Be There Then

a guy sees the buddha walking on the road.

the guy says, 'hi!'

the buddha says, 's'up?'

the guy says, 'well, i haven't eaten in a couple of days. do you have a sandwich or something?'

the buddha says, 'is your hair on fire?'

the guy says, 'no.'

the buddha says, 'then shut the fuck up.', and keeps on walking

timewuz...

there was a time where people would write songs and paint and stuff. now they whip out their phone, change their icon, and forward a meme or a gif. it's pretty sad really. and soulless too.

zounds!

when i was a kid i never dreamed that i would have my own computer, that would be connected to the entire world, and that with a thing called twitter i could wish mamie van doren a happy birthday. just too cool.

of course i never thought i'd have to deal with morons who would say things like 'awesomesauce', 'for the win', and 'y'all' either...

btw

 i'm getting my booster shot on the 22nd

why?

because

a lot of people are fucking stupid

and

i refuse to kill

or

be killed

merry fucking christmas!

hi!

if you stop saying "y"all" when it's not super groovy anymore you're an an asshole now. strange, ain't it?

up on the housetop

 why isn't the plural of 'roof' 'rooves'?

*giggles*

 people who bitch about the beatles are so cute!

SHEESH!

i tend to give up first in an argument.

it's really funny when stupid people think they have proven me wrong by screaming at me like an eight year old bully on a playground. like they have 'shown me a thing or two' and now my mind has been changed. they have no idea that all they have really shown me is that they are anal and insane. i'm talking to you, asshole on line who 'threatened' to block me on twitter. smoke my white owl, cha cha!

technology

the air sucks, the water sucks, most people with phones suck, but i never have to change the time on my cable box or computer.

ya know...

i think being funny is a lot like playing a piano.

most people just aren't very good at it.

GEEZUZ!

ever tried to make a twitch password? well, if k1ssm1d1ck isn't good enough for them i'm not cool enough and they can go get totally fucking fucked.

well...

i grew up in a stupid world
with stupid people
they weren't dumb
they were stupid
they never asked questions
they had no vision
they did things just because they did things

i'd ask why they couldn't take the butter out when they first got up
that way it would spread easier when the toast was ready

i asked why things that we used every day were kept under things that were used once or twice a month

why we couldn't try it with cheese just this time

why do you vote for people that you ended up calling jerks six months later

why i couldn't finish the page i was reading first
it's not like the garbage men would leave the trash on the curb the next morning because of my book

i got sent to my room a lot

a lot

now i still ask questions
sometimes i scream them
and stupid people look at me like i should have stayed in my room

i actually know a couple of people who think that i'd be happy if i just told myself i already was
as if delusion trumped truth

lots of people think that way because it works for them
so they think it will work for everybody else
i guess it could work
maybe
if i'd stop asking so many goddamn questions

TV show

idea for a tv show:

the surreal housewives of transylvania

Lu

why would god cast lucifer out? i mean, being a loving and understanding god wouldn't he be really cool about the whole thing?

'yeah. that's a nice desk, ain't it kid? look, i'm going to lunch. there's some mars bars in the top left hand drawer. feel free to help yourself. just don't make any toll calls or anything, okay?'

Durward

i haven't heard someone call somebody a 'durward kirby lookin' motherfucker' in a real long time.

Memes

next time on 'i'm not very funny so here's a meme i stole from someone and didn't give them credit because people didn't pay enough attention to me when i was younger and now i need the endorphins on a daily basis so i can feel like i have worth':

'something from way before you were born that you shouldn't give a shit about that is honestly none of your business anyway '

don't miss it!

Party

when all this is over i can't imagine someone going to a party, stating that they work for the electoral college, and not being savagely beaten with a floor lamp and chucked through a plate glass window. it's the romantic in me.

Cops

you know, if a lot less people had lied to cops in the past there wouldn't be as many problems. just my opinion here...

Dogs

you shouldn't use fireworks once a year because it may or may not bother pets. your car alarm though? hey! nobody ever brought that up before and you've never thought about it so feel free to wake people up or ruin someone's orgasm or just be a basic pain in the ass any time you want. and if dogs happen to bark loud and a lot because of you, fuck 'em.

Cup

i'm thinking that waking up to folgers in your cup wouldn't suck or anything but wouldn't going back to sleep be even better?

you know, or some sex?

Tide

 tide detergent follows me on twitter! who's the loser now, dad?

#TidePower

Johnson (or not, really)

Dakota Johnson's bisexual? i'm gonna stick my neck out and say that if it were any of my business it would be pretty cool.

Wonder

i always wondered what happened to her. well, okay, maybe not always. sometimes i'd wonder what i wanted on my pizza or how come danny elfman hasn't got an oscar or what happened to that pen that i put down 30 seconds ago, but i'm pretty sure you know what i mean.

Funk

wait a minute!

funk and wagnalls wrote a dictionary.

that means that funk is an actual last name.

therefore, somewhere there must be at least one guy named dr. funk.

i love that my mind thinks of stuff like that!

Gee, Yogi!

 i don't have a lot of sympathy for people who poke the bear.

Rumble

what's the deal with the richter scale? why don't they rate that shit from one to ten so dumb fucks like me can understand it all?

Remember

if you don't vote in november you won't have anything to post pointless memes about when the electoral college picks the next president.

No salt

 i like my caramel without salt, thank you very much! fuck the man!

Feel free to quote me

 Anyone who tells you what you already believe is always a genius.

Boom!

 if i was walking away from a building that i knew was going to explode i'd turn around. why? so i could see a building explode! i mean, c'mon!

Camp

when i was about 12

i went to a summer camp

one morning

we were woke up for breakfast

there was a shitload of flashing lights across the lake

i blew off breakfast
and
walked over to see what was going on

what did i see?

i saw a dead guy

he was hanging off the back of a crane on a truck

he drowned

he was
actually blue
actually bloated
and
actually dead

who was that guy?
what did he believe?
who did he vote for?

and

why?

at that moment
the moment that i saw that
seeing that blue, bloated, dead guy

it hit me like a brick

i became aware of the fact that

at some point we will all fucking die

don't matter what what you believe
don't matter who you vote for
don't matter what you wear
or
what you own

nothing really means anything

at some point?

we will all fucking die

and

so

i've been waiting

passively

not hoping
not wishing for it
but
aware
that

at some point

i will die too

and

that

he who dies with the most toys

is a total fucking asshole...

Dolphins

If dolphins are so fucking smart how come you never see them on Jeopardy?

Bobsled

i've said it before
and
i'll say it again
i think the coolest guy you can be in the winter olympics would be the third guy on a four man bobsled team
really
what do you have to do?
eat a lot
drink a lot
hold on tight
and
hope you don't barf your guts out?
i dunno about you
but
i pretty much do that every day...

The Monster

Night

Darkness cracked by lightning
The kites are flying
The switches have been thrown

The monster awakes

“Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnggggggggghhhhhhhhh!”

He growls
 And
Smiles a crooked smile

“Me have story to tell."

He looks into a mirror
To straighten his tie
The mirror shatters
Raining tiny pieces to the floor

“Huuummm...”

He thinks

“Gonna be one of those lives?
me need drink...”

He laughs
Slaps the doctor
His creator
On the back

(a little too hard}

The doctor stumbles forward
And
Falls from a window

To his death

The monster shrugs his shoulders
And
Sets off toward town.

A Pause That Refreshes

why don't all these doctors and chemists and shit stop fucking around with trying to make our minds 'cured' with zoloft and all and invent something that just fucks you up for a while? something that can't kill you, isn't addictive, and just jacks your head nine ways from sunday?

'doc! the wife's on my ass, i can't make the car payment, and i'm stressed like son of a bitch. what should i do?'

'hmmmmmm... take two of these and go to vegas.'

come Monday morning the dude shows up at work and says, 'i dunno about you clowns but my weekend was fucking amazing! is that the time? shit! i gotta pile of work i gotta get done! see you guys at lunch!'

they could call it fukitall
have the pills pink
shaped like little tits or something

ax for it by name!

Monday, 4:32 AM

i was standing in the kitchen
nothing on but the refrigerator light
scanning the contents for a snack
or two
the cat meowed and i bent to scratch her head
back pain set in
yet again
that good old throb in the lower portion of my spine
hurts like a mo-fo, gang
i don't even like to talk about it very often
but
i was thinking about how it's worth it
how i was trading a cat-touch for a body ache
how most of us wouldn't bother
how afraid we are of pain
danger
taking a chance
going out on a limb
how childhood can really create some lame ass people
what a great world it could be if we could learn to...

and then i thought

WOW!

a cold hot dog dipped in leftover chili!

The First Animated Church (of everything) or F.A.C.(e.)

1)

It's my opinion that every holy book or idea can be summed up in two simple words: "Be Cool" (think about it). As this is the case I don't really feel that anyone needs to know anything else. All one has to do is remember to "Be Cool". This is the be all and end all of "The Church".

2)

There are no dues to pay, no humans that you have to persecute, and I am not a boss or leader. I'm just the asshole who thought of this one night while rather stoned. There is also nothing else that you have to read or study, what is in your eyes right now is all you need. You also only have to be as cool as you are capable of. Just do what you can. That is all anyone CAN do, right?

3)

The abbreviation of the church's title is pronounced "fay-saw", extremely bad French for the word "face".

4)

Seeing as to how every church should have a logo here's the one I came up with: the two words "Be Cool". It should be on a T-shirt, printed upside down. So that, if you are in a tense or volatile situation and you find yourself confused, all you have to do is look down and read your shirt. To my mind the letters should be in a simple white font on a black shirt but you are free to use whatever style or colors you'd like.

5)

Making fun of somebody else's shirt is fucked up and, therefore "Not Cool" (maybe they don't have a lot of money). If someone copyrights this idea and sells shirts for profit they are fucked up and "Not Cool".

6)

If you'd rather you could wear a button that says "Be Cool" upside down and refer to that. Profits made on these would be pretty fucked up as well.

7)

Then again... you don't really have to do anything.

8)

Or give a flying fuck about what you have just read.

9)

Do whatever you think is cool. Just as long as it is really what is in your heart.

10)

That's all there is to it.

Room

I sit in this room
And I'm bored
And lonely
I feel unloved part of the time
Not always
But from time to time
It beats me down
And I drink so I don't think
It's kind of like lighting a match in the dark
But I go too far
From time to time
And the match burns my finger
And I curse the darkness
And I howl at the moon
It don't mean nothing
It's just the venting "wherewolf"
Raising his stupid head
The id punching the super ego
With a silver fist
I'm a genius
I'm an artiste
And I'm insane
I'm not violent
I mean no harm
I'm just a pain in the ass
I'm nothing to fear
But
From time to time
I am something to ignore

Late Night Olympics

I don't know about you but I'm a bit of a night owl. I sit up late
and suck up television while the rest of the world sleeps, right?
This being the case I have been lucky enough to catch some of the
more obscure Olympic games. The ones that you guys missed
because of your sleep patterns. Being the nice guy that I am I kind
of feel it's my duty to fill you in on the winners of these games.

Knocking Richard Simmons off of a bar stool with a tennis ball
serving machine was won by the USA. No biggie here. It was a
lock.

Standing around quietly while waiting for the phone to ring went to
Canada. No big surprise here either. They kill at this. They do it
every goddamn day.

Six man luge on an upturned coffee table was won by the French.
Nobody really knows why. I'm thinking it might have been the
wine.

Turning into a bat and feeding off of the townspeople was a gold
for Rumania. Geeze! They win that every year! Like we had a
chance!

Limbo for fat guys was nabbed by Japan. For some reason the
limbo has become a huge thing over there. I don't know. I guess
they just love old American pop culture or whatever.

I hope this has caught all of you up and we can get back into
watching "Saturday Night Live".

Night Calls (a dark one)

Night calls
And I'm walking
Drunk on moonlight

And hunger
I see you up the street
And I move

Closer
Closer
And closer still

Until I touch you
Scant moments pass
And you go from warm to cold

So I seat you at the bus stop
And glide away
Into the black

My hunger is gone
Until tomorrow
When again I'll rise

And search the dark
For another
Just like you

Any Day Now

Hmmmmmmm... It says here, "May cause depression, lycanthropy, pon farr, and/or a sudden and unexplainable desire to vote Republican." I'll guess I'll go for the thin crust.

Drinks

can we stop with the high energy drinks now?
how about some calm the hell down drinks?
i wouldn't mind having a couple of cases of that stuff on hand at all tines.

Bus

i sit on a bus and i see, out the window
all kinds of people running this way and that
they often tell me, "hey! be one of us people!"
i'm not a people i'm a fat cartoon cat

i sit on couches and i see, on my tv
all kinds of people screaming this stuff and that
i often hear them screaming, "buy this, you people!"
i don't have credit so to me it's chit chat

who do you when
what you did way back then?
and
why should you cry
when you maybe soon die?
and
where do you look
if it's by hook or crook?
and
try first then buy
cuz it might be a lie

i sit on benches and i see, passing by me
all kinds of people looking this way and that
i see them looking, they say, "wow! check out that thing!"
"it's bright and shiny and it beats what i have!"

who do you when
what you did way back then?
and
why should you cry
when you maybe soon die?
and
where do you look
if it's by hook or crook?
and
try first then buy
cuz it might be a lie

who do you when
what you did way back then?
and
why should you cry
when you maybe soon die?
and
where do you look
if it's by hook or crook?
and
try first then buy
cuz it might be a lie

Seeing Orange

It’s been going on for years, man.
The age old question.
Is the glass half-empty?
Or is the glass half full?
We all want to know the answer, we all want to know.
We all have opinions but we can’t be sure.

Me?

What do I think?

I think the glass is half-empty.

I also think that if you look around you just might find a faucet. And there may be some ice in the freezer. Look in the refrigerator. Is that a bottle of 7-up? And over there, on the shelf, I think I see a bottle of bourbon! Wow! There’s a bag of Doritos on the table and somebody has left out a bowl of salsa!

Too cool!
I love this place!
Where’s the stereo?

Yep!

That’s what I think.
That’s me.
I’ve got a jaundiced eye and I’m looking through rose colored glasses.

I’m seeing everything in orange.

Scene From An Unwritten Movie

FADE IN:

INT. SUPERMARKET - DAY

DAVE, a rather normal looking guy in his mid twenties, is standing in a aisle trying to decide between two boxes of doughnuts. He talks to himself.

DAVE

Hmmm... these are plain and plain is good. I like plain. Doesn’t get in the way if you have ‘em with chocolate milk. These however are chocolate and chocolate doughnuts are always perfect with regular milk... I’m vexed yet again.

PETE, another rather normal looking guy in his mid twenties, drops a couple of bags into the shopping cart. He and Dave are roommates and close friends.

DAVE

Chips?

PETE

Nothing but. I went for nacho. You cool with that?

DAVE

I can find no fault with my favorite style of crunchy thing. These doughnuts are giving me a headache though.

DAVE

Plain or chocolate? Again?

PETE

The age old question.

DAVE

You have got to get a girlfriend, my man. I’m being serious now.

Dave picks up a box of doughnuts and shows it to Pete as if trying to teach him something very important.

DAVE

Pete? These have sprinkles. Don’t you like sprinkles?

PETE

I love sprinkles.

DAVE

Sprinkles rule.

PETE

It is a known fact that sprinkles are one of the basic cornerstones of capitalism. In some cultures they are considered a way of life.

DAVE

I’ve read that. Sprinkles also fit in perfectly with any beverage you could possibly mention.

PETE

Except for gravy, Dave. Be honest.

DAVE

I’ll need to do some more research on that but for now I’ll take your word for it.

PETE

Thank you. My thanks surround you and follow you whenever and wherever you happen to travel in this crazy world. This is my pledge to you. Don’t take it lightly or I’ll be crushed.

AL, a third rather normal looking guy in his mid twenties, steps up to them. He is also a friend. In fact they all went through school together.

AL

You guys are nuts, you know? It’s never going to work. Not in a million years. Do you hear me? Not in a million years.

A long pause.

DAVE

So... We’re going to go for the sprinkles then?

Pete drops the sprinkled doughnuts into the cart.

PETE

Fuckin’ a.

(for Kevin Smith)

Oh!

i was watching a commercial this afternoon and it hit me like a flash of light!

i UNDERSTAND now!

we were born to buy shiny shit that we don't really need in order to impress people that wouldn't be impressed with us if we didn't own shiny shit that we don't really need.

and all these years i've been busy trying to learn about art so i can express myself better?

whatta doof!

Liquid

The sun is liquid and gold with love and promise
It flows aside me, watching
Flows inside me, talking
My eyes are aglow with heart's desire
Birds sing both opera and doo-wop all at once
Blues and greens collide and dance along
Flowers whisper my name as a chorus
Love rains down, taking the solo
Soaking us all with the music
Its wet resolve hums the backbeat
The sky looks down
And smiles it's kindly smile
It's yet another beautiful day
And we are the children and the owners
Of the earthly homeland that swings
Beneath our feet.

Man!

Sometimes these acid flashbacks are fun!

Neo-Poetry

I consider myself a neo-poet because I have no idea what else to call it.

Also because I seem to be doing things with words that I don't see anybody else doing. I'm not writing about how pretty trees are, how beautiful her limpid pools were, or how my love is like a red, red rose. None of that stuff has any real meaning or point of view. I'd rather express ideas. And maybe make you laugh while you think about those ideas.

Besides:

If you don't know how great love or beauty is by the time you're twenty or thirty then you're a moron and there's not a whole lot my writing is going to help you with.

I'll tell you what, if you need to be reminded how great love is here's a little gift for you:

LOVE IS GREAT!!!

Feel free to look at it anytime you'd like.

And.

Now that we have that one out of the way you are free to think about other things.

Fake Gary Numan Lyrics

And leaning on the hallway wall
I watched you put your eyes on
I thought I felt my heart enlarge
You walked out and it shattered

Excuse me while I turn me off

Your airplane flies the friendly skies
Unaware that I am fading
It lands and you move somewhere else
With new sights through your window

Excuse me while I turn me off

(spoken)
"The traffic rolls by
slowing to a stop
and I'm reflected in chrome and glass
and I can't see my face
it was stolen by you
and when i call you the line is dead"

You're running with the roaring crowd
I'm quietly meowing
The dream falls and some parts are lost
I can't find the instructions

Excuse me while i turn me off...

The Jar

There's this jar.
And it's huge.
Smudged a bit.
Really old.
The lid is rusted.
It has holes poked in it.
There are fireflies inside.
Glowing warmly with their inner light.

Some of the fireflies bang against the glass,.
Others wait calmly.

They are all beautiful in their own separate ways.

The ones on the outside tell stories of what they have seen.
Of big skies and clean air.

The fireflies inside the jar can't hear them.
Not unless they fly near the holes in the lid and listen real hard.

Away from the constant droning buzz of the other fireflies.

Kitties

Kitties at the IHOP
Kitties at the wheel
Kitties at the bus stop
Kitties always feel...

Sad when they are hungry
Happy when they're full
Glad when playing checkers
Sappy when they pull...

The switch that causes teardrops
A mistake while on ice
It melts and causes kerplops
And they don't swin so nice...

So close your eyes for dream time
A pillow for your head
I've run clean out of cat rhymes
Make up your own instead

Lime Green Time Machine

The funeral was sad
(No big surprise there)
Dark clouds
Rain
It was just like in the movies
Newmar stood in the back
Taking hits off of a pint of Jim Beam
Mixing tears with pain
A poem, a quote, a mound of earth
And his Uncle Pete was buried
Newmar sighed
As his mind wandered back

It was the fourth of July
A bar-b-que with his family
He was playing in the dirt
With toy tanks and plastic dinosaurs
When he suddenly felt a weird vibe
He caught a feeling of something very bad
And very hot
He jumped up and tackled Uncle Pete
Knocking him down and safely away
Just before the grill exploded
In a huge fireball
For no reason at all
He had saved his uncle's life

"You've given me time", Uncle Pete had said
"Someday I'll do the same for you"

After the funeral he went home
To a big yellow house
That his uncle had left him in his will
He stood in the living room
And looked at Uncle Pete's stuff
Books, photos, and the like
Mere objects that were all that was left of his Uncle Pete's life
It made him feel empty
For Uncle Pete was also a trusted friend

Then
One night
Drunk on white wine and memories
Newmar found himself in the basement holding a cardboard box
A post-it note on it said:
"You gave me time
Now I've done the same for you"
It was signed by Uncle Pete

Inside the box were a couple of thousand
Styrofoam pellets
A strange looking lime green belt
And a small blue notebook
He took the belt and book upstairs
Sat down in a chair in the living room

And
An hour later was the owner of his very own time machine
That Uncle Pete had built from scratch
And even though Newmar was amazed
He still felt empty inside

Newmar examined the belt
There were knobs and buttons on it
And some small lights
On a panel on the front
It didn't look real
It looked like something out of Flash Gordon

All at once there was a flash of light
And a popping sound
Air being shoved out of the way
Standing next to Newmar
There was another Newmar
Exactly like himself
But he wasn't holding the belt
He was wearing it

"Hi!"
He said
"I'm from the future. Why don't you give it a try?"

Newmar put the belt on
Set it for a minute in the past
And pushed a button

There was a popping sound
Air being pushed out of the way
Newmar was looking at himself
Holding the belt

"Hi!"
He said
"I'm from the future. Why don't you give it a try?"

He watched himself put the belt on
And then set it for a minute in the past
And push a button
A flash
And a pop
And he was alone again

He went upstairs
Got very drunk
And thought about things

In the weeks that followed he saw
Martin and Lewis live
David Bowie in 1972
Blondie
Marilyn Monroe arriving at various movie premieres
The Marx Brothers on tour
His parent's wedding
His own birth
And so on...

(he resisted the urge to visit Uncle Pete
he just wasn't ready for that)

He had fun
And learned a lot
But
He still felt empty

See...
Newmar needed a purpose
A mission in life
A reason to live
He needed to feel full

One day
While visiting the fifties
He took in a movie
And before it was over
He knew what he had to do

So he returned to his own time
And went to a coin shop
And bought all of the fifties money he could
And went to the fifties
And bought comic books
And returned to his own time
And sold them
And bought fifties money
And went back
And bought more comic books
And returned
And sold them
And bought fifties money
And went back
Over and over again

When he was rich
He went around town and bought even older money
And packed a bag
And bid his house goodbye

Standing on the pier
In Santa Monica
He threw the belt into the ocean
Thankfully
It sank

Then he hailed a cab

There are no questions
That money can't answer
So when he signed the papers
There were smiles all around
And he picked up new daughter
And walked out of the orphanage
And smiled wide himself

"Are you really my father?"
She asked

"Yes. I am now."

"Then can we get some ice cream and go see the new Clark Gable picture?"

He watched the sunlight
Dance through her hair
And he patted her head
And smiled again

"Anything you want, Norma Jeane,"
He answered
"Anything at all."

Then he stooped down
And gave her a hug

"He gave me time"
He whispered
"Now I'm doing the same for you."

He didn't feel empty

Game Shows You Will Never See

You Bet Your Ass!
The Check Bouncers
Ooh! My Back!
Twenty Thousand Dollar Pink Belly
Let's Make A Sandwich
Wheel of Blisters
Make Me Puke
Celebrity Bar Room Brawl
Tic Tack Bleed
Bowling For Blowjobs
Squish That Zit!
Fishing With Pistols
I've Got a Chainsaw
Name That Wound
Are Those Real?
Win, Lose, or Die
Who Threw That Brick?
Underwater Checkers
Autopsy!
Shoot the Stars!
Drinking and Driving for Dollars
Beat Your Mom
The Price is Fucked

The Party Piece

Okay...

You're going to have to help me with this one.
It's cool.
You can handle it.

I promise.

Imagine you are at a party.
Everyone you know is there.
Everybody.
Even me.
I'm there too.

And people you don't know.
There's tons of them.
The place is packed to the rafters, man.
You couldn't fit a poodle in here.
Not without a bottle of salad oil and a crowbar.

There's folk over by the stereo playing strip twister.
Guys and girls faking each other out.
Who's got the coolest car?
That kind of thing.
And there are men in strange uniforms and hats.
Engaged in the most intense game of Risk that's ever been played.
Anywhere.
Ever.

And next to the television there are men in suits and ties.
They are playing Monopoly while wives and girlfriends with big fake nails and big fake hair and even bigger fake tits are cheering them on.

And me?
Where am I?
I'm in the kitchen.
I'm trying to get a beer out of the icebox.
I'm pouring myself a coffee cup of cheap rum.

It's that kind of party.
One of those all night, get down, rammajammas that's not going to end.
At least not until I'm long gone and far forgotten.
It's a lot like a sitcom but nobody knows but me.
But that's another story and I'd rather not get into it right now.

So...

Anyway..

I grab my booze and slowly move.
Slipping inbetween the mass of gameplayers
Sliding into a comfy chair.
Home, sweet home for me.
And I'm sitting there and I look around.
And I can't see the television because a crowd of bullshitters are blocking my view.

And this chick comes up.
And she's beautiful, man.
Blonde.
Green eyes.
The whole deal, right?
And she says, "You know, life is like a game and you should really get in there and play."

And I answer, "Aw, the rules don't make any sense.
I'm not the competitive type anyway.

And besides, "Night of the Lepus" is on TCM tonight and if I miss it it'll screw up my whole week."

And she smiles and kisses my forehead and says, "That's really cool and everything but I have to go hang out with the bullshitters now because the tall one looks a lot like my dad and he seems like the kind of guy that would punch another guy in the face if he caught him flirting with me and that's the kind of thing that really turns me on."

And she walks away.

So...

I pull out my TV Guide and circle the shows that I plan on seeing next week with a purple felt tip pen.

And I get drunk.

Because life is a game and I really should get in there and play.

But

 I might be missing something really, really good.

And I don't want to put myself through something like that.

California Quake

Boom, boom, boom
Crash, crash, crash
The earthquake is coming to town

He knows when you've been sleeping
And he knows when you're awake
But he doesn't give a shit about that stuff

Houses
Cars
Stores
Mirrors
Windows
Books
Televisions
Cats
Dogs
Goldfish
Trees

Any and all manner of nouns
Will be destroyed
Or lost in the rubble of his wake

But, hey!

Look on the bright side

So will many poets...

Hold The Man-Oh

Oh, man!

Some people really piss me off. Like people who say "man-aise" for example. What the fuck is wrong with these assholes?

It's not "man-aise", it's "mayonnaise" for cryin' out loud! It's a French word! It's probably pronounced "may-oh-naise-eee" or "may-oh-naz-ah" or some shit. That's a big pain in the ass through, so here in America we say "may-naise". People who say "man-aise" ought to be killed to fucking death! They should be fucking shot in the kneecaps!

Say you go into a deli and you don't want any of the white creamy stuff. What do you say? Do you say, "hold the "man-oh"."? No! You sure as fuck don't! You say, "hold the "may-oh" Why? Because it's short for "may-oh-naise" That's why!

Suppose you don't want any of the yellow stuff. What do you say then? "Hold the "man-stard"."? No! You don't! There's no such thing as "man-stard"! It's "mus-tard" and "may-naise" you dim bulb motherfuckers!

Get a grip and get out of my face or I'll kill you! Fuck! These assholes prob'ly drink Coors Light too! I hate Coors Light! Coors light? Gimme a break! What? Like a regular Coors is too strong for these people? "Gee...I like a can of Coors now and then but that aftertaste! Yow!" Silver bullet? How'd you like a silver bullet in your fuckin' chest?

Ball Park franks too! They plump when you cook 'em? Big fucking deal! The ads don't say a goddamn thing about how they taste, man! All they say is that they plump when you cook 'em. What does that mean, anyway? Does that mean that some guy at the Ball Park factory beams more hot dog into your hot dog when you heat them up? I don't fucking think so! I think that water in them makes them expand when they get hot. That's what I fucking think!

And those lowfat Oreo's? Fuck you! Don't even get me started with those lowfat Oreo's! If you can't handle a fucking regular Oreo now and then, It's time to end your fucking life! You pussed out, post yuppie motherfuckers! Fuck fucking you!

You wanna know what's wrong with this country? Have a Ball Park frank with some "man-aise" on it, wash it down with a Coors Light, pound a couple of lowfat Oreo's, and give me a call.

I'll tell you what's wrong with this fuckin' country...

Bees

'round about 4th or 5th grade we all dressed like hippies. those kind of clothes were just about all that you could buy and our moms pretty much wanted us to dress in such a fashion anyway (fashion being the key word here). god forbid we didn't look like everybody else if someone else's mom was looking out a window as we made our way to school.

one day, at recess the best dressed and grooviest guy in the whole school saw a bunch of bees hanging around the monkey bars. i'll never forget how groovy he looked, in his bell bottoms and love beads as he did a bee killing dance. he stomped as many as he could screaming, "BEES! ARRRGGGHHH! BEES!", as i tried to tell him that if he left them alone they wouldn't hurt him. he was a huge hero that day and i was an asshole. he saved the playground from a huge bee attack while i sat there like a lump and did nothing. the truth wasn't importent in the slightest. the cool guy was forever the cool guy. the fact that i had read about bees and was only stung once, when i wasn't looking and stepped on one in my bare feet about a year before that didn't matter. he was cool and i sucked.

years later, as i waited for the light to change at a corner on wilshire blvd. i saw him again. he was sitting in a very shiny car that he didn't need, drinking a starbucks with one hand and holding a cell phone in the other as "all you need is love" pumped out of the car's speakers.

he was still, and forever the grooviest guy you could ever want to see.

i bet he gets laid every night, tossing chicks aside as if they were burnt matches while i live a humble life on line trying to help others. and, if we met face to face i doubt he would have even the slightest trouble telling me what a loser i am. crushing my hopes, dreams, and ideas like so many bees. or the needy. or the homeless.

i'll leave the point of this story up to you.

i'm just not groovy enough to explain it...

Looking

i just noticed the indentation in your chin
and
i think
a thumb would fit there
just right
when holding your face
with one hand
like
if a speck was in your eye
or
if you needed a tear kissed away
or
just to feed you a nibble on a candy bar
you know
something simple like that

My Dad

My dad was the kind of guy who would spend more than the cost of dinner on a fishing pole hoping that he could catch enough fish in his lifetime to make the cost...um...work out in his favor. He wasn’t a very spiritual guy, he was a moron who actually thought that "the system" could be beaten if he could just figure out "all the angles" and latch on to the "right one".

Back in the very late fifties he drug me to the Santa Monica pier on just such a fishing trip. I was about three or four years old at the time. I seriously doubt I was even into TV Guide at the time.

We sat on an edge of the pier and cast our lines into the wind. Somehow (and I don’t even remember this) I reeled in a fish that was roughly the size of a nice "sammich".

There was another kid about my age, bored to death as he hung out with a father who was about the same age as mine. Another asshole who was hell-bent on "beating the system" just like my father was. This poor kid didn’t catch a fish and his dad was more than a bit peeved at this. Fucking fathers, man. You got me on that one. His kid was a fucking KID for Christ’s sake.

This kid’s dad kind of laid into him. "Geezuz! Can’t you even catch a fucking fish?", that whole vibe, so I reached into my dad’s bucket and gave the poor little fucker the fish that I had caught. He and his dad were amazed and both got real happy real fast, the whole point of life (at least in that moment) being "FISH!!!!" and not at all connected to real life at all.

My dad smiled and "let things slide", saying something sage like, "Kids? What you gonna do?" and let the dad and the now happy kid stalk off into the night.

On the way home he threw the fucking book at me and called me a pussy. Many, many, many times.

This is how I deal with my friends. Both in real life and on line. I give away my fish.

It’s left up to you to figure out what I mean by this. I’m not a professor. I’m an asshole with a ton of fish and it’s up to you to pick out the bones.

Chix

she said: "i think a woman should be able to breast feed wherever she wants."

i said: "why?"

she said: "because it's a beautiful, natural, wonderful thing."

i said: "then i should be able to watch."

she said: "that's sick!"

i said: "how come? it's a beautiful, natural, wonderful thing."

she said: "but it's a private thing. something shared between a mother and child."

i said: "then it should be done somewhere private."

she said: "god! you just don't get it, do you?"

this is one of the many reasons i don't have a girlfriend.

A Piece Of A Screenplay

EXT. AN ALLEY - NIGHT

We hear gunshots. Manning and RADCLIFFE duck into the alley. They both have pistols and are a bit out of breath. Radcliffe wears a black jacket over a Marilyn Monroe T-shirt.

Their friendship is quite like that of Butch and Sundance.

RADCLIFFE
Damn! Those guys are good!

MANNING
Not as good as us. Close, but not as good as us.

RADCLIFFE
They have us cornered in an alley, Glen. They're pretty good.

MANNING
We've been cornered before.

RADCLIFFE
Okay. I don't want to argue. It's my birthday. Let's play nice, okay?

MANNING
Here's what we're gonna do: I'll take out Castle and you go for Woolsey. We'll ice these assholes, drop off the microfilm, and then go get drunk.

RADCLIFFE
I want Castle.

MANNING
No way. Castle's mine.

RADCLIFFE
But it's my birthday.

MANNING
Throw that up in my face.

RADCLIFFE
I just did.

MANNING
All right. You can have Castle. But you owe me big time. I hate that Castle.

RADCLIFFE
And don't forget our deal.

MANNING
You're getting on my nerves with that.

RADCLIFFE
C'mon, we made a pact. Say it with me. You know you want to.

MANNING
I don't like saying it, Cliffie. It scares me when we say it.

RADCLIFFE
Remember that night in Sheboygan? We made the pact and got the tattoos?

MANNING
That's true! What were we thinking that night?

RADCLIFFE
It wasn't the thinking it was the drinking. Now...are you gonna say it with me or what?

MANNING
Aw, hell. Alright. I hereby swear...

RADCLIFFE
...that if anything happens to one of us...

MANNING
...the one of us that is not dead...

RADCLIFFE
...will find someone else and...

MANNING
...teach him...

RADCLIFFE
...or her...

MANNING
...everything that we now know.

RADCLIFFE
That wasn't so hard, was it?

MANNING
Are you happy now, birthday boy?

RADCLIFFE
Yes. Very. My nipples are stiff and I'm starting to get damp.

MANNING
Swell. Can we go kill these guys?

RADCLIFFE
There's nothing I'd rather do.

They brace themselves, count to three, and step into the street.

STREET

WOOLSEY waits in the doorway of a closed liquor store.

CASTLE is hiding behind a parked car.

Woolsey fires at Manning, missing him completely but blowing two holes in a phonebooth.

Manning shoots Woolsey, who falls through the window of the liquor store.

Castle fires an Uzi at Radcliffe.

Radcliffe spins around in a circle and shoots Castle in the shoulder. Castle falls to the street.

Radcliffe slumps down on a bus bench and sighs. Manning steps up to him.

MANNING
Goddamn! That was easy! Let's go have a birthday party, tough guy!

Radcliffe is very depressed and whiney.

RADCLIFFE
I don't wanna.

MANNING
Why not?

Radcliffe mumbles something.

MANNING
What?

Radcliffe mumbles again.

MANNING
Can you try that with an American accent? You know, just once?

RADCLIFFE
I'm shot in the chest.

Manning laughs. Hard. He doesn't believe it for a second.

MANNING
That's a good one! Let's go.

Radcliffe opens his jacket. His Marilyn Monroe T-shirt has three holes in it and he is bleeding. Radcliffe is angry, both at Manning and himself.

RADCLIFFE
See the holes? Do you have holes? I do! You wanna know why? Because I'm shot in the fucking chest, that's why!

MANNING
Does it hurt?

Radcliffe points his gun at Manning.

RADCLIFFE
Hell if I know! Why don't you stand back and I'll shoot you in the chest a few times? That way you can tell me!

He drops the gun.

MANNING
Hang on, tough guy. I'll get you an ambulance.

RADCLIFFE
Ambulance? Get me a priest! I'm shot in the fucking chest!

MANNING
Maybe you should take it easy, huh?

RADCLIFFE
Take it easy? Are you blind? I'm shot in the fucking chest!

MANNING
I don't know what to do.

RADCLIFFE
Shit! Me either! This was my favorite shirt! I guess this screws the hell out of my birthday, huh? I already paid for the hookers and everything!

MANNING
You got hookers?

RADCLIFFE
Yeah. I was gonna take the redhead and let you have the blonde.

MANNING
It's your birthday! You should've picked the blonde, you know? You love blondes!

RADCLIFFE
Yeah, that just shows you what a good heart I have! Now I'm shot in the fucking chest! Is that ironic or what? Heart? Chest? Holes? Do you see what I'm getting at here?

He coughs and spits up about a half a cup of blood.

RADCLIFFE
Oh, great! Now I'm coughing up blood! What's next? A paper cut?

MANNING
Hang on, man. I'm gonna go to that pay phone over there and get you some help.

Manning takes a step toward the phonebooth. Radcliffe calls to him. He is suddenly calm and serious.

RADCLIFFE
Glen? Don't bother, okay?

MANNING
Hey, c'mon now. Don't give up on me, tough guy. You're gonna make it through this.

RADCLIFFE
It's out of my hands, Glen.

MANNING
C'mon, Cliffie. Hang in there.

RADCLIFFE
I'll say hi to Marilyn Monroe for you.

MANNING
Cliffie. Fight it, man.

RADCLIFFE
Don't forget our deal. Promise me.

MANNING
I promise, tough guy. I promise.

Radcliffe breathes his last breath. He slides over to a laying position on the bench. He is smiling. Ever so slightly, but smiling none the less.

Manning takes an old broom out of a trash can next to the bench and snaps it in half over his knee.

MANNING
Aw...shit...

We hear a weak voice. Castle is still alive.

CASTLE
Manning? I could use an ambulance.

Castle is laid out on the sidewalk. Manning starts toward him.

MANNING
Castle? You're not dead?

CASTLE
No, Manning. Not yet.

Manning moves closer, holding the broomstick like a club.

He smiles at Castle.

MANNING
Let's see what we can do about that.

Castles eyes get wide. He's about to get beaten to death and he knows it.

CASTLE
Oh, fuck...

Manning raises the broomstick. He brings it down with full force.

Just before it makes contact with Castle's head we...

JUMP CUT TO BLACK

Walking On Glass

   if you'd be my jigglypuff
   i'd be your pokemon
   we could move to paris
   or sheboygan if you'd like

   cuz i think of you nightly
   and my heart warms with your image
   but my mind gets lonely
   without the sense of your touch

   and they tell me i'm wrong
   just like they always do
   and their buzz in my ears
   replaces sweet sound

   but i'm not gonna stop
   cuz i'm afraid if i did
   i'd wake up in heaven
   and god would say:

   "what? are you nuts?
   you were almost there, man!"

   so i button my coat
   and tread into the dark

   lightly i tread
   always lightly
   for i know i'm only
   walking. walking on glass

   and i'm walking alone
   again.
   on glass

Flash

The sun is liquid and gold with love and promise
It flows aside me, watching
Flows inside me, talking
My eyes are aglow with heart's desire
Birds sing both opera and doo-wop all at once
Blues and greens collide and dance along
Flowers whisper my name as a chorus
Love rains down, taking the solo
Soaking us all with the music
Its wet resolve hums the backbeat
The sky looks down
And smiles it's kindly smile
It's yet another beautiful day
And we are the children and the owners
Of the earthly homeland that swings
Beneath our feet.

Man!

Sometimes these acid flashbacks are fun!

Rant

i didn't plan on being like this
you know?
there were these dinosaurs
then this big ass chunk of iridium
smacked into the earth
and then the fifties showed up
and my parents thought that being in love meant having kids
and you're pretty much up to speed at this point
the most amazing thing to me is
that i'm not totally fucking drunk every fucking day
how do you people handle this shit?
is it a desire to own things?
is that how you stay unsane?
i try
i swear i try
i just don't get it
big houses
big cars
getting laid every night
voting for assholes
gripping things until you die
i do not understand your simple ways
i am not one of you
i'm fucking crazy
i'm the last human on earth

Poetry For mobsters

"Jersey By Moonlight"

Three shots rang out

the noise bouncing off of the brick walls

that lined the alley

behind Big Tony Monstasquigleoni's Bar and Grill

it sounded like somebody had thrown a housecat

into a fucking gong

like they got in one of those pagodas

or some shit like that

The first bullet hit that Louie

the scumbag poodle fucking motherfucker

in the crook of his arm

it blew his fucking elbow

out the back of his shirt sleeve

funny bone and all


(I swear I heard it clank into one of those dumpsters

Big Tony's got back there

but I could be wrong)


Anyways...

The second slug

entered Louie's belly

blood shot out of his stomach

like some big ass weightlifter fuck

had shoved a tomato into a fucking funnel

so hard that spaghetti sauce sprayed out the small end


(He was really screaming now

"Oh,fuck! I'm fucking shot!

Please don't kill me!

Please,God,please!"

I'm telling you

you should've been there

it was fucking great!)


The third bullet

hit that scumbag

square in the mouth

and the back of his head

fucking exploded

baad-ah-bang!

"Hey,asshole!"

I laughed

"I betcha won't be messing with my wife anytime soon!

at least...

not till you get a new fucking face!"


Hey,Bobby?

Where's our waitress?

She's got my scotch and soda...



"BAD NIGHT NO.12"

I lift him up

I drop him

I lift him up

I drop him

I lift him up

I fucking drop him

If you're going to drink

don't try to hang a squealer on a meat hook


"REFLECTIONS OF LOVE"

You tell me you love me

that you'll always be mine

You tell me you'll need me

until the end of time

You tell me want me

like two turtledoves

So why can't you tell me

how to get this fucking blood stain out of my rug?

For Puff

i've just said something funny. a perfect face on a body built like both sizes of marshmallows in perfectly stacked puffs is smiling. then laughing. then speaking in flirty tones as fingers brush my shoulder. the marshmallows are soft and warm like fresh out of the bag and microwaved to an almost liquid state (but not exactly). virtual scoops of the stuff speaking in visual girly rhythms. fluffy and bouncing and next to dancing as it laughs. almost too painful for a simple human to look at. somehow more than alive and flowing with it's own inner heat as it moves warmly through both time and space at the same moment. on a trip across a timeline without either limits or a worry. then i watch and melt a bit myself as you pass me in this narrow doorway. sometimes my hands reach out to caress you. sometimes they don't. i'm never sure of the impending reaction. i'm willing to take a chance at least half the time however. it goes either way. you hold me close or squirm to freedom. both feel fine as i'm not all that forceful or determined. but my heart always reaches. sometimes when mearly aware that you are in the next room. or a town or two away. and when you laugh hard enough your head moves forward and back in near jerky nods. your hair bounces as well. it dances on it's own to the music of your giggling. then your tongue wets your lips. and that is why i often bark at you like a dog in a bad cartoon.

sometimes

sometimes
i feel bad about how much i love television
but
then again
it did stop me from beating my family to death
with a toaster oven...

psssssst...

(i want you guys to stop thinking about the carrot

you should be thinking about who's holding the string)

Toong! Boof! Splat!

I knew this guy named Newmar, right? He worked in construction, heat sealing plasti-beams for the MondoCorp building downtown. He was an average guy. Kept to himself. Never caused any problems or nothing. What you might call a square egg.

So...one day he's up on, um...I dunno, like the two hundred and thirty fourth floor or whatever and he stops for lunch. Opens his lunch pail and starts munching on an egg salad sandwich with bacon bits. Real bacon bits, mind you. None of that fake stuff for this guy.

And

He's gulping down his chow with his feet dangling over the edge of the building and this swinging crane pops him in the head with a beam. Right in the fucking head. He's not looking behind himself and he gets whacked it the head. And his helmet goes TOONG! That was the sound it made when the beam hit him.

TOONG!

Like a tuning fork or something, right?

BOOF!

He goes flying over the edge of the building! And he's falling and screaming and suddenly he can't see anything. His eyes go black and then his whole life goes reeling by. He sees himself being born, and growing up, and going to school, and all these old girlfriends, and houses that he lived in and such. All the way up to being smacked in the fucking skull and falling off of the building.

Then.

And this is the weird part, he sees a baby being born. A little girl. And she grows up, and goes to school, and has some boyfriends, and some houses and jobs, and she dies in a plane crash.

And Newmar says, "What the fuck was that?"

And then this voice enters his head. Deep in tone and rather soothing. It comes from inside and outside of him all at the same time.

It says, "Scenes from next time."

SPLAT!

He hit the pavement at about nine zillion miles an hour and was buried in a sponge.

The end.

Hi, kids!

Hi, kids!

How are you all doing today?

Good.

That's real good.

Today I'm going to show you how to make people's eyes lock up like a raccoon caught in a pair of headlights.

Does that sound like fun?

Are you ready?

Then let's go...

Don't you hate it when someone asks how you are doing? I know I do. I always have to say, "Fine. Everything's just fine." Or, "Not bad. How are you today?" Sometimes I just want to grab their face and yell, "None of your fucking business, asshole! What are you? A fucking cop?" But that's not very nice, is it boys and girls? No. That's not very nice at all. So what do you do when you feel like that?

Do what I do.

Tell them how you really really feel. That will show them but good.

Say something like

Geeze...

I've got this pain in the small of my back, a huge ass headache, I think my lover is cheating on me, I'm late with the rent, my goldfish doesn't understand me, and what's the deal with this fake metal shit? I mean, what the fuck ever happened to good old rock and roll?

You'd be suprised at the number of people who won't know that you are just messing with them. Most folks will leave you alone real quick. It works most of the time. If you are a girl throw in a mention of "that time of the month", or vaginal warts or something like that. If some guy is bothering you he'll walk away in no time flat. That should work about eighty-five percent of the time.

Of course sometimes you don't feel that angry, just a little bugged.

In that case try this:

Point to your arm and say, "Well, my Aykroyd is grinding against my Verhoeven., you know? Right where the Zemeckis meets the Beatrice Dalle? It makes my Coppola throb like a son of a bitch. My doctor gave me some of that Bon Jovi and, as long as I rub it in deep enough i seem to have it under control."

That ought to show the bastards, huh?

And always remember to tell those Christians, "Um. No thanks! I tried that in my last life and it didn't work out all that great for me."

Welp

I can see by the clock on the wall that i have to go buy a new clock.

Until next time

See ya next time!

top ten reasons that stalking is a bitch

(10) the hours suck

(9) you lose sleep

(8) it doesn't pay for shit

(7) "the catcher in the rye" gets boring the 12th time you read it

(6) in the tv movie of your story you never get a writing credit

(5) clothes get torn when climbing barb wire fences

(4) the annual stalker's dinner and dance has a no host bar

(3) it's hard to think of something new to leave on the answering machine when you call 25 times a day

(2) them stinking headaches

(1) you get rubber cement all over the place when pasting cut-out words on notes

The Eloi Blues

3, 5, 7, 9
The siren blow and they fall in line

My old lady is an Eloi
She gots that pure white skin
I say my old lady is an Eloi
Gots that pure white skin
When she smile I lose my senses
Don't know what time zone I'm in

Well, my baby is an Eloi
Just hang around all day
You know, my baby is an Eloi
She hang around all day
When she kiss me I go crazy
I don't know what to say

(middle eight)

Well, my woman is an Eloi
Looks like Yvette Mimieux
I say, my woman is an Eloi
Looks like Yvette Mimieux
You know, she's just meat for the Morlocks
I don't know what to do



(for H.G. Welles)

Positive Schmositive

what is positive?

whatever you believe in.

what is not?

whatever you don't.

i should give up the ramones, stephen king, and zombie movies because you don't have a total sense of art and/or humor?

blow me.

let's say i was going to get a movie made and i said to you, "here's five thousand dollars. i wannna make a cast of your head and blow the fucker up with fake blood and fake brains in it and we're gonna use a ramones tune when it happens."

would you do it?

if you would take a lesson.

if you wouldn't you are full of shit.

let's move on from there...

Drinks

Can we stop with the high energy drinks now?

How about some calm the fuck down drinks?

I wouldn't mind having a couple of cases of that stuff on hand at all tines.

The Top Ten Reasons The Burffle Isn't A Korf

10) we stood on the grelm
9) there once was a driff on the keegle
8) two knoigles don't add up to a roalff
7) he stuppled a cloygle
6) a pluggle and a burufnez ain't no groff
5) what? me tuuurglee?
4) tuesday
3) nine
2) mom says burffley
1) kersploygoin!

Sun Lite

the sun is roughly 93 million miles from earth.

therefore, when you look to the sun it isn't there anymore. it's where it was about six minutes before you are seeing it. it takes about six minutes for sunlight to reach us. you are actually seeing just the light from the sun. a light that is six minutes old.

it amazes me that there are people who think that they have control over their lives. that if they try hard enough and believe hard enough that they can have anything that they want. that people that can't get the things that they want just don't really want it bad enough. that if everybody felt the same way that they do that the world would be a perfect place.

people that can't really see the sun.

but that think that they do.

Possible Bumper Stickers

1. I'd rather be laughing

2. Honk if I'm in your way

3. My child is fine just the way he is

4. Your guru has emotional problems or he wouldn't need to have people pay so much attention to him

5. If you can read this you really should be reading more

6. I voted for Blofeld

7. Burn your self help books and start helping

8. creativity + boredom = art

9. Bumper stickers are pointless

One Of Those Nights

I had just closed the front door. Was standing in the foyer of the big house when there was a huge, ham fisted pounding on the great slab of oak. I thought this was a bit strange. Didn't see anyone behind me as I made my way up the driveway, right?

Now, you have to consider the condition of my brain at this point. I had gotten a ride to the party in Stan Lee's limo, Stan was hitting the Jack rather fiercely that night and, seeing as to how he hadn't been invited to said party felt a need to challenge me to some guzzling. "C'mon, you true unbeliever! Suck some back!" I tried to be polite. Told him I'd be having my fill soon enough but when he started calling me a pussy I figured the gauntlet had been thrown and chugged about a third of the bottle with my right hand while flipping his ass off defiantly with my left. "Pussy THAT, old-timer!", I snarled and handed the bottle back. It was about that time that he laid out some Godzilla sized lines of what he liked to call "South American Jumping Powder". Suffice to say that on the way up the drive the drops of water glittering on the oh so green of the lawn struck me as solid and complete proof of God's existence. "How could anything that beautiful come into our reality without some kind of divine handiwork involved?" You know, that whole drinky/druggy vibe.

So I opened the door and Robert Conrad is standing there with a huge tank of nitrous (the kind with wheels and a handle attached for easy transportation) and a case of Night Train. I guess he was slumming it that night. "Hey, asshole! Where's the fucking party at?", he screamed, and by the smell of near cheese on his breath I could tell he had been into the 'train for quite some time.

He shoved a bottle in my face and said, "Drink this, nancy boy or I'll strangle you with a live dachshund." Laugh? I nearly crapped. The guy did have his moments, humor-wise, I have to give him that.

I'm standing there, putting away the Night Train when he bellows, "Where the fuck do I put my coat?". He opens a door and Paul Lynde sticks his head out of the crack, sees the confusion on Conrad's face, and says, in a Chardonnay fueled impression of himself, "Sorry, Bob. I'm not out of the closet yet!"

Conrad: "Suck my dick!"

Lynde: "Take a number, cowboy!"

That did it. I totally lost it at that point. Was laughing so hard I started to lose my balance, right? So I stick my left hand out and grab the first thing I feel to steady myself. Wrong move on my part. I found myself hanging onto Margaret Dumont's left breast! She says, in that shocked, upper crust kind of way that is all hers, "Well! I never!"

Pat Sajak is walking by at that point, helping Dianne Arbus to the bathroom. You know how she gets after seven or eight Bloody Marys, just a full on pain in the ass. Pat says to Miss. Dumont, "Oh, yeah? What about that night with the donkey at that boat show in Sheboygan?"

Dumont blushes and, just as she's about to answer him Dianne Arbus says, "Aw, shut up, bitch! I've got pictures to prove it." That Dianne Arbus being ever at the ready with a cutting rejoinder, to be sure.

I'm on the floor at this point, laughing as if insane. Dumont shoves her hand into a nearby salsa bowl and crams a fist full into my open mouth. I'm so wasted I don't even feel it. Either that or it was one of those wimpy mild brands of salsas. I swallowed it and flipped her off as well.

Just then I look up and I see Wavy Gravy hanging from the chandelier. I guess he had been there the whole time and I just hadn't noticed him. He says, "Wow! Bad news, man! I spiked the salsa bowl with some acid I got from Walter Cronkite! First class government stuff! You're gonna be tripping for a month, man! It's heavy duty shit! The kind they use on blue whales! Fast acting too!"

I look down at this point and see that I'm slowly sinking into the floor. I'm waist deep in some kind of retro/googie/post-moderne space ship pattern that's like something right out of George Jetson's kitchen. Blurp, blurp! It a matter of moments I find myself chest deep and sinking deeper. Fast acting doesn't do this electric salsa justice. I'm fucking ripped!

A voice screams out, "Just the asshole I've been looking for!"

Oh, Christ! It's Billy Barty! He's been gunning for me ever since he got burned on that heroin deal. I've tried to explain that I had nothing to do with it. That I don't even know Bill Cullen but he just won't listen. The blame has to fall somewhere and he's picked me for the fall guy. He kicks me in the nuts, awfully hard for a guy his size but I'm so fucked up I just laugh even harder. Now he's crazed. "Nobody laughs at me!", he screams.

I'm about to shoot back with, "Yeah. You're just not very funny any more, Tiny!", when I see that I'm sunk into the floor up to my chin. Billy straps the mask from the nitrous tank on my face and cranks the gas up to eleven.

Just before I pass out I think, "Great...  It's one of THOSE nights?"