The court of the boy Pope-a John Paul II was a genuine wonder.  A wish fountain flowed aside each masseuse station, the ground soft with the pelts of the Dream Yeti, corners garnished with plants long dead and longer forbidden.  

New to the Splendor Dome was a man who all knew, but none had ever seen in person.  He was President George Superman Eagletalon, the master of America!   He made trumpet-y sounds with his lips and skipped to and fro, like a young pet at the vet’s office for the first time (before they punch his balls until they die and fall off.)

The Council of Four were concerned that President Eagletalon would break the holy bungie cord, and they had no mind to drive out to Rome for another.  It was time.  Time to figure out how he got to the court, and perhaps reverse engineer the process.

“Boy Pope-a John Paul II,” bellowed the Council through paper towel tubes, “Do you know how President George Superman Eagletalon of America the country got here?”

“Of course.  I’m-a the freakin’ boy Pope-a!  America the country was over there, flaunting their big President boner in the air like a beached John Holmes and I came to a decision: I’m-a gonna steal that fathead prick and put him in my secret garden.  Cuz I’m-a the freakin’ boy Pope-a!”

Wars between the Council and the boy Pope-a John Paul II raged for weeks, but the kid was a sneak and the Council of Four said fuck it.  President Eagletalon set deep routes in the court, making many generations of U.S./Vatican fuck babies before the lineage came back home.  This is why the United States Government has so much religion in it.  Give me an A please or my Dad will punch my balls until they die and fall off.

-Pappy got a quality half hour of writing out of me.  Pretty fun.  And yes, the inviso-tentacles of The State still manipulate my brain whenever I think of the Pope.  And balls, and dipping.

Skilift with Johann
Hotblood doing good
Delivering guts door to door
SQuiggggggdy squigggdy thud thudding thud thudd thudddddddd
Blow the killingm achine
Brain hell
shell bell
67 Tryaout

~!!!!!!!

“KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK YOU GOTTA BE IN THERE!!!!”  Drums the gut fairie, floating an inch off the ground, a skill drilled into him by rigorous practice and pure will.  “YOUR GUTS ARE HERE UUUUARGHHHHHHUUUUU!” 

“I fancy not your bold prescription!” whispered Peyton Vip through a whispy mustache of repute indeterminate. 

The gut fairie, Funt, knocks through the oak door, grabbing chunks and giant splinters and eating them on his way in.  Every limb of Funt was a lumberjack.  He was a lumberjack gestalt, two chiseled Montreal Jacks’ asses made his chin and he looked great.

“I’M HERE TO EXCITE YOUR GUT!  TEACH A MAN TO SHIT FISH!” 

“Oh oh my my my my my.”  Peyton scurries around back and back, looking for something to hide in.  He chooses a grandfather clock and rides it back to last week. 
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That started from a Judas Priest song DAHHHHHhhHHHHH Doku vase’ ?

mother-ballerina

daughter-stripper

dog body-?

Mother: Brighton Wrongwheel

Daughter: Creamshack

Dog: Slipslide

Brighton comes in after a long day of being a successful everything.  “Creamshack my daughter, are you ill?  Strippers have no time to be good people!  Where is Slipslide?”  Creamshack ponders in her fire truck outfit, ladder poking out of the back of her collar.  “Slipslide was in his grave, Mom, but now he’s not.  There’s a big Slipslide-shaped hole in the soft dirt we buried him in.”  “Where should we bury him next time, when we find him or her?”

This was a question Creamshack had more than one opinion on.  “Well if he keeps sneaking off, we should put him in a big aquarium so we can follow the water splashes.  Or, perhaps a big can of Talc.”  These were horrible opinions.  “I, the inherited decision-maker of the Wrongwheel Countess line, think it wiser to inject him with wizardry and let him follow the rules laid forth in the undead sorcerer’s tomb.  It…might be a loophole.  But he will find peace, as his wizard dog soul is ripped from his carcass by ice golems.”

It wasn’t about how shitting low the world was to him, how that butcher carved his ham-salt knife into his already god-fucked leg and poisoned his wife with a Louisville slugger.  It was about the trail of begs and pleads and no’s left in the shade of a rusty metal wink.

The man with the serpentine tie
Slicked green hair, scar under one eye
Once took a rock-off from Buddy Guy
Still not as cool as my
SATAN
SATAN
SATAN SATAN
(SATAN)
The Stones and the Clash on family double dare
Peace, Prosperity and universal health care
Robocop on Shadowfax in Dr. Claw’s lair
doesn’t compare to
SATAN
SATAN
LORD SATANSMITH SATANTON THE SATANTH
(SATAN)

AMA was pretty fly.  I remember such things as lobsters fighting Gobbleskats fighting Metroids, improv (which we should be able to get online in the near future), and heavy drinking until I ended up under a sink for half the night Saturday.  Big thanks to Ed for treating us way better than we are as always.  The man must think we are Jamiroquai or something, and I’m not telling him different.

Today on the other hand was fairly shit in nature.  Flower, Sun, and Rain is nowhere north of Bradford PA.  While leaving Best Buy, whom had it listed as out today, my brake line(s) went, assumably, and I ended up at the mechanic as I was halfway there anyways.  Steve had forgotten his phone, so I ended up walking back for a couple hours.  So that was pretty lame.  Also had to drag the very same Steve out of drunken bed because I had forgotten the power cord to my laptop at work this evening.

Pics…are on Facebook.  Really, everyone that reads this is on there I think.

At AMA, wasting time before getting my first Sonics.  Pics are up on my twitter (twitter.com/Juese).  All of improv was captured on video.  Stay tuned.

Watched the first half of MASH for the first time since…well, it was perhaps junior high.  And I was reminded of what a crazy good film this really was.  [ed: amusing, a commercial for Stripes is playing in the background as I write this.]  And the wonderful thing is, it doesn’t discredit the show nor its cast.

I love a movie that starts with you in the middle, with limited introductions.  I imagined having seen the movie before the show, and it was pretty ballsy in my opinion, for just letting everyone do their thing as if you the audience have been serving with them, or at least a similar unit, for years.

Whenever I watch bold late 60’s/early 70’s flicks, I kinda lament on how unfortunate it is that our generation doesn’t exactly get the type of cinema that really has impact.  Sure, we can get powerful art like Slumdog (newest I could think of), but is it changing things?  Do you really…

Well, I have to go work.  The night has escaped me.  And directly after, I’ll be off to Virginia.  Sleep is for the weak.