live like this? when you're not able to fall asleep on your bed and wake up the next day and push the RESET button.

the university is undergoing an evaluation and reevaluation of applicants. a reeval. a cleansing, a purge if you will, but a Good Purge. unfortunately---and the Regents have all concluded this---all of the cheaters are, like, already seniors, so there's no point. the Bach class was slashed for budget cuts but that was it. Professor Title is helping out the administration with this, mostly it's easy cos Obec College doesn't really have any real sports---mostly video-game sports but that's it---so those are easy to weed out. and as for Photoshop, the Prof has a photographic memory when it comes to photoshop, he's seen EVERY SINGLE picture that has ever existed, seen the original of every picture, so there's no fooling him. copy at your own peril.

President Bump: this is why i won. elitism has become too elite. hey, cancel SNL, it's cold garbage! *waving around his remote control menacingly*

Pence: *glancing at the tv* that's a repeat episode of SNL, sir, the episode you hosted.

Steve King: i'm King, it's in the name, so i can say anything and it goes. when the Holy War begins, some on the Right and some on the Left will be felled by bullets, that's just how bullets go. and if all else fails, and the indiscriminate gods don't get me, i drew these two lovely red and blue big mecha robots on twitter that i'll get into and move to Japan to draw anime.

Dirg: i would have given Ilhan Omar more credit if she had just come out and said America was a stupid country, you know she wanted to. see, you're not allowed to REALLY say what you feel and think.

Bump: i mean hey. i was a bad test-taker, too, doesn't mean i'm not smart. i'm crazy smart. i don't care about college as you all know. just parties, if i ever got invited to one. i'm a hard-partying lampshade. ask me, don't ask Curly from The Three Stooges with hair. like anybody who grew up in my generation, i turned to Uncle Jessy for help out with my homework. but then this talk of proctors and i'm like nobody's gonna touch my ass. to the two young hot daughters, my message to you is clear:

Row Row Row Your Boat Gently Down The Stream...

i'll post the lyrics on twitter.

Laertus: it's always the wholesome ones. but don't pile on the two innocent children, sins don't bleed down. you know you'd be on that boat, too, if you could. the real tragedy of all this is that i'm never gonna find out who stole the bakery bread, i was VERY invested in the Hallmark movie mystery which spanned four films.

Laertus: *calling from the coiled coffeeshop phone in the back* so who won? Pew or T Series?

Taka: T Series

Laertus: thank you. i don't know what that is. and why this is so important. why does the Wikipedia article on this have, like, 30 edits?

Takahashi: don't fuck with Bollywood, you'll lose every time! Bollywood doesn't have the luxury to be racist after getting famous.

Dirg: so are we going or what?

Laertus: yep, just let me get my things. i sent out a group email, a deliberate good group email i wanted to send purposely, to let everyone know where we'd be meeting.

Laertus: *in circles* huh. i thought the next block would be sunny. wasn't it a sunny day? next to the real estate? i seem to have forgotten the exact location point, is this the place?

Laertus looks around to see a sea of green. grass and trees and fallen bloodied spears without their diamond casing. brown trunks cut awkwardly on a slant dot the landscape. he's lost his bearings in the twirl.

Laertus: wait...is this reality...or the video game? i can't tell anymore. oh, i'm so glad i bumped in to you ladies.

the crones are busily arranging pink and blue petals over and under a well dressing they're performing in the middle of the meadow. it's hard work and Doryce is starting to complain.

Doryce: ugh, my back! how many fucking flowers are there!? i feel we've been here all day. or, like, three days.

Gladyce: it's alright, dear, we're almost done, we'll rest at the tavern haybeds soon. the one with the wooden sign like a flag creaking in the wind.

Doryce: i'm so thirsty i could drink a horse!

Doryce looks down below, and with her divining rod, but there's no water in the well.

Doryce: well what's the point then! this is where we go to get water! who cares if the well is pretty!? quick, fill the hole with iced-tea powder until it latches onto some trace water molecules and we start to see a little wave action down there.

Maria: *softly* no, please, stop, i'm with child! thank you for making my vag dazzle. and yes, it's his.

the well was actually giant Titan Maria LaRosa.

Maria: my water broke. sorry.

Doryce: no need to apologize, love, i am all for it. racemixing and cross-breeding is the wave of the future, we won't survive as a species without it, everyone knows that.

a creature emerges from the bush.

creature: *with a soft-tone smooth honey voice* oh hello. should i be here? i feel that this isn't my time. my timing's off.

Laertus is instantly struck.

Laertus: *shooketh* well...hello...hello...gorgeous.

Doryce: dibs.

the creature turns around. it is a combination of three elements: it is an animal consisting of the lower body of a centaur with two hind legs and the upperbody torso of a naked-hairless-chest cleanshaven Orlando Bloom with one ear longer than the other that his long purple hair can't cover. overall this specimen looks like as if imagine Yoshi the dinosaur with the Gene Simmons tongue were a human male.

Pence: do you like to play Legos? you are a lass, right?

Madame Pons is shaken by this sight as well. she stirs inside herself with her inner wand, a protective shield comes over the area and gently on top of the creature blocking the sun's still-there rays despite the grey sky. she is looking only at the bottom half of the bodacious beast, and from that moment on she plucks and eats the grass surrounding her till she times out.

Eye Luggage: *anime eyes* wow, amazing. i am LOVING that long staff you got by your elbow there, man.

creature: oh, my hoe you mean? i use it to garden. these fields. these fields i till till i'm satisfied. i need to eat. i'm alive.

Eye: yeah, that is one hot hoe. but i'm wondering the humping situation here you know? i mean how does Katy Perry go doggystyle on a horse? or 69? what happens when her huge tits align with your horse buttocks in the back and your back legs kick up and knock her head unconscious? or is she into that?

Laertus: …………………….uh, i hate Instagram.

creature: *laughs horsely* me, too. go back to chronological, i mean who decides which posts are important? i mean how are you supposed to tell your followers what day your birthday is? you have to come out and say it in a post: HELLO! IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! that's so awkward, that's not how it works in real life, your real friends just know. *laughs* this fits into my broader theory. i am supposed to only reveal myself to you on my birthday, one day a year for just a short amount of time, i'm a rare creature not meant to be photographed or known. but i forgot when that was. i'm supposed to immediately jump out of a bush then scamper away. to the frustration of hunters everywhere. *laughs hoarsely*

Laertus: *eyes open and wide and deep breath* o you clever boy! what to do? i feel i've been wandering for a long time...

creature: i suppose you could write your birthday date on your profile so everyone sees it. so it remains unspoken and instinctual like it should be. let's continue this conversation by the bush, let's continue talking about the pitfalls of being online.

Laertus: *smiling while staring* follow you. i mean, lead the way.

Laertus has lost all track of time...

notes:

* which one of the three should i do? ah, do 'em all. you know the older i get, the more fascinated i become with commercials

* you know there's a deli shoppe somewhere out there that's called the Hold The Mayo Clinic. serves comics with your cucumber sandwiches, sliced triangularly on unleavened dough with a cherry on top

* brunette woman who will wear hat: why do i have to clean up after the rager? i didn't even get to sample any of the pizza you swatted ordered.
blonde woman: why do they make chips so goddamn spicy? i like dill-flavored, i ike chile, but why must it start a fire in your mouth? that kind of atrocious hot is simply obnoxious. i've been sad days ever since i found out my fam was sick. haven't gotten out of couch.
woman in hat: yeah, that fam is me. and no matter how long you stare at that painting, it's not gonna turn into Jesus.

* blonde: here's your lucky hat. wear it and never take it off so men won't know what color your hair is and prejudge you.
woman in hat: this lucky hat got me sick.

* couch potato: what'd i miss?
blonde: shut up, mom, you don't pay rent. we're just two fams hugging, that's all.
woman in hat: thank you. the only person who hugs me now is my doctor.
blonde: why you cryin'? listening to Aerosmith or something?
woman in hat: no i'm crying cos you owe me 300 bucks for that ball you wanted to try and i know i'm never getting that back.

* couch potato: what's with the lens flare? is JJ directing this?
woman in hat: it's this thing called the sun that's doing that. you wouldn't know about that cos you've never gone outside.
couch potato: YOU'VE GOT THIS!!!......can i watch porn and 7-Eleven commercials on your tv while you're away?

* blonde: why you screamin'? is it a exultation of triumph that you're gonna conquer this?
woman in hat: no i'm just in a lot of pain. what does the Mayo Clinic treat anyway?
blonde: we're trying to determine how it is that you're my daughter. i mean i got blonde hair.
woman in hat: hey, don't truck away leaving me here alone with no papers, that's dangerous in these times.
blonde: you'll find your way in this new world, you'll see. it's one of those offices up there in that skyscraper building. you got the key, right?
woman in hat: i only have the key to the executive washroom.

* husband: catch any fish with your big feet?
wife: time for me to leave.

* husband: i'm sick.
wife: well i'm sick of you so let's go.
husband: just forcing my beehive into the back of this TransAm and we're off. whoa! i saw the sliding doors and thought we were at Mayo already, what train station has sliding grocery-store doors?

* husband: why are we taking the train? isn't it longer?
wife: i'm having myself the honeymoon you were too cheap to afford me on our wedding night. don't worry, the train is all run with AI it's 100% safe.

* wife: what are you reading?
husband: my ipad. what's a five-letter-word for science?
wife: WHIZZ. how's your McDonalds Sausage and Egg McMuffin?
husband: i can feel it clogging my arteries as i eat it. why doesn't McDonalds have all-day breakfast already? i had to jump this train onto another train to make it in time. how's your McCafe coffee?
wife: it tastes like coffee.
husband: ahhhhh, my leg is dead, i can't move it! i gotta get up out of my seat and jump around.
wife: nah, you just gotta take a whizz.

* husband: i can't believe the conductor didn't look at our tickets!
wife: we're black, honey, we're the invisibles of society.

* wife: i keep our wedding photograph in a locket on a necklace that touches my chest and heart.
cabdriver: can i see? i mean the locket, not your chest. hey, have you seen Michael Cohen? he owes me 300 bucks or one Olympic gold medal on the black market.

* wife: you feel better, dear?
husband: yes, thank you for holding my hand and calming me. i am so nervous. well, goodbye, love.
wife: wait, why are YOU dropping ME off? i'm not the one who's sick!

* father: ROAD TRIP!!! FATHER-SON-BONDING TIME!!!
son: dad, come on. it's just the two of us, i'm not embarrassed of you but we are going to the Mayo clinic, this is a somber occasion, not a cause for celebration.
father: I GOT THE BEEF JERKY!!!

* son: are you the ocean?
father: i'm the sea.
son: do you SEA my middle finger, dad? are you edible?
father: the only thing i ever ate was your mother's underwear.
son: gross.
father: they weren't edible underwear btw. your mother always smells like peaches that have been on the sill too long.

* father: son, see all those rays of sun filtering down through the clouds like light touches of light spears? that proves God exists.
son: or it means God is trying to kill us with light spears.

* father: oh, you're a cute hotelier!
counter clerk: sir, not all red neon lights mean the same thing. why you boys out so late? causing generalized mischief and raising hell?
son: please, ma'am, don't mention Hell around me, i'm dying...
counter clerk: okay, you guys can do whatever you want here EXCEPT play late-night basketball.

* son at bathroom mirror: dad, i'm scared. i can't sleep. i'm sweating profusely through my facial pores.
father: do you see Bloody Mary in the mirror?
son: no.
father: okay, that's a good sign at least. don't down that half-opened NyQuil bottle by the bible in the drawer all at once. want me to read you a bedtime story?
son: the one about the giraffe?
father: no the one about the hippo.

* son: dad, i appreciate you playing b-ball with me at 3AM pitch-black on a spooky haunted court like this, but why did you have to cheat? this will likely be out last sport together.
father: hey if you die, you die, you know, son? sorry, in all the fun and confusion i forgot how to spell H-O-R-S-E.

* son: you sure it's okay to be drinking these beers then joyriding?
father: yeah, we'll just drive that speedboat in the grass there a few crop-circles, it's our last trip together.

* son: *YELLS EFFERVESCENTLY*
 father: what was that for? i liked it.
son: see my plaid shirt? i was gonna be Kurt Cobain in the off-off-Broadway play Courtney's Song. i wanted to be an actor, dad, now that dream is dashed. i feel down. there's a general malaise in the air, can you feel it, dad? a wave of overpowering disappointment overtaking human consciousness.
father: hey son, don't put your unsocked feet in the water here, see all those electrical poles in the water? that's the price for clean green water energy: electrocution of flesh.

* father: *slaps his son's back softly* got your backpack with you, son? you're gonna be here a VERY LONG time.

CLICK HERE
HERE AND
HERE

happy weekend, my babies. The Mueller Report dropped on my birthday, what are the chances? that's popcorn-psychedelic.

you all know the story of Doonesbury by now, right? it was all inspired by my dad. had to be. Garry Trudeau and my dad were in the same year at Princeton. imagine if they had been roommates! we'd be talking turkey and looking at a Facebook situation here. none of this would have happened if my dad hadn't made an impression on the man sometime during school. or perhaps afterschool. i'm picturing, i'm conjuring up some fateful vignette where Garry and my dad's eyes lock and meet across the '50s Russian sci-fi hallway of the clear-orange-glass ocular tile of the university caf one night. i mean look at the 4th picture, the one of this character here with the sandy brown hair, glasses, and light-vine-color vest. the character's name is Mike Doonesbury, that's EXACTLY ALMOST my father's exact name! he looks EXACTLY like my dad! we made it, dad, we made the big time!!!

1. when you have experienced sexual difficulty, how have you overcome it? taken a pill. sometimes red pill, sometimes blue pill. when it was red i wanted it to be blue. when it was blue i wanted it to be red. sometimes i cheated and took the blue pill in the red world cos my balls were feeling extra scratchy and i wanted to love. never had a problem again, got married four times. to the same person. Keanu assured me when we were surfing together that any world i choose is fine but be mindful not to touch any pink clouds...

2. how do you like to reconnect with your significant other? DNA test on Maury.

3. "it isn't what you do, it's the way that you do it." how do you like to be done? on a spitroast. looking over and seeing Yoda and Obi-Wan and Carrie Fisher in gauzy blue hologram gas projections clapping at me for trying a new maneuver.

4. if you are married, were you ready for marriage? this is a trick question, nobody is ready for marriage. except one couple: Sid and Cassie from Skins. i have never been married but want desperately to be. i don't want to get divorced, i want us to work it out even if we have to become psychiatrists to do it. we'll study together and get our joint PhDs and supplementary degrees in sports medicine and be roommates at Princeton.

5. if you are not married, are you ready for it? what makes you say that? yes, definitely. i will encounter no problems whatsoever, i am prepared for all possible scenarios. not a rocky road at all along our path save for ice cream which tends to make roads slippery. love will conquer any minor squabbles we have. i know we will make it and be successful because i am crazy...…...but everyone in this world is crazy...

BONUS: "it's complicated". in what way does this describe your current (or most recent) relationship?

well, it's been a long time coming, but it seems we're gonna get regulated by the government after all. we knew we couldn't escape this way forever, there are only so many free lunches a company can pay for its insanely-smart-and-cunning employees. hello, my name is Mark Zuckerberg. have you met my robot boss? the only interviews i do now are online reddits...

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

creature: are you still laughing?

Laertus: when i'm sad is when i try to laugh the hardest. helps to clear the phlegm.

creature: that's good. my name is Llywarch btw.

Laertus: o what a grandiose appellation worthy of your delightful designation! i will dream this name late at night when i see it cloudily attached to your frame and friendliness. you are the beast of my burden. the apex of appearance! what i'm trying to say unsuccessfully as i walk over my own vocab words is i like you.

Rosie O'Donnell: i like you. that's why we had heated-fucking arguments all the time. it wasn't for the cameras, it wasn't the camera-lights, i was preparing us for heated sex. i'm not related to Chris O'Donnell. i'm the bad Rosie according to the State, it's on my provisional driver's license.

Elisabeth Hasselbeck: there's no crying in baseball. i don't play baseball. i play softball like a good lady who curtsies at home plate. do you know what Fox would do if they found out? there's crying in sex, that's how you know you're doing it right. i am a straight woman from the heartland, i genuinely bought season tickets to the WNBA and women's soccer cos my daughter said she was interested. in the sports, not the ladies. i hardly spend any time together with her anymore ever since you retired, Rosie.  

Llywarch: *smile-laughs* thing is, it's a brand new name. at least here in my Medieval times. hasn't had a chance to yet catch on and be memorialized in epic poetry, legended in a Sorkin screenplay. it's like the Rachel Cut of names, it's still hip new and trendy. thank you, my friend, and i you. even though i know i am not your first, or your first beloved.

Laertus: what? oh you mean him? no, we're not...hey how do you know about him? i haven't introduced you...hey where'd he go!?

Llywarch: oh Dirg's been around. the block. and video block believe you me. the thorn in my side. we've encountered, mostly unpleasant stuff whereby we don't fight in the traditional taking-turns sense but he ends up asking me a series of searing and deeply personal questions about my cud-chewing habits.

Laertus looks down to see a large brown bandage along the ulnar of his wrist and he doesn't know how that got there.

Llywarch: huh. was probably my hen. sorry, she's very protective of me, i have a glass heart. literally. she's around here somewhere. usually hides in the bushes as i'm hiding in the bushes, it's a game she plays.

Laertus: ah i see, so that's your wife. you are a married man. upstanding i mean outstanding.

Llywarch: no, my pet hen. i use her for inspiration...that sounds so cold. Instagram has really become an elaborate dating app. but it's a dating app just the same. just with a lot of original weird basement art.

Laertus: right. but you know, couples have discovered each other on Instagram. many have gotten married. which i don't understand cos how can you get married if you've never met the person in real life and pressed the flesh? all free. at least until facebook is regulated by the government next week. a free app. you have to delete and reinstall many times and it's always scary cos you think you'll be deleting your entire seven-years'-worth of work opus by deleting the app. cleaning, yeah right! there it goes, like fluff in the wind. it's essentially free love that works.

Llywarch: raise the peace sign. or in my case, peace hoof. *shakes head and trots tremblingly* my soul soft like this Bud Light mead meadow has been disparaged. i can't take it anymore, where did the love go? you know? why is it that people still trying to find love in this world are called crazy. it's the crazy ones who actually live this life, they should be called the normal ones. look over there, the People's Park of Berkeley, on my side, where Andrew Martinez came over the threshold when he bag-died.

Laertus: suicide?

Llywarch: it's too painful and guttural and sphincter-shut for my tongue to even try to mouth to utter that word. The Naked Guy he was called, respectfully. our park is clean, i maintain and make sure that, yours is dirty and full of trash. ours is full of bushes, yours was full of shrubs on trees and bus tracks in the mud. all the inspirational signs of everyone having a listen have been torn off by the alt-right and jokesters hucking and chaos agents and those who don't want to see anyone happy and believe in nothing and clothing. where are the dreamers nowadays? the ones who bend the needle and find along the dial a new undiscovered radio station that plays Foghat AND Galaxie 500. Andy was trying to  make a statement, he was seeking love in a world of hate and was hated for it. of course he didn't fit in. why is it that only the mentally-ill can do something inspirational at the cost of their freedom? everyone else is too scared to love, hate is cooler, more acceptable. i am heartwarmed to know we might have touched the same plastic over the same LP records at Amoeba Music when i crossed over one time for a lecture---nobody there gave me a second look---browsing through the racks of tracks. of course neither of us were science majors, we were both too fanciful. he was trying to bring back the era of free love, of hippie farms, not letting the dream pass by. the dream of imagination and caring and the revocation of lines. i mean you look at the Wikipedia page for the People's Park now and it's just some 12-year-olds trying to make a name for themselves in whatever incel community they find themselves in---they wouldn't know love if it hit them in the ass---i have to deal with those types daily since my birth---trying to score hate points instead of really trying to understand this sacred magic history. of peace and love.

Laertus: hippie is not a four-letter-word. i learned how to skate, well i got into skateboard culture, cos of old A Martinez. his thoughts floated up in the sky, for real. like literally. don't cry, Llywarch, i hate it when you cry, even though your tears are literally pure-gold dust liquid yogurt. don't worry, i'll come back soon, i shall return, i just got to get to class for awhile or my roommate yells ironically at me for not paying the rent.

the two hug, imagine a centaur half-man and full man hugging in a clearing for a long time.

next to the People's Park is a touristy pool of green grass where sits a homey hovel of a motel with a quaint storyteller-with-lute thatch hut and wooden sign on top that flows in the breeze, gilding its glidepathing canton with the painting of an old boot. it's the Put the Boot Inn. surrounded on the east by a sleep hollow and the west with a copper garden. this is where our crones have put up their dogs for the night.

Doryce: oww, my toes are barking! got any salt?

Gladyce: you always provide the salt, dear. sure, but you have to butter-churn the salt yourself. is this tub big enough for your feet?

Doryce: very funny. that's a small tub, i really do think that's meant for the both of us to bathe in, not making a comment though you are heavier than me. like this is true vintage actual medieval-sized tubs the masses and wenchfolk used.

Gladyce: who says it's vintage? tonight, dear, pay special attention to how i prepare supper. how i make the spaghetti sauce.

later that night Gladyce pours the spaghetti sauce in the glass bottle into the tub, sticks her broomhandle into the pot, and gently heats it under a fire sparked by two churchmice rubbing matches together with their feet and tail. she stirs the sauce ever so fragilely using her finger transformed into a wooden spoon.

Gladyce: see, dear? this is love. i'm actually making the sauce. making it sizzle and adding myself to it. i'm adding the chives and lettuce and my green spit to it. just how you want it, the exact temperature and consistency. it's like i chopped the tomatoes myself. i'm not just pouring the sauce into a microwaveable mug and nuking it in the microwave. this is to show i am in love with you always.

Doryce: *kisses Gladyce on the spoon* thank you, honey, i love you too. i get it. though that was my favorite coffee mug. it's weird to put spaghetti sauce in a coffee mug. the mug is stoneware, i got it at Mattress Warehouse, and it reads as follows:

John Oliver, the 16th-century John Oliver, says witches were used as a euphemism for bitches in polite society. anyway, you're Number 1 Bitch i mean Witch.

Gladyce: come to me when it's real medieval stone.

Dirg arrives home with ashes on his forehead.

Laertus: that already happened. you only do this one time, Ash Wednesday.

Dirg: i missed Wednesday watching Empire. so imma put blackface on my forehead from now on, every day, cos my religion is sacred to me. i missed out all those days as a youth with my stupid father being the worst kind of Christian, a Christian atheist.

Laertus: oh brother. i'm rolling my eyes but you can't see it under my cakes of guyliner. you suddenly got religion? the way the President did? it's clearly evident in your actions your whole life. okay, gander and all, watch this, watch me reenter the room chorus-style.

Laertus returns into the fireplace room wearing an ash mark on his forehead that's the hashtag symbol.

Laertus: a hashtag symbol of ash, a black octothorpe. for the millennial generation. the Church is losing young people and followers.

Dirg: didn't we already do this? black symbol of the satanic Kraken?

Laertus: hey, your own Pope Herself was wearing this pound-number-sign hashtag-ash on her forehead. she was trying to shimmer her way out of the greeters-line, holding back her ring when each tried to kiss it.

Dirg: getting a pounding. layup line. yeah, i saw that on tv. she was wearing some nice see-through white heels underneath her robe-dress.

The Pope: please don't kiss my ring, folks! i'm very sensitive to that. it's a sensitive area, i wear the ring as a vag ring.

Eye Luggage: Hot Streets ended. probably. unfairly reviewed on sites. review-bombed like Captain Marvel.

Laertus: i was scared to look at the reviews for the latest Simpsons episode which took on the MRA. even tho i knew the writer was a feminist-femme legend who would take the time to craft the script to make it accessible to all and still-funny and keeping-in-tradition traditionalist and informative and good, but there would be those out there who would trash it anyway. and yet, despite my concerns, i still had to read the reviews. regretted it.

Dirg: Captain Marvel? what's that? let me get out my phone ipad and just check the scores. yep, made the Wiki edit and we're golden to go.

Eye: i was worried about where they were going with Soo Park. then they brought her back so i was less worried and breathed a queef of relief. that a creepy kids airplane wasn't in charge. but then i cringed so hard again when they went with the old tired trope of "woman crazy". le sigh, i guess i'll just have to be comforted tonight by my hammer honey and some soft-core falling-pink-blossom Korean soap dramas. and pink bottom.

Dirg: yeah but it turns out it wasn't a conspiracy, Plane wasn't a spy. that's not the usual course, that was some innovative writing.

Laertus: the man killed Soo Park. it was also Cry Night on Toonami. Hunter x Hunter, Boruto, and Megalo Box. should i just go and you listen?

Dirg: as long as it's not s-CRY-ed Night, worst anime of all time. i don't watch anime anymore ever since you started to like it.

Laertus: obsess over it you mean.

Laertus: as a screenwriter, this is how i would have done the Hunter x Hunter ending: the no-credits intro to the episode was played good. Meruem lain down in that white scene with a tearful-goodbye-in-her-eyes Komugi by his side holding his illuminati lizard hand. they talk, the dialogue is crisp and learning and alarming. but then the two stop talking for awhile, like a good two minutes. the scene fades to black, the last line of dialogue is The King, who says softy, imploring of Komugi:

are you there?

and she answers firmly sweetly, after another minute for silence:

yes.

that's the end of the episode, title card. no end credits or music, and no damn annoying loud-calliope-music preview for the next back-to-normal happy episode.

Dirg: or a tearful hello. that's impossible to do you know. except for Army family reunions at the airport on tv.

Laertus: and don't get me started on Boruto. actually, do. see, Karin SHOULD have really been Sarada's mother! that held such rich dramatic potential. then the lesson really would have been that Sarada's mother, Sakura---tho despite not being her real biological mother---loved her more than any other person in the universe and THAT's what counts when it comes to a mother. families really do rally and come in all sizes and shapes.

Eye: that was so beautiful. that wasn't a crack at my weight, right? imma call my bio-mom tonight cos of you, thank you.

Laertus: and finally Megalo Box, the ending, oy the ending. you know the endings of things make or break whole things. i liked the concept they were going with, the final match interspersed with flashbacks and flashforwards filling out the story in the corners. there should have been no end card revealing the result, it should have been that the audience REALLY DOES NOT FIND OUT who won the epic final fight. THAT would have driven home the point that it doesn't really matter who won, but that the two pugilists became lifelong friends, from competitors to companions. one in a wheelchair and one becomes a dance instructor. man am i crotch-deep in rewrites tonight.

Dirg: meh. Joe---which was never his real name, what the fuck WAS his real name?---should have just died in the ring, and then the end card comes out and says

NOT DEAD YET

but this time ironically. i mean that's real life, right? a swamprat scorpion dog from the streets can't really make it, he will die trying. but it's still his dream, right?

Coach K knocks hardly on the medieval moat door of the UCF fraternity, which justso happens to also be Nike Headquarters.

Coach K: open up!!!

Tacko Fall: *snickers whilst eating a Snickers* come here cos you had a Fall too? heehee. you're hardly knocking, we can't hear you! hey, Mike, no more taco delivery for you today, that Taco Bell GrubHub free-delivery-to-your-house thing was limited-time-only! *laughs* expired. no more talk about my disappearing candy, you called me Manut Bol's son when you recruited me on that olive-green couch the first time, that's what you get o holy honorable venerable K!

Coach K: *speaking like he has a cookie in his mouth* come on, i want to speak with Nike. this is all because my player blew out his shoe he was never the same, this cost me the Championship, we lost to Michigan State. AGAIN! Tom Izzo mocked me by yelling in my face and passing out Championchip chocolate-chip cookie-sandwiches to my players right there on the court, forcing us to watch them cut down the nets.

Tacko Fall: yeah i know. i got the connections. the connections which will save the world. my deep ancient spiritual African connections.

a player steps out and crosses the frat drawbridge. it's Russell Westbrook, after having finished his chicken pesto lunch at the Red Table and crumpled up the wrapper and tossed it in the waste basket for 4 points.

Coach K: i've got my lawyer here with me, Avenatti.

Mueller: why'd you do it, son? and who's your new master?

Avenatti: sorry, Father, i just got so depressed over your findings. would have really kickstarted my Presidential bid. you were my Lord and i went rogue and Bad Samaritan and prodigal son on you, bowdlerizing with the fair maidens and sowing my royal oats when i had no royal blood. ending up faceplanted on a stack of hay. is it just me and my blue eyes or is the world literally going full-animal crazy right before our eyes? like every turn just reveals more crazy for more people caught up in the net.

Laertus: what i'll never comprehend is how these high-profile people actually think they can get away with it! they actually think that this will be kept secret, kept under wraps, FOREVER. in this ipad age! shaking my damn head.

Avenatti: i did it all for the nookie i mean the NIKE. the frat cookie. i did it all to protect the tournament, to protect the player, to protect Zion, Zion Williamson---must have been named after my favorite '70s prog-rock LP record---is the next sure thing, the next Jordan, well maybe the next Anthony Davis. i'm a college-athletics fan just like the rest of the country is, even college gymnastics.

Mueller: i understand, it was a bust. i was about to kick the football but Barr grabbed it out of my feet at the last minute. spoilers: it's a trillion pages, easily digested in a beach weekend, light reading under a big rainbow umbrella. honestly i got bored wth it, like two weeks in. i knew it was nothing but i was too bored to go on vacation. i wanted to tell America, tell them to tamp down expectations, but i didn't talk. i'll be sure to explain all at the Mueller Hearings. but you see this is the existentialism we all must face as humans, i have often been compared to God what with my demeanor and the fact that i would have to be invented if i didn't already exist. the people wanted me to provide them with Everything. but, like God, i am what happens when we die: nothing.

Russell Westbrook enters the arena, gets his motor going and running, which never needs much oil, and storms the court in battle. he scores 100 points in the first quarter but no one notices. everyone, and the camera, is pointing at the loud obnoxious fan heckling Russ.

Russ: hey i'm good and old and old-fashioned and good-natured. what's your beef wit me? i try harder at my job than you ever will at yours.

fan: i hate you cos you're different from me.

Russell shoots the fan with a toy laser gun. and gets immediately arrested by NBA police security guards who were there to shield Russ from the fans.

Russell: i don't get it. why doesn't it work the other way around? why doesn't it work with brothers?

President Bump: nope, never will. that fan was a supporter of mine. the world has changed.

Russell: but we're playing on Fifth Avenue across the bay in the Knicks stadium, it should have worked. don't we have recourse, too?

Bump: no, especially now. this is MY Green New Deal: money. unless you're willing to forfeit your bail bond that comes from the Robin Williams genie. or dress like Michael Jackson like you're still hot stuff and stroll down the halls of a Hearing courtroom. or sell a couple of PUSH hats. see? whether it's MAGA or PUSH, hats are the thing, man! hats are the thing!

Russell: why am i in jail!? i did nothing wrong! it's a laser gun!

Bump: doesn't matter. only when we're In Session at a Hearing are the lasers justified and real and effective and damaging.

at the edge of campus, Madame Pons makes the curve turn and rides her broom into the cement cylinder space where all the cars go by in the drivethru. she parks in midair at the window, slid open by a young girl college student counter clerk with just her bottom-lip painted.

girl: OMG! you're the legend! Donut Sticks on the house! they're just churros anyway.

Madame Pons has been crying which blots her raccoon-eyed Pope eye makeup. she forgot her tissues at home.

Madame Pons: i don't feel very well-connected. no. no thank you. got those Rattlesnake Fries still?

girl: not here. you know they make those with real rattlesnakes, right?

Pons collapses into coughs and cries.

Pons: i'm sorry, it's been an emotional day. i've been trying to reach my sister on the phone. to talk about it. when i think of her i...…

other emotion. i usually don't do this, i've never made a late-night fastfood-run like this before. but i'm starting to have animal cravings. cravings about animals. got the Biggie Bag?

girl: not here. we got a Bucket tho. Bucket O' Rainbow Chicken. comes in a rainbow bucket, also the chicken is rainbow.

Pons cries.

girl: hey it's nothing to be ashamed about. gotta eat. college, now college is something that can never tamp down tears. especially the sex.

Pons: i'm not so sure about that anymore. but i have no other counter, it's not like i have a pet or anything waiting for me at home. the grease hits the spot, temporarily. and the seasonings, which i try not to think about. i'll try my sister again when i get home. even though it's hopeless, she won't be there.

girl: nutritious food. here. drive safe. *waves happy-goodbye*

Pons pushes the button on her phone and hastily madly throws the phone over her shoulder into the back of her car, which is her broom. the phone hangs by a thread stuck to the last straw of the broomhead.

Pons screeches away.

notes:

* if you're not trespassing but merely loitering, do you still get a ticket? to sit at the table? and get an adult swim show of your own?

* KEEP OUT? we should be building bridges. when's that promised infrastructure bill hitting the links and skids?

* the Earth should put out a sign that says BEWARE OF MAN. and stick it in her still-blue air.

* me: those little teacup dogs are the ones you have to watch out for, they'll bite you and you'll think it won't hurt cos they're so small but it will hurt.
teacup dog: yeah there's no such thing as a cute bite. don't blame me, mate, i haven't realized a relaxing cup of EG tea since this whole Brexit mess started.
me: have you thought of getting Tips?
teacup dog: nah i like it all shaved, it's healthier. hey mate, can you hop the chain-link fence and set me free? i'm tired of looking at this brown lawn, the '90s and Dr. Dre rap videos are over.

* waitress: why'd you stop talking when i entered the open space? that's always so awkward and rude. are you planning a Hawaiian vacation together? i won't tell your wives.
men: that's just palm trees painted on your back wall there, you're the one who painted it.
waitress: i know you guys' wives, they come in here all the time. i could have been your wives but i got the mumps the day of the Sadie Hawkins Dance. Sadie was the first feminist, not the Sadie that's into nature.
men: do you have any Sugar In The Raw?
waitress: don't change the subject. is it cos i'm slightly got some padding? give me some fucking change! and a new braid would be nice.
men: fine. we're planning to cook the books and bilk Trivago out of all of the Trivago Guy's Dollar Shave Club products, you in?

* Burns: he he he they'll never know. i keep all my files the old-fashioned way in rainbow-colored binders in a grey cylindrical filing cabinet that looks like the Tower of Babel which i commissioned. with a key at the top drawer that only i have swallowed. what's this, i pushed the button of the key and accidentally unlocked all the doors!!?

* mother: honey, why are you so mad at me?
teenage daughter: i dunno, i just am.
mother: is this cos of your red hair? i have red hair, too, but i'm not as fiery as you.
daughter: cos you're OLD, mom! i'm pissed off right now!
mother: when i get mad---which is quite often i just don't show the family---i pray to Jesus.
daughter: JESUS WAS A GINGER!!!

* Lion Doorknob: answer three riddles.
Phoenix: man.
Lion: no, the answer has been updated to woman.
Phoenix: Monty Python.
Lion: they're all dead now, right?
Phoenix: more wishes.
Lion: no, the answer was gryphon, stick your finger in my mouth...that's where the video doorbell is...

* boy: this is my treehouse! no girls allowed! i don't want them seeing my dad up here with me, it's embarrassing!

* steward: are you VACANT or OCCUPIED?
Jean Luc Picard: Earl Grey, hot. i'm the Captain, i don't do Number 2! and i don't use pot. and i've never had pizza with "oregano". well, unless it's synthesized pot done by my private personal synthesizer. not the instrument, the holodeck thingee that can provide you with any wheel of French cheese you desire.
steward: you stole my identity! security! Worf!
JLP: are you gonna watch my show on CBS Access?
steward: nah. but i'll give Twilight Zone a try, never heard of that show.

* man 1: don't look at me when i'm in the loo standing up.
man 2: just admiring your rustic backpack, sir. how many inches? is your backpack?
man 1: i'm tall. i could play for the NBA. that's your answer.
man 2: sorry, i'm George Costanza. is your urinal cake working? mine doesn't smell fragrant after i hit it.
man 1: Kramer was a racist.

* black girl student: teach, that's not fair! why do i have to eat my notes?
teacher: cos you don't have a dog at home. i know, i've visited your home.
black girl student: joke's on you, Authority. i wrote that note on my perfumed paper, it tastes smellerific.
teacher: so you like someone in this class, i knew it! who you got a crush on? the redheaded girl next to you?
black girl student: of course, she's Jesus!!!

* but what if you want to paper-shredder the paper-shredder?

* Asian guy: let's make one thing perfectly clear. i'm not creepy COS i'm Asian, i'm a creeper who just happens to be Asian.
woman doing her makeup in the car: that's what these car mirrors are for, right? doing makeup?
Asian guy: yes. i should know. i put on mom's makeup every morning. mom's convalescing. from having me.

* Greg Google: hey! watch it! copyright. you can't do a Psycho commercial, too.
Tim Apple: get in your free kicks before the Government regulates us all. just cos it's a shower curtain doesn't automatically make it Psycho. now if you'll excuse me, i haven't been naked in 30 years.
Alfred Hitchcock: i like to watch...

* woman: hello? Apple Genius help?
Apple Genius: i was sleeping, what do you want?
woman: i put a lock on my phone. like an actual square lock-and-key physical-security-device iron copper lock on my phone.
Apple Genius: like the water-navigation lock? okay, i'll be right over, i know where you live. have any idea where you put the key?
woman: let's just say the key is inside my body. and i didn't swallow it. i don't swallow.
Apple Genius: just tell me when your water breaks. you stopped smoking, right? the ash tray displayed at the end of this commercial notwithstanding. see? Marketing should have come to me for the focus group. i told them to go with the juul pod.

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happy weekend, my babies. how should my mom resolve her car-troubles situation this weekend?

a) pick the black Volvo sedan

b) pick the black Nissan sedan in honor of Dad

c) get the ol' dusty green Volvo stationwagon fixed, bought at a Woodland Hills lot out at 9:32 PM when Reagan was still President

d) ask for an extension to May 22

...and my Sherwin-Williams paint commercials with the animated hanggliding safari animals made out of paint samples.

1. consider your current lover and your relationship as it stands. if this person were on a dating app would you swipe left or swipe right?

this is so cold. is this what love has come to? i refuse to play the game. i WON'T submit facebook a profile pic of me and what i look like so my "friends" can easily spot me no matter WHAT facebook orders me to do!

i met my current hotness doing these here blogspot blogs, they are WAY better dating apps than Instagram cos they employ writings and books by authors, not just pics of apples.

luckily i never had to confront this. i was on grindr and the first pic which popped up was a pic of Swiper from Dora. after ten minutes of stony silence, i asked Swiper why he wasn't in the new live-action movie and how he felt about that. he laughed in my face then licked my face, gave me a nutmeg in my private parts in the private picnic area then ran away into the forest to find more nutmeg.

2. have you ever done speed dating? did you like it? did you get a real or full date out of it? i got a half date. allow me to explain:

i was really getting a jones for fucking Flash. i wanted The Flash in all his glory, if he broke the bed doing it in a whoosh of wind i was okay with that. if he wanted to show he was much more worthy than Shazam i was okay with this. well, the sex lasted -1, negative 1, seconds. we actually went back in time, but not in the good way. i asked him later while we were scarfing some mint-chocolate-chip popsicles…

me: what happened back there, The Flash?
Flash: please, it's just Flash, no need to be formal, we just fucked. this is how i fuck. it's over in a second. the cum disappears instantly and spirals to form a new galaxy in another dimensional universe. but it's still hot, right? cos i'm a superhero. it's superhero sex.
me: not really.

3. if your date texts during a date do you find it annoying? if yes, do you say something about it?

i don't speak, i think a thought and let my cyberbrain do the rest.

well, it was just...see during our date she was texting to her husband for tips on how to best get rid of me. later, we were at the same four-Michelin-star steak restaurant---that only serves one side: baked potato, no pizza---and my second date was texting Pizza Hut to see what my favorite pizza topping was. credit due, i have to admit that when the steak arrived and we sprinkled it on top of the pizza, it was good.

4. how do you like to arrange dates---with an actual phone call or all via text message?

i love the smell of a phone: the old spice, the brush, the cigar, the brandy, the harsh lacquer. sometimes i lick the phone while i talk into it cos there's a drop of leftover brandy on the receiver.

i arrange dates much like i arrange flowers: haphazardly. you didn't think i arranged flowers, didja? helps me get dates. life hack: do the azaleas go with the iggies? just wondering. i know the toffee goes with the coffee...even tho c comes before t. did they get lazy when naming toffee? like they just said it's a candy that goes with coffee so we'll just change the one letter to t.

5. for a first date, which do you prefer---drink date or dinner date?

well i tried the whole dinner-date thing and it clearly was too expensive. for my soul. so i like to go to Starbucks with my date and have dinner. you can have dinner at Starbucks you know, just grab one of those sandwiches from the brown dusty spinning-tray next to the cash register for your four-courser. she will order the acai bowl, i'll bet you my Digimon cards. thing is, the coffee there is so expensive it was more than the steak. i ended up just sucking on a toffee alone in the rain, outside the Starbucks. a raccoon offered up his umbrella to shield me from both kinds of cold. but it turned out he was only interested in my toffee. i tried to talk to him but all he wanted to do was lick my face. i thought all raccoons spoke with a British accent...

BONUS: have you ever been a cockblocker? why did you do this?

yes, but it wasn't my fault, i have a cock and that is how they are used.

what i find most disconcerting is that if you google cockblocker you get the Wikipedia entry FIRST before the urbandictionary entry…

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