Here's a video tape of my step-nephew Nigel trying to drink upon some beers:

Here is a trailer for my first feature film, "Suicide Face"

PLOT SUMMARY: A regular guy receives a face-transplant from a suicide victim after his own face gets chewed off by wolves. He starts having visions and bad dreams and then all of a sudden he starts committing suicides. "Horror has a new face... A Suicide Face."

Hope you like it....

And this is a commercial I was hired to make for the American Coucil of Hard Boileds....

Some guy on Youtube posted a video about ukuleles and foul language. My teen friend Terry recorded a response to his video. See here:

"Is that your new dog?"

"Yeah, don't look him in the eyes."

"Why not?"

"He doesn't like it."

"What's his problem?"

"Nothing. What do you mean? He just doesn't like eye-contact."

"Will he bite me?"

"I don't know.... I doubt it. He just gets depressed easy."

"Oh... So how's the new girl? ...what's-her-face..."

"Julia. She's pretty good. I'm happy."

"You look happy."

"She doesn't like my music. I finish a new song... one that I'm especially proud of, and we put it in the car stereo and she feigns interest for a couple seconds and then she turns it down so she can tell me about some stupid shit somebody said at work. She's planning a trip to Mexico in a couple weeks. She's going alone. She thinks I'm irritating. We have nothing in common."

"I was just looking your dog in the eyes."

"I told you not to."

"He looks disappointed."

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

-------------

Take Me With You.mp3

Something's Wrong.mp3

Snowflake.mp3

I'm A Liar.mp3

"Thank you for calling Pizza Pony. My name is Scooby. How can I help you?"

"Your name is Scooby?"

"Yeah. Or just plain Scoobs."

"Well--"

"Scoobs is more casual. Call me that."

"All right. Can I order a pizza.... Scoobs?"

"Yes. And what do they call you at home, sir?"

"Jeff."

"Well I'm gonna call you Scoobs Junior. So.... Do you wanna try the Pizza Pony Snacky Pack?"

"What the hell is that?"

"One large single topping pizza, one liter of Siera Mist, and one jumbo bag of candy."

"It comes with candy?"

"For you it does. Twizzlers."

"But I don't really want candy. I'll just get the pizza."

"Listen, the candy is free with the pizza, though. As a favor. Take the Twizzlers. It's a better deal."

"No thanks."

"Give them to somebody at work."

"No. Can I please just order a pizza?"

"Yes."

"And no candy."

"Fine."

"I'll take one lar--"

"Are you worried about cavities or something??"

"What? ...No, I just don't like candy."

"Brush your teeth twice per day and you won't get cavities."

"I already do that."

"The top ones in the morning and the bottom ones at night?"

"....."

"Just kidding. Okay, no candy. Do you still want the Siera Mist? I can modify your Snacky Pack pretty easily."

"No... just a pizza... no Snacky Pack."

"Tell you what.... I'm going to put a free spool of ribbon in the the box. For free. Any color within reason. Don't request an odd-ball color, Scoobs Junior."

"Good-bye."

---------------------------------------------

Scooby didn't make the sale that day. His manager pulled him aside and they exchanged the following words:

"Scooby, we've been getting a lot of complaints."

"About the pizza?"

"No, no.. about your performance. Pizza Pony strives to employ the best people available and... this is very hard for me because I like you... but we have to let you go."

"How come?"

"Because of the complaints! You make up these so-called Snacky Pack combo deals and it pisses people off. There's no such thing as Snacky Packs."

"What?"

"Scooby, please leave."

"Scoobs is more casual."

Vicky was a buxom, opinionated girl with electric yellow finger nails. Her hair was a fine pile of tightly woven snakes. Walter was a foot shorter than Vicky. He had a moustache and his glasses were heavy and he adjusted them a lot. They were driving together through the Chuggadingle countryside in a tubby 1948 Italian convertible. Vicky was at the wheel. Her bare foot pressed the gas pedal in completely. They zipped and twisted dangerously fast. Walter tried to keep his wits in tact. He clutched the sides of his seat.

"This will be a fine picnic," Vicky said calmly.

Walter was scared shitless. His eyes were stretched open and he mouthed the words, "Jesus Christ" over and over.

"I said... this will be a fine picnic. Don't you agree, Walter?" Vicky repeated, slightly irritated this time.

"What?" said Walter.

Vicky looked at him and frowned with disarming elegance.

"Does my driving bother you?" asked Vicky.

"Watch the road!" said Walter.

Vicky continued to study Walter's expression while he frantically pointed at the road and insisted that she return her attention to it. But to Vicky, the world was a quiet place and she was amused by Walter's pantomime.

She began to veer outside of her lane as an uncompromising milk truck approached at a steady clip. Walter squealed. Vicky turned away in time, and they proceeded at the same uneasy speed through the musty, musty, musty countryside.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lake Dingitydong spread out stark on the horizon. They got closer and slowed down and found a place to park in a gravel lot divided by short wooden posts strung together with rope. The mechanical clanging of the car stopped and the air was calm again. Walter looked rattled. His hands were shaking. Vicky was already in the grass surveying the place and dropping blankets and picnic stuff that she removed from the back seat while Walter pulled himself together.

"C'mon Walter! I found a good spot!" Vicky hollered.

Walter reluctantly removed himself from the car. He tripped and rolled wildly down a rocky hill where Vicky was uncorking a bottle of wine.

"Stop horsing around, Walter."

His arms and legs were bleeding from the tumble. He asked Vicky for a handkerchief and perhaps some iodine, but to Vicky, the world was a quiet place and she was amused by Walter's pantomime.

Vicky poured some wine for Walter. She took a long swig from the bottle before pouring some for herself. She told Walter to hurry up and finish his drink as she wiggled out of her clothes and ran to the edge of the lake. Walter obeyed. At least the water would clean his cuts, he figured.

They swam and splashed and Vicky dunked Walter's head in the water while his hands flailed helplessly above the surface. He came up gasping for air. Vicky hurried out of the water. Walter followed her and they dried off and settled down.

Vicky laid out some woodchuck sandwiches and Walter reached for one. She slapped his hand and told him to wait.

"That stings!" said Walter as he pulled back his hand and rubbed it resentfully.

Vicky finished spreading out the food and said,

"Don't get grabby. We'll eat when I say."

That was the last straw. It had been three long years of abuse from that woman. He recalled a dinner party last summer when Vicky made him look like a fool in the company of very close friends. A man should have a say, godammit A real man should govern the ebb and flow of a relationship. Yes, Vicky was a stunning beauty, and most men could only dream of knowing her intimately, but it was precisely this fact that distracted Walter and kept him from asserting himself and changing things. He was tired of being controlled.

Walter stood up quickly and pushed the sturdy girl over-- a task he somehow made look easy. He took a small pistol from his breast pocket and pressed it against Vicky's stomach. He squeezed the trigger three times. The shots were deafening, but to Vicky, the world was a quiet place and she was amused by Walter's pantomime. Walter stumbled backward in horror.

"Happy birthday, mom!"

"Brandon! I told you not to get me anything.... You should be saving your money for college. Books are super expensive."

"Yeah I remember what you said, but when I saw this I had to get it. It's the perfect thing for you!"

"Jeez... It's so heavy!"

"Open it, mom. You're gonna love it..... L-o-v-e."

[ Brandon watched his mom pick at the tape and jerk the wrapping paper off the weird looking gift. It was a brand new saxophone. Brandon's mother, having no musical training at all, was speechless. ]

"It's a saxophone, mom. You love saxophone music. You love Sting and John Coltrane."

"Well... I... That's true, I do love Sting..."

"So now you can play all your favorite Sting songs on this mint-condition saxophone."

"But I have no idea how to play this. I mean.... I'm not musical at all."

"You don't like it?"

"No, no... I like it, it's very nice, but... how much did this cost?"

"$400."

"Oh my god, Brandon. Listen... I really appreciate this and I know you put a lot of thought into it, but....."

[ Tears welled up in Brandon's eyes. ]

"I didn't keep the receipt. 'Cause... 'cause I was sure you would love it."

"I do! ...I do love it, but it would take years to learn how--"

"Well fuck it! Who gives a fuck, right?! Fuck you, fuck me, fuck the saxophone, fuck the craftsmanship! Right mom?! Right?!"

"Brandon! Stop it!"

[ Brandon tore the saxophone away from his mother. He blew into it violently and danced around the room and cried hysterically. Pictures fell off the walls and glasses jingled. Brandon collapsed and wept quietly while his mother rubbed his back and tried to bring him around. ]

"Brandon? Hey Brandon?"

"Yeah mom?"

"I want to keep the saxophone."

[ Brandon sat up and looked at her. She wiped his tears away. ]

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Are you gonna play your favorite Sting songs on it?"

"I'm gonna try."

"Do you want to see what I got dad?"

Doctor Divorsky had a little rectangle of thin white paper. He was writing with a ballpoint pen:

"Attention vending machine: Please let me have some of your Skittles. This is Doctor Divorsky. I am a doctor at this hospital. Thanks so much."

He put the cap on his pen and stared at the note for a full minute and blew on it gently to make the ink dry before stuffing it in the break room vending machine's bill slot. It wasn't working. Julie from Intensive Care walked in.

"Hey Julie, can you read this?"

He handed her the paper and crossed his arms.

"Yeah... what is it?"

"Well I'm try--"

"You're not trying to use this, are you? In the vending machine?"

"I want those Skittles in there."

"Yeah but doctor, this isn't going to work. Let me give you some change. How much do you need?"

"I have plenty of change, Julie. I want Skittles."

Julie was paged and had to leave the room in a hurry, feeling certain that doctor Divorsky bumped his head again.

-----------------------------------------------

Doctor Divorsky paced around the break room. Why do they lock those Skittles up behind a pane of glass? Who puts them there? Why?

He had to perform gallbladder surgery in twenty minutes. He needed a snack to keep his strength up. Those Skittles were looking fine.

Ten minutes until surgery. Still no snack. Still pacing. Still wondering things.

Five minutes. No snack. No ideas. Pacing.

------------------------------------------

Divorsky entered the operating room with a mind completely taken up by those cock-sucking Skittles. It made no sense whatsoever. A nurse put a mask over his face and helped him with his gloves. He shook his head.

"Doctor Divorsky?"

Divorsky didn't respond.

"Doctor Divorsky? The patient is ready."

"Oh... Yes, O.K."

Divorsky briefly examined the body and felt around for the gallbladder. He took a scalpel and made a good clean cut, right where it needed to be. He reached into his pocket and removed a little rectangle of thin white paper and wrote with a ballpoint pen:

"Attention gallbladder: Please let me have your gallstones. You are making this person sick and we need to get them from you. At your earliest convenience. I am a doctor at this hospital. Thanks so much."

Divorsky let the ink dry and inserted the paper into the patient's incision. The operating room was stunned silent. Several minutes passed, and then...

"Doctor Divorsky?"

No response.

"Doctor? What did you do?"

There was a broadening red spot on Divorsky's mask. He stared intently at the incision.

"Doctor?"

What happened to SKYDADDY??

Um... well let me answer that question with another question:

Mind your own business.

Just a little kink in the hose.... That's all. Everything will be back to normal in a few short so-and-sos. In the meantime...

JOIN US, DAMIEN

TIME TRAVELER TERRY LORD
A Report From The Future

Hey dill wipes. Oops-- did I forget to mention "dill wipe" means "friend" in the year 2017?

Well it does.

My name's Terry Lord and I just got back from the future for a special SKYDADDY exclusive report about the evolution of MTV's hit reality series, "The Real World."

In 2017 "The Real World" will be transported to a dusty farm in the deserted town of Skeebo, Alabama. There ain't no nightclubs, alcohol or hot tubs in Skeebo, and neighbors are few and far between. Kinda looks like a nuclear bomb test site.

A single Shetland pony named Bobby Williams will be provided to the cast for transportation and companionship. He comes with a comb and diabetes.

The cast will consist of the same nihilistic, delusional twenty-somethings of various ethnic and sexual backgrounds who make the present show depressing and unwatchable, but this time they will be forced to till the fallow soil of Skeebo Ranch until something grows. Cross your fingers, chubby mama.

Shawndra, a sexy blonde dyke from Vermont will try to escape the farm after her bulimia and self-inflicted wounds go unnoticed by the rest of the cast due to an outbreak of famine and bloody dysentery. She doesn't get far because Bobby Williams runs out of steam pretty quick and his breath starts smelling like farts. It ain't pretty.

Lacking contraception, the farm will immediately be populated with snotty kids in overalls whose eye-bugging appetite for Shetland pony meat will have Bobby Williams skewered on a spit with an apple in his mouth by the end of episode three. So long, Bobby... Good to know ya!

The children will then arrange their stupid parents on their backs across picnic tables with their heads dangling off the edge and slit their throats with a rusty sickle. Blood runs fast across sour earth as powerful stalks of wheat spring from spoiled corpses. The land transforms. The dilapidated farmhouse changes into a stately white mansion with fine mahogany woodwork, silver, and art. Skeebo becomes the capital of Alabama and eventually America. A picture of Bobby Williams goes on the five dollar bill and blah, blah, blah.

So that's "The Real World" in the year 2017. See you dill wipes in the future!

About 2000 years ago, a baby named Jesus Christ was born in a drafty barn. Jesus grew up quick and took a job as a carpenter. He lived in the middle east and he had good hair and good upper-body strength.

Jesus' muscles were smooth and his abs were just right. Many guys nowadays overdo weight-training and they look like fools. Not Jesus. He did a basic free-weight routine every day. And he also did a muscle confusion program once per week. After his workouts, Jesus rewarded himself with low-fat yogurts. He leaned against the weight machines while he ate them with a small spoon. And he also drank Mister Pibbs.

Jesus did not put on very much extra bulk, he just trimmed down and got fully toned, especially in the upper-body regions. And Jesus probably was not trying to impress you or anybody else with his looks. He just wanted to feel good about himself when he looked in the mirror, which he did a lot in order to get his hair perfect, and to make sure his penis was not exposed because the robes back then were more loose than today.

Jesus' hairdo was soft like Cher's, but it also had the poofiness and coloration of Charles Manson. Back during biblical times, guys didn't have time to worry about hair, but Jesus made time because he didn't want his head to look like a straggly thorn bush. In conclusion, Jesus focused on his upper body looks and it paid off because Easter and Christmas never lost their meanings.

MARCH 10, 2008

"Hey do you want a bite of my apple?"

"I'm allergic to them."

"Are you really?"

"Yes. If I ate one, my face would get puffy. And my eyes would roll back in my head."

"Oh my gosh."

"And my nervous system would shut down, and my windpipe would snap shut, and my sphincter would go berserk."

"Ew, gross."

"And my small, undeveloped balls would disintigrate."

"Huh?"

"And my bowels would release and my hands would swell up like cartoons. So, no... I don't want a bite of your stinkin' apple."

[SEVERAL MINUTES LATER]

"So that's pretty weird. The apple thing.... I didn't know that about you."

"I don't advertise it."

"What about apple sauce?"

"Allergic."

"Apple pie?"

"Allergic."

"Snapple?"

"Allergic."

"Christina Applegate?"

"Allergic."

"Jared Fogel?"

"Allergic."

"Shmared Shmogel?"

"Allergic."

"Shmar shmar?"

"It must be nice not being allergic to shmar shmar."

"But shmar shmar is not a real thing. I made it up to see if you were lying."

"Shmar shmar is definitely real. Look it up in the dictionary. It's a byproduct of apple-flavored marzipan. Look it up if you don't believe me."

"No I believe you."

"It must be nice being able to eat shmar shmar whenever you want. You don't realize how good you have it, buster."

"Look I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as I am."

"Can we just talk about something else?"

"Yeah let's ignore the crushing fact that eating shmar shmar would make my nipples fall off and my first born child would automatically be born with Patrick Swayze Disease."

-----------

New hit songs:

Tell Daddy, Natalie.mp3

Sugical Tubing.mp3

If you missed my band's north American tour on account of being lazy, cheap and unsupportive, here's a sample of the finest butter in Denver:

Shit Parade (Fridge VS. Oven)

LINDA: "Don't look now but here comes Cooper Tylerson."

DARCY: "Cooper Tylerson? He's the tannest guy at Jonesboro High!"

LINDA: "Duh... And here he comes."

[COOPER TYLERSON STRUTS DOWN THE HALL IN SLOW MOTION WHILE "I BELIEVE IN MIRACLES" PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND]

COOPER: "Hey, ladies."

BOTH: "Hi, Cooper."

COOPER: "Supposed to be a party at the old saw mill tonight. You comin'?"

LINDA: "We'll be there, Cooper."

COOPER: "Ladies, please... Call me Coupe de Ville."

DARCY: "We don't feel comfortable calling you that."

LINDA: "Speak for yourself, Darcy. I'll call you Coupe de Ville if you want." [WINK]

COOPER: "Cooly, cool, cool... Well... see you chicks tonight."

LINDA: "Bye, Coupe."

[IN THE GIRL'S ROOM]

DARCY: "You should'a seen Linda this morning. She was drooling all over Cooper Tylerson..."

GIRL #2: "You mean Coupe de Ville?"

DARCY: "No... I don't."

GIRL #3: "Lighten up, Darcy. Maybe guys would notice you if you weren't such a pill."

DARCY: "Nobody says 'pill' ...and furthermore, fuck you. The only reason girls like Cooper is because he's extremely tan. He looks like a dark-brown Jerry O'connel. It's unnatural."

GIRL #2: "Aren't you a virgin, Darcy?"

DARCY: "Go to hell."

[GYM CLASS]

GIRL #4: "Did you guys see Coupe de Ville's new tattoo?"

DARCY: "Ughh... You can hardly see it over his tan."

GIRL #5: "I know... isn't it great?"

DARCY: "No! There's nothing great about being that tan. It's weird and creepy. Did you ever see "Soul Man" ?

GIRL #4: "Darcy, you really need to loosen up."

GIRL #5: "She needs to get laid."

DARCY: "Shut up, you guys! I'm just angry that you're infatuated with a guy because he's shockingly tan. His skin is peeling!"

GIRL #4: "I think he's sexy and exotic."

GIRL #5: "Me two!"

GIRL #6: "Me three!"

DARCY: "Well ya'll can have him. His missing eyebrow is a deal-breaker for me. And he only has four teeth."

GIRL #4: "Yeah but check out that tan."

DARCY: "Fuck the tan!"

[AT THE OLD SAW MILL]

GIRL #7: "Did you guys hear?"

GIRLS 1 THROUGH 6: "Hear what?"

GIRL #7: "Coupe de Ville is gonna jump his Ford Festiva across Fairyfloss Gulch!"

GIRL #4: "Holy cow! If anybody can jump Fairyfloss Gulch, it's Coupe! I'm certain of it!"

GIRLS 1 THROUGH 7: "Let's go!"

[FAIRYFLOSS GULCH WAS 30 YARDS ACROSS AND ANOTHER 30 DEEP. COOPER TYLERSON NEVER STOOD A CHANCE. HE REVVED HIS ENGINE AND SPED FOR THE CLIFF]

LINDA: "Hey guys... don't look now but here comes Burt Schimmel."

GIRLS 1 THROUGH 7: "Burt Schimmel? He's the tallest guy at Jonesboro High!"

[COOPER'S CAR EXPLODES IN THE BACKGROUND]

LINDA: "Duh.... And here he comes."

"You're tuned to 109.5 The Badger... Houston's Hottest Country Station. This is the Penis & Shoefly Show. I'm Penis..."

"And I'm Shoefly. We've been talking all morning about extramarital affairs and our next caller is a self-proclaimed home-wrecker. Todd, you're on The Penis & Shoefly Show..."

"Good morning, guys. I love your show so much... I listen to you all the time, I swear to God..."

"Todd can you turn your radio down please?"

"What?"

"You need to turn down your radio. There's feedback..."

"But I love your show. I listen all the time at high volumes. To your show."

"Yeah but when you're on the air and you're listening to yourself through the radio, it creates problems with the audio stream. Just turn your radio off for a few minutes while we talk."

"What do you mean? No way will I turn off The Penis & Shoefly Show! I love you guys too much."

"Okay-- Todd? If you can't turn the radio off or move to a different room, we're going to hang up."

"Wait! Wait! I can go to another room."

"Okay."

"Can you hear me better now?"

"Yeah that's better. Now let's see here... so you're the guy to look out for, huh? You're the guy sleeping with all our wives?"

"Guess you could say that."

"I sense a certain amount of pride in your voice."

"Well I do get a lotta freaky Texas bush."

"And what's your appeal, exactly?"

"I'm young. Pretty good-looking. Athletic. Have a nice job. Women get bored with their husbands and I scoop 'em up."

"And you have no remorse for ruining their lives?"

"Hey it takes two to tango. And I'm not ruining their lives. I kinda resent you saying that, Penis... I give these ladies what they want. What they need. They aren't getting it from their husbands."

"Now lemme ask you something... Have you ever been married yourself?"

"Yeah.... I'm married now."

"You are married?"

"Yes."

"And does your wife know about all the women you're sleeping with?"

"Sure hope not!"

"But I mean... Todd... how would you feel if somebody slept with your wife?"

"Hey, that's my wife you're talkin' about!"

"I know, I know... You'd be pretty upset if someone slept with her, right?"

"You're dang right I would!"

"Well guess what, Todd? Earlier this week, my partner Shoefly tracked down your wife at the supermarket and propositioned her. Shoefly is young, decent-looking and he has a great job here at The Badger, Houston's Hottest Country Station."

"You gotta be shittin' me!"

"Shoefly had country sex with your wife Cynthia."

"I'll kill her!"

"There's more, Todd..."

"What?!"

"Remember earlier when we told you to turn down your radio?"

"Yeah..."

"We were messing with you. We could hear you fine. You were coming in clear and crisp."

"HA, HA! You guys are the best! I listen to you all the time!"

"We gotta get a break in here... You're listening to The Penis & Shoefly Show on Houston's Hottest Country Station... 109.5, The Badger."

I finally struck a deal with the sheriff's department. Read it and weep:

"Dear Bradlee,

The Denver Sheriffs' Department wishes to cease negotiations. We hereby agree to supply you with 175 pounds of chicken, beef, or shrimp in a clean black bag as per your request.

This is "settlement meat" which is intended to end your claim stating that Denver police officials stole from your possession a crystal sphere containing damp socks at the intersection of Washington and 11th avenue, near our downtown headquarters, which your picket signs and banners describe as "The Bermuda Triangle of Missing Damp Socks In Crystal Spheres."

This is not an admission of guilt, but an attempt to stop the harmful nature of your accusations and constant picketing near our premises. The meat will be delivered to your home by the end of this business week. Please do not contact us about this issue again."

-------------------------------

Year In Review - here's some out takes and zany bloopers from 2007 which never saw the light of day. Probably for good reason... but you should see the box of shit I'm not posting. I recorded a song called "Tuck It In, Mama" for example. Here's the words: "Tuck it in, mama, tuck it in..... Tuck it in, mama, tuck it in..... Tuck it mama baby tuck it mama baby mama, tuck it in mama mama, tuck it in."

Forget Me Not - I promised my mom I'd never do a song with a whistle solo. Well sorry....

Celebrate Summer 2007 - sexualizing a classic...

I Like You A Lot - I kinda wanted to finish this one, but hey... that's why God invented the fade-out

Jimmy - The idea here was to record a whole album about an extremely religious tightass father and his son but I couldn't keep my shit together during the early test runs

We'll Be Friends Again Tomorrow - Supposed to be a duet with my sister. Thanks for all the help, sis.

Nothing Ever Happens Here - I recorded this the day Bob Barker stepped down. That's all I remember

"You're a wall of guitars... You're a megaphone... You big.... you big-faced dickweed!"

Julie slammed the door and left me sitting alone in my fine Moroccan silk armchair. I rubbed my hand over the high-quality leaf patterned stitching and sniffed my fingers. Musty. Deep dish. I stared at the wall for a while and rubbed the chair nice and slow. The phone rang.

"This is Julie's mother. What did you say to her?"

I tried to talk but nothing came out. I coughed and sat up a little.

"Hello, Mrs. Dagnagio."

"Don't 'Mrs.Dagnagio' me, buddy. What did you tell her this time?"

"We were just talking."

"About?"

"Well I don't see how you factor into this, Mrs. Dagnagio. I think you're being--"

"Listen here. I catch that girl when she falls, and I've been doing that a lot lately on account of you. Julie won't be coming over any more."

"But she lives here."

"She did."

"She... does?"

"Have her stuff ready by tomorrow morning. I'm pickin' it all up. And it better be in good shape."

I put the phone down and leaned back in my fine silk chair again, rubbing it hard. Rubby rubby rubby. I took my shirt off and rubbed my terrible burnt skin on the leaf patterns. Rubby rubby rubby rubby rubby. I caught my reflection in the door of the oven. No wonder she hates me. Oh God! No wonder.

-------------------------------------

PART 4

Potato-based civilizations communicate with Proton Canisters, or "pro-cans." Every pro-can is numbered 1 through 6, and only individuals with like-numbered canisters are able to understand each other. This creates some interesting situations, both comedic and tragic, often simultaneously, often without apologies from anybody.

Part 4 - Why Can't You Sleep On The Floor?

PART 3

My neighbor has high-speed internet. When I set up my computer, it showed her web connection as "Lizzy" and it had a padlock over it which means I am not allowed to use it without the password.

Part 3 - Lizzy Don't Share

PART 2

Julie took a job as a switchboard operator in Chicago after the fires settled and everything was still gently smoking. The sun didn't come out for like three weeks. She was driving home from work with her shirt pulled over her nose so she didn't have to smell the city. Musty. Deep dish.

Part 2 - Nature Girl

[TAMMY AND BOB]

"Wait... what were we just talking about?"

"You were going to tell me how you got your glass eye, and then you kinda went into a trance."

"No... I mean yeah... but before that?"

"Ummm, well you said something about an episode of 'Perfect Strangers' when Balki broke the fourth wall by staring directly into the camera for twenty-eight minutes because he was mad at the director."

"Oh yeah... That was a weird episode.... or epperino as I like to say."

"Why do you say epperino instead of episode?"

"I just do."

[TAMMY AND CINDY]

"So did Bob finally tell you about his eye?"

"No! He came so close last night. I mean I really thought he was going to tell me. But as soon as the subject came up, he went quiet and started convulsing a little."

"Jeez oh man. How long can a guy go without talking about his glass eye? If I had one, I'd mention it all the time. Constantly. You should just ask him."

"I can't! He'll tell me when he's ready, Cindy. But I really do wanna know."

[TAMMY AND BOB AGAIN]

"...and then Theo started beating Rudy with his slipper because he caught her coloring the pictures in Mr. Huxtable's medical journals.."

"Bob, I don't remember that episode. I mean epperino. And I used to love that show."

"Well that's what happened."

"Okay. Um... Hey I got a question for you."

"Ask me anything, baby."

"How did you get your--"

"Just don't ask me about my glass eye. That's the only subject I won't discuss. I will never reveal how I got my glass eye, no matter how close we get."

"But why?"

"I just don't."

[TAMMY AND CINDY AGAIN]

"So what happened last night?"

"Well I tried asking him straight up how he got the glass eye and he got really weird and defensive. I don't think it's gonna work out."

"Jeez-oh-mama-diddily."

[TAMMY AND BOB AGAIN]

"Baby, would you mind moving down-wind of me? Your perfume is giving me a sore throat."

"Sure. Um....Hey Bob, do you remember that epperino of 'Roseanne,' when Jackie dumped Booker because he wouldn't tell her the story behind his glass eye?"

"No, no, the way I remember it was... Jackie and Booker got married and, long story short, she never asked him about his glass eye. And they both lived together for the rest of their lives. And there was a spin-off series called "Jackie & Booker" which was about their happy relationship. And the subject of Booker's glass eye never came up. Never. And the show lasted for 20 seasons and it's still going strong today. And the ratings have never been higher."

"Listen Bob--"

"All-time highest ratings."

--------------

New hit song because I been a goon too long....

unsophisticated child.mp3

Bonus song....

I need a loan and I'm coming over.mp3

Brandon was allowed to bring one friend to his grandmother's eighty-third birthday party. They would be dining at Poochy's Buffet, an all-you-can-eat joint with steaks and baked potatoes cooked to order. But first, his dad had to get the car started. It was the middle of winter, and the family's 1985 Cutlas Supreme wasn't looking too good. Luckily, Brandon chose the right friend to accompany them: Zachary Snugglechuck.

[ENGINE SPUTTERING]

DAD: ...Start! ...Start!

MOM: Yelling won't make the car start, dear.

DAD: Carol, I swear to God if you don't shut up I'm going to staple your lips together.

BRANDON: Dad!

DAD: Brandon, play your Gameboy.

BRANDON: Sorry about this, Zachary. My dad gets crazy on holidays and stuff.

Zachary Snugglechuck was an extremely compact and almost comatose 12-year-old boy, whose size 3 shoes dangled from every chair he got on. His eyelids were slack and his tiny hands were turned palms-up and resting on his knees. He wore a bright red baseball cap and a brown vest with an embroidered "Z" on the left breast.

ZACHARY: Hmmm?

BRANDON: Hey dad, Zachary is pretty good with stuff like this. Maybe he could take a look under the hood. Will you, Zachary?

Zachary nodded.

BRANDON: He wouldn't mind, dad.

Dad laughed and dragged his shaky hand across his face.

DAD: Be my guest.

Dad popped the hood, and Zachary and Brandon got out of the car. They looked at the motor. Zachary touched it with the tip of his finger and quietly said, "Try it now."

BRANDON: Try it now, dad!

[ENGINE SPUTTERING]

DAD: Nope! What else ya got?!

Zachary touched another part of the motor with the tip of his finger and said, "Try it now."

BRANDON: He says try it now, dad!

[ENGINE SPUTTERING]

DAD: Nope! Nothing!

Zachary kept touching various parts of the engine with the tip of his finger but nothing ever happened. They got back in the car. Brandon shut his door and got comfortable.

BRANDON: Well sorry dad. I thought he could fix it.

Dad inhaled deeply. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

DAD: Okay... everybody out. We're walking to Poochy's Buffet.

MOM: We can't walk there! It's a 25 minute drive, for heaven's sake!

DAD: Then it should only take us a few hours if we hurry. I'm not missing my mother's eighty-third. I understand why you don't want to go, though.

MOM: I love your mother! You didn't even know it was her birthday until I reminded you this morning!

DAD: Bundle up, kids. It's very cold. And the wind is whipping. Violently.

MOM: You kids go inside.

DAD: Do not go inside that house, kids.

BRANDON: Please stop fighting!

Dad's hand went under the driver's seat and came out with a single-action Colt 44 revolver.

DAD: We're going to see Grandma.

Brandon and Mom screamed. Dad fired several rounds through the roof of the car and the screaming stopped. Birds chirped. Daylight shined through the bullet holes and smoke from the gun twisted around in skinny ribbons. Zachary's Bugle Boy shorts were visibly soiled at the sides, but his expression was stoic and he hadn't moved an inch since returning to the car.

DAD: Brandon... will you ask your friend if he pooped on my leather upholstery?

BRANDON [WHISPERING URGENTLY]: Did you poop, bud?

Zachary nodded.

-------------------------------

New hit song...

straight home.mp3

"Welcome home, sweetie. How was your first day of high school?"

"Not now, mom. I'm up to my curls in homework."

"Brandon!"

"Gee I'm sorry, mom. But why don't you lay off me for like five minutes and let me catch my goddamn breath."

"Go to your room! Now!"

"I'm goin'... I'm goin'..."

----------------------------

"Jason, I think you should talk to Brandon."

"Think so?"

"Will you please put down the newspaper?"

"I'm sorry, hun."

"Brandon is acting strange. Can you talk to him? Please?"

"Yeah."

-------------------------------

"Brandon, will you open the door?"

"It's unlocked."

"Oh, you're right. Can we talk?"

"About what, dad?"

"You mother is worried. She thinks you're acting funny."

"I'm just a little tired, dad. School and all..."

"Are you sure there's nothing bothering you? Why are you wearing your mother's church dress?"

"Well... a sophomore is being kinda mean to me."

"How so?"

"He threatened to kill me if I don't be his personal assistant for the rest of the year."

"Sounds like a bully. What's his name?"

"Justin."

"Well the next time you see Justin, look him straight in the eyes and tell him to find another sucker."

"Okay... But that's not all, dad. Justin said he'll kill my whole family. You and mom. All of us, unless I agree to be his personal assistant."

"He said that?"

"Well yeah."

".........I think you better do what this Justin says."

"But shouldn't I stick up for myself?"

"Yes and no. Think about this... Is being a personal assistant that big of a deal, really? In order to keep me and your mother alive?"

"I guess not. But he wants me to dress like a lady and--"

"Good. What a relief. Well goodnight."

"Goodnight."

"Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"You too, dad."

"Love ya."

Was Hitler A Vampire, or Just Gay?
A Story By: Ben Ferrari

A pack of German writers sat around a table scratching paper with tiny, uncomfortable pencils. Beams of light slipped through the blinds that covered the room's single prison-style window and landed at the twinkly boots of Herr Oberich and the Fuehrer. They ambled over dodgy floorboards, faking nonchalance until one began to speak with a filthy sock-puppet kept hidden until now.

"You seem nervous. Is that a uniform or a costume?" asked Herr Oberich's puppet.

"Ask me next if my pistol is real!" replied the Fuehrer as he felt the gun on his hip.

Oberich put the sock away and asked in a sweet, quiet voice, "Is your pistol real?"

"Do you know the difference between us, Herr Oberich? Between you and I? Don't strain at it. The difference is this--"

The Fuehrer was interrupted by a spasm from the writing table. A twiggy guy with inch-think glasses and tremendous confidence (in light of the distressing circumstances and lamentable writing utensils of the time) stood up and began to read from his paper...

"Attention Ministry of Sitcoms

Be advised of the following changes to the Standard Scenario Handlist:

- When a father shares a tender moment with his child, the background music shall always be The German National Anthem played at a disorienting, drowning volume.

- Henceforth, dream sequences shall follow ten specific premises.

Zum Beispiel:

1. A male character dreams that Jews and Communists have been eradicated.
2. An elderly character dreams that a clown is feeding him breadsticks and telling him to relax his throat muscles
3. A female character dreams that--"

The Fuehrer stopped the writer with his cold leather finger, satisfied that the rest of his work was specific and severe.

"Very good," he said.

Herr Oberich followed the Fuehrer out of the room and down a cascading flight of crooked steps. They opened a heavy door and daylight poured over them like God. Floating dust collided into streams where long tapering stalks of buildings buckled from the weight of 1940, and cars with exterior motors exploded constellations and rainbow showers in random patterns as they turned.

A voice without a body rang in the incandescence, "What will she require?"

"I have it here," began another disconnected voice, and then continued...

"Ms. Braun will require the following items to be made available upon her arrival at your facilities. If any item cannot be obtained, Ms. Braun requires AT LEAST 48 hours notice. Please sign the last page of this request and forward it to Ms. Braun's assistant.

- 12 pounds of fresh (not frozen) human baby teeth
- 3 glistening Hispanic servants with pony-tails and well-developed abdomen muscles
- 3 autographed copies of The Bible (pronounced: "bibble")
- A bag of live squirrels
- Nude photographs of you and your parents together
- Gaffer tape suitable for tucking in various parts of Ms. Braun's anatomy
- A professional surfboard with "COWABUNGA, EVERYHITLER!" printed on the bottom
- Various potions for voodoo. (No less than 5)
- Crime scene photos from Ted Bundy's future trial

Ms. Braun's sleeping area must be clean, it must be quiet, and it must be a coffin wherein Her Majesty may comfortably fold Her arms across Her chest and rejuvenate during the day. There shall be no garlic, crucifixes, or symbols of Catholic religion in or around Countess Braun's accommodations."

--------------

The Fuehrer sat up in bed. He was sweating hard and wearing old-fashioned pajamas with a buttoned hatch for expulsion of bodily waste materials. He had a dream about a clown with bread sticks and fantastic kaleidoscopes of light. He immediately reached for the phone and dialed Herr Oberich. A different phone on the other side of the Fuehrer's bed rang. Herr Oberich sat up next to the Fuehrer and answered it.

"Hello?"

"It's me. I had the dream again."

"Again?"

They both put down their Victorian-style handsets and embraced each other. "Put the T. V. on," suggested Oberich. The Fuehrer turned the dial with his toe. "Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader" was beginning.

"Jeff Foxworthy is very smug," said Oberich.

"This show depresses me. I can never answer the questions. I must be stupid," said the Fuehrer.

"Let me tell you something," said Oberich, "You may not be able to answer any of those questions, but guess what? You have a nice home, a color television, a refrigerator full of meats and cheeses, a comfortable couch and control over half of Europe. How many fifth graders are living like that? Cheer up."

The Fuehrer rolled his eyes, but Herr Oberich wasn't finished,

"Think about this...." Oberich tapped the Fuehrer gently on the nose, "When adults can't answer fifth-grade questions, It only proves that kids are being taught useless garbage that adults don't need to worry about. Have you ever used the Pythagorean Theorem? Ever gotten out of a jam by reciting the U.S. capitals in alphabetical order? Kids are being taught trivial fun facts. It's fine for game shows, but c'mon... ask a fifth grader to change a tire. Ask a fifth grader to do your taxes or advise you on marital relations or military maneuvers. I propose a new school curriculum. Are you writing this down? One that'll prepare our nation's youth for the miserable world they stand to inherit. For your consideration:

THE NEW SCHOOL SCHEDULE

8:00 - 8:30 - Courtroom Conduct 101

8:35 - 9:00 - Lawn Care

9:05 - 10:00 - When To Keep Your Goddamn Mouth Shut

10:05 - 10:30 - Reading Body Language

10:35 - 11:00 - The Art of Witty Banter

11:05 - 11:30 - How To Sexually Satisfy Your Partner

11:35 - 12:00 - Loopholes in The System

12:00 - 1:00 - LUNCH (rice, gum and cigarettes)

1:05 - 1:30 - How To Compose a Threat

1:35 - 2:00 - Abandoning Your Dreams

2:05 - 2:30 - Dealing With Coworkers

2:35 - 3:00 - The Gist of Things (Condensed literature, basic math skills, practical science)

"One last suggestion," said the inexhaustible Herr Oberich, "...school busses should be replaced with regular city busses, along with all the unwashed patrons who ride them. Kids need to meet that scary guy with long sticky hair rocking back and forth in a dirty windbreaker pulled down past his shoulders, playing solitaire with an imaginary deck of cards. The sooner the better."

There was a long stretch of silence. The Fuehrer loosened up. "I don't know how to play solitaire. Or why anybody would."

They hummed "High Hopes" and fell asleep.